My Soul card is a Reaper-Chapter 1048: Dreams of the Past: Rael’s honesty

For a while, they stood together on the balcony in silence, letting the night wind cool their faces, until footsteps approached from the corridor behind them. A servant bowed deeply at the door, his voice careful, respectful, as if speaking too loudly might be a sin.

"Master Azrael," he said. "His Majesty requests your presence privately."

Rael's stomach tightened.

Eon's grip on his sleeve tightened too.

Rael exhaled slowly and nodded. "Understood."

*

The room he was brought to was not the grand hall, nor Aurelius' study.

It was a smaller receiving chamber, one meant for private discussions, with a fireplace burning low and thick curtains drawn across the windows. Only two people were inside.

King Arthur sat calmly, his royal cloak draped over the chair like a lion's mane, his golden hair catching the firelight. Aurelius stood near the side, arms crossed, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.

The moment Rael entered, the air became heavier.

Not because of arcana pressure.

Because of authority.

Rael bowed properly, though the motion felt stiff.

"Your Majesty," he greeted, then nodded toward Aurelius. "Father."

Arthur's gaze lingered on him for a long moment, as if reading the cracks in his pride, then he spoke in a calm voice that carried the weight of a king.

"Sit."

Rael sat.

Aurelius did not.

Arthur leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped, and his expression was not angry, but displeased in a quiet way that made it worse.

"You caused quite a scene," Aurelius said immediately, his voice cold.

Rael's jaw tightened, but he didn't look away. "I merely answered a question."

Aurelius' eyes narrowed. "And you shouldn't have."

Before Rael could respond, Arthur raised his hand slightly, silencing Aurelius without even looking at him. It was a simple gesture, but it reminded Rael that Arthur wasn't merely a guest here; he was the King of Camelot.

Arthur spoke again, his voice calm.

"I apologize for my son's behavior," he said. "Loholt is arrogant, and he believes his position gives him the right to provoke others. That is my failure as his father."

Rael's eyes flickered faintly, surprised, but he remained silent.

Arthur continued, his gaze steady. "However, that does not excuse your response. Even if you meant it. Even if it was the truth."

Rael's expression hardened.

Arthur's tone remained controlled, but it grew sharper with each sentence, like a blade being slowly drawn.

"You may not understand this," Arthur said, "but Artaigne wrote me letters for three years. Letters from the academy. Letters from your travels. Letters filled with stories of her progress, her fears, her training, her frustrations, her victories."

Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.

"And do you know what most of those letters were about?"

Rael didn't answer.

Arthur's voice lowered.

"You," he said simply.

Rael's chest tightened faintly, but his face remained unmoved.

Arthur leaned back, his gaze becoming distant for a moment, as if recalling those letters one by one.

"When I adopted her," Arthur continued, "she was timid, weak, uncertain, and always afraid of disappointing others. She could barely look a noble in the eyes without lowering her head. But over the past three years, she has grown into someone confident. She became a warrior. She became someone who could stand with pride and hold her blade without trembling."

Arthur's gaze returned to Rael.

"And she became that because of you. Because she believed you saw something in her worth protecting."

Rael's throat tightened slightly.

Arthur's voice grew colder.

"She will be your wife one day," he said. "And humiliating her publicly is not only hurting her. It is humiliating the royal family. It is humiliating me and my dignity. You made her look like a woman who was already abandoned before marriage even began."

Rael's fingers clenched on his lap, and his voice came out calm but stubborn.

"I was asked to be honest," he said. "I was honest."

Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Honesty without wisdom is cruelty."

Rael's gaze sharpened at that. "Honestly, Your Majesty, the scene occurred after the engagement ceremony. Hence, she's my fiancée. Half married, as nobles say. Matters between us have nothing to do with Camelot unless she comes to complain to you, and I believe she hasn't."

Arthur's expression darkened immediately, displeasure flashing across his face like a shadow.

