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Assistant: Title: Shadows of our past
        Author: IlvShirotani IlvShirotani 
        Chapter: 3/3 
        Summary: Sworn to serve, bound to hate⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.A Knight Kaiser x Prince Isagi auSo basically Isagi is a prince and Kaiser is a knight, Isagi’s family took Kaiser with him when they founded him on the streets since then Kaiser serves Isagi’s family and is now really well known because of how good of the Knight he is
        Contents: Chapter 3: Protect me
    

    

        
          
          
            A Little Bit Angst
          
        

      
        
          The KingdomsIsagi’s : GrimmoriaBarou : RothmaneChigiri : Rubellia
      
  

  
  
    
    Isagi woke slowly, drifting up out of sleep like surfacing from deep water.He was warm.Too warm.There was a solid weight pressed along his back, a steady rhythm of breath at the nape of his neck — not his. A slow inhale, then exhale, chest rising against him, arm slung low around his waist.For a second, Isagi didn’t register it.Then he did.And his heart nearly stopped.Kaiser.His eyes shot open, but he didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe.The arm around him was firm, not crushing — but there. Like it belonged. And more than that… skin.Bare skin.Wait. Wait, wait—Did that b@st@rd really sleep shirtless?Isagi’s brain short-circuited. He could feel Kaiser’s skin, warm and smooth against the thin fabric of his pajamas. His chest rising, falling, muscles shifting slightly with each unconscious breath. One of his legs was tangled with Isagi’s, the heat of it unmistakable.You’ve got to be kidding me, Isagi thought, blood rushing hot in his face. Why is he like this. Why the hell is he like this.He tried to shift a little — maybe enough to slip out from under the hold without waking anyone up. But Kaiser’s grip tightened instinctively, not harsh, just possessive. Like even in sleep, he was holding on.Isagi swallowed.He lay still for a moment, listening to Kaiser’s slow breathing behind him. Then—quietly, carefully—he turned over in the circle of his arms.And there he was.Kaiser’s face was right there, barely inches away. His usually sharp expression softened into something unguarded in sleep — no smirk, no steel in his eyes, just long lashes and parted lips and the slow, steady rise and fall of his chest.Isagi’s breath caught again.Kaiser looked peaceful like this. He really did look different like this. Almost gentle.It was kind of unfair, honestly. For someone who spent so much time acting like he was above everything, he looked so peaceful now — like none of the world’s weight ever touched him.Isagi didn’t move. Didn’t dare. He just watched.“…You look so different like this,” he whispered to no one, barely audible, afraid even the walls might overhear.Kaiser didn’t stir. His brow twitched just slightly, his grip loosening only a little.His eyes softened without permission, and before he even knew it, a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Not amused. Not polite. Just something quiet and real.Then he caught himself and frowned.“Gosh… what am I even doing,” he whispered under his breath, gaze dropping to the hand Kaiser had unconsciously tucked near his ribs.For a moment, he let the silence hang between them. His heart beat a little too loud. His thoughts louder.What if we hadn’t had that fight back then…?The memory threatened to surface — a sharp line of words, the echo of something broken between them. But he pushed it down. Not now.Just as he was about to shift away, Kaiser stirred behind him.Then — without fully waking — he moved closer, chest pressing into Isagi’s back, arms pulling him in just slightly. Isagi froze.And then, barely audible, voice low and groggy, Kaiser mumbled against the side of Isagi’s neck:“…Good morning.”Isagi’s breath caught.His face flushed hot, ears burning. He couldn’t breathe right. His hands hovered, unsure if he should push away or freeze entirely.But then Kaiser blinked.His whole body stiffened — the weight of the moment slamming into him like a wave. His cheeks burned as warmth bloomed up the back of his neck.And that was when Kaiser blinked awake — slowly, eyes still unfocused. But it only took a second.Awake now. And very quickly realizing.He realized where he was. What he was doing. Who he was holding.Kaiser pulled back fast, like he’d been burned. The air rushed in between them — cold, stupid, humiliating. His expression slammed shut — that familiar, unreadable mask snapping into place.“My apologies.” he said, voice suddenly sharper, cooler, distant.His eyes didn’t meet Isagi’s. Not once.And just like that, the warmth was gone.Isagi didn’t say anything. He sat there for a long second, staring at the wall, listening to the sudden distance between them stretch like thread pulled taut.The silence pressed in like mist.Kaiser sat at the edge of the bed now, back turned, spine straight. Isagi hadn’t moved. Not at first. He was still processing the sudden chill in the room, the vanishing warmth, and the words Kaiser hadn’t said. Not one look. Not one flicker of acknowledgment beyond that clipped apology.Eventually, Kaiser stood. Movements too precise, too practiced. A soldier in a palace.“…We should get ready,” he said, voice smooth, like nothing happened. “Didn’t you want to visit the market?”Isagi blinked slowly, then nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I did.”Kaiser didn’t look at him. He bent to grab his clothes and crossed the room, still shirtless, the muscles in his back shifting with every step. “I’ll use the bathroom first.”And with that, he slipped inside, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.The moment it did, the mask cracked.Kaiser leaned forward, one hand braced against the edge of the sink, the other dragging through his hair like he could scrub the last five minutes out of his skull. His breath left him in a shaky exhale. Too sharp. Too loud.What the hell was that.He stared down at the white porcelain, but he wasn’t seeing it. He was seeing Isagi’s face — warm and barely awake, blinking up at him like he hadn’t just been pulled against a half-naked man in his sleep.And worse — the dream.That g@dd@mn dream.His hand curled tight over the ceramic lip of the sink. Knuckles pale. His reflection in the mirror looked unfamiliar — shadows under his eyes, jaw clenched too hard, skin flushed at the collarbone.F@ck, he thought, shutting his eyes.Why now. Why those memories. I thought I’d buried them.The quiet garden. That voice. That stupid nickname.“Mihya.”No one called him something like that. No one.Except Isagi. Back then. Before—Kaiser exhaled sharply through his nose, dragging both hands down his face until he felt raw. It didn’t help. The ache sat under his skin like it was sewn there.He’d thought he’d forgotten how that felt — being seen. Not as a dog. Not as a tool. Not as the kingdom’s pretty little weapon. But as him. As a boy too tired to stand. Too hungry to speak.Why the hell can’t I forget that? Why can’t I just let it go?Isagi had looked at him then like he wasn’t just something to use.He’d looked at him like he mattered.Kaiser hated that.He hated him for that.Not that he’d ever say it. Not out loud. Not even to himself, not really. But that was the truth buried under it all — the twist in his chest every time Isagi smiled like nothing between them had broken.Kaiser looked at his reflection and saw a weapon.A sword dressed up like a man.And yet, when he’d woken up — when he’d felt Isagi’s breath, the warmth of his body pressed close — something inside him had ached.Get over it, he told himself. It’s gone. He’s a prince. You’re his shadow.He shut the water off.Then stared at himself a moment longer.You were never anything more than a dog in gold trim.