Seeing the truth laid bare—that he was still being granted a chance to look back on the past and once more witness the person he loved most—Kael could only stand in silence, frozen within a stretch of time that felt endlessly long.
His eyes were open wide, yet his gaze trembled, as if unable to believe what lay before him. Every detail unfolding in front of him—the longing that crushed his chest, the sorrow he had buried for so long—reflected back with such clarity that his heart felt slowly squeezed.
That figure was not flesh and blood like his own, but a gentle light shaped from the memories of a past soul. It was not an illusion born of his resonance, nor a hallucination forced from his mind.
No—Kael could feel it with every part of his soul. This was different. This was the reality of a mother who would always exist, returning solely for her lost child.
Truly… Kael's eyes began to glisten. The tears did not fall; they trembled along his lashes, as if hesitant to spill. He was not crying from sorrow. What filled him was not grief, but longing.
Longing for the warmth that had once shaped him. Longing for the one who had made him strong—who, without him ever realizing, had carried him through life until this very day.
Kael's breath caught softly in his chest. His lips parted, trembling, and a voice escaped him, as though it shattered in the still air.
"…Mother…"
Lhuna Vieron sat calmly atop a table, her movements gentle as she knitted a red scarf. The needles glimmered faintly between her slender fingers, while the roll of yarn beside her was drawn and woven in a patient, steady rhythm.
Her face bore a warm, simple smile—yet within that simplicity lay a depth only a mother's love could hold. Hope and warmth were stitched into every loop, as if meant for her child one day.
Kael's small voice reached her. Lhuna turned her head. But what she saw was not the grown Kael, worn and scarred by life, but little Kael—five years old, innocent and untouched by the world's bitterness.
His eyes were clear, his cheeks flushed with color, his smile bright and unburdened.
"What's that? What are you carrying that makes you look so happy, hmm?" Lhuna asked softly, never pausing her stitching.
Little Kael stepped closer, pulling a chair to sit beside her. His face glowed, both hands clutching something with overflowing excitement. He could hardly wait to show it.
"Mom, look! The photo's finished!" he said brightly, holding out the frame he had just received. "Uncle Zeth gave it to me earlier while I was playing outside."
"Oh? May I see it?"
"Yes!"
Lhuna paused her knitting, fingers hovering above the half-finished scarf. Carefully, she took the frame, her eyes softening the moment she looked.
Little Kael gazed up at her, full of anticipation. "What do you think, Mom? I think it looks really good!"
But Lhuna did not answer at once. Her lips closed gently, a faint smile forming—then suddenly, she let out a soft chuckle, covering her mouth as if shy.
"Ahaha… mm…"
Little Kael fell silent, confusion flickering across his face. The bright smile he wore moments ago faded.
"Uh… why are you laughing? So… is the photo not good?" His voice lowered, uncertain, like a child fearing disappointment.
Lhuna shook her head gently, her smile never fading. "No, my dear. I'm not laughing at the result. This photo is already very good—just as you said."
At once, little Kael's face lit up again, his eyes sparkling with pure, innocent joy.
"Really?!"
"Yes, really." Lhuna looked back at the photo, her gaze tender. "I laughed because of your father. He never changes. Look at his expression…"
Little Kael immediately looked again, his face filled with curiosity.
"Your father is always that cold. And somehow, it makes Mother want to laugh softly every time I see it."
"There's nothing strange about it. I feel like Dad will always be like that," little Kael murmured.
The moment was simple, wrapped in quiet warmth—and slowly, it began to drift away. Yet for the adult Kael standing at the edge of that memory, this brief scene with his mother felt eternal. It was a warmth long lost, now returning to fill the hollow space he had carried alone for so long.
And for the first time in a very long while, he no longer felt entirely alone.
Behind their conversation, Kael smiled faintly. His gaze lowered, his head bowed as if to hide the tremor of his emotions, and he spoke within his heart. No sound followed, yet the weight of his voice remained—an admission buried for far too long.
Mother… you have always been the one who made me strong. The only one who could make me smile, even when the world felt cold—simply through the quiet warmth you gave.
His lips trembled, his eyes dimming as a bitter glint passed through them.