Rael continued, his tone firmer now, refusing to bend. "I don't need a third party's interference. Whatever it is, we will sort it out ourselves."

The room fell silent.

Aurelius' eyes narrowed dangerously, and Arthur's expression became stiff, the kind of stiffness that only kings wore when they were offended but too disciplined to show anger openly.

Arthur spoke slowly, each word deliberate.

"You are standing in front of your King," he said.

Rael met his gaze. "Yes… And I won't even give the Gods to decide on my matters, Father."

Aurelius' voice cut through the air like a whip.

"That's enough," he said, his tone sharp. "You haven't grown at all. Not even a bit. That rebellious attitude, that unruly behavior against your elders, it hasn't changed since you left. You still speak as if respect is optional."

Rael's jaw clenched, and he stood abruptly, the chair scraping softly against the floor.

"And you," Rael said, his voice low and furious, "haven't changed either."

Aurelius' eyes sharpened.

Rael's gaze burned. "Always scolding. Always demanding obedience. Never trying to understand me. Never trying to understand Eon. Not once."

Aurelius' aura tightened faintly, and for a second, the room felt like it might become a battlefield again.

Arthur's voice came cold. "Azrael—"

But Rael didn't bow.

He didn't apologize.

He simply turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him with a force that shook the candle flames.

*

The hallway outside was quiet, but Rael's heartbeat thundered in his ears.

He returned to his room with heavy steps, his anger still burning, his pride refusing to settle. Eon was already asleep on the bed, her breathing soft and steady, her body curled slightly toward his side as if she instinctively knew where he belonged even when he wasn't there.

Rael stared at her for a long moment.

His anger faded.

The weight returned.

And with it, the image of Artaigne's tears.

He lay down beside Eon, but sleep refused to come.

Minutes passed.

Then hours.

The moon shifted across the sky, the darkness deepening, and Rael's thoughts only grew louder.

He sat up slowly, careful not to wake Eon, and slipped out of bed. His feet made no sound on the carpet as he crossed the room, and he moved to the window, pushing it open just enough for the cold night air to spill inside.

Then he climbed out.

The manor roof was cold beneath his hands, and he moved with the practiced agility of someone who had snuck out more times than any noble heir should admit. He crossed the ledge, dropped onto the next balcony, then onto another, until he reached Artaigne's wing.

Her window was closed.

Rael hesitated.

Then he tapped lightly.

No response.

He tapped again, harder.

The curtain shifted, and a second later, Artaigne's face appeared, her eyes widening in shock, her mouth opening to shout.

Rael moved instantly, sliding the window open and stepping inside, his hand covering her mouth before the scream could escape.

"Don't," he whispered urgently. "It's me."

Artaigne froze beneath his hand, her breathing sharp, her eyes furious and wet at the same time. Rael slowly removed his hand, stepping back slightly to give her space, and Artaigne's voice came out like a blade.

"Are you insane?" she hissed. "Do you know what time it is?"

Rael nodded, his voice low. "Yes."

Artaigne's hands trembled as she pointed toward the door. "Get out."

Rael didn't move.

Instead, he spoke softly. "I'm sorry."

Artaigne's eyes narrowed. "I already heard your apology."

Rael swallowed. "Just hear me out once..."

Artaigne's expression faltered slightly, and her lips tightened as if she was trying to hold her anger together.

Rael walked toward the window and sat down on the sill, his legs hanging slightly, the night breeze brushing his hair. After a moment of hesitation, Artaigne moved closer, standing beside him, but she didn't sit.

Rael stared out into the night, his voice quiet.

"I shouldn't have said it like that," he admitted. "Not in front of everyone. I should have protected you. I should have answered in a way that didn't make you look like you were worthless."

Artaigne's hands clenched at her sides, her voice shaking. "But you meant it."

Rael nodded slowly. "Yes."

Artaigne's eyes filled again. "Then why are you here?"