"The sword is a symbol of power, meaning the authority to judge, enforce the law, and make responsible decisions. It is a weapon used to decide the fate of others. Therefore, the sword in the hand of Lady Justice is a double-edged sword, which symbolizes the law that can be used to punish wrongdoers and protect the innocent at the same time.

However, this power can also lead to injustice. If the sword bearer does not weigh the evidence and consider it carefully, the sword must be lower than the scales, to show that it is subject to scrutiny."

The soft voice of the female narrator from the documentary "The Sword of Justice" on the iPad continues to play, even though the person who opened it is not paying attention to it.

The small, thin frame inside the medium-sized bedroom, he was still pays attention to the favorite saber in hand. He wiped it slowly and carefully, examining the slender shape and handle that fit his hand perfectly before putting a sheath on the sword and placing it in his bag along with a new pair of gloves he had just gotten yesterday evening.

Khanin turned to close the case and stood up to his full height, taking the black backpack with the Fencing equipment inside and slinging it over his shoulder.

He had to hurry a bit today as he had a training session scheduled for the new kids at the Fencing association, so he needed to move faster than usual.

The young boy stepped out of the bedroom and, as he was about to close the door, his eyes caught sight of the neatly arranged display of his own achievements on the shelf.

Khanin's room was filled with various types of swords that he had won from innocent bet win with his friends. He looked at them with pride before closing the door and walking down the stairs with a happy mood."You have arrived late, five minutes after the agreed time. You will make adjustments next time."

Khanin's feet immediately stopped when he heard a loud noise from someone else, who turned out to be his own father, Tattanai.

"Yes sir, I'm aware of that."

Khanin shrugged his shoulders and sat down at the dining table, ignoring his father who was standing lazily in front of the stove.

He picked up his mobile phone to read a message from his close friend, Paul, who was a member of the Tex fencing club they had arranged to meet since morning. However, before he could reply, breakfast served by his father was placed in front of him.

"I already said it. If you're in the house, use our native language." Tattanai said sternly, while his expression remained unchanged as usual.

Our native language made the young man laugh inwardly. The language spoken about was probably the Emmaly language, as his father came from a small country in the SouthEast region named Emmaly.

Tattanai is from there and has strong ties to the country, but Khanin is not. He was born and raised in England.

He was unclear how his father could speak the language of "their" so fluently. The young man thinks it should be his father's language. It's worse when his father says he was born and raised here. So, his language should be English, not Emalese.

Although Khanin wanted to back out, he decided to remain indifferent and keep those words he heard from his father, as he observed the tension on his face.

"Khao Soi again." Khanin grumbled about the food in front of him instead. He used a fork to separate the noodles in the curry with prominent orange oil. He rolled the yellow noodles and furrowed his brow at his father who had just sat down across from him.

"Dad, you know that I don't like to eat Khao Soi because it stains my shirt."

The young man said of himself eating Khao Soi like his father, and the broth spilling onto his shirt... it was messy In reality, he doesn't like any kind of noodle dishes because every time Khanin eats, there is a problem with his clothes getting dirty with soup or sauce. Everyone knows and tries to avoid serving this kinda food, but it seems like his father is an exception.

His father not only never avoids things his son doesn't like but also likes to serve noodle dishes every morning.

"Just get used to it. You can eat it without staining your clothes." Tattanai replied calmly, squinting at his son's use of the utensils.

"Just practice using chopsticks until you're comfortable with them. You can eat national dishes without getting dirty." Tattanai replied calmly, watching his son use a fork to eat instead of chopsticks as he had been taught. "Practice using chopsticks with a spoon until you're comfortable with them. You won't be able to use a fork to eat everything like you're used to doing here, Nin."

"Hmm." Khanin sighed when he heard his father speak like that.

The young man knew that arguing would not be helpful.

If he argued, his father would just repeat the same things like a programmed robot. Realizing this, he took the spoon out of the cup and picked up the chopsticks next to him, clamped a few strands of noodles into his mouth, and then quickly drank some water and stood up.

"Nin, you've only eaten this much. You're not full yet."

"Hmm." Tattanai lifted his coffee cup and sipped it, pretending not to notice his son's clear dissatisfaction every time he complained.

On the child's side, seeing his father's indifferent attitude, he turned and grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder.

Khanin was about to leave the dining room through the elderly person's path. However, before he could take a step, his tender heart gnawed at his mind until he finally gave in and became understanding to his father again because he couldn't bear things being sour.

If they had to avoid talking just because he didn't care about eating Khao-Soi it would sound just stupid, so he could agree to lower himself again.

"Well then...I am going ahead, Dad."

Khanin spoke softly to the broad back, looking from this angle as if Tattanai didn't care to argue with his son at all. The tall man in the blue protective clothing didn't even bother turning around to look at him with disdain.

Khanin's father just calmly placed the coffee cup down and then uttered a stern voice.

"Don't forget that we have a rehearsal tonight - don't be late."

His eyes glanced nervously around before Khanin paused in his tracks, thinking to leave quietly from this spot.

"But I am going to practice at the Association, and what else will I practice at night for, Dad? Let's discuss whether we should give me some time to have fun."

The association that Khanin referred to was the Fencing Association, and what he talked to his father about the training was the international sport of Fencing.

His grandfather dreamed of his father becoming a representative of his own country in sports, but Tanattai couldn't because of an accident when he was young. He had to give up his dream and accept job offers in other areas while moving to England and establishing himself here...

"I changed my mind. Training like that and 'our' training are not the same."

Tattanai lowered his voice, emphasizing the phrase "our" in particular.

"What are you holding on to father? I won the awards in the association, but it still doesn't satisfy you?"

"Not enough. Come and practice tonight - you have still many flaws that I needs to point out and show you." Tattanai finished speaking and lifted his coffee cup to his lips again.

The middle-aged man showed an indifferent attitude to what his son was doing, something that Khanin opposed. His orders had to be obeyed, and Khanin prohibited any refusal.

"Then it's up to you, Dad. Whatever you want I will do. Either way, I must be obedient because I am living with Asian Parents."

The childish argument of the only son echoed along with the sound of the door slamming shut.

Bang!

For several minutes, Tattanai remained motionless, his once calm eyes trembling. His gaze, which used to look outward, now rested on the bowl of Khao Soi, the food that his son had left over.

Khanin walked out of the house and still had a heavy heart from his father's words. The young man walked quickly, shuffling his feet, towards Earl's Court Station, hoping that walking would help ease the anger in his heart.

Khanin thought that his father had a demeanor more suited for a military person than a writer, with his stern and orderly manner and the heavy tone he used when training in swordplay. It made him feel as though this father of his had been trained rigorously by a knight in the middle ages.

It was not surprising that none of his friends dared to come and play at his house, as each of them feared his father.

Khanin still remembered when Paul visited his house for the first time and his father ordered him to put on his training clothes because he saw that Paul's swordplay was not good enough. His father trained him so intensely that Paul was exhausted and didn't dare to come to his house again.

