This was the day the ball was supposed to happen. Liliana hadn't come to school since he visited her house. He wasn't really worried because apparently, her father had called the school to tell them she was sick, but he hoped she would recover in time for the ball. Besides, he wasn't one to judge, considering how often he skipped school himself.
A beautiful woman with dark hair styled in a bun and dark eyes was adjusting Cyrus's tie. She wore a maid's uniform, and since the Miravine family had accumulated quite a lot of wealth over the centuries, they could afford to employ many maids.
"I have to go, Sui-pōn," Cyrus said.
The woman, still focused on adjusting his tie, replied, "Please, Master Cyrus, your tie has to be perfect. It's a very important day, you know?"
He sighed and said,
"It's just a middle school ball..."
She nodded and replied in a gentle tone,
"Sure, sure, but Master Cyrus, in ten years or so, you're going to be nostalgic about these seemingly useless things."
She finished adjusting his tie, stood up, and patted his head with a smile.
"All done. Now, you better steal all the women, alright? Every head of the Miravine family has been successful with both ladies and gentlemen, and it should be no different for you!"
He nodded, an embarrassed smile creeping onto his face.
"Alright, alright, I'm going now."
Cyrus walked down the grand, beautifully decorated staircase, multiple maids greeting him respectfully as he descended. Reaching the large entrance, he slipped his wooden sword into his backpack and left the house.
The Miravine property was expansive, so he walked for a while before exiting the grounds and stepping onto the street. Other boys and girls were making their way to the school, dressed in dark suits or elegant, colorful dresses. The street felt alive with anticipation for the event.
With his hands stuffed into his pockets, Cyrus found himself walking past Liliana's house. Suddenly, a voice called out behind him.
"Cyrus!"
He turned to see a beautiful girl with striking silver hair, styled elegantly, and eyes that shimmered with a mix of black and silver. She wore a stunning red dress that accentuated her beauty.
For a moment, Cyrus was caught off guard. Blushing, he quickly turned his head away and muttered,
"You look... good."
Liliana laughed, her voice ringing with amusement.
"That's all? I prepared myself so well for you, even while I was sick, and all you can say is, 'You look good'? I can't believe you!"
She mimicked his voice in an exaggerated, mocking tone, which made him scowl.
"What was I supposed to say, huh?" he snapped in an annoyed tone.
without missing a beat, Liliana hurriedly walked over, holding her dress carefully, and hooked her arm around his.
Then she said with a bright smile,
"Well, shouldn't we get going? We don't want to be late, do we?"
Cyrus sighed but then responded with a gentle, genuine smile.
"Alright."
As they walked down the street together, Cyrus's mind wandered for a moment, tangled in complicated thoughts.
I didn't even notice her behind me… My senses are sharper than the average person, so…
Well, I probably got lazier. Grandpa better not notice this. If he does, I'll end up training for weeks, and that would be really annoying…
They walked and walked. Cyrus glanced at her—she really was beautiful. As they continued, she turned to him with a gentle smile and said,
"You really do have a beautiful soul, Cyrus. Don't let any of those fools tell you otherwise. I know you're going to become an incredible shaman as an adult… No, you already are one now."
Cyrus looked at her and replied in a calm tone,
"What's up with you all of a sudden?"
She laughed softly, her tone amused as she said,
"I don't know. I'm just glad I met you after I lost my mother…"
Cyrus's attention drifted for a moment, drawn to the brightness of the day. The sun was blazing in the clear blue sky, casting warmth over everything. It was a hot, beautiful day. As they walked, he noticed other kids staring at him with strange looks, though he couldn't figure out why. He wasn't bothered—he was used to being the subject of curious stares at school.
But then something caught his eye. Their shadows stretched across the ground as they walked—or rather, his shadow did.
Strangely, even though the sun was shining so brightly, Liliana didn't have a shadow at all.
Cyrus's eyes widened as he slowly lifted his gaze, his voice trembling as he said,
"Liliana… you…"
But before he could finish, one of the kids who had been giving him strange looks approached him and interrupted.
