Keith got ready, wearing black suit with white shirt, silver buttons, silver tie and black shiny shoes with a narrow front. Seeing her three sons ready to attend this royal party, Dina's happiness lost all its limits. She just came there to make sure whether Keith had got ready or was still procrastinating, because he never enjoyed becoming part of such gatherings. However, she did not expect such a wonderful sight she witnessed after she entered Keith's room whose door was already widely opened.
"What a proud moment for a mom of three sons whose all sons are like three corners of a triangle of handsomeness!" said her in a cheerful tone, her face giving a glow of joy and excitement. Her poetic compliment made all of them smile with a charming glow clearly prominent on their faces.
She came forward and hugged each of her sons, one by one, like they were her only world. "Mom, you are looking like a bold queen of a castle of blue beauty" mumbled Keith with modest excitement, standing between Jason and Watson, when his Mom came closer to hug him. He tried to pay back her poetic compliment in his own aesthetic style. "Mom, blue really suits you!" said Watson in a joyful tone, as he hugged back. She smiled as if she was trying hard to hide her happiness.
Her phone rang, it was Micheal's call who had been waiting for his family at the royal hall where the party was arranged. He simply told her to be there as soon as possible, because guests were just about to arrive. As she hung up the phone, she gestured to her sons to go to the royal hall along with her. As the Janes family entered the hall, all eyes immediately turned to them, especially those of Michael's younger brother, Henry, and his sister, Evelene. Henry, two years younger than Michael, and Evelene, four years younger, watched intently as the graceful ruling family of five made their entrance.
However, neither Henry nor Evelene resided in the 'Mansion of Janes.' It was a long-standing tradition among the Nobles that once a sibling ascended to the throne, taking control over the kingdom and all matters within their reign, the other siblings, along with their spouses and children, would be required to leave the mansion. This rule was in place to prevent any internal conflicts or power struggles. Instead, those siblings would live in luxurious farmhouses scattered throughout the city, still within reach of the capital but removed from the seat of power.
Soon, Henry and his wives named Tifa Saloms and Cassy Mines moved forward to greet Micheal and Dina, along with their children greeting and mingling in their own specific ways. Evelene and her husband named Smith Rogera, belonging to a family from the triad of Superpowers, also walked forward to greet Micheal and Dina. Everyone was wearing a gentle smile and charming glow on their faces, refreshing their connections, strengthening their ties, cracking jokes, cheering their drinks and sharing their laughs.
"O Dina! You look so gorgeous! Since when did you start paying attention to personal grooming?" said Evelene with a sarcastic laugh. It was indeed more of a sarcasm than a compliment.
Dina felt insulted a little bit, but immediately ignored it. "Thanks for the compliment" said her in a plain tone, like she did not understand Evelene's true intention. Dina was actually a simple lady, gracefully patient and boldly decent. She never paid much attention towards keeping her style and fashion up to date. She only wore what made her feel comfortable, not the world's latest style. Her dresses were always long up to her feet as she did not like wearing exposed dresses like other Nobles' women. In this party, she was wearing a midnight blue gown, shimmering with subtle silk and adorned with intricate silver embroidery and tiny crystals. The off-shoulder neckline gracefully highlighted her collarbones, while sheer, billowing sleeves were gathered at the wrists with silver clasps. The dress flared at the waist, flowing into a cascade of soft tulle and satin, with a delicate lace train trailing behind. Complemented by diamond earrings and a platinum-and-pearl bracelet, the dress was a perfect blend of grace and grandeur, making her the epitome of elegance at the royal party.
In a short time, the leaders of the invited families—Flakes, Whales, and Wiltons—arrived with their spouses and children, turning the gathering into a grand affair. On stage, a young blonde girl of about sixteen sat at the piano, her fingers dancing across the keys with impressive skill. She wore a microphone, her voice blending effortlessly with her melodic tune.
"I thought we were in love…
But it was all your bluff…
When I had got it enough…
I wanted to become heartless…"
Her voice, soft and haunting, filled the hall. The guests listened in quiet admiration, their emotions stirred by the raw sadness in her song. Each person sipped from their glass of wine, offered by the servants circulating through the crowd, their attention fully drawn to the performance that seemed to speak to some hidden part of them. The atmosphere was heavy with a mix of melancholy and fascination, as if the song echoed the unspoken thoughts of many in the room.