In addition, he also called his father a merciless training master in the writer's circle, telling everyone about it until now.

In reality, Tattanai's main profession was as a ghostwriter, working only for famous people. Most of his work was related to the biographies of athletes, which is why he didn't have much of his own work to show.

But that's the reason why his father still has to exercise and train hard regularly, because famous athletes prefer someone who takes care of their own body, rather than hiring a thin and weak writer to write their biography.

Khanin thinks that Tattanai is one of the most talented people. If he had not had an accident, he probably would not have had to entrust all his dreams and hopes to him. His son was very overborne.

Just follow the rules of the battalion. If he was still in his home country, born in Emmaly, he would probably have become a happy national team athlete.

He guessed that his father had already reconciled with this matter. Although he lived his life like a father, raising one child to perfection till he was this grown.

Although Khanin never met his mother because she passed away when he was born, on the other hand, his father did a good job and never missed anything. Even if he was tough on him for everything, he could never deny that Tattanai was one of the best fathers.

His father loved him, like he loved his father. Although they never said "I love you" to each other, Khanin always felt the good hope that his father gave him with his sincerity.

Taking care of the house by keeping it clean and waking up to serve breakfast for everyone... um, even though it was food that he didn't really like.

Okay, it wasn't that bad with them...

Because he had always been with his father, Khanin was not far from the tree. He got almost everything that his father had and did.

His habit is to observe people's facial expressions and postures, partly because he learned it from fencing, which his father taught him.

The other party always says that this sport is not just about wielding a sword to stab or strike your opponent, but it is a sport used to train decision-making skills whether to attack or defend based on observing the postures of the opponent.

The precise speed of parrying the sword promptly is all due to having to use concentration to read the minds and read the movements of others until it becomes second nature.

It's like reading his own father's mind that no matter how hard it is, he always makes it easy for him.

Khanin thinks that all of this is a special ability.

He is good at reading the situation around him, especially people's facial expressions and the movements of living things around him, and because of this, that's why his journey to the Fencing Association this morning looked strange if more than usual...

He took two steps forward, then stopped, and then took two more steps and stopped again. He repeated this several times until he was sure that the sound of his own footsteps was followed by another sound.

'The sound of thick-soled shoes is unmistakable.'

To make sure, the young man stopped and turned around again.

Khanin pretended to bend down and tie his own shoelaces, although nothing would come out, he relied on the moment of lowering his face to peek under his legs.

As expected, a pair of combat boots appeared. The owner of the boots stood still at a visible distance.

The young boy's heart was beating rapidly as if someone was shaking him.

Khanin swallowed the thick saliva, but despite the efforts of consciousness to wake him up, he chose to get up and stand naturally.

Pretending not to notice the presence of some people walking together, he took a long pause, tried not to see anything, and hurriedly walked into the Tube as soon as the train doors opened.

It had been almost a week since Khanin began to sense something abnormal around him.

Many times he felt that someone's gaze was fixed on him, but when he looked back, he could not find anyone suspicious. However, every time his survival instinct told him that the mysterious person was getting closer and closer until he could no longer trust anyone.

'No matter what, today I must see the face of the person who has been following me.'

Khanin thought in his mind before slowly moving from the door aisle to the center of the bus.

He glanced cautiously at the reflections of people in the mirror before his eyes met with a suspicious person wearing a gray hoodie and a black cap that covered their face, standing behind him, leaning to the right side, less than three seats away.

Khanin locked eyes with that person, while the young boy on the other side read the gestures through the reflection of the Tube window. The person turned to the left and right suspiciously, and leaned toward Khanin, making him think of the old enemies who he had problem with.

The young man was searching for fragments of memory, wondering if he had ever had a problem with someone who had this kind of appearance, but his mind was blank. Khanin did not know many Asians, so he was confident that this person was not someone he knew for sure.

As soon as he thought that, the young boy closed his eyes, and Khanin took a deep breath before counting to ten, following the time he had calculated in his mind. Then...

"Hey, you kid there!"

Someone yelled loudly as Khanin bumped into him while running from the center of the bus to the door. Although he wanted to apologize, he did not have time. The only thing that mattered was the announcement from the stationmaster.

Khanin counted the steps he needed to run, then quickly jumped out of the bus in one swift motion, just as the sound of the door closing beeped.

Beep!

"Go-to-hell, you-fucking-pervert!"

Khanin turned around and spoke silently but emphasized his mouth movements clearly to the person in the gray hoodies who were fiercely huddling together in the pit.

The other party chased him but it was pointless as the train door had already closed. They were blocked from each other and the young man smiled, raising his middle finger to show a painful victory declaration to the people on the train, causing them to shuffle uncomfortably until they realized what to do. The train departed and the procession was over.

You idiot...

The young man stood and watched the train move away with joy. He quickly turned around, realizing that he would not be able to get away with traveling on the same route as before to meet someone at the next station.

The decision to change the mode of transportation to the fencing club by taking another train and walking a bit more was probably the best way out.

It's okay to waste a little time... but at least he can be confident that he will be safe from the stalker who has been lurking in his life lately for another day.

"Oh, that's why you were late."

Upon arriving at the Fencing club, it took less than a minute to be scrubbed clean by Khanin's close friend. He had to explain the reason for his lateness and told Paul everything that had happened to relay it to others.

He certainly never disappoints... in terms of eloquence.

Therefore, when he walked out of the dressing room, everyone on the team had already noticed. Even the new kid standing in front of the digital scoreboard counting the score.

"I've talked about this enough." Khanin, who was wearing a mesh mask, walked over to Paul and brushed his bangs aside, Angella turned around and saw him smile before quickly leaning away from the conversation to let him join in.

"So, you said someone was following you." Paul, the blond-haired Englishman, turned to his little friend immediately. "What are you going to do about it? Will you report it to the police, just in case those guys are trafficking in human organs or something? Why do they do that kind of thing?"

Khanin smiled when he heard his close friend's last sentence and turned to see him smile like that. It was predictable that none of this was a big deal, but Paul was the type to overreact and blurt out nonsensical things.

"You talk too much, Paul. What can Nin possibly have for the stalker? Even though he's cute, you should help us check the content of our photos, that's it. His brain is just this small."

Alex, a half-Chinese, half-Englishman holding an Epee, pretended to show his small items to his friends.

"Moreover, having a foul mouth like his - anyone can kidnap him, but it's a burden. I sympathize with those who want to kidnap him, my friend."

"Hey, calm down, friend. You must have forgotten who the captain of our team is - be careful not to get kicked mid-air with that kind of talk."...

Khanin, the team captain, raised his saber and tapped his Asian friend on the chest. When he heard this, Alex raised his hand and pretended to surrender, not taking it seriously. It was an act that made their friends and the new kid in the neighborhood laugh.

"But it's not the first time our friend has been followed like this. At least there's that other doctor ..." Alex took advantage of the moment when his friends were laughing and said loudly, looking towards the person they were teasing.

