Water splashed in every direction as the roar of the waterfall wove a rainbow through the misty air. The infant girl whimpered softly, her tiny fingers playing with one another—clenching and unclenching her little fists as a ripple of delighted laughter escaped her lips.
Her hand relaxed. The Fool withdrew the letter entrusted to him by the child's mother and tucked it gently into the swaddling cloth. Then, step by step, he began to retreat…
His mission was complete.Now, he only needed to wait for someone to pass by, to discover her and report to the overseer. Once the overseer knew, word would surely travel to the headmaster of the academy. Upon finding the envelope, that venerable headmaster would understand the child's identity, and take her under his care—raising her into a radiant girl admired by all.
Yes… his task had reached its end.
The Fool's steps moved away for the first time with his back turned to the baby. He left briskly. Yet even then, his fists involuntarily clenched—and trembled faintly…
"Can't bear to leave, can you?"
A voice murmured from within, the blood-red eyes flickering open in the dark recesses of his mind.
The Fool gave no reply.
"Let it be. Sooner or later, you'll cast away your burdens. I understand this momentary pain, but it won't be long before you forget her entirely. Someday, even if you recall these past six months, it will be with a faint smile—at how foolish, how naïve you once were."
The ten-year-old boy broke into a sprint, vanishing into the shadow of a nearby structure. He had made his choice. A creature of shadows, he entrusted the baby to the radiant world of water and rainbow-light, to await a fate far removed from his own.
Where there is meeting, there must be parting—such is the law of this world. Two fates once tightly entwined began to diverge within the sun-drenched city of Windblown Sands. In time, the continent of Sorrow would welcome a beautiful, intelligent girl whose brilliance would dazzle the world. As for the little beggar wrapped in darkness, he would vanish into obscurity like a soap bubble—unseen, forgotten.
"Huh? Why is there a baby here?"
Had that sentence not reached the Fool's ears…
Huddled in the shadows like a sewer rat, he peeked out with one eye, watching the sunlit square beyond. Beneath the surreal arc of the rainbow, three boys—around the same age as the Fool—stepped near the fountain. Each wore noble attire: tight evening dress complete with swords at their hips.
To the left, a freckled boy with dusty brown hair squatted down to inspect the baby. On the right, a pudgy boy clutched a bag of snacks, his slovenly appearance sharply contrasting the finery of his clothes. These two were ordinary—countless new students resembled them. But the boy between them… he stood tall with a well-proportioned frame, windswept blue hair, and a perpetual sneer tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes held the arrogance of one who sees all others as beneath him.
"What do you think, Brother Dailau?" the chubby one asked, shoveling snacks into his mouth, his noble garb ill-suited to his boorish manners.
The freckled boy examined the baby more closely. Perhaps startled by the sudden arrival of strangers, the infant's laughter had vanished. Her tiny fists curled against her chest, her body trembling in fear.
"Young Master Goodsay, the fabric of these rags isn't bad—it's just been worn to tatters. Looks like it hasn't been washed in ages. Based on what I can tell..."
The freckled boy rose, clapping dust from his hands.
"A noble's illegitimate child, perhaps?"
Dailau Goodsay—heir to the prestigious Goodsay family, one of the two great military powers of the Stag Empire—crossed his arms and smiled with disdain.
"What a disgrace. Even among nobles, such filthy peasant behavior persists," he scoffed. "Abandoning a child after birth? No doubt some minor noble's maidservant was cast out in a jealous squabble, forced to sneak back and deposit the child here in secret."
The pudgy one mumbled through a mouthful of food, "So, Brother Dailau, what should we do? Should we report it to Lord Dekula?"
"Report it? Why bother?" Dailau grinned and unsheathed his sword, contempt still curling his lips. "If this is an unwanted bastard of nobility, then allow me to do a kindness and grant the child a mercy. Didn't you two want to see the power I gained upon reaching the Ember Technique's lower tier? Watch closely."
Through the swirling mist, the blade slid past the infant's skin, piercing the swaddling cloth. The freckled and pudgy boys gasped as Dailau flicked his sword upward—sending the baby into the air. Then, drawing back, he struck again just as the bundle descended.
Shhkt. A faint hiss.
Feathers burst into the air, spiraling amidst the rainbow's glow. The blade, impossibly precise, passed through the cloth without touching the child.
Indeed—she was unhurt.The eleven-year-old's astonishing swordsmanship drew exclamations of awe from his companions. Yet, as the baby's back brushed the cold steel and her body dropped from the sky, a chilling dread overtook her.
She began to cry—loud, wrenching sobs that echoed like broken glass. The sound made the boys' laughter ring even more cruelly. But it also pierced the veil of shadow—reaching… someone.
The June sun blazed overhead.But in the shadows… frost began to fall.
Dailau basked in their praise, lowering his sword.
"Hahaha, with effort, you two will soon reach my level. Haven't you both reached the intermediate tier of Body Tempering? A few more months, and you'll break through."
Freckled boy: "How can we compare, Young Master Goodsay? You were already the most gifted student in the lower division when you enrolled!"
Pudgy boy: "Right, right! Brother Dailau, please—show us again! Just once more!"
Dailau tilted his head, disdainfully eyeing the two bootlickers. With a dramatic sigh, he said, "Since your families are vassals of House Goodsay, I suppose I owe you that much. Watch closely—this is your last chance. I won't perform a third time."
The sword lifted again.The crying baby was tossed into the air once more. As she fell, panic gripped her small form. Below—awaited the cold blade, and three pairs of eyes devoid of empathy.
Dailau gripped his sword tighter, aiming at the child. This time, his smirk held not only contempt—but cruelty. What consequence could there be in killing a nameless, abandoned infant? None. That fleeting thought raced through his mind as the tip of his sword subtly shifted—no longer aimed at the cloth, but directly at her heart.
A hexagonal crystal glinted—falling silently past Dailau's cheek.
And the blade struck.
——————
The rainbow shimmered quietly beside the pool. The courtyard, drenched in heat, was silent save for the three boys. Mist slowly gathered upon the sword raised toward the sky, dampening its immaculate edge.
"…???"
Gone.
The swaddling, which should have been impaled, vanished midair. The three noble boys stared blankly into the azure sky. A long moment passed before comprehension dawned. Dailau, especially, turned with fury—pointing his sword at a figure five meters away.
A beggar boy stood cradling the baby, soothing her with gentle strokes.
Freckled boy: "Hey, you brat! Who are you?!"
"Waaah! Waaaah!"
The infant's sobs continued, while the beggar silently comforted her.
"I said—who are you?!"
Both boys drew their swords, flanking the beggar with menace. Their outrage, however, was not for themselves—but for Dailau Goodsay, the proud heir and prodigy of his noble house.