For some reason, Lionel couldn’t look Jaylin directly in the eyes. Instead, he dropped his gaze and rubbed the surface of the sofa absentmindedly. He wasn’t even aware of the words coming out of his mouth.
“Jaylin, stay here just a few more days before you leave.”
“B-but…”
“You haven’t even fully recovered yet, have you? Please? Can you do that much for me?”
Lionel’s face darkened instantly, and Jaylin reluctantly nodded in response. After a brief pause, Jaylin called out to him.
“Y-young master…”
“Yeah?”
Jaylin held out the Intermediate Runic Textbook toward Lionel. It was the same worn book Lionel had returned to him.
“What’s this for…?”
“I-I just wanted to give it to you. Y-you’ve given me so many gifts… T-this is all I have to give you.”
Lionel stared blankly at the book, then reached out and took it.
It wasn’t a new book, but one Jaylin had treasured deeply. That made it all the more meaningful to Lionel.
“Thank you.”
At the time, Lionel had no idea what that book truly meant to Jaylin.
That autumn, Lionel left for the capital. It was at his father’s suggestion—to formally study how to control his magical power.
He really didn’t want to part from Jaylin. But Lionel wanted to become stronger. He never wanted to relive the events of that stormy night again.
It was unbearable, knowing what was about to happen to Jaylin and yet standing there powerless to stop it. He wanted to become strong enough to protect him.
With that one determination in his heart, Lionel left the Eduardo estate.
There were days that were so unbearably hard that his whole body trembled. On such days, he would infuse Jaylin’s doll with magic and watch as the fireball rose into the sky and exploded.
“Someday, I’ll invite Jaylin to the townhouse in the capital. And we’ll watch those fireworks together, like I promised.”
But Lionel’s resolve faded in the face of harsh reality.
He was too busy learning the sword, cultivating the manners and skills to one day become a duke. Each day flew by in a blur, leaving no time to look back.
Even the letters he used to write regularly grew farther and farther apart.
Ten summers passed.
For someone so young, ten years was long enough to change an entire life.
And little by little, Jaylin faded from Lionel’s memories.
The awkward feelings he had as a boy faded helplessly with time.
Like a sudden summer downpour that drenched him completely, the emotion had dried away as though it had never happened at all.
He didn’t even realize what it was—what kind of feeling it had been.
He didn’t know that what people called “love” had once quietly taken root in his young, unknowing heart.
He had no idea that the one he left behind still ached for him, unable to forget.
To Lionel, it had simply become a fleeting memory of a burning summer day—intense and gone.
The first time Jaylin saw the young master, he thought he wasn’t a living person.
Is this what an angel statue from Saint Bernell Cathedral, praised as the pinnacle of human beauty, would look like?
But Jaylin, who had never even seen the shadow of that cathedral, could not have known.
The statue—no, the figure—slowly lifted its head.
Golden eyes, as if they had been forged from melted sunlight, emerged, and Jaylin felt as though he had been struck in the back of the head.
The boy before him wasn’t a frozen sculpture silently enduring the passage of time. He was alive—moving, speaking, radiating life.
The brilliance that poured from him, the pulse of wonder—it was blinding. So beautiful it felt like Jaylin would go blind.
His mind went blank, everything burning into ash.
He couldn’t remember what he did after that. When he came to, he had already left the room.
They had called him the young master. Even someone as ignorant of the world as Jaylin could tell he was from nobility.
But Jaylin thought those beautiful eyes looked terribly lonely. Even though the boy lived in a grand mansion, lacking nothing.
Maybe that was why Jaylin couldn’t take his eyes off Lionel.
All Jaylin could hope was that, in his daze, he hadn’t committed any rudeness that the servants had warned him to avoid.
From that day on, Jaylin met the young master once a week without fail. They were happy times.
The young master didn’t bully him like the others at the orphanage.
He didn’t snatch Jaylin’s books and call him a show-off for reading runes. He didn’t mock his stammer or imitate the way he spoke.
When Jaylin received a fountain pen as a gift from the young master, he was so happy he felt like flying. It was far too fine for someone like him, so just gazing at it brought joy.