The tough-looking young man looked towards a man sitting with his hands clasped on his lap. He glanced down at them with an indifferent expression, not showing any emotions before turning his head and speaking softly. "That doctor ... always trains our team and every time that guy Nin competes he is here pronto. I think if it weren't for those scouting eyes, he would be one of the people who like Nin."

"That could be it. That doctor has never spoken to me before." Khanin commented. The young man raised his head and went to Alex to say that he had paused a little when he saw that someone else was already looking at them.

The distance was not far, so Khanin could clearly see the doctor.

The tall and well-built man had a face that made everyone think he belonged to the category of handsome men favored by God.

No matter how many times you look, you cannot deny that he is a very handsome man... even though he is Asian, his height seems to be almost ten centimeters taller than he actually is from a quick glance.

Moreover, the uniform also makes one jealous, to the point where he could be sitting normally and looks more like a celebrity posing for a photoshoot instead of sitting and watching them practice swordsmanship every day.

Khanin looked at him, considering his black hair, cut short according to the current fashion trend. Thick eyebrows pressed against an oval face with a sharp nose, ending with the most attractive organ... Their dark, paired eyes were no different from the predatory eagle's gaze, constantly staring at their prey.

Everything mentioned is under a white-gray tone dress code. The other side is always like that.

Khanin has never seen this person dress in any other tone. Usually, two out of three times, he wears a turtleneck shirt that is either black or white, alternating back and forth, like they only have a few outfits. But it cannot be denied that the dressing of the other side makes this man look like a high aristocrat, from his posture, the way he carries himself, and his various attractive gestures.

He doesn't seem like an ordinary person...

Khanin still doesn't know the purpose, he doesn't understand why this person is here, watching. Although his mouth denies it, he can't help but wonder if what Alex said might be true.

Does this man like him that much?

Oh my goodness, he is not the type of person who would appreciate anything fragrant (male-on-male) anyway.

So why bother keeping watch him if he doesn't like him?

There are many questions lingering in his mind, and they surely stimulate Khanin's curiosity greatly.

Well... one of his flaws that cannot be fixed is being one of them...

I like finding answers. If there's nothing to bother my mind, I'm not the type who thinks too much, but if I'm curious, I'll find a reasonable and logical answer.

What do you call it? It's something that Tattanai, his father, has been training him with since birth. It's a part of his body's soul... his spirit.

"I'll go talk to the doctor, ask him everything so that nothing will be left unanswered."

Without waiting for anyone to ask, Khanin turned quickly and handed his saber to his friend Paul to hold. Then he walked quickly towards the person with an aggressive posture.

Every move of Khanin was under the watchful eye of Charan. The young man shifted slightly, ready to deal with what was about to happen. When he saw that his target had been staring straight at him the whole time, he approached with a determined gaze.

A skinny cat was trying to catch a big fish in a wide water pond...

It's time... Charan, you have been waiting for this day for a long time. The young man had a lot to say and just wanted Khanin to listen.

"Are you here to see me?"

As soon as he sat down, Khanin, with his sweet voice, immediately began a conversation with a stranger in English because he didn't know what language the man spoke. He leaned forward and hugged the small stranger to comfort him, but the tall man just stared back silently without saying anything.

"..."

"Or are you a scout for another team? If so, I have to decline because I don't have any plans to continue fencing after graduation. I want to take a break for a year or two." When Khanin saw that the tall man wasn't saying anything, he took matters into his own hands and asked and declined, having done this many times with scouts.

However, the other side still sat like a statue.

"..."

"Or... the reason you followed me like this is because you... " At this point, Khanin's eyebrows furrowed automatically, he felt uncomfortable and upset that he remembered what Alex said now, but it was just a hypothesis that could be possible in this situation.

"Or do you just like me... that's why you followed me?"

It worked. The stranger turned his head to face him immediately after sitting still like a statue for so long.

Okay... let's talk, statue person. You can't just sit there quietly. Shall we talk on the phone or something?

"Hasn't Tattanai told you yet?"

However, the first thing the man chose to say was not about liking or disliking something...

Does this person... know my father?

"Tell me?"

From thinking that he would ask for clarification, he became even more suspicious. The furrowed brows on both sides of Khanin's face almost met in the middle. The young man moved towards the stranger without realizing it, causing them to be so close that they could almost hear each other's breathing.

"Um..."

The man spoke with a hoarse voice and narrowed his eyes, as if he was scrutinizing Khanin with great importance. The facial expression of the tall man indicated that they were analyzing openly.

"Tell me what." The young man asked calmly, although he almost exploded with curiosity in his head. Something was abnormal... Khanin looked at the man and knew that there was no way he could tell him the truth.

"Say that..." The man paused, intentionally increasing Khanin's curiosity.

The young man did not think about whether he could read what he saw, that it might not be true, but Khanin wanted to observe the other person's expressions. A slight tilt of the head when he saw the eyes that used to look at him with anxiety suddenly turned into a calm expression within a blink of an eye.

"When you draw your sword, you tend to shift your left shoulder unconsciously. The force behind it makes you move fast. But if you meet an opponent who is superior to you, they will read immediately that in your next move, you will either thrust or make a feint."

"..."

"A habit like that may make you lose next time... so you should improve in that area."

"..."

"Because this is something Tattanai should let you know earlier on."

"You... "

"Actually, I think... of the Fencing Association members, you still need a lot of practice."

You

"Actually, I think... of the Fencing Association members, you still need a lot of practice."

'Need to practice more?'

The unfamiliar person's sentence still echoed in Khanin's ears, even though it was already days ago, while his eyes stared at the face of the person who was his father, with the cyber sword in his hand ready to strike.

Khanin stood on, his face serious and ready for training, opposite his confused inner self, while the unfamiliar person refused to back down.

Movement signals from Tattanai caused the scattered body to come back and try to focus on the upcoming situation.

The young boy dodged the shadow of the sword that came from the left before dodging again to avoid the sharp end that came from the right.

Khanin took advantage of the moment to raise his arm, hoping to hit the garden and score, but perhaps because he didn't have enough focus as everything was planned in his mind, it didn't go as he hoped.

Missed... missed it so easily.

"Nin." The score counting signal sounded loudly, followed by the sound of pulling out, a heavy-hearted and anxious expression emerged from Khanin's lips. He knew immediately what would happen next in the sequence.

"..."

"Do you realize that you have no focus?"

Tattanai spoke in a firm voice, turning to pull out the wire from the armor suit. He then took off the metal mask and stood embracing the young man with a scrutinizing gaze.

"I know that I have no focus." Khanin thought he should not make any excuse. The young man breathed out, and he was angry with himself for inadvertently allowing someone to influence his thoughts.

Why does that madman suggest that there are flaws in him? Who gave him the right to say that one member of the association should be better than the others? Especially when no one has ever dared to speak to him like that before.

"What causes you to lack focus?"

"Something pointless."

"Khanin, if that nonsense messes with your mind, it will lead to violence. Do you know what it means?" His father's use of his real name indicated an increase in the severity of the situation. The young man did not answer, but he knew exactly what Tattanai wanted to convey.