—————————By the time Kaiser stepped out of the bathroom, dressed and dry and carefully composed, it was like nothing had happened.His voice had that usual lilt again. A smirk tucked lazily at the edge of his mouth. The easy, mocking swagger back in his shoulders like it had never left.“Did I keep Your Highness waiting?” he drawled, fastening the last gold button on his coat. “Tragic. I’ll make it up to you with my sparkling company.”Isagi, who was pulling on his own boots by the sitting bench, didn’t even glance up.“You always talk too much in the morning.”“And yet you always listen” Kaiser said, crossing the room. “Admit it. You’d miss me.”“Sure,” Isagi said flatly, brushing imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Like one misses a headache.”Kaiser laughed. Low and amused and so sharp it made Isagi glance up despite himself.“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kaiser said, already by the door, spinning the key ring once around his finger. “Come on. Let’s see if the market lives up to your royal expectations.”It was early still when they stepped outside, the stone streets damp with dew, sunlight gold on the tiled rooftops. Their hotel sat on a gentle slope just above the old quarter, so the market spilled out below them like a painting—narrow lanes, canopies in faded reds and yellows, steam curling up from morning bread carts.It wasn’t far. Just a few short steps and the sounds of clinking copper and distant laughter pulled them into the crowd.Isagi walked a little ahead, his eyes flicking from stall to stall—spices stacked in glass jars, velvet ribbons coiled like sleeping snakes, fresh fruit glistening in wooden bowls. His gaze trailed over it all with a sort of soft attention, not looking for anything in particular, just… taking it in.Kaiser watched him from the corner of his eye. His usual smirk softened into something unreadable.Isagi always looked different out here. Not surrounded by guards or courtiers. Just in the open, sleeves rolled, wind mussing his hair a little.Isagi stopped at a stall lined with small glass bottles—hand-blown, uneven, filled with what looked like oils or perfume. He leaned in to sniff one.Kaiser lingered behind, half-lost in the motion of it all—the people, the colors, the way sunlight caught in Isagi’s eyes when he turned toward something bright.The crowd thickened as they moved past the bread carts and into the cloth merchant square—where bold silks twisted like banners in the wind, and merchants called out from behind draped canopies in velvet voices.Kaiser’s steps slowed.He’d seen him before the name even clicked.Tall. Composed. A black-gloved hand reaching up to adjust the line of a displayed coat on the corner mannequin—his movement precise, like threading a needle through the morning.Aryu.The tailor.His back was turned, but no one else in this kingdom carried themselves like that—shoulders straight as a sword’s spine, silver rings flashing in the light as he adjusted his collar, lips pursed in concentration.Kaiser approached with zero hesitation. “Shopping without your entourage?” he said, voice pitched just a little teasing.Aryu turned just then, as if on cue—eyes sharp, posture already dipped into something respectful.His gaze passed over Kaiser first—and even though the gesture wasn’t dramatic, Aryu inclined his head in greeting. Polite. Refined.For the briefest moment, his gaze was neutral — and then it warmed, almost imperceptibly.“Sir Kaiser.”Kaiser dipped his own head in return, uncharacteristically formal.“Your work,” he said simply, “is still perfect.”Aryu’s lips twitched, just slightly. A nod of recognition. No flamboyance—just pride honed down into a razor edge of taste.Then Isagi stepped forward, and Aryu’s demeanor shifted entirely.A deeper bow now, one hand resting over his chest.“Your Highness,” he said, with the faintest upward curl at the edge of his mouth. “An unexpected honor.”Isagi blinked, then quickly recovered.Isagi straightened reflexively, bowing in return. “Master Aryu. I… it’s an honor.”“I’ve heard about you a lot,” Aryu said, cool but not cold. “Kurona spoke of you often.”“Mostly to complain, probably.”Aryu let out the faintest exhale—humor, maybe. “He had his hands full. But you wore my piece well.”Aryu continued simply. “You wore one of mine at last year’s midwinter feast. Slightly altered. I assume Kurona found it?”Isagi flushed faintly. “Yeah. I, uh… don’t really know how to dress myself. He helped.”“I can see that.” Aryu’s gaze flicked over Isagi’s current coat—well-made, clearly, but not tailored. His mouth twitched again.“If I may be so bold,” Aryu said, “Your current coat is finely made—but not quite tailored to your posture.”Isagi blinked. “It’s… not?”His gaze slid over Isagi’s coat—not critical, but assessing. “The tailoring is decent,” he said after a pause. “But your shoulders are cut too narrow for your posture.Isagi looked down at himself. “I’m literally royalty.”Aryu’s mouth twitched. “Royalty can slouch too.”Aryu inclined his head. “Let me know if you want something fitted. Something real. Not that off-the-rack court wardrobe.”“I—might actually take you up on that,” Isagi said, surprised at his own voice.“I’ll send a page,” Aryu said, already turning. “Enjoy the market. Try not to let him embarrass you.”He was gone before Isagi could decide if he meant Kaiser or himself.They stood there a moment, the quiet folding around them again. “I cannot believe you’re friends with Aryu Jyubei.”Kaiser stretched, spine rolling lazily. “He just likes me more than you.”Isagi groaned. “I liked you better when you were asleep.”“Funny,” Kaiser said, walking ahead a step. “That’s when you were staring at me.”Isagi’s ears flushed instantly. “Was not.”“Sure,” Kaiser said, completely insufferable.“I’m going to throw you into a river.”“Romantic.”They passed under a striped awning that scattered leaves at their feet, the shade making Kaiser’s eyes look sharper than usual. He glanced sideways, about to toss another comment at Isagi’s head — when a voice cut through the air, clear and urgent.“Prince Isagi!”Both of them turned.The voice was familiar.A figure pushed through the edge of the crowd, half-hidden still by morning light and market stalls, the sun gleaming off a flash of red—And there—pushing through the flow of the crowd like it parted just for him—was a boy with hair like wildfire. Not red, not ginger—red-red, deep and gleaming and tied back in a silk-fastened tail that brushed between his shoulder blades. His cloak, trimmed in silver thread, marked him instantly, even without the formal crest on his chest.Prince Chigiri Hyoma. Of Rubellia.And just a step behind him—tall, broad, and as solid as a stone wall—was his knight. Kunigami. The same as always.Isagi blinked, stunned for a second.Chigiri didn’t wait. He stopped before them and bowed, not too low, but with enough precision that it still counted. “Your Highness.”Kunigami followed his lead with a single nod — less formal, but not disrespectful. Always like that. Always steady.Isagi let out a short breath and stepped forward with a smile, more genuine than he meant to show in public. “Wow. I haven’t seen you in—what, a year?”