Maybe it's the opposite… His breath caught. Mother would be ashamed. Disappointed, if she saw what I became. With all my failures, with all my selfishness in what I chose to protect. I failed to save anyone… even Father and Mother.
His throat tightened, his voice sinking, as if pressing down on himself.
In the end… I'm nothing more than a nameless shadow. My existence… doesn't even deserve to be called an Assassin like Father. I… am nobody anymore.
And yet, behind those words, a faint light remained—something holding him back from falling further. He lifted his head slightly and forced himself to breathe.
But now… Mother has made me understand. This isn't just about what I must accept. It's about what I must face from here on.
Just as that warmth lingered—a sound shattered it.
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
A harsh, dry cough froze Kael in place. His gaze snapped up, drawn back to his mother.
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
Lhuna staggered, her right hand flying to cover her mouth. Her body trembled, as if something were forcing its way out from within. The color drained from her face, fading like a flower deprived of sunlight.
Little Kael panicked at once. His face turned pale, his eyes widening in fear. He leaned closer, one small hand reaching out—then hesitating midair.
"Mom… what's wrong?"
"Uhhhuuk… Uhhhuuk!!"
"Don't tell me… you haven't taken the medicine Dad and I bought yesterday?" His voice was soft but rushed, filled with worry. He knew it well—whenever his mother refused her medicine, this would happen again.
But Lhuna did not answer. Slowly, she lowered her hand, opening her trembling fingers.
Fresh blood stained her palm—a dark crimson that instantly weighed down the air.
Little Kael fell silent. His pupils quivered, his face draining of color. He bit his lower lip, holding back tears, then spoke in a rush.
"Mom… you're coughing blood again…! Wait here—don't go anywhere! I'll call Aunt Jean—just wait, okay?!"
He didn't wait for a reply. Little Kael ran out in panic, his small footsteps hurried and unsteady, fear overtaking him completely.
Aunt Jean was the only one who could treat his mother. In his mind, there was only one thought—
Save Lhuna.
But Lhuna remained still, her gaze wavering, her expression heavy with worry—not for herself, but for something deeper. She knew this illness could not be cured by ordinary medicine, let alone simple care. It was not a simple sickness, but something bound to her blood—something inherited.
Trembling, Lhuna lifted her hand, reaching toward the little Kael running away.
Her voice was faint, fragile as a whisper soaked in tears. "Kael…"
The warmth that once filled the room vanished, replaced by a sharp, suffocating anxiety that gripped the chest of anyone who witnessed it.
Adult Kael could only stand there, frozen. His chest tightened, his hands clenched—yet there was nothing he could do. No way to help. No way to stop it. To him, this was nothing more than a shadow of the past—a memory he could never change.
He lowered his head, his voice breaking as if speaking only to himself.
Mother… even back then, there was no one who could cure you. All of it… because of the immense power of our ancestors—a power that should never have taken root in your body.
A quiet, profound sorrow wrapped around him—a bitter truth he had never been able to defy.
He let out a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging as the weight of the past pressed down on him once more. Then—suddenly—his ears caught something.
Soft footsteps. Calm, unhurried, unmistakably real.
Kael slowly looked up, his gaze trembling.
And there—Lhuna stood.
A thin light wrapped around her, swaying gently like a candle flame that would never fade. She walked with quiet grace, holding the photo frame in both hands, occasionally pressing it to her chest as if guarding something precious.
Kael froze. His heart pounded harder, his eyes widening slightly, shock clear across his face. Only moments ago, he had seen her weak, pale, trembling. But now—
That weakness was gone. The pallor had vanished, replaced by a soft, soothing smile. A smile he knew well—the smile of a mother who always tried to appear strong so her child wouldn't cry.
Lhuna stepped closer—not toward him, but toward a stone hearth at the center of the room, resembling the simple fireplace where their family once gathered. Kael could only follow her with his eyes, each second stretching thin, as though the world itself held its breath.
Carefully, Lhuna lowered her hands. Her fingers trembled faintly, yet moved with care as she placed the photo frame atop the stone. She gave it a gentle pat—like a mother soothing her child to sleep.
***