Hesitation and inaccuracy... are the paths that will never lead to victory. Only defeat awaits us if we wait around.

"You should be alone to reflect."

"Father, you said, if I tries to adjust my posture and not move my left shoulder before drawing the sword, can I defeat you?"

"Hm?" The owner of the small and cramped house blurted out without much thought, as he turned to look at his son with a suspicious gaze.

"It's...forget it." Khanin closed his eyes and rubbed his hand until he regained consciousness, realizing that he had let slip some unfinished thoughts. The young man had intended to end the conversation here, but it seemed that Tattanai's reaction was different from before.

"Say it again...the sentence you just said."

"It's...well, I said that if I tried to adjust my posture and didn't move my left shoulder before drawing my sword, what would happen...Father, what do you think?" The young man repeated the previous sentence in his mind, remaining silent and waiting for an answer from his father. Each passing moment seemed to be more suspenseful than the previous one as he anxiously waited for Tattanai's response.

"I think so." The once calm and cool gaze, now filled with contentment and satisfaction.

"..."

"Nin, I'm glad you understand your own flaws now."

Snap!

It was as if an invisible lightning bolt struck the center of Khanin's palace. The young man was unaware of his own facial expression, his eyes widening and his mouth gaping in amazement. He concluded with a smirk that matched his thoughts.

"Dad, when you speak like that, you mean that..."

"My words mean that in the past, I knew the pattern you would attack with when I draw my sword. How? Because my left shoulder moved."

"Yes."

"This is what you told me to improve, but you didn't say where to fix it, right?"

"Yes."

"So, does it mean that if I adjust my movements, I will defeat you?"

"Correct." Khanin had been soaking in hot water before, but now he stopped and listened intently to Tattanai's words. He was sure that what the doctor said was true.

"No, it's not true..." The young man frowned and looked away, resisting the words as much as he could. However, someone as smart as Tattanai could see through his behavior.

"Did someone tell you that?"

The older man asked curiously. In truth, Tattanai was not sure, but because Khanin never hid the truth from him, he could see that the boy was confused.

"No one did." The stubborn boy replied, turning his gaze away and reaching for a bottle of water nearby to drink and calm down. He tried to avoid their gaze by pretending to look elsewhere, but he knew that everything he tried to hide was becoming more apparent.

Khanin had never lied to Tattanai before.

"Then how did you know?"

"It was I..."

"Think carefully before answering me." the statement was no different from a hammer that had just hit Khanin's outer shell mask. The young boy took a deep breath, his small mouth pouted with his habitual posture that he unintentionally did at times when he was unaware.

"It's possible." Khanin muttered softly, looking at the older person for a moment before quickly hiding his feelings in his heart as usual. "But just talking doesn't make anyone great. It seems like he has been complaining more than anything else."

"Complaining? Then what did he complain about? Tell me, father." This time, Tattanai was the one who did not show any interest. The older man turned to pick up a water bottle, drank it without paying attention, and casually asked with a flat and reasonable tone because he knew the personality of this son better than anyone else.

If he showed signs of excitement, the stubborn-headed boy would feel more reluctant to resist. Therefore, sometimes... Tattanai had to apply his swordsmanship techniques in child rearing. He would stop to read the game, stay quiet and wait for the outburst.

"He said that I moved my left shoulder before drawing the sword, which made my opponent aware in advance. He also said that I need to be more careful, and that someone in the association might be better than him... Hmph, ridiculous."

The end of the sentence was like a whisper, but it was a whisper filled with disgust and emotion. Khanin's head was down, and he thought about how much that silent, stone-carved face might be hiding.

The posture that had been sullen a moment ago, with a tense face and murmurs of self-blame, was now almost entirely in Tattanai's line of sight.

The posture of Khanin made Tattanai almost entirely tense and annoyed. He heard Khanin murmuring to himself, and then Tattanai's attention was drawn to him. Khanin's father smiled before gently clearing his throat to bring Khanin back to reality and out of his reverie.

"And Nin, do you think it's true?"

The middle-aged man asked his son for his opinion, but Tattanai didn't want to lead the discussion. Although he couldn't help but feel grateful for the words of the other person, it seemed that someone had touched on a sensitive topic, causing Khanin to see his flaws more quickly.

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, then you have to prove it." Tattanai finished speaking and turned to place a water bottle down. He then reached for his mask again and put it on. He then lit the fire to tally the score for the previous set before the next match began.

"Do you remember the theory I taught you about the game?" The speaker stood up, ready to send the signal to Khanin's body to respond almost immediately.

"I will win against you, father." The metallic voice spoke earnestly through the mask. The young man moved his left hand back and held the handle of his sword tightly, while his right hand grabbed the hilt of his sword, and he focused his gaze on his opponent. Yes, on the battlefield of the competition, they would have no family ties.

The young man was confident that if his variable was the left shoulder movement, then the game theory that his father had taught him would work. Even though his opponent was his own father...

"I've heard you speak like this all along." Tattanai said with a smirk. His demeanor helped to fuel the enthusiasm of the young people even more than before.

"This time I will definitely not lose."

"Then prove it."

The atmosphere in the rehearsal room became more relaxed. Khanin no longer showed any signs of anxiety. When the young man returned, he was focused and determined in his training.

In Tattanai's eyes, the little guy looked happy and completely unaware that his left shoulder, which used to be a problem, was now moving differently from before.

Tattanai smiled at the results of the necessary training that he had observed. Khanin was stubborn but not a stubborn child, and in practice, he was meticulous and unbelievable. He hesitated at times during swordplay, but was fierce when the time came.

All of his actions were in stark contrast to the loving face of the other side, like a positive and negative pole. The wild dog covered in sheepskin, Khanin, seemed to be a wild cat with sharp claws, but still wrapped in a soft rabbit fur.

The middle-aged swordsman's eyes glanced at the young man, recalling the time when Khanin was still small and had a habit of following his father everywhere. Whatever his father said, the little boy had heard it regularly.

"Father can do it, I can do it."

Paying attention from when he was young until now..."

"What can Father do, I can do..."

The little child who used to follow his father yesterday, today has grown bigger than before.

It's a pity that there isn't much time they have left to spend together... Tattanai only hope that in the next semester, this son will be able to be happy with something simple or at least think of him when he sees food that he used to complain about not liking every day.

Because he himself probably will miss Khanin a lot...

Even though it shouldn't even be thought about.

"Engarde."

"Paet."

"Allez."

The signal from the referees sounded and both competitors immediately began to score points fiercely, in a way that no one was willing to concede to anyone.

The score counting signal continued to sound continuously until it reached a minute, during which the team that used red light to count points demonstrated superior skills by repeatedly thrusting and stabbing their opponent twice in a row, causing the victory to slip away in just a minute.

Nin, the representative of the red team, took off his metal mask and smiled towards the scoreboard before turning his body to hide his smiling face with courtesy. At the same time, he turned to respond to the friendly handshake of the competitor on the opposite side.