In the midst of the elegantly glamorous atmosphere, the children were bubbling with energy, each cheering in their own way, their laughter and excitement filling the air. Jason, having mingled with the Nobles more frequently than Keith and Watson in past gatherings, was the center of attention, easily drawing the children of the noble families to him. His confident charm and ease among them made him the natural leader of their group. However, today, Jason had a different plan.
Intent on showcasing his brother's exceptional intellect, Jason took every opportunity to introduce Keith to the gathered crowd. It was as if he were presenting a rare gem to them, a celebrity among the Nobles, and the children eagerly accepted the invitation to meet him. They were fascinated, intrigued by this quiet, unassuming figure who was so unlike anyone they had ever encountered.
Soon, the challenges began. Some of the children, eager to test his mental prowess, presented him with the most complicated mathematical problems they could think of, daring him to solve them without the help of a calculator. Others handed him colorful cubes, scrambled puzzles, or intricate riddles, timing him to see if he could solve them in record time. Keith's response was always the same—calm, collected, and effortlessly efficient.
"How many steps would it take to reach this distance?" one of them asked, eyes wide with curiosity.
"Can you figure out the exact number of steps?" another teased, handing him a puzzle with a grin.
And then, as if to test his sense of humor, they began asking more whimsical questions. "What's the distance between your nose and lips?" one child quipped, followed by a laugh. "How far are your ears from each other?"
But Keith, with a small smile and an air of quiet confidence, took each challenge in stride. He answered their questions, solved their problems, and completed every puzzle with the ease of someone who had long mastered such tasks. To the onlookers, it seemed almost effortless, as though the challenges were nothing at all. The children watched in awe, their respect for Keith growing with each task completed.
Jason, watching proudly from the side, couldn't help but enjoy the attention Keith was receiving. It wasn't just about showing off his brother's intelligence—it was about giving him the recognition he deserved.
Seeing so many children having fun, some curly, black haired girl, the same age as Keith's, came there. She was the daughter of someone among the Needies who were working as servants in the party. As she started enjoying Keith's performances, clapping joyfully and cheering, other Nobles' kids noticed her. They looked at her like some outsider, as none of them had ever seen her before. It was a part of Nobles' educational upbringing of their child that they would keep their children familiar with other Nobles' kids, in a well established online portal installed in their mobile phones, where their name, age, status along with their pictures were updated.
"Who are you?" asked Graham Flakes, son of Peter Flakes, a leader of Flakes family, in a serious tone, finally opening up what he had been holding until then.
"I'm Cystia Lotte.. daughter of Miss Jenna…" said her, hardly smiling.
"Who's Miss Jenna? Does anyone know about Miss Jenna?" asked Netta Janes, in a rude tone, daughter of Henry Janes and Tifa Salmons. She had understood that Cystia was not anyone among the Nobles, so she became a little harsh there.
But Keith knew that Miss Jenna was Watson's caretaker when he was only two years old, so he definitely interfered.
"Yeah, I know her. She's a nice lady. She was Watson's caretaker" said Keith with a confident manner, looking calmly at Cystia as to indicate to her that she did not need to worry about anything in his presence.
"Why is the daughter of Watson's caretaker standing among us?" asked Graham to Keith, in a slightly harsh tone, as he had observed that Keith was somehow defending her.
"The same just as the son of Peter Flakes is standing among us. We all need just two legs to stand wherever we want.. Isn't it?" asked Keith with a sarcastic grin.
Perhaps, Keith tried to alleviate the situation with it, but it turned out to be the opposite, because Graham then used physical force to accomplish what he indirectly suggested to be done peacefully first. He moved forward outrageously, held Cystia's arm and shoved her aside, making her fall on her outstretched hands.
"Aaahh" cried out innocent Cystia, with firmly holding her wrist like she got some bone fracture there. Nobody objected to it, instead they applauded what Graham did because none of them was quite agreeing to her presence among them from the beginning.
Graham, feeling no shame and instead receiving applause from those around him, didn't pause. His actions seemed to fuel his sense of power, unaware that he had crossed a line—one that, for now, would have consequences. The crowd's murmurs of approval only seemed to embolden him, making him blind to the storm he had just ignited.