"Why are you talking to yourself? Man, I knew you were weird, but did you have to be this weird on the day of the ball?"
Cyrus's eyes became slightly hollow, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Can't you stop talking to yourself for at least one day? Be normal, man!"
Another voice chimed in,
"Are you okay? It looks like you're talking to no one."
His heartbeat thundered in his ears, racing at an alarming rate.
"Why are you talking to yourself? I heard the rumors, but you're on a whole new level of weird!"
Fear gripped him. He felt a suffocating sense of despair. His eyes darted to the girl beside him—the girl with silver hair and the beautiful red dress. She stood there, her gentle smile unwavering, but tears began to stream down her cheeks. Despite everything, she looked stunning and serene as she said,
"I'm sorry, Cyrus. I would've loved to go to the ball with you… but this little walk was all I could give. Thanks to you, I was able to walk this final road with no hatred left in my heart."
Her words crushed him, and despair fully consumed him. Without another word, he turned away from the group of kids—and from "Liliana." He broke into a run, moving at inhuman speed, leaving everything and everyone behind.
His mind raced, panic overtaking him as he retraced his path back toward Liliana's house.
How? How did this happen? Liliana, please tell me I'm wrong!
He ran and ran, faster than he had ever run in his life. His speed was incredible, almost as if he were a speeding bullet tearing down the street. He didn't care if people noticed that his abilities weren't normal—none of that mattered now.
He needed answers.
Yet deep down, denial clung to him like a lifeline. Even as he pushed himself to the limit, his heart knew the truth. His mind screamed for a different answer, but his instincts had already betrayed him.
He reached her house, sprinting across the property and up to the front door. He grabbed the handle and twisted, only to find it locked.
A scream of rage tore from his throat as his emotions boiled over. With a single inhuman punch, he shattered the door, splintering it into pieces. Without hesitation, he stepped inside.
The interior of the house was dark and cold, eerily silent except for a faint, heart-wrenching sound coming from the living room. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he noticed something lying in the middle of the room—and something else sitting next to it.
As he approached, the sound became clearer. It was crying—sorrowful, agonized weeping that no one should ever have to hear.
There, in the dim light, he saw her: an older woman who looked to be in her late twenties, with silver hair that shimmered faintly, achingly familiar. She sat hunched over, her body trembling as she cried.
She didn't seem to notice the boy in the suit standing behind her, his presence drowned out by her overwhelming grief. Cyrus stepped closer, his breath catching as he heard her broken voice repeating over and over:
"I'm sorry, my baby… I'm sorry, Liliana. I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry…"
It was all she could say, the words spilling endlessly from her lips in a torrent of pain.
As he stepped closer, walking toward the thing lying in the center of the room, a feeling washed over him—something that could only be described as total despair.
It was the kind of despair that could shatter everything: one's beliefs, mentality, heart, and even soul. It was suffocating, overwhelming, as if the very air in the room had turned heavy with the weight of something irrevocable.
His hand trembled, his teeth chattering, his breath shallow and ragged.
The thing lying in the middle of the room was a child with silver hair—Liliana. She was covered in bruises, as though she had been brutally beaten. Her beautiful red dress was tattered and torn, the fabric sliced open as if something sharp had pierced through it.
Her face was a mask of blood, so battered that it was nearly impossible to make out her features. She lay motionless, the very image of devastation. It was unmistakable—the lifeless body of Liliana, sprawled in the middle of the room.
The woman's cries continued, her voice broken with endless apologies to the lifeless child in the middle of the room. Her sorrow filled the space, suffocating everything in its path.
Cyrus's body trembled with a murderous rage—different from the anger he had felt weeks ago when those kids had ganged up on him. No, this was something far darker, far more intense. It was a rage that could never be calmed, an all-consuming fury.
His hands shook as he reached out, placing one on the woman's shoulder. His voice was a low growl, filled with both murderous rage and despair.
"Where is he?"
chapter fifty end