The young boy smiled and chatted with the green team in a fair manner, but in the next minute, the mood of the winner changed drastically back and forth, making it frightening.

The young boy gave a smile and talked with the green team in a fair manner before the emotions of the winner suddenly changed drastically to the point of being frightening.

The two-layered eyes hid in the focus points, the nerves and senses did not stop at the co-competitors. When there was a new goal that drew more attention from Khanin.

The lips, painted with a light color, suddenly curved into a charming smile, and the cute face became tense when the magnificent figure of someone appeared in the line of sight.

That man has come again...

Perhaps because today's bout was an internal competition for those who wanted to go on to compete at the city level, the club opened their doors for outside spectators to reserve seating areas as if it were the actual competition. The special round during the full moon was chaotic, but amidst the many people, Khanin's gaze stopped at someone... sharp.

The fair-skinned man with jet-black hair stood out and paired up with Nain's eyes.

The other party crossed his arms on his chest and looked down at the same position, almost like a repeated image from the day before. One thought that the other was just pretending to be still and silent, not moving and not separating, more persistent than a ghost. What happened next was... spooky, or maybe it required chanting to dispel it.

Khanin cursed another person in his heart. The young boy bowed his head and said goodbye to his co-competitor before separating from others. At first, he intended to remain indifferent, but his goal changed abruptly when he was disappointed.

The little figure removed his tight-fitting armor, stood still with his arms crossed, and faced the tall body owner with sharp, weapon-like eyes. They confronted each other, releasing a silence that was no different from a small-scale nerve war, which lasted the stage again.

"Did you come to see me?"

"..."

"Come on, don't want to answer, it's up to you."

The young man shrugged, indifferent to whether or not Khanin cared to answer. He didn't care if the other party would come or go, or what the purpose was. But the main reason he came straight here was because he had something important to discuss.

In fact, it was more of a reconciliation attempt than anything else.

"I just came to... let you know that no matter what, I'm still number one in the club."

"Even if in your eyes, my skills are inferior, in the eyes of the masses, and on the scoreboard, it's very clear that thev're worth more than the words of an ordinary person... don't you think so?" Khanin smiled only with his lips, but didn't reach his eyes.

If the sentence of the opposite party who had been storing the pain before is still very painful. This time, Khanin himself has equally fiery words. The young man stared resentfully at the unfamiliar person, intending to provoke his emotions under the mask of a smile.

"Oh, but anyway, I have to come and thank you. Thank you for helping me learn, even though it was a lesson I didn't ask for. Thank you very much..."

"But you don't have to next time."

Being talked at like this? If it were someone else, they would have probably stood up and started fighting back at this point. However, the man in front managed to maintain his calm and composure well. Excellent. Only the corners of his mouth twitched slowly when the tall figure rose to stand up.

His black eyes dropped down when their height clearly indicated the distance between them. Khanin accidentally took a step back, his hands hanging in the middle of the automatic air. At the moment when the other person stepped closer to him, almost close enough to touch, he noticed the faint fragrance... from the mysterious person's body.

"You know, besides the shoulder twitch, when you back up, you like to drag your feet..."

"You might lose points if you meet someone better than these guys."

"So what about me now..."

"Being number one now doesn't mean you will always be number one."

"I freaking hate that medics guy."

"Why are you going to hate him, Nin? Didn't you say yourself that he warned you about everything you could improve?"

Paul leaned over and whispered, sending a plate of beautiful rice to the English boy. The boy naturally turned to order fish sauce with chili from the waiter before turning to gently bump Khanin's shoulder. When he saw that he still didn't seem to be in a better mood.

It had been almost an hour, but Khanin still couldn't manage to calm his feelings. Perhaps because he knew deep down that those words were true, the anger in his chest could not be easily dismissed, even though he sat amidst the sound of laughter from his teammates. But his mood and thoughts were as cloudy as the sky with rain clouds.

If someone is to blame, it's only that stone statue.

"The doctor's words are nerve-racking."

Khanin turned to pick up a glass of water to calm his heated emotions. He was sitting in a Thai restaurant in the Soho district, a restaurant known for its strong flavor and the same restaurant that Paul had recommended or suggested he treating them in celebration of winning the competition in just three bouts.

"Okay, I didn't think you would think too much about it normally."

"But this time it's not normal."

"What do you mean?" asked the mouth, while the eyes were fixated on the various dishes that the three restaurant staff were serving to Khanin. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became, heavier than before.

"Because my father agrees with what that doctor recommends."

It's not that Khanin doesn't accept his own mistakes and flaws, but the reason for his current annoyance is because the words of someone who dislikes him are supported by the person he trusts the most, his father.

"Is it your father? That's even better, your father is super clever." Alex sitting next to him blurted out his opinion, after sitting quietly listening for a long time.

"When your father recommended to Paul, Paul improved significantly, don't you remember? Otherwise, we wouldn't have a chance to sit here and enjoy this meal together."

"True, I agree with Alex, that doctor might be really good... I mean, having someone criticize you is not necessarily a bad thing, is it?"

At this point, his friends seemed to change their attitude and move back to his side, so he was surprised until he held his breath, suppressing all the turmoil inside before responding casually.

"Hey, you're half-Emmaly's child, right, Nin?" Someone spoke up as the food was almost half gone. Khanin withdrew his gaze from the orange-colored curry that had a strong taste and turned his attention to the question from his teammate.

"Why?"

"My friend asked me if it's true that in their country, children practice sword fighting every day, and they can already handle a sword better than a fork at the age of three."

"Oh, I heard that in that country, when they select a new king, their grandchildren have to compete in sword fighting. It's one of the tests. I saw a short video clip on YouTube many years ago."

Another person spoke up. As the noise level in the shop was quite high, Khanin was not sure whose words they were.

"No way... People from this country always make it to the finals in the Olympics. They are talented, and so are their fathers."

The latest sentence was spoken by Kevin, a blue-eyed foreigner. On the other side of the conversation, someone from another country was speaking very enthusiastically, making Khanin turn his attention to the topic.

"I don't know about others, but my father makes me practice sword fighting every day." The boy shrugged and laughed a little, thinking of his father's order to practice sword fighting as an important aspect of life that Khanin could not ignore. His dad said it is "It's in their bloodline."

As for the previous questions, Khanin couldn't answer. He was born and raised in England, and has never been to Emmaly before. If there was anything to answer, it would have to be based on the strength of his father throughout his life...

Khanin himself assumes that what his friends say is probably true.

Maybe Emmaly trains children to handle swords from birth... Swords before forks...

In fact, when it comes to intensity, his father was not the type who only focused on sword training, but there were many other areas of knowledge that Khanin was also pushed to excel in.

For example, learning to play piano, singing, social studies, economics, and there were also other languages that his friends might not expect him to learn, such as Thai, Chinese, Spanish, and Arabic.

Paul was not surprised that he studied a lot and wondered why he had no time to find a girlfriend. Let's not talk about love. Just having free time to enjoy life was rare. Khanin's life seemed to be scheduled by his father. Even though his father did not pressure him to the point of making him hate studying, his freedom and childhood were not carried out as other children should have.

