A world without edges.
That's where Seven found himself.
Soft warm light like the embrace of a distant sun painted everything in hues of gold and deep blue.
It stretched endlessly on the sky with no horizon and the land with no ground.
And within this space, a woman sat who was cradling her in her hands.
Her touch was as light as air like she was not cradling him at all. Also, all he could sense was the steady rise and fall of her breath.
He did not know who she was.
After all, no matter how hard he tried to look at her, he cannot see her face. It remained blurred, shifting like ripples in water. But her warmth… her warmth was undeniable.
She rocked him gently and sang a lullaby.
"La la la la la~"
And time ceased to exist.
"Sleep now, little ember, the night is so long…
"Rest, my dear star, and shine ever strong."
Seconds stretched into minutes, minutes into hours, and hours into eternity.
But none of it mattered.
At that moment, only the warmth and comfort of her lullaby remained, and he began to fall asleep.
Yet, before he could close his eyes, a single cyan butterfly drifted into his view.
It glowed softly with its wings barely making a sound as it hovered just above his small hands. It circled him, repeatedly, but it never once did it land.
The butterfly only danced on its own.
"Accept it, my little Seven. Raise your hand."
The woman spoke.
He hesitated.
But after a few seconds of hesitating, he raised his tiny hands into the air.
Just like the woman said, the butterfly slowly landed onto the tip of his finger.
The moment it touched him, warmth seeped into his skin.
It was subtle at first like a delicate heat and also like the first rays of morning light brushing against frost. Then, it began to spread from his fingertips to his palm, up his arm, and through his chest.
It was not the sharp burn of fire nor the biting sting of power forcing its way in.
Instead, it was something gentler.
Like an ember rekindled after being smothered in ash.
Seven's heart pulsed in rhythm with it. Slow. Steady. But each beat felt like a drum that had finally found its voice.
A tingling sensation ran through his veins and trailed the warmth that settled deep within his heart.
His breath hitched.
He looked at his wrist and he saw a white bracelet that slowly tattooed itself on his skin.
"Good boy."
The woman spoke.
Right after she did, the butterfly's wings began to crumble.
Tiny flecks of cyan light drifted away like fragments of a memory. As they scattered, they reflected scenes back at him.
A little boy laughing.
A girl, a few years older, chased after him with a mischievous grin.
They ran together.
And behind them stood the woman who watched with a smile.
The images flickered in the dim glow of the fading butterfly.
For a brief moment, it felt real like if he reached out, he could step into that world, hear their voices, and feel the warmth of their hands.
But the glow dimmed.
The figures blurred.
The woman disappeared.he boy.
The girl.
Finally, the world itself collapsed into darkness.
And in the darkness, he heard a voice whisper in his ears.
"Shine ever strong, my dear star."
***
In the Exiled Mansion
"Ahm… Young Lord?"
The maid, Iria, could not help but ask as she watched Seven quietly slip the coins into a worn leather pouch.
The sum was not much, but in the desolation of the exiled mansion with a village— if it can even be called that due to its small area— there was little to spend on.
Thus even this small sum seemed excessive.
And his memories told him that the original Seven Hart had hoarded it like a miser, boasting of wealth to no one but himself.
'Crowned with his own delusions…'
Seven thought.
"Where are you planning to spend such a large amount of money?"
Iria added.
But Seven merely tied the pouch shut.
"Young Lord?"
"I… don't know either…"
"Pardon?"
"Don't worry. I'll bring a knight with me."
"B-But Young Lord, you just can't—"
"Iria."
"..."
Iria did not respond further.
She had always hated this change of Seven.
Given his unpredictable nature, not even her who served him for eleven years could predict. Be it his personality, behavior, and the way he thinks, no one has ever caught a glimpse of the pattern on how they have changed.
Thus all she could ask is his…
…Safety.
"Please allow me to choose which guard will accompany you, Young Lord."
"..."
"Is it—"
"Do as you wish."
"Thank you, Young Lord."
Step.
Seven stepped out of the treasury room.
***
In the Slovka Pathway
The Slovka Pathway was the only road leading from the Main Duchy Grounds toward the Exiled Mansion.
It was a quiet, winding trail, with only the sound of hooves on dirt to accompany the rider's thoughts.
Neighhh!!
The horse that Eden was riding suddenly whined.
Slowly, she guided the horse and let it drink from the river beside the road. .
She then touched the side of her neck as she felt a sting. But when she pulled her hand away and looked down at her palm, a faint hue of red stained her skin.
"What…?"
She looked confused and glanced around.
But seeing the blood on her palm, it was already dry. It seemed to have been there for hours already.
"Did he…"
At first, she thought perhaps Seven was able to land an attack. But she dismissed the idea as she was confident to have dodged and parried all of those with her fingers.
It was not possible either given that Seven fainted right after and was not able to land any more attacks.
"A mosquito...?"
She nodded.
Yes.
That was the most plausible answer.