But Keith's reaction was immediate and unmistakable. His cheeks burned red with a mix of anger and frustration, and his fists were clenched tightly at his sides, his knuckles white. The fury in his eyes was evident, a quiet but seething storm that threatened to erupt. Graham, oblivious to the tension rising in the air, carried on with his triumph, unaware that the real reckoning was only just beginning. Keith's wrath was now palpable, and it was clear to anyone watching that his patience had worn thin.
As Graham went towards painfully crying Cystia to hit her stomach with his foot, Keith grabbed his neck from behind and pressed it between the angle of elbow as hard as he could, making him struggle madly for a pinch of oxygen. Every kid around him now interfered, making him lose his grip to save Graham's life but all their attempts were in vain, until Jason came there. He tugged at Keith's hair, "Leave him Keith.. Just let him free" said him, as he pulled his hair more tightly.
It was not the physical pain Keith felt because of his hair being pulled aggressively by Jason that he soon agreed to let Graham live, but his respect towards his elder brother that made him surrender that day. After the situation released its tension, Keith went quietly from there, leaving Jason continuously repeating "Good boy…" behind him.
He felt like he had lost what he just gained– attention and recognition, as he walked along the corridors of the mansion, after exiting the royal hall. But it did not really matter, if it could only be accomplished by allowing such cruelty in front of his own eyes. "Hey.. Wait" a soft voice echoed from behind him, that somehow touched his disappointed soul like a whisper of appreciation he didn't know why, but he turned back to see who it was, as he was not familiar with it.
"Why did you fight for me?" asked Cystia in a shy yet curious tone, her eyes shone brightly as if her whole existence was grateful to Keith for being her hero.
Keith did not know what to say… It was a question he often asked himself… Why does he feel others' pain as his own? Why is he oversensitive to others' sufferings? Did he really fight for her or fought originally for himself? Was it her visible crying that provoked his wrath or his own unfathomable pain that he needed to prevent at all cost?
"How's your wrist now?" asked him, ignoring her question like it was never asked.
"It's fine now. I think I just got a little muscle twitch" said her with a gentle smile, going with the flow.
"That's good…" said him with a genuine smile due to the relief he felt as if his own pain had gone away, then he turned back to walk away.
She wanted to say more, but Keith remained distant, caught in the unspoken tension between them. He wasn't someone who easily opened up. His life was governed by a strict routine—one that left no room for casual conversation or connection. Each day was a blur of structured lessons, with up to ten classes in a variety of subjects, each taught by different tutors at carefully scheduled times. His day started at 9:30 AM and stretched until 8:00 PM, broken only by the brief interludes of lunch and dinner.
From 5:00 PM to 6:30 PM, he was allowed a sliver of freedom—time to play outdoors with his brothers. But even that time wasn't for idle socializing. It was filled with wrestling matches or the occasional horse race, activities that, while competitive, were also bound by the same rigid structure as the rest of his life.
For Keith, making connections with children his own age simply wasn't part of the equation. The Nobles' children followed a tightly controlled routine until the age of 16, when most would graduate from their tutors. After that, perhaps they would have a chance to step outside their scheduled lives, but for now, socializing with peers was a luxury he could scarcely afford.
On that night…
Keith's phone rang. It was rare for kids of his age to have calls from someone, as their usage of phones was diminished due to their busy educational schedules and limited social interactions they had with peers. It was his Dad's call. After Micheal was informed by Jason about Keith's defiant behaviour in the royal party against Graham, he felt an immediate need to talk to him.
"Yes Dad?" asked him, as he picked up the phone. "Come to my apartment, we need to talk to you" said Dad in a quite serious tone, as he immediately hung up the phone. It was not only rare for his Dad to call him through the phone, but rare for him to even call for him. It was like his Dad was finally paying some attention to him so he did not know whether it was something to be excited about or to be truly ashamed of what he did in the royal party.
As he entered Dad's apartment after formally giving three short knocks at the door, he saw how his Dad, Mom and Jason had sit there in the lounge on the sofas facing right angled to each other, their faces rigidly serious, their eyes fixed on him, like they had been waiting for his arrival.
"Have I done something wrong?" asked him in an arrogant manner with his arms folded. He already knew that it was all about what he did to Graham in the royal party, but he did not know why he wanted them to speak of their own.