Many times, Khanin asked himself questions, and many times, he asked questions to the universe.

The young man did not understand why one person had to specialize in everything, but that was because his father was not like anyone else. The answer he received was not much different from a math exam.

The questions were difficult and required a high level of understanding. Tattanai was always like that, sowing seeds, waiting, and watching until he could bloom on his own.

"I train you to be a real swordsman, but sword fighting is a finite game. The game ends within a set time frame. So what should you consider?"

The words of a father the night before came to Khanin's mind in the confusing image. He remembered that this conversation topic occurred during the third round of night practice.

"Maintain the rules and defeat the opponent within the specified time." The slim figure replied immediately with confidence.

"That's correct... if you want to defeat an opponent who is better than you within the specified time... but you still have to maintain the rules. What will you do?"

The middle-aged man paused, allowing his son to contemplate. Khanin shifted slightly, following his intuition. In his mind, he frowned when he thought about something.

"There are two ways." Khanin held his sword in a ready position. The young man stared at his father through the metal mask. Suddenly, he felt inexplicably nervous about his answer.

"Come on then." Khanin stood still for a moment because he wasn't entirely sure about what he was going to say. After a few minutes, he finally relented and expressed what was on his mind.

"The first method is to practice by reading the opponent's movements, finding weaknesses and exploiting them. The second method is to make the opponent violate the rules... then you will win."

The speaker swallowed hard, knowing the meaning behind the words he spoke.

What Khanin said is no different from those who cheat, deceive, and manipulate. However, the young boy only follows the variables given in the problem set by his father and calculates based on possibilities. If he has to compete against time...

We need to create options that will achieve our goals as quickly as possible, which also means making the opponent violate the rules in order to eliminate them from the competition.

"But in every kind of sport, you cannot do that. Intentionally breaking the rules during the game will make the player a cheater." Tattanai emphasized his words to allow young son to think accordingly.

"But outside of the game, I might be able to do that... Right?"

The young boy, quick-witted and impulsive, acted faster than his brain could process. Khanin's eyes widened in surprise at his own thoughts. This resulted in his sword thrusting at the wrong moment.

He missed... but Khanin saw under the metal mask that his father was holding back a smile.

"Yes, it's right to do it outside the game... Therefore, you must be careful and live with mindfulness. Consider the advantages and disadvantages of your actions, see the true intentions of others - what they do, who they do it for, and why. Because in life, we have no right to know who is playing outside the rules. Just a little carelessness could make you lose."

"Don't forget that in every competition, we only need one winner. You have to observe how each person plays and how they approach the game."

"And don't forget the truth that on this earth, humans are all different. It's natural that there are many people who are willing to break the rules to win because they think it's an easier way to compete without playing fair." Tattanai took a stance and prepared himself before signaling to the young boy to do the same.

Khanin understands now... his father didn't teach him to cheat, but he is teaching him to be aware. Thinking that he is better than others and not considering the situation may lead to his downfall... Tattanai is teaching him to open his mind, as he should, to the man's plea.

Despite feeling heartbroken, Khanin could not deny the truth that he had beaten his father by one point that night because he adjusted his movements and reduced the left shoulder shrug, which led to Tattanai not being able to read the game. Although mixed with conceding to an older person's request, the young boy couldn't escape the reality.

The more Khanin realized his mistakes and tried to correct them, the more his soul demanded that he adjust every time Tattanai attacked his left shoulder, even if it was just a little. Little by little, until he almost didn't move at all at the end of the game.

"What someone else says is the truth..."

But then what... he and that doctor won't see each other again after graduation. Khanin planned to leave the Fencing Club for a while.

The captain position will be given to 'Alex', his teammate, and his life will return to being carefree without any reason to meet that annoying person who talks without making sense anymore.

Forever absent.

Where in the hell...

Khanin stood still in front of his own house after separating from Paul, hoping to rest his body and mind. However, the chaos in his life never stopped. The young man with furrowed brows cursed the angel or whoever had the responsibility to write the fate of his life.

His gaze tried hard to comprehend the situation in front of him.

But even after looking through the window, he still couldn't understand... He looked past and saw a strange man.

The tall and bright figure sitting there as nothing was out of the ordinary, except for the other person sitting on the couch beside him, with a fatherly gesture of sitting and bowing his head with clasped hands, as if he was a nobleman bowing to someone of lower rank...

What the hell is going on...

To be continued.

The bell rang loudly and the two writers started arguing with each other, it was more fun than cheering for a boxing hero. NongNin said he wanted to insult the two people who were sitting behind him and shivering.

And then what happened?

Nong Nin aggressively pulled the shirt of the person in front of him, who didn't like it, so he drew his sword...

A tall, calm-faced young man with graceful gestures is shown poised, holding a fishing rod, on a sheet of paper. It may be something that one could see frequently if the viewer were a student from the top-ranked art school in the Kingdom of Emmaly. His striking facial features, which are uniquely sculpted, make it easy for anyone to remember Charan Pitakthewa as the owner of the high-class art school for the elite.

In addition, he is accompanied by a young man who is the heir to the surname of an ancient noble family, known for his outstanding artistic achievements of the era, which many people admired and vied for ownership of.

Charan has risen to become the top-ranked artist of Emmaly, and many wealthy and influential people all want him to come and stay with them...

Charan has risen as the number one artist of Emmaly, whom the wealthy and numerous people all want to have in their own charity events at the end of this century. However, these wealthy people can only dream because they know in their hearts that the person in Charan's charity is currently the Sovereign-King, the leader of Emmaly.

Being under the care of the Sovereign-King makes Charan look even more elegant and distant. People know well that this artist is not an ordinary person, and meeting him does not necessarily mean having the opportunity to get closer. The wealthy and people who have invited Charan have done the most they can by sending their grandchildren to study as his disciples.

In addition, they are no different from the bees that fly around and admire the beautiful flowers in the palace garden, but cannot take them away. They are owners and admirers...

"I apologize for disturbing you, my lord."

The voice of the old butler called the tall young man who was sitting in the middle of the room drawing out of his reverie. Charan was wearing a dark blue silk bathrobe and frameless glasses, his hands stopping in the midst of painting on the canvas. He turned his head to look at the butler.

"Is there anything wrong? Normally, you wouldn't bother me at this time." the tone of his voice was flat and not tinged with any reproach, but for Nong, the old butler, he knew well that the question that had been asked was accompanied by a certain feeling.

The middle-aged man in a formal suit bowed his head slightly, showing his unease. He knew well that his current employer did not like anyone bothering him, especially when he was with his new mistress on a rainy night. It was a time to be avoided, nerves on edge, listening to the sound of the heavy rain falling and the thunder rumbling since last night until the sky cleared. Narong knew he should not be standing here, but necessity forced him to be.

There is something more important than your orders, sir.

"I apologize deeply, my lord." said the butler with a small bow and a plea for forgiveness. He did not waste any time explaining anything, just stepped aside to allow a soldier in uniform to enter. The third person bowed respectfully to Charan before loosening something from his thick hand and letting go of the artwork in his hand.

