Moments later, he handed Kael a sleek black ring — simple in design, yet exuding an aura of power.
"This ring grants you a personal space — roughly the size of a single room. Safe, private. Perfect for study or rest."
Kael slipped the ring on his finger, feeling a faint hum of magic pulse through him.
He smirked. "Now that's more like it."
Kael slipped the black ring onto his finger, then carefully placed all his important belongings inside the magical space it created—money, scrolls, even the saved scroll for Selene.
Everything was safe and out of sight.
He left the shop, his mind flickering briefly to Selene. A small, rare smile touched his lips at the thought of her.
Next, he made his way to a nearby dressing shop. "I want the best dress you have," he said calmly.
The shopkeeper's eyes gleamed with greed, quickly pulling out a rich, finely embroidered garment. "Two hundred gold coins," she said, expecting no less.
Kael handed over the coins without hesitation.
Exiting the shop, now clad in his new attire, he felt the weight of the night approaching. The streets were already growing dim, lanterns flickering on as the city prepared to sleep.
He started to walk, blending into the shadows, the cool evening air wrapping around him like a cloak.
Kael hummed softly, a mischievous grin forming as he sang quietly to himself,
"I'm rich, I'm rich…"
But suddenly, his voice faltered, the song dying on his lips.
The happy expression he wore moments ago faded, replaced by a blank, expressionless mask.
He had been faking it all along.
An unfamiliar emptiness gnawed at him from inside.
'Why am I not happy? 'The question hit him harder than any coin ever could.
He thought back—he felt more joy sharing a simple moment with Selene or even with Yue than he ever did counting gold or donning fine robes.
So why didn't this wealth bring him satisfaction? Why did it feel like a hollow echo?
He didn't have the answers.
Not yet.
Kael kept walking through the darkening streets, the city lights flickering like distant stars, while that restless question lingered in his mind, heavier than any treasure he'd ever held.
Suddenly, a boy—barely twelve—clutched his leg.
Kael looked down. The child was thin, bones visible beneath torn, filthy clothes.
Before Kael could speak, a man nearby hissed, "What are you doing, boy? That's the third young master. Keep away from him!"
Kael raised a hand to stop him.
The boy's voice trembled. "Sir, please... my mother—she's not moving. Please come."
Without a word, Kael nodded. "Show me," he said, and followed.
The path twisted down back alleys, and after a few turns, Kael stepped into a nightmare.
Dozens of refugees lay in the shadows—shivering on stone floors, wrapped in rags, barely breathing.
There was no food, no light, no hope.
Kael's steps slowed. His eyes darted over the silent misery—so many broken souls forgotten by the kingdom.
The boy ran ahead and knelt beside a frail woman, unmoving. A girl the same age as him sat beside her, rubbing her cold hands with tiny fingers.
Kael swallowed hard.
Kael knelt beside the woman, his fingers gently pressing against her wrist—searching, hoping.
Nothing. No pulse.
His worst fear had come true.
The boy's eyes were wide, desperate. "Sir… what happened to my mother?"
The girl looked up, tears already welling. "Why is she not moving?"
Kael's throat tightened. How could he say it? How do you tell children their world has just ended?
He looked into their eyes—too young to know this kind of pain—and forced the words past the lump in his throat.
"Your mother… she went on a long journey," he said softly.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Then, at last, the children broke. Their sobs echoed in the cold alley, raw and unfiltered.
Kael sat there, helpless. All his gold, his new robes, his power—useless.
Rain pattered softly on Kael's shoulders, soaking his fine cloak, matting strands of his hair.
But he didn't move. He just stood there, watching.
No one else seemed surprised. No one gasped. No one panicked.
This wasn't new for them.
This was their everyday.
He watched as a few men silently lifted the woman's body—gentle, practiced—and carried her toward a corner of the makeshift slum, where shallow earth had already been turned.
A grave, waiting.
The children cried, clinging to each other as their mother disappeared from view.
Kael clenched his jaw. His fingers curled at his side. And still he said nothing.
A hand touched his shoulder, gentle but firm.
He turned to see an old man—wrinkled, bent, but with calm eyes that had seen too much. The man gave a slow nod.
"You look new here, young man."
Kael only nodded, still staring ahead.
The old man stepped beside him, looking out over the slum.
"You see this…?" He gestured toward the quiet burial.
"This is the truth of life. The ultimate truth. The end."
Kael swallowed, his gaze still locked on the small grave.
He nodded again, hollowly.
But then the old man said something else—something that made Kael blink and turn sharply toward him.
"But I'm not sad," he said.
Kael stared at him, incredulous. The old man smiled faintly, rain running down his face like tears he no longer shed.
"I see this as a beginning," he said softly.
"That woman… her soul has gone on a long journey now. Maybe she'll find peace there. A better life."
Kael's breath caught. His chest tightened.
The old man looked toward the earth one last time.
"This is the end," he said. "And this… this is the beginning."