“Longer,” Chigiri said, returning the smile, though his eyes were still assessing — like he was taking Isagi’s measure even now. “You missed the summer court session.”“Scheduling,” Isagi said with a little shrug. “Or sabotage. My advisors were vague.”Kunigami stood quietly beside his prince, eyes flicking once to Kaiser, unreadable. Kaiser, for his part, offered a small nod of acknowledgment — and said nothing.Isagi caught it. The brief tension. Not much. But there.“So…” Isagi said, glancing between them. “Are you here for the market?”Chigiri nodded. “We arrived early this morning. We have business with the court later this week, but I thought I’d stop by. I heard it was livelier than usual this season.”“What brings you to Rothmane?”Isagi chuckled under his breath. “Niko’s candles.”Chigiri blinked. “Really?”A rare curve of amusement touched Chigiri’s lips. “I’ve been there as well.” he said, nodding.Kaiser, who’d been watching the back-and-forth with that feline sort of detachment he wore when he wasn’t actively mocking someone, let his arms fold across his chest, smile lazy and sharp. “How very princely of you both,” he said. “Exchanging notes on wax and fragrance. Is this what diplomacy looks like now?”Chigiri’s gaze slid to him. “If it smells like amber and burns steady, I’ll take it.”“Mmm.” Kaiser’s tone was low, just amused enough to skim the edge of polite. “A prince who knows what he likes. Refreshing.”“Someone has to,” Chigiri said.Beside him, Kunigami’s shoulders tensed—barely. But Kaiser noticed. Of course he did.And of course he couldn’t help himself.He stepped forward, just a fraction, gaze idly tracking the way Chigiri’s cloak caught the light, then the faintest flicker of attention toward Kunigami—then back again.“I’d say you’re well protected, Your Highness,” Kaiser said smoothly, eyes flicking toward the knight with open intent. “Though I imagine there are other ways you’d prefer to be guarded.”Chigiri blinked once.Kunigami’s jaw flexed.The pause was just long enough to taste.Isagi frowned faintly, catching the tension but not the full current underneath. “Kaiser,” he said, voice low, a warning.But Kaiser just smiled, all innocence and bite. “What? I’m just admiring the loyalty to Rubellian.”The wind rustled over Chigiri’s red cloak, and he glanced toward Kunigami.“Shall we?”Kunigami dipped his head. “Yes, your highness.”
Before turning, Chigiri addressed Isagi once more. “See you hopefully soon.”“Looking forward to it,” Isagi answered.
Chigiri and Kunigami melted into the market crowd.They watched Chigiri and Kunigami disappear into the market, that red cloak flicking like a flame between bodies and shadowed stalls, until the crowd swallowed them whole.Kaiser exhaled slowly, just a little laugh curling under his breath. “We’re meeting everyone today, hm?”Isagi didn’t answer right away—just looked down the lane where Chigiri had vanished, brows furrowed slightly, expression unreadable. Then he let out a breath and finally turned back toward Kaiser.“It’s starting to feel like a royal summit,” he muttered.Kaiser tilted his head, amused. “Shall I fetch you a crown, or will Your Highness be performing without it today?”Isagi gave him a flat look. “You’re so annoying this early.”“Ah,” Kaiser grinned. “So you admit I’m charming later in the day?”Isagi rolled his eyes and started walking again, adjusting the cuff of his coat. “Remind me why I let you speak freely.”“Because you’d get bored otherwise,” Kaiser said, easily falling into step beside him, hands in his pockets. “You need me. Like a sword. Or a sharp tongue.”“Or a migraine,” Isagi said dryly, but his shoulders were more relaxed than before.They kept walking.And as they passed a shadowed alley, Kaiser turned just slightly — like he felt something shift.Isagi glanced at him.“What?” he asked.Kaiser was quiet for a beat.Then, casually: “Nothing.”But his gaze lingered just a moment longer — behind them, ahead of them, like he’d just caught the edge of something moving in the dark.Then he smiled again, easy as ever. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s look around, we should spent the time we’re here thoughtful.”Kaiser followed a few steps behind, half-listening to a flute-player nearby and the haggling voices further up the path. Then something pulled at his attention — not loud, not insistent, just… out of place.A small table set back behind a stall of ink and parchment. The merchant didn’t even seem to be guarding it, too busy haggling with a noblewoman over hand-pressed seals and gold-edged letters. But behind him, laid out on cracked wood, sat a pile of old papers.Not scrolls. Not books.Loose pages, yellowed with age, bound together only with a fraying cord.Kaiser stepped closer.There was no sign. No price tag. Just the quiet hush of forgotten time.He lifted the top page.The ink had faded to brown, and the script was crooked — elegant, yet hurried. Not printed, not stamped. Written.Kaiser blinked.His pulse skipped.The letters danced across the page in loops and sharp lines, unfamiliar to anyone else, but to him — it was like they slid straight into his mind, clean and clear as if he’d learned them yesterday.“Der König fiel nicht im Krieg, sondern durch…”The king did not fall in war, but through.He stared.Why could he read that?“Hey,” Isagi’s voice cut in, light but close. “What’re you looking at?”Kaiser startled. Just a second too slow to answer.He shifted sideways, standing in front of the papers with calculated ease, shrugging once. “Oh. This.”Isagi stepped around him before he could block the whole table, eyes landing on the loose script. He squinted. “Wait. Isn’t this that lost language?”Kaiser didn’t blink. “Which one?”“You know, the one from the sixth Kingdom. They found books with it in the Northern ruins, right? The scholars couldn’t translate it. I read about it last year. Weird, right?”“Super weird,” Kaiser said.He felt faint.“Doesn’t even look real,” Isagi murmured, leaning down. “Like a story someone made up.”“Yeah,” Kaiser echoed. “Exactly that.”He stepped back, let the air shift again between them. Isagi moved on without noticing anything strange — just turned toward the next stall, pulled by the glint of polished jewelry under a canvas awning.Kaiser stayed still for a second longer.He glanced over his shoulder once more at the papers.His stomach twisted.