Late in the afternoon, he climbed up and went out of the trapdoor.
When he had finally met the house, he walked out of it and waited for his father who was with Coen from a rigorous training.
As soon as the family saw him out, they had mixed expressions.
While his mother and brother were both shocked and nervous, his father was fuming angry.
Almost like an automatic response, Muren ran and grabbed Toren near to him.
He shouted angrily, asking where he had been, which Toren answered ambiguously.
"It was not me!" He retaliated. "The traitor is not me! You have seen me in your dreams, have you not? The sandcastle, the black dahlia flower, and my impostor! That was what triggered your anger!"
Surprised with how Toren knew about everything, Muren landed a heavy punch against the child's face. He fell down with a stinging cheek and wounded arms that scratched against the ground.
They exchanged angry arguments, which was seemingly useless until a soldier finally stepped in to intervene the commotion. It was Captain Brochille.
He was authoritative and robust, making Muren hesitate a bit.
The timing is not right and the risk is great to attempt retaliation during that moment, so he calmed himself down.
Airen and Coen ran towards Toren who had been attacked horrendously.
As soon as things had been settled, the family all went together in the house.
Airen first went to appease her husband at the pantry, while Coen began treating his poor brother at the living room.
They were silent, yet they understood each other that way.
Muren and Toren never got to meet each other again until the lights were shut off.
Nothing had been resolved because one of them refused to listen. Somehow, it had reflected what happened when Muren and his mother fought, when the small dispute and misunderstanding had occurred over and over again, and when the great war first began.
It all started with an insignificant mistake which could have been solved if only both opposing paths had listened.
At twilight, Toren stealthily went to the pantry and got out behind the house.
He waited half an hour until he had met Captain Brochille once more who had given him a small glass bottle the size of his own pinky finger which contained a lethal dose of a liquid – almost as poisonous as that young prince's flower.
"You are lucky that I am willing to give that to you for free," The captain said. "Be thankful that I have been a good friend. In return--"
"I'll make sure to pay for this," Toren cut him off. "For now, that is impossible. But I will pay tenfold, that I promise. Are you sure that this can cure my purple vomiting, though?"
"I am more than sure, comrade."
Toren went back in and hid himself underneath the room.
He lied down at the bed and dripped 2 liquid drops like he had always been seeing the soldiers do.
He secured the glass bottle at the table and attempted drifting to slumber.
A few hours later, he had arrived at the otherworld and saw Airen.
She glanced at him with surprise and wonder.
"I thought you would not want to come here for today," She said with such a soft voice. "Why have you decided to be here right now? Are you alright? Do your wounds still hurt?"
Toren slowly shook his head. "I am fine, mother. I just want to be here with you."
The great war, the hourglass, the flowers, the sandcastle, the angered father, and a bottle of poisonous liquid. He had concluded at that time what it all meant.
The images that were stuck inside his head. Everything boiled down into a shocking truth.
Toren had fallen in love with that flower like how the young prince did.
And that flower has its mellifluous singing voice and the beguiling beauty it had always possessed.