Life at the Knights Academy settled into a rhythm faster than Con expected.
Mornings began before sunrise.
Training fields filled with the sound of clashing wooden swords.
Instructors shouted commands while rows of trainees ran across the stone courtyards.
At first, everything felt overwhelming.
But for Con, adapting was easy.
Too easy.
Within weeks, he had already become known among the instructors.
Not just because he was blind.
But because he was dangerously skilled.
His hearing allowed him to react faster than most trainees.
His body moved naturally during sparring.
Every stance, every strike, every adjustment came instinctively.
It wasn't something he practiced.
It simply felt right.
That made the instructors curious.
And slightly uneasy.
One of them muttered during a training match,
"That boy fights like he's been trained for twenty years."
Another replied quietly,
"He's fifteen."
Con's friends were doing well too.
Suspiciously well.
Daren had become one of the strongest trainees in the first year.
Mikel showed surprising discipline with sword forms.
Jorin was calm under pressure and rarely made mistakes.
Even Tomas, who had expected to fail the entrance exam, passed every training test.
One instructor finally asked them directly.
"Where did you boys train before coming here?"
Daren answered proudly.
"Near a brook."
The instructor blinked.
"…that's not what I meant."
But the boys just laughed.
Because the answer was technically true.
They had trained near the brook.
With Con.
Almost every day.
Of course, academy life wasn't perfect.
There were small incidents.
A few jealous trainees challenged Con to unnecessary duels.
Some nobles still whispered about "the blind boy."
And the nobleman whose son had lost to Con during the entrance exam still watched him with obvious dislike.
But overall—
Things were peaceful.
Con focused on training.
Helping his friends.
And writing occasional letters back to Harun.
Though most of the letters were simple.
I am doing well.
The academy is large.
Please take care of yourself.
Harun's replies were even shorter.
Don't die.
Two months later, the capital celebrated a major festival.
Lanterns filled the streets.
Music echoed through the markets.
Food stalls lined every road.
Even the academy allowed trainees to leave for the evening.
Naturally—
Daren immediately grabbed Con's arm.
"We're going."
Tomas nodded eagerly.
"I heard the market sells festival meat skewers."
Mikel added,
"And honey cakes."
Jorin simply said,
"Let's go before Daren eats everything."
So the five boys left the academy together.
The capital market was louder than anything Con had ever experienced.
Music.
Drums.
Laughter.
Hundreds of voices talking at once.
Lanterns swayed above the crowd.
Street performers shouted for attention.
Food stalls filled the air with delicious smells.
Daren spun in place.
"This place is amazing!"
Tomas was already holding two meat skewers.
"I regret nothing."
Mikel grabbed a honey cake.
Jorin bought roasted chestnuts.
Con simply stood there, smiling faintly as he listened to everything around him.
It sounded like happiness.
Then Tomas suddenly pointed ahead.
"Oh!"
"There's a fortune teller."
The others turned.
A small stall sat near the corner of the street.
An old woman sat behind a wooden table, reading palms for curious festival visitors.
Daren grinned.
"We should try it."
Mikel rolled his eyes.
"That stuff isn't real."
"Exactly," Daren replied.
"That's why it's fun."
Soon they were sitting around the small table.
The old fortune teller took Daren's hand first.
She hummed thoughtfully.
"You will live loudly."
Daren grinned.
"Accurate."
Next was Tomas.
"You will eat too much."
The group burst out laughing.
"Also accurate!"
Mikel's reading was calmer.
"You will become dependable."
Jorin's was simple.
"You will lead when needed."
Then the old woman turned toward Con.
"Your hand."
Con held it out politely.
Her fingers touched his palm.
Then—
She froze.
The air around the stall became strangely quiet.
The old woman's brow slowly furrowed.
"…that's odd."
Daren leaned forward.
"What is it?"
The woman spoke slowly.
"You…"
She tightened her grip slightly.
"…exchanged fates with someone."
The boys blinked.
"What does that mean?" Tomas asked.
The fortune teller shook her head.
"I don't know."
Her voice sounded unsettled.
"Two destinies that should not cross… but somehow did."
Con tilted his head slightly.
The words gave him a strange feeling.
Like something deep in his chest had stirred for just a moment.
But the feeling passed quickly.
He smiled politely.
"Thank you."
The old woman still looked confused as they stood to leave.
Soon the boys returned to exploring the festival.
Eating.
Laughing.
Arguing about which stall sold the best food.
They stood near a lantern-lit street corner, eating sweet festival dumplings.
Daren was mid-sentence when suddenly—
Someone ran past.
Fast.
The person bumped directly into Jorin.
"Oh—!"
The figure stumbled slightly.
A girl wearing a dark hood.
She quickly bowed her head.
"Sorry."
Then she ran off again.
Before anyone could say anything.
Tomas blinked.
"…what just happened?"
But Con had already stopped moving.
His head turned sharply toward the direction she had run.
His heart was beating strangely fast.
Too fast.
Something about her footsteps.
The rhythm.
The sound.
It felt—
Familiar.
Deep inside his chest, something twisted painfully.
Con suddenly stepped forward.
"Con?" Daren called.
But Con was already moving.
Running through the crowd.
Following the sound of those footsteps.
Leaving his confused friends behind in the festival lights.