“Gods,” he thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “I’m hallucinating.”It wasn’t possible.He hadn’t been taught that script. He hadn’t learned it.He followed Isagi again, pace slow, a quiet pressure building in the back of his skull. The market felt louder now. Brighter. Too many people talking at once. He couldn’t shake it — that sense that something had shifted.That someone was watching him.No not him. IsagiThey are watching Isagi.Not in the usual way — not admiration, not curiosity, not even disdain. Something colder. Not from the crowd. Not from a face he could turn and find.It was higher. Further.Like eyes pressed to the sky.He looked up, instinct sharp.But there was nothing. Just the tiled eaves of the houses, the laundry strung from window to window, snapping slightly in the autumn wind. A bird winged past, then another.Nothing.Just autumn wind. The sharp call of a crow overhead.But he still felt it.Something watching.They kept walking.And behind them, back at the stall, the old paper fluttered once in the breeze — as if something had turned the page.He stopped.His breath caught.Because something had shifted in the air—no sound, no voice—but his instincts flared like teeth bared in the dark.He turned.And because nothing ever escaped his sight—not movements, not tricks, not intentions hidden beneath silk or armor—he saw them.Kaiser’s blood ran cold.The older twin had his mouth tilted into that same mild, pleasant expression — the kind people wore when they wanted you to believe they weren’t a threat. The younger mirrored it. Both wore plain clothes, neutral colors, nothing flashy. Just enough to fade into a crowd.But their eyes.Their eyes were wrong.Sharp and coiled, like snakes under velvet.They were pretending not to be watching.And doing a terrible job of it.Most people would’ve missed them.But Kaiser wasn’t most people.He didn’t miss anything.The Wanima twins.Their smiles were easy. Too easy.Matching.Isagi still hadn’t noticed. Still looking at the d@mn markt stands, oblivious.Kaiser didn’t hesitate.He crossed the space between them in three strides and caught Isagi’s arm—tight, not hurting, but firm. Urgent.Isagi startled, looked up. “What the hell—?”“We need to go,” Kaiser said. Quiet. Sharp. All humor stripped from his voice. “Now.”That tone.It cut through Isagi instantly.Kaiser didn’t look back again. He didn’t need to.Behind them, the twins didn’t follow.But their smiles stayed.Unmoving.Waiting.Kaiser didn’t speak.Not as he wove through the crowd with iron in his grip. Not when Isagi stumbled once and muttered “hey—slow down,” under his breath. Not even when they reached the steep path leading back toward the hotel, shoes skidding slightly on cobbled stone slick with the beginning of dusk.He only let go when they were inside the hotel.Not the lobby. Not the stairwell.The room.The door slammed behind them, hard enough to shake the frame.Kaiser’s hand dropped from Isagi’s wrist like it burned him.Isagi yanked his arm back anyway.“The hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, voice too loud in the space that had always felt too small for both of them. “You just grabbed me and dragged me through half the market like a dog! Do you want people to stare?”“It wasn’t the time to talk,” he said finally, low and clipped.“B@llsh@t,” Isagi shot back. “You always decide that. You always pick the time, and I just have to follow?”“I was protecting you,” Kaiser hissed, his voice not rising but cutting sharper, more dangerous for the restraint. “In case you missed it—you could have died. People are after you.”“Then say that!” Isagi barked. “Explain! Don’t just drag me like I’m some—some thing you own—!”Kaiser turned to him so fast it knocked the air sideways.His mouth twisted into a smile — not his usual smirk, not the slow, controlled lilt of arrogance. No. This one was razor-edged and wrong, just a little too wide.“Are you kidding me right now?” he said, laughing once, humorless. “You think I enjoy this? You think I enjoy acting like your guard dog?”“Kaiser—”“I do it because someone has to. Because you’ve got your head in the clouds—staring at perfume bottles while the Wanima twins are making plans to bury you.”His voice cracked a little on that last word. Not volume — emotion.Isagi’s mouth opened. Closed. Then he threw his hands out, motion sharp.“You always bring it back to that,” he snapped. “The ‘prince’ thing. Like it justifies everything. You say it like it means I’m spoiled, or selfish, or stupid. But you act however you want anyway! So what does it matter if I’m a prince?! You do whatever the hell you want regardless!”Kaiser went very still.It was only for a second.But Isagi saw it.The flicker of something that passed behind Kaiser’s eyes. Like the snap of a wire that had been holding too much weight for too long.His face didn’t change much — not really.Just that smile.It dropped.And what replaced it was colder than silence.“I do whatever I want?” Kaiser said softly. “That’s what you think?”Isagi swallowed.He hadn’t meant it like that. Not really.Not with that edge.But now the space between them was full of something thick. Something sharp and unfinished.Kaiser took a step forward.Isagi didn’t move.He couldn’t.Kaiser’s voice was low now. Not mocking. Not amused.Just dangerous.“You really don’t get it, do you?”And then he turned away. Just like that. Back toward the window, back to pacing, to breathing like he had to physically stuff the anger back down into his ribcage.Kaiser didn’t face him.Not right away.He stared out the window — at the market roofs slanting into shadow, at the faint smoke curling from chimneys that didn’t care what just happened inside this room.His voice came quieter. Rough around the edges.“Do you even know how dangerous they are?”Isagi said nothing.The question sat there, heavy as iron.Kaiser finally turned, jaw set.“The Wanima twins don’t watch people for fun,” he said. “They move when there’s a price. You think they’re watching you just to say hi?”Still, silence.Something in Kaiser shifted. Less fury now. More exhaustion. Not the kind that sleep could cure.He took a step back, dragging both hands down his face, fingers pressing hard into his temples. His breath left him like he didn’t want to exhale at all.“You know,” he muttered, “if you die out here… I’m dead too.”The words hung there for a second too long.Not shouted. Not meant to provoke.Just true.That simple, brutal truth. Said too quietly to be anything but real.Isagi’s hands clenched at his sides. He looked down.But still—he didn’t say a word.Kaiser watched him. Just for a moment. And then—He laughed. It was a low, bitter sound, sharp around the edges.“Forget it,” he said, turning away again. “It doesn’t matter.”He reached for the latch on the window, locked it, then double-checked the curtains without needing to.“Anyway,” Kaiser added, more to the wall than to Isagi, “we’re stuck now. Can’t go out again. Not tonight.”His voice dropped as he sat down on the edge of the bed. Less sharp now. Just tired.“Not unless you want your face on a wanted poster by morning.”The room fell quiet again.Only the faint wind outside. The muffled life of the city below them. The two of them in the center of it — one standing still, the other sitting like he didn’t trust the ground to hold.