"Khun Charan... the Sovereign-King has ordered you to an audience with him." said the soldier, then smiled at each other. The young man in uniform stood up straight, arranging his body in the most polite and appropriate manner for the artist who was under the patronage of the lord.

"When do I need to go?" Charan asked back, gesturing to pick up a cloth nearby to wipe off various stains and dirt from his fingers.

"Right now..." The soldier paused for a moment, his face showing a hint of uncertainty. After a moment of thought, he spoke again. "Um, I mean within half an hour from now."

Half an hour?

Charan's eyebrows twitched as he heard this. He raised his head slightly to observe the man in front of him more closely, trying to analyze his demeanor. He discovered something about this man that was different from the familiar soldiers he had encountered before. The young man was confident in his excellent memory, but this man was not in his memory. Not only was he not in his memory, there were many things that conflicted with each other.

A high-ranking soldier, but his posture and mannerisms were like someone who had just been given the opportunity to serve. Why did they choose this man to deliver the message?

Various questions arose in Charan's mind as he carefully assessed the situation in front of him. He realized that there were many things that were abnormal. Firstly, if it wasn't important, the Sovereign-King wouldn't have commanded him to meet in the middle of the night like this. And secondly, there was no way the king would ask a stranger to come to him... unless he wanted to keep this matter a secret.

"Using ordinary people is better than using people close to you as they may become a point of contention."

"Are you new here?" Charan asked with a calm voice, while observing the conversation and noting the subtle changes in the army officer's facial expressions and the slight widening of his eyes.

"How did you find out?"

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly to show friendliness, and he shifted his gaze to the shoes of the person in front of him as he replied.

"..."

"Your shoes are still new, they don't seem to fit well. I guess you just started working here less than a week ago."

"Yes, I just started yesterday." The young soldier responded straightforwardly, seeing it as a good opportunity to make friends with the famous artist in the palace. This was a stark contrast to the listener's inner feelings.

"Have you received any other royal orders?" Charan managed to maintain his natural posture despite feeling uneasy inside.

"I have not received any specific royal orders, Khun Charan. His Majesty just smiled and said that if you asked anymore, I should tell you that 'I saw the molting cicada and it seems summer is approaching. If I had a friend to have tea with, that would be nice. Or...' That's all."

The young man lowered his gaze as he listened to the Sovereign-King's instructions, trying to analyze what he meant when he ordered the soldiers to speak out like this, and also requested that a new soldier be chosen to escort him. It was clear that he didn't want outsiders to know about the matter, but even so, he was still wary.

He chose people who were honest, easy to talk to, and kept secrets well to do this work. He had already assessed that if this matter had to leak out to others, important secrets would not spread. The window had a door and a gap. If you were not careful, it could be dangerous. On the other hand, if you were too cautious, it could also be suspicious.

'I saw the molting cicada and it seems summer is approaching. If I had a friend to have tea with, that would be nice. Or...'

The young man reflected on His Majesty's royal decree in his heart before turning his face to look outside the window. He turned to where he saw a glimpse of light through the cracks. Charan closed his eyes as the sound of rain outside became louder, and the sky grew darker until the scent of dampness permeated the entire area. The flesh in the left side of the young man's chest began to beat faster, and he started to feel a small headache, but he had to keep his composure.

Charan hated the smell of rain, the sound of thunder, the dampness, and everything related to the droplets from the sky.

In fact, His Majesty should be the person who knows best about his condition of hating the rainy weather because he is the one who has a royal umbrella to protect him every time it rains. Now, the weather outside can be said to be nothing close to the phrase "summer is coming soon". On the other hand, the real summer has already passed. Therefore, what Lord wants to convey is probably something else in that sentence.

"If so, please inform the machine room on the other side to prepare empty containers. I will prepare two types of tea myself." Charan stopped his thoughts and the leader of the family, Pitakthewa, stood up before turning to speak to the person in front of him, looking at the homeowner behind.

"I'll have a chamomile and a oolong, please, Khun Narong."

"Yes, my lord."

There is no time to wait if his assumption is true. This time, drinking tea is not just for the taste like usual...

The small door in front of the room turned and knocked on the big wooden door three times as soon as the majestic figure of the person Sovereign-King wanted to meet appeared. The other side of the door knocked back three times as a signal that someone was waiting to hear the news behind it.

"Khun Charan has arrived, sir."

"Let him come in."

Shortly after the sound from the small door inside the room ceased, the large wooden door opened and the person behind it had a calm expression, a straight posture, and raised his left hand to his chest as a sign of respect according to the protocol of the palace. Charan saw this and did the same, then bowed his head.

The greeting was not very ceremonial, and the young man followed the elder into a small, well-decorated room divided into three sub-rooms, all of which were private rooms with different decorations.

The elder led Charan to the room decorated in Eastern style, with a large bird and a panther in the corner, and antique pottery around the room. At the top of the throne in this room, the highest person in the kingdom, Lord of Emmaly, was waiting for him.

"It's just the right time. I've just had someone warm up the scones for you, sir."

Lord Emmaly raised his scepter as he stood up from his tea cup, gliding the plate towards the newcomer. The gentle sound of the strings of his lute stopped at Charan's face.

"May I receive the greatest mercy, sir." The young man respectfully kneeled down, placed his hand on his left chest, and bowed his head as he faced the lord.

"Did I ever tell you that if two people are together, they don't need formal language? Do you remember?" The speaker's voice was somewhat reproachful, and Charan was still kneeling like that. He abruptly spoke the next sentence and quickly got up.

"How can you say that? You are Grandpa's grandchild. He raised you since you were a little child. Will you Charan do the same as Grandpa or not?"

"I'm sorry, Grandpa." he apologized with a remorseful expression on his face. He walked over to the chair on the opposite side of Sovereign-King before sitting down with an unchanged manner.

"Um, it's okay. Let's talk comfortably. Talk to me, I'm sorry, if I'll be grateful if we can talk without you referring me as Your Majesty. Listening like this will make me bored. No one has spoken to me like a normal citizen for a long time. They keep talking abd if they are not apologizing then they are thanking me with His Majesty this and Your Highness that." The tall man smiled and even chuckled a bit with a relaxed attitude.

"Only you Charan can talk comfortably with me."

"Yes, and Grandpa, are you okay?" The tall body owner asked tentatively, having been well taken care of since childhood. Although Charan felt that in this situation, it was not appropriate to greet the elder with words like this, he didn't want to wait.

"I am all faded with aging... I even called you to come and have tea together..." The middle-aged man paused for a moment, feeling uneasy, as the sound of raindrops fell and collided with the outside world together with the bright light of lightning that made Charan inadvertently tense his hand without realizing it.

"..."

"I'm sorry that I have to make Charan come in the rain like this." The elderly person spoke when he noticed a person of equal status as an adopted grandson of merit with abnormal symptoms. Charan, with his lips trembling, couldn't say anything for a moment, but then he regained his composure and focused on the important matter once again.