He hid it in his pillowcase and took it out occasionally just to look at the delicate flower engravings and the sparkling gem.
But happiness didn’t last long.
His roommate, Beth, discovered the pen.
“Hey, stutterer. What’s that? Hand it over.”
Beth shoved Jaylin roughly and tried to grab the pen.
“N-no, you c-can’t.”
Jaylin pulled back and hid the pen against his chest.
Beth’s hand swiped the air, missing, and she clenched her jaw in anger.
“You little brat!”
Beth, much bigger than Jaylin, yanked his hair hard.
Pain ripped through Jaylin’s scalp, and tears welled in his eyes.
In the struggle, Beth managed to snatch the pen.
“This is a fountain pen?”
“I-it’s mine. G-give it back.”
Jaylin lunged at her, but Beth easily pushed him to the ground.
“Wow. This thing looks expensive.”
Beth turned the pen in her hands, her eyes gleaming.
“What the—there’s a real gem on the cap? I could make some real money with this. Hey, s-s-stutterer. I’m keeping this.”
Beth mimicked his stutter and waved the pen in front of his face.
“N-no! It’s m-mine!”
“Like this ever belonged to someone like you. What’s a sewer rat like you doing with something like this? I’ll sell it and give you a tiny bit, okay?”
Beth cackled, eyes still glued to the pen.
While Beth was distracted, Jaylin got up and charged into her.
With loud thuds, the two of them rolled across the floor in a tangle of limbs.
“You crazy little—!”
Beth screamed furiously.
She grabbed Jaylin’s hair and yanked hard.
“I-it’s mine! G-give it back!”
They wrestled on the ground until a thunderous voice rang out behind them.
“What’s going on in here!”
The orphanage director, Salingdieu, had entered the room unnoticed.
She swept her sharp gaze over the two struggling children.
“How disgraceful! Get up, both of you!”
The two of them scrambled to their feet, but neither would let go of the pen.
When she saw what they were holding, Salingdieu narrowed her eyes.
“What is that? Give it here.”
Beth, glancing nervously at the director, dropped the pen with a huff.
Jaylin, clutching the pen tightly, reluctantly handed it over.
Salingdieu took it and frowned, staring hard at Jaylin.
“Where did you get this?”
“The y-young master gave it to me. The one I visit every w-week.”
“You mean the young master from the Eduardo duchy?”
“Y-yes.”
“Then why were you fighting? Beth, you explain.”
Beth shot Jaylin a glare and mumbled.
“I just wanted to try it once and asked her to lend it, but she wouldn’t let me.”
“Beth, for causing such a commotion, you’ll clean the girls’ bathroom for a month. Jaylin, come with me.”
“D-director!”
Beth protested, but Salingdieu ignored her and took Jaylin to her office.
“You little rat. How dare you steal from the duke’s heir who sponsors us?”
“I d-didn’t steal it.”
“And you expect me to believe the Eduardo heir gave you something this extravagant? Do you even know how much this is worth?”
“I-I don’t.”
“You couldn’t afford the gem on this pen even if you worked your whole life!”
“But it’s t-true. I swear. You can ask h-him—”
“You think I won’t? Learn some manners. Out. Now.”
“T-then can I k-keep the pen until—”
“You must be kidding. How could I trust someone like you with this? I’ll confirm the facts with the duke’s household. If it’s true, I’ll return it. Now get out!”
After that day, Jaylin never saw the fountain pen again. No matter how many times he went back to ask for it, he was only met with curses.
Eventually, he had to give up the gift from the young master.
The paper and ink Lionel had given him were stolen by Beth.
Still angry about not getting the pen, Beth had ransacked Jaylin’s things and stolen the hidden supplies.
But at least Jaylin still had the Runic textbook.
Its cover was now stained and battered thanks to Beth’s rage, but the worn-out Intermediate Runic Textbook held no value for anyone else.
Jaylin curled up in bed, clutching the book to his chest.
It was okay. He still had Runic.
This, at least, no one could take from him.