————————The sound of the pan hissing was the only thing breaking the silence.Isagi sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring down at his hands like they might hold the answers he hadn’t managed to find in the past half hour.Kaiser stood with his back to him, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, forearms taut as he whisked eggs with a precision that looked absurdly out of place after everything they’d just said. He wasn’t speaking. He hadn’t since the fight.They hadn’t eaten all day.And after… everything, it felt like neither of them knew how to start speaking again.Isagi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair, then letting it fall against his forehead as he hunched forward.He hadn’t meant to yell like that.He hadn’t meant for it to turn into something loud and ugly. Something that still echoed in the walls between them.I didn’t think it would turn into such a big fight, he thought, shoulders tensing. I just wanted to see the most of Rothmane with him. That’s all.He looked over, just a little, catching Kaiser’s silhouette — tall and sharp-edged even in the soft kitchen light, moving with that same languid grace, like the fight never touched him.But it had.Isagi saw it. Felt it.Kaiser hadn’t said much since. Hadn’t snapped another word or smirked again. He was just… there.Steady. Quiet. Carrying everything without saying it aloud.I don’t even know when I’ll be back here again, Isagi thought, lips tightening. I just wanted to walk through the market with him. See the city. Laugh maybe. Just once… just something normal.I overreacted.He puffed out a quiet breath, slouched deeper into the mattress.Then, softer, to himself: But he did too, man. Always pulling me around like I’m made of string.He made a face. A half-pout, half-grimace.And still — still his thoughts circled back to that moment. That exact second where he looked up, and saw Kaiser’s face right after the yelling stopped.The look in his eyes.It hadn’t looked like anger.Not even frustration.It looked like—He couldn’t describe it.Didn’t know how to.—————————The egg mixture foamed just slightly as he stirred, the chopsticks in his hand moving on instinct, like muscle memory could somehow fill the silence between them.The pan hissed. Oil popped.Kaiser exhaled through his nose.Kaiser’s hands moved like memory — steady, practiced. It was a stupid thing to remember how to make. Dashimaki Tamago. Something soft. Something sweet.Something he never got as a child.Not unless he stole it.Not unless he got caught.And when he did — when they caught him — they didn’t scold him like people do in fairytales. They didn’t ask him why. They didn’t tell him stealing was wrong in that slow, patronizing voice.They beat him.With sticks, with rusted bars, with the backs of their fists. Broke a rib once when he was eight, trying to take bread from a stall that was going stale anyway. He bled for hours in a corner behind the butcher’s, dizzy with fever and shame.Nobody stopped.Nobody helped.He was a street rat. A thief. A nothing.He learned that word before he learned any others.And now — now someone dares to ask him why he keeps bringing up titles. Why he reminds them both, over and over, that Isagi is a prince.Kaiser clenched the spatula in his hand so tightly it made his knuckles ache.Why can’t I get my d@mn emotions under control when I’m with him? he thought, jaw tight as he tilted the pan. The egg cooked fast, delicate, fragile. These last few weeks have been—He cut the thought off.It was always like this now. His mind scattered when Isagi was near. Controlled one moment, completely fraying at the edges the next. He’d spent years teaching himself how to stay calm under pressure — to keep his smile sharp, his tone colder, his hands steady no matter the stakes.That stupid, stubborn idiot with no sense of danger and no filter for his mouth — and suddenly, Kaiser was losing grip on every rule he’d ever made for himself.He flipped the egg roll gently, steam curling up around his wrist.Why the hell does he always look at me like that?Just adjusted the heat and kept going, like he could somehow focus away the crack in his chest.“Why do you always bring up that I’m a prince?”The words wouldn’t leave him.He could still see the way Isagi had snapped them at him.Why?Kaiser didn’t even realize he’d exhaled through his nose until the pan hissed again.“Why,” he muttered under his breath, flipping the egg. “Why do I always bring that up…”As if it wasn’t obvious.Because it’s clear as water.Because your life is worth more than mine.Because if you fall, the world weeps. Statues are carved. Crowns tremble.If I fall, maybe someone sweeps the mess off the street.He pressed the roll flat, like that could steady his breath.You were born into satin and stained-glass halls. I was born into noise. Fists. Cold floors. No one teaching me to read, so I taught myself. No one feeding me, so I stole. No one caring if I lived, so I became someone who couldn’t die.And then there was you.You with your warm breath and idiotic bravery. With your ridiculous curiosity and your dumb little smile when something excites you. You, who talk like a prince but never act like one. Who looks at me like I’m something other than what I was made to be.And then you dare say—“Why do I always bring it up?”Because, Isagi.
Because I was born into nothing.
Because the world made sure I knew I was nothing.He tightened his grip on the pan. Just a little.Because I used to sleep on stone floors, and steal bread, and fight boys twice my size just for a few coins. Because I had to learn to smile with blood in my mouth. Because I only ever mattered when I was winning — and even then, only for what I could give someone else.Dragged a hand through his hair, fingers tightening at the base of his neck like he could pull the heat out of his own skull.Because you need to remember, he thought bitterly. Because I can’t afford to forget.Kaiser flipped the tamago too fast, scalding the edge.He didn’t care.You don’t get it, Isagi.
You’ll never get it.How could you?When you walk through the world and people move aside — not because they fear you, but because they respect you. When the weight you carry is legacy, not survival.Because you were born loved.
Because you were wanted.Because when you fell as a child, someone rushed to catch you.
When I fell — they kicked me harder.He pressed his knuckles into the countertop. The heat from the stove was nothing compared to the heat behind his eyes.And the worst part?The worst part is how you look at me.Like I could be more.Like I already am.That… hurts.
More than anything else. More than fists, more than hunger.
It hurts to be seen by you.Because I can’t believe it.
Because I want to.
Because it makes me want.And I’m not supposed to want.I’m a blade. A shadow. A tool they polish and unleash.So no — you don’t get to ask me why I bring up the fact that you’re a prince.It’s not just a title.
It’s a reminder.It’s the whole f@ck@ng difference between you and me.You don’t know what it’s like to wonder, every day, if today’s the day they send you back.
Back to nothing. Back to filth. Back to being nameless.Even after they brought me in, took me from the streets and polished me into a weapon, it didn’t stop. The fear didn’t stop.They didn’t raise me.
They trained me. Broke me. Sharpened me like steel.
Noa with his silence. Ego with his punishments.Every bruise I got after I was “saved” had hurt like hell.And still I took it.Because I thought… maybe if I bled enough, they’d let me stay.So yeah, I bring it up.I bring up that you’re a prince because you’re allowed to make mistakes.
And I’m not.You’re allowed to want things.
You’re allowed to feel things.And me?The only thing I’ve ever been allowed to be is useful.