"I heard that you wanted to have tea, so I asked Narong to prepare two cups... as always." The handsome face turned to the small pavilion standing in front of the scene with a barrier depicting a pair of hornbills, and then the two sets of tea were brought in and placed waiting for him to choose.

"Two sets as always... um, is it chamomile and Oolong tea?"

"Yes, I brought chamomile and Oolong tea... which tea do you want to drink today, grandfather?" In the eyes of others, Charan was the favorite young grandson of the lord, as he always managed everything well, from preparations that were pleasing to the eyes and in accordance with the will of the lord, to being called to attend the court frequently, which was not a strange thing.

However, that is only the outer shell... In reality, anyone would know that these two types of tea are just secret codes used for communication.

Chamomile tea means that he wants to meet to relax and talk. If the grandfather chooses to drink this tea, it simply means that he wants to meet with him to have a small chat. He wants to ask for some comfort, but if he choose Oolong tea, it means that he have a secret desire for him to do something, and of course, the orders will change according to the king needs.

"Charan... I am bored of these two teas." Lord Emmaly of the kingdom of Emmaly replied simply, causing the listener to pause.

"So be it."

"Lately, my body has not been doing well. My mouth doesn't taste much, and my nose is used to the same smell. Drinking chamomile tea doesn't help me sleep as deeply as before... but if I drinks Oolong tea, it makes my throat feel uncomfortable. Now I have some interesting tea. I want my grandchildren to try it."

The third person in the small group came in with another set of tea when he received the signal from the highest-ranking official. The person in charge of the setup placed the tea set next to the saucer and creamer cups before everyone else who was not involved left.

"Earl Grey?" The scent of fragrant oil from the kaffir lime peel stands out and for a moment, it seems to have made Charan's happiness disappear. The young man immediately asked with suspicion, but in the next moment, he was back to his old self.

"Yes, this is tea that I brought from England. I don't drink it often because it reminds me of things from when I was a child... The taste of it makes me think of old memories."

"..."

"Charan... I am very old now. My health isn't good this year. I can't go out and buy it myself, but I can't trust other people to buy it for me..."

The wrinkles around the old eyes, which were due to his age, meet the sharp gaze of the young man as he carefully analyzes everything around him, from the health of his grandfather to the quality of the tea. Although His Holiness does not have a royal decree, everyone knows this, and it is only his royal demeanor that is respected.

"Mister..." the man could cough once and the royal physicians would be running in chaos. So this was not the main objective that His Holiness had given him.

It seems like it's more about English tea.

"If grandfather trusts me, I will go and buy it for him." The intimate pronoun is used as the speaker lifts his head to look at Charan who says in a serious tone, calling forth a smile from the listener.

"Good... very good. Who could understand my heart like Charan?" The old king smiled for a moment, then lifted the cup to drink, and then became more serious. "So, get ready to leave quickly. If we are too slow, we may not be able to catch up with the situation."

"Yes, grandpa."

"I wanted for the cicada to have more time before molting... wants the summer to come late, but it probably won't happen... Nowadays, there are injuries to the roots of the Jamjuree tree we planted in the middle of the city, there are insects and parasites all over the tree... No one is there to take care of it for me... but Charan you are the only one who can be trusted."

The real order has been revealed. Charan went out and looked at the rain pouring down outside. It had been like this since the beginning of the sentence, stretching out for hours. The atmosphere around was nothing like the words "summer" and "Jamjuree tree" in the middle of the capital...

Which was a national tree and still well taken care of. Grandfather did not really mean the Jamjuree tree, and the insects and parasites were just symbols representing those who were hostile to his rule.

As for "cicada molting." This was the secret code that made him uneasy.

Charan had read the story of the life cycle of "cicada" a long time ago from a fairy tale book that the lord had given him. The lord said that "the life cycle of the cicada is one of the wonders of the world because the larvae of the cicada's live underground for a long time, from 2-17 years, until they become strong, then they dig up the soil, shed their skin, and use their lives to continue the lineage on the earth.

If that's the case... does that mean it's time?

"Don't let Tarin know about this."

There is only one important secret between Charan and the Sovereign-King that no one else knows, not even Prince-Tarin Atsawathewathin, one of the only sons of the lord and the sole heir of the Atsawathewathin family.

The secret that is associated with the important mission that Charan has been waiting for all along, "Charan, this is the duty of our Pithaktewat family. Remember that we must protect the Young Prince and protect Atsawathewathin."

The voice of his mother abruptly entered Charan's thoughts, causing him to pause for a moment before responding with a firm voice.

"Yes."

"Go find Tattanai, he is my old friend. He will offer the best tea for you to bring back here."

The scent of kaffir lime from Earl Grey tea and warmth from the heater didn't help relax the atmosphere inside Tattanai's guesthouse much, even a little. Charan hugged his knees, sitting on the sofa, staring at the white smoke rising from the Earl Grey tea cup floating aimlessly, until the second hand moved forward ten times, then raised his head to look at the person who seemed like ... the caretaker of the cicada.

"I need some time. Young-Prince is still..."

"This is an urgent matter. The Sovereign-King is ill, the foundation of Atsawathewathin is weakening. Therefore, His Majesty has the intention for me to come here to take Young-Prince back."

The weighty sentence from Charan's mouth had an impact on Tattanai's mind that should not have occurred. The middle-aged man looked down, his face drooping strangely, deviating from the happiness he used to have.

"But..."

Those strange behaviors caught the attention of Khanin, who watched them all. The young boy wandered outside and looked inside his own home, trying to listen to his father's conversation from outside, but the thick wall prevented him from hearing everything clearly. He hesitated for a moment, contemplating his actions before deciding to do something he knew was not polite to others.

Khanin intended to eavesdrop... even though he knew it was not the right thing to do.

However, the unfamiliar man who caught his attention was behaving aggressively, resembling a threat to his own father. And for sure, Khanin could not stand idly by.

The young boy sneaked into his own house through the window, using his trained light steps to quietly approach the position of the living room before stopping at a distance close enough to hear, just to observe.

"He still doesn't know anything about himself... He's just a kid."

"No matter how long it takes, someday Young-Prince will have to know who he really is, Tattanai... As you know, Young-Prince must compete as the only heir of Atsawathewathin." The strange man spoke with a firm voice.

"I know, but I need time to explain..."

"I understand how difficult it is."

Tattanai was interrupted mid-sentence by the imposing figure on the sofa. The atmosphere in the once warm and cozy guest room was now tense and uncomfortable. Khanin was confused and unable to grasp the meaning behind those strange words.

"Ι..."

"... but Khun Tattanai, you know, don't you?"

""

"Nothing changes the fact that Young-Prince Khanin is of royal blood... and you are not his true father."

The sound of the clock ticking faded away, and the air around them became icy and sharp, taking hold of their hearts.

Khanin remained still, his feet carrying him forward unconsciously. The young man stood in the middle of the room, struggling to form the hardest question he had ever asked in his life.

"What did you say?"