Requeim of Reverence

JEROME KRUGER - IMEMR TRAINING GROUNDS

The announcement was made almost an hour ago. The sudden reschedule meant even more intense training. I knew I had no time to waste. I'll need to prove myself in this tournament. Only then... Only then, my father will acknowledge me.

It is my only shot... I have to win—No, I must win. My arrogant father will have no choice but to acknowledge me after I win this tournament. Only then... Only then, I could see her smile—My amnesic mother. I will do anything to win her heart back.

That man—my father—has never cared for anything but power. The noble family was once the pillar of pride and dignity, yet he let it rot in his obsession with politics and war. He never spared a moment for my mother, not even when she broke. The trauma of his absence—of losing everything she held dear—shattered her mind. She no longer remembers me, nor does she remember the love we once shared as a family. And yet, I still foolishly wish to hear her call my name, to see the warmth return to her empty eyes.

I sat around the training ground, on the wooden platform. I watched others spar from afar, feeling a fire of motivation burning in my heart. Clenching my fist in determination, I jolted back up, my sweat separating from my body due to inertia.

"Je-Jerome!"—A voice cut out from behind me.

I turned around. It was Miss Monica, one of the nobles. She was also the vice president of the Student Council.

Flustered, she immediately turned her face away, her face red. Oh—I realized. I wasn't wearing anything on my top. I let that realization sink in, feeling awkward myself.

Turning to my side, I instead pretended to be observing other fights. I hoped that made the situation less awkward than it already was.

She cleared her throat and started speaking, "Je-Jerome. Can you get some clothes on? The Council President wants to exchange a few words with you. I can assure you that it's good news."

What could Miss Raylis, the president of the student council, want from me? And to think she sent Miss Monica herself. Surely, it's of some significance.

"Alright, I am coming," I turned my back on her and readied myself.

MARKOV HYRPHONUS - A CLOSED CLASSROOM

Spending an entire class period alone with the princess herself—it was surreal. As I studied her, her blue crystal eyes caught me off guard once again. She curled a smirk, her voice soft yet laced with amusement.

"You're quite bold, considering you were just caught spying on the Prince. And yet, here you are, perfectly composed, even with the literal princess sitting in front of you. People would die for me—for my mere presence."

I scoffed. "And here I thought the rumors of your narcissism were exaggerated. Don't get me wrong, Lady Hera. I may look like a bookish nobody, but I can be just as cunning as anyone. Composure comes naturally to me."

"Or maybe," she mused, resting her chin on her palm, "it's because you've resented us for years. You, the son of the late Zekriel Hyrphonus, still live in a world of denial. You blamed us for his death. But it was you, wasn't it?"

I exhaled, unfazed. "You won't break my composure with lies, Princess."

"But his death was what drove you away from the family. Your own mother blamed you, and she was dead a day later. Harsh, don't you think?"

Her words felt calculated as if testing the waters. Why was she provoking me? Why hadn't she arrested me on the spot? What was she really after?

I sighed. "If you were hoping to stir some reaction, I hate to disappoint. That part of my life? I don't care about it anymore."

Hera studied me for a moment, then leaned back, her piercing gaze never wavering. "I apologize for being so blunt, Markov Hyrphonus."

"I abandoned that name years ago. Don't call me that," I said flatly.

She only smirked, clearly unfazed by my warning.

Standing from my desk, I dusted myself off. "If you're done playing mind games, I'll be going. I actually have classes to attend."

She chuckled. "And here I thought you weren't a nerd. Why not take off those glasses and embrace your cursed eyes?"

Sighing, I pulled them off.

"They're not cursed," I corrected, meeting her gaze. "They allow me to see through a person's intent. But oddly enough, I can't read yours. What did you do?"

She only shrugged. "A blessing is useless against another blessing." Then, with a devilish smile, she added, "I thought you abandoned your family. What happened to that resolve?"

I met her stare, unfazed. "Call me a shameless opportunist. I'll do whatever it takes to prove my innocence. Not that I expect you to believe me—you still think I killed my parents, don't you?"

"Interesting," she murmured, checking the time. "Right on schedule."

As if on cue, the door creaked open.

I turned, and my eyes narrowed at the two figures entering. "Lady Boltaire? Mary?"

Uriel looked just as stunned as I felt. But while I remained composed, she nearly shouted, "M-Markov?! Why are you here? And with Lady Hera? I know the kind of man you are—!"

Before the tension could escalate, Hera clapped her hands.

"Let's all discuss a particular future. One that depends on us—meaningful individuals."