Not good. Not loved. Not soft.Just useful.If someone kills the prince, the world mourns.If someone kills the knight beside him?They just replace him.He dragged a hand over his face again, the scent of sweet eggs clinging to his fingers like mockery. His vision swam a little — too much in his chest. Too much rising all at once.Why do I keep losing control around you?Why do I care what you think of me?Why did your voice shake when you yelled at me?Why did mine crack when I yelled back?Kaiser stared at the tamago, perfectly folded, steam rising from the surface.It looked warm.It looked like something that could’ve belonged to someone like Isagi. Not him.He turned the heat off.His hands trembled.Not from the pan.From the part of him that was still a child, bleeding behind the butcher’s wall, asking in silence why the world had to hurt like this.And wondering — quietly, hopelessly — what it would’ve felt like to be loved instead.————————————The eggs were still warm when Kaiser set the plate down.Steam curled from the glossy folds of the dashimaki tamago, golden and delicate against the pale ceramic. A small bowl of rice sat beside it. Nothing extravagant — but it smelled like home, or the closest thing either of them had to it.Isagi sat already at the table, hands folded in his lap, eyes flicking up with a tension that didn’t quite make it to his face. He didn’t speak. Just watched as Kaiser sat across from him and began to eat like everything was normal.It wasn’t.The silence between them dragged long. The kind that wasn’t empty — but filled with the echo of earlier words. Words still hanging like smoke in the room.Kaiser broke it first.“Eat,” he said, not unkindly. “I’ll make something more later. It’s only twelve.”Isagi nodded, picking up his chopsticks.They ate in silence.Not comfortable silence.Careful silence. Like the floor might give out from under them if either of them breathed too loud.Isagi poked at the rice. Then finally — too quietly — said, “Kaiser…”Kaiser didn’t look up.“I want to apolo—”“Don’t.” The word cut like a blade, low and final.Isagi blinked.Kaiser set his chopsticks down.“You don’t have to say anything,” he said. Voice unreadable. “It wasn’t your fault.”Isagi frowned, confused.Kaiser’s jaw worked like he wanted to swallow the rest of it — but the words came anyway, bitter on his tongue.“I overreacted. I scared you. That’s on me.”Isagi shook his head slightly. “I mean, yeah, but—”“You’re the prince,” Kaiser said, gaze sharp now, like a line drawn too straight. “You shouldn’t have to apologize to someone below your rank.”It wasn’t mocking. It wasn’t his usual arrogant curl of a smile.It was quiet. Final. Honest.That made it worse.Isagi sighed. Loudly this time. Shoulders slumping.There it was again — the wall. That d@mn wall Kaiser always threw up between them the second things got real. The moment something cracked, he patched it with sarcasm or silence or some warped sense of loyalty. Like all he was good for was keeping his head down, taking the blame, and acting like none of it got to him.Isagi wanted to say you’re not just some knight.
He wanted to say I wasn’t scared of you — I was scared I was overwhelmed.
He wanted to say a lot of things.But instead, he just pushed a piece of egg around his plate and said nothing.And Kaiser didn’t meet his eyes.The room was quiet again. Not peaceful.Just heavy.Like two people trying to breathe in a space that had gotten too small for the weight of what they weren’t saying.The food had cooled by the time Isagi pushed his bowl away, only half-eaten.He leaned back in his chair, spine curling just a little with the weight of frustration. His eyes flicked toward the window — the city outside, sun cutting down over the tiled rooftops of Rothmane, the faint glimmer of the spires in the distance.He sighed. Deeply. Tired. The kind of breath that sounded more like defeat than anything else.“…Let’s just go back,” he murmured.Kaiser looked up slowly.“To Grimmoria.”Kaiser blinked once, setting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “What?”Isagi shrugged, not quite meeting his gaze. “It’s pointless if we can’t walk around without looking over our shoulders every second. I just wanted a few days, that’s all. But if the twins are here…”He didn’t finish the sentence.The implication hung in the space between them like dust in a shaft of sunlight.“You wanted to stay,” he said, still with his back turned. “So we’ll stay.”“Kaiser—”“I’ve already sent word to some men in the lower quarter,” he cut in, voice calm, almost clipped. “They’ll keep eyes out. No one gets near without me knowing first.”Isagi stared. “You did that just now?”“While the eggs were cooking.”Of course he had.Of course he would.Kaiser turned back toward him, arms folded across his chest, eyes calm but unreadable.“We’ll stay,” he said again, more softly this time. “You wanted to see Rothmane, didn’t you?”“…Yeah,” Isagi admitted.Kaiser’s gaze lingered. Not warm. But something like it — dulled steel, not cold to the touch if you held it long enough.“Then we’re not leaving just because two rats are hiding in the walls,” he said.Isagi looked at him for a long moment.Then nodded.And for a beat, they didn’t speak.Only the wind outside the window stirred — brushing against the glass like something waiting.———————————-The rain had started an hour ago.Thin and steady against the windows, like the sky had been waiting all day to fall apart. The fire in the hearth cracked softly, casting shadows across the floor, and the light of the lamp beside the bed burned low and gold.Isagi was curled under two blankets, his skin still flushed and damp with the edge of fever, dark hair clinging to his forehead. His breathing was even now, though he stirred every so often — a quiet shift of weight, a twitch in his fingers, like even in sleep he hadn’t fully let go of the shame.Kaiser sat in a chair beside the bed, legs stretched out, an old book half-open in his hands.He wasn’t reading it.Not really.His gaze flicked between the lines only to land on Isagi’s face again, over and over — like the words couldn’t anchor him, not when that idiot was lying there like this.Poisoned.From water.From room service.Kaiser dragged a hand down his face, suppressing the hundredth sigh.Kaiser hated this.Not the chair. Not the cramped hotel room, or even the flickering light casting long shadows across the floor.No — it was this.The sight of Isagi lying there with too much color in his face, his breathing shallow and damp, his eyes fluttering open and shut like a candle fighting wind.And all because the idiot couldn’t follow one instruction.Don’t open the door.But of course, Isagi had opened it anyway — some smiley b@st@rd in the hotel uniform, silver tray in hand. Complimentary snacks. Mineral water chilled just enough. A soft-spoken voice. Too practiced.Kaiser had come out of the shower minutes later to find the bottle half-empty and Isagi already pale at the edges.Panic hadn’t even hit him first.Rage had.The doctor had arrived fast — a blessing or luck or both — and confirmed the dosage was small. Barely enough to do damage.“If he’d finished the bottle,” the man had said, brushing sweat from Isagi’s temple, “it might’ve been another story.”Now it was just a matter of time. Medicine, rest, warmth.And waiting.Kaiser glanced over again.Isagi stirred — a soft murmur under his breath, nothing clear.His face was still flushed. His lashes dark against his skin. His lips dry and chapped in the center, from where he kept licking them in confusion before he’d passed out.Kaiser swore under his breath and stood up, setting the book on the bedside table with a little more force than necessary.The damp cloth on Isagi’s forehead was already warm.He went back to the basin, dipped another, wrung it out tight, then came back and knelt at the side of the bed.The cloth peeled off with a faint, sticky sound.Isagi stirred, breath hitching.Kaiser frowned, replacing it quickly with the cool one. His hand lingered for a moment, adjusting the angle across Isagi’s flushed skin.“…Stop looking like that,” Kaiser muttered. “You’re not dying.”Isagi’s hand moved. Clumsy and slow, reaching out — and suddenly catching Kaiser’s wrist.Kaiser froze.Isagi’s grip wasn’t tight, more like an anchor. As if he was afraid he’d drift away otherwise.“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, voice scratchy and small. “It’s my fault…”“Yeah,” Kaiser snapped, tone harsher than he meant it. “It is.”He shook his head and sighed, yanking his wrist gently from Isagi’s grasp. “Don’t start crying about it now. Just rest.”Isagi blinked up at him, glossy-eyed and flushed. “…I’m cold.”“You’re covered in two blankets.”Isagi’s eyes didn’t move. “Still cold.”Kaiser stood again. “I’ll get another—”“No—” Isagi’s hand reached again, catching the edge of Kaiser’s coat this time. “I meant… Can you get under the blanket too.”Kaiser stared at him.“Absolutely not.”“Kaiser…”His name sounded different in Isagi’s fever-drowsy voice. Less like a command. More like a plea.Kaiser clenched his jaw.For a second, he stood still — rain ticking against the windows, the fire crackling low — and then with a groan that sounded like defeat more than anything else, he sat down on the bed beside him.“Fine,” he muttered, pushing the blankets aside just enough to slide in.“This is pathetic.”Isagi shifted closer, leaning weakly against his shoulder like a cat looking for warmth. Kaiser stiffened on instinct, then sighed again and leaned back into the pillows.For a minute, there was quiet — nothing but the weight of Isagi beside him and the book he picked back up again, more out of habit than interest. A dense psychological text he’d found in the room’s shelves earlier — something about collective consciousness and identity formation, or whatever.Isagi, half-limp but curious, opened one bleary eye and glanced sideways.“…Are you actually reading that?”Kaiser didn’t look away from the page. “Yes.”Isagi frowned faintly. “Why?”“Because I have a brain,” Kaiser said, flipping a page. “And because some of us didn’t grow up with everything handed to us.”Isagi didn’t answer immediately.Then, in a quieter voice: “You’re still mad.”Kaiser turned the page again, this time without reading a single word.Isagi huffed softly, then let his head drop more fully onto Kaiser’s shoulder, eyes slipping shut again.“I said I was sorry,” he muttered.“Mm,” Kaiser said. But his body didn’t move away. His arm didn’t push Isagi off.And though he didn’t say it out loud, he reached across without thinking — just briefly — to adjust the blanket over Isagi’s chest again.Isagi’s breathing had started to slow again. His fever hadn’t broken yet — his skin still ran hot where it pressed against Kaiser’s arm — but the trembling had dulled into something drowsy, something worn-out and yielding.Kaiser barely noticed the weight anymore.He sat still, the book open on his lap, unread, the words blurring into each other. The only thing he really felt was the slow tilt of Isagi’s body leaning more and more into him — boneless, like gravity was pulling him deeper into sleep. Or deeper into him.Then, quiet. Almost a whisper. So soft Kaiser barely caught it.“You’ll protect me… right?”
A pause.
“…Mihya?”Kaiser blinked.The name — that name — didn’t belong here. Not in this dark hotel room, not in this life they had now, surrounded by enemies in expensive coats and poisoned water.Mihya.No one called him that anymore.Not since-Kaiser swallowed once, his jaw tight.That name cracked something open in him.Kaiser’s throat tightened.Because he’d been angry earlier. He knew that. He’d lashed out, snapped, because every time Isagi waved away the danger it made him want to scream. Because Kaiser knew how little it would take for someone like Isagi — to be snuffed out in a world like this.And now that same boy, blinking through a poisoned fever, was asking him for protection. Not as a knight.But as Mihya.It undid him.Kaiser turned his head slowly, watching Isagi’s face in the low light. His brows were faintly knit even in sleep, like some part of him still remembered the pain. His hair clung to his forehead in damp strands. His mouth was slightly open — breath shallow and slow.“Yeah,” he murmured, voice too low for Isagi to hear now. “I’ll protect you.”Even from the things you don’t see coming.Even from the ones who smile while planning your death.Kaiser gently shifted out from beneath him, his movement careful, practiced. He laid Isagi back down, slow as anything, making sure his head found the pillow. He tucked the blanket tighter around his shoulders, fingers brushing over fever-warmed skin.Isagi didn’t stir.Kaiser stood.His coat was already hanging on the back of the chair. He grabbed it, shrugging it on in one smooth motion, the gold trim catching the firelight like drawn steel.The Wanima twins were still out there.And they’d been watching his prince.“Alright,” he muttered under his breath. “F@ck it. I’ll handle this myself.”Then, without another word, he stepped out into the night._______________The floor creaked with every shift of movement, dust floating in the moonlight like ash.The house smelled like dust and blood.It was the kind of place time forgot — beams splintered, windows shattered, roof half-caved in like the whole thing was exhaling its last breath. Moonlight spilled through the broken rafters in slices, catching the blood drying on the floor in dull red streaks.The Wanima twins were tied to the old support beams, wrists bound behind them, their bodies marked by bruises that bloomed like rotten fruit. One of them bled from the mouth. The other kept smiling through a swollen eye.Kaiser stood over them, his breath quiet. His hands hung loose at his sides, but his knuckles were bloodied. He hadn’t lost control.Yet.But his eyes were colder than any winter.He rolled his sleeves up higher, letting blood dry on his knuckles.“I’m only going to ask one more time,” he said, his voice flat. “Why were you watching him?”The older twin coughed, laughed. “Cute of you to assume it was about him.”Kaiser’s boot slammed into his chest, cracking something that made the other twin flinch.“Try again.”The younger twin’s head lolled. “You’re hurting us, Mihya,” he mocked, lips split.“You’ve got one chance,” he said, low. “Who sent the poison?”The younger twin spat blood, laughing. “That’s what you care about? Still so loyal, little dog.”“You’re cute when you’re pretending you’re not just a dog on a leash.”The older twin’s gaze turned mean. “The question is—why are you still killing for them?“You’re too late anyway,” the older one added, eye swollen shut. “But d@mn. You really don’t know anything, do you?”Kaiser’s jaw ticked. “Don’t play with me.”They exchanged a look, and then the younger twin said it:“Grimmoria’s secret. The one buried under your pretty palace floors.”Kaiser stilled.“You’re bluffing.”“Am I?” The older twin leaned forward despite the ropes biting his arms.“You think they took you in out of kindness?” the younger said, almost pitying. “You think you’re protecting something pure. But your precious kingdom is rotten from the inside out. And you don’t even know what you’re bleeding for.”“What the hell are you talking about?” Kaiser hissed, stepping forward.They grinned wider.“Ask your prince.”Silence.Kaiser’s breath hitched. His eyes narrowed, sharp and bright with rage and confusion.And then—The younger twin leaned in, low and cruel:“But even if he did know, he wouldn’t tell you. Why would he? You’re just the same as us. Nothing. A dog raised by monsters. A filthy street rat dressed up in royal armor.”“You steal, we steal. You kill, we kill.”“You remember it, don’t you?” the younger said, voice suddenly softer, almost conspiratorial. “How they found you half-starved. Covered in bruises. Stinking like the streets.”“Like something no one wanted,” the older added. “But you were useful. You had sharp teeth. So they kept you.”“You think loyalty makes you safe?” The younger twin’s grin was wide and mocking. “You’re not one of them. You never were. You’re a weapon they bought. Nothing more.”“Don’t,” Kaiser growled.“You’re not protecting him. You’re clinging to the only person who ever looked at you like you weren’t trash.”“You think he cares about you?” the older twin sneered. “You’re a weapon, Kaiser. A borrowed sword. And once it breaks—“You’re nothing.”“You’re less than nothing.”“You’re not his equal. You’re not even his friend.”And that’s when it snapped.The silence that followed wasn’t still — it was suffocating. Like the whole room had gone underwater.Kaiser dropped to his knees between them.“No,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “You don’t get to say that.”His hands moved — one on the older twin’s throat, the other pressing the younger’s face into the dirt floor.“No more,” he growled.The older twin struggled first, gasping — but Kaiser didn’t let up.The sound of choking, of nails scraping against the stone, filled the air. He didn’t flinch.“You don’t know anything about me.”His voice cracked — rage, pain, something too deep to name.“You didn’t sleep on the cold floors of a stone barrack with blood on your hands because you stole bread.”“You didn’t have to prove every second of your life that you deserved to be alive.”The body stilled.The other twin thrashed, panicked — but Kaiser’s grip was already there, crushing the last breath from his lungs.“You didn’t survive iron bars and beatings and loneliness so complete it made you sick.”“And you sure as hell didn’t stand beside someone like him and wonder if he’d look at you different if he ever knew what you really are.”The final breath wheezed out.Then — stillness.Only Kaiser remained, breath ragged, hands trembling, blood drying on his fingers like guilt made flesh.He looked down at them.They were right.He was nothing.Kaiser stood there in silence, the sound of dripping blood the only thing left in the room. The twins’ bodies slumped forward, finally still.He stared down at them.“I know I’m being used.”——————————The morning was already warm when Kaiser heard it — the quiet shuffle of boots too soft to belong to a soldier, the faint breath of someone trying not to laugh.He didn’t turn.“You’re still coming?”Kaiser kept his back to him, voice flat. “You shouldn’t talk to me.”He heard Isagi pause.“Too bad,” the prince said. “I already am.”Kaiser finally looked over his shoulder. Isagi was there again — cheeks pink, hair a mess, a bit of honey smeared near the corner of his mouth like he’d run straight from breakfast. There was a scrape on one of his knees. His shirt was untucked.He didn’t look like royalty at all.And yet he still looked brighter than anything Kaiser had ever seen.“…You’re going to get caught,” Kaiser muttered again, softer this time.“Not if you stop standing around like you’re guilty,” Isagi shot back, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s go.”So they did.They followed the familiar path—through the uneven orchard fence, past the bramble bushes and into the forgotten corner of the palace gardens. The grass was taller than their knees now. Bees buzzed lazily above the wildflowers. The crumbled stone wall they’d claimed as theirs still stood in quiet defiance.But today, something was different.“Ah—!!”Isagi’s squeal echoed through the overgrowth.Kaiser jolted. “What?”“Over there—!” Isagi flailed and backed into him. “It—it moved—!”Kaiser squinted, brows furrowing as he scanned the patch of grass—Then he saw it. A fat, bloated toad sat proudly in the center of the stone bench, its eyes unblinking. It didn’t move. Just existed.Isagi took two dramatic steps back, nearly stumbling. “Mihya. Mihya protect me. Please.”Kaiser stared.“…It’s a toad.”Isagi shook his head hard, face pink. "It's slimy!""Mihya," he whispered, clutching at Kaiser's sleeve. "Mihya, please, please-""Don't-" Kaiser's voice came out strangled. He was very aware of how warm that small hand felt."Don't call me-"But Isagi was already ducking behind him, hands fisted in the back of his tunic, breath shaky."Mihya," he whimpered. "Make it go away..."Kaiser turned to look at him.You’re a crybaby,” Kaiser said, deadpan.“You’re mean!” Isagi pouted, tugging tighter at his sleeve like a drowning boy clinging to driftwood.The toad croaked once. Loudly.Isagi shrieked and practically jumped into Kaiser’s back.Kaiser swallowed. He wanted to say again-you shouldn't talk to me, you shouldn't touch me, you're the prince. But that soft, desperate little voice made something in his chest curl tight.So he sighed and knelt down."Stay back," he ordered, as if Isagi were about to be devoured.“Be careful!” Isagi whisper-yelled. “Don’t touch it—what if it explodes or something—”Kaiser rolled his eyes. “It’s a toad, not a grenade.”He reached out, gently shooed the toad away with a stick. It hopped off into the grass,' unconcerned.Kaiser stood and dusted his hands."There. Happy?"Isagi peeked over his shoulder, lower lip wobbling. "Is it gone?"Isagi blinked. “You—you got rid of it?”“No,” Kaiser said dryly. “It walked away on its own because it didn’t want to hear you scream anymore.”Isagi shoved him weakly. “Shut up.”Isagi let out a shaky breath, then carefully inched around to his side, still clutching the fabric of his tunic. His cheeks were red with embarrassment."Thank you," he mumbled.Kaiser looked away, jaw tight....You're ridiculous," he muttered."I was scared.""You're always scared.""Because you're never scared," Isagi said quietly. "So it's okay if I am."Kaiser flinched. Just a fraction.He wished he could explain it. That he is scared-every day, all the time. Scared of being sent back to the alleys. Scared of never being good enough.He looked down. His arms were still sore. The bruise along his ribs throbbed with every breath. He’d slept on the cold tile last night after failing a sword form. The pain was still there.But here?Isagi looked at him like he wasn’t a weapon.Like he wasn’t made of dirt and scars.“Yeah,” Kaiser muttered after a long pause. “Whatever.”Isagi leaned back against the stone, curling his knees to his chest.Then, with a small voice: “You’ll always protect me, right?”Kaiser didn’t move.He stared out at the garden, fingers curling at his sides.“…Always,” he said, barely louder than a whisper.And behind him, Isagi smiled.Because he believed him.Because he always had.——————————'
User: No how do i get rid off the censorship for words
User: No how do i get rid off the censorship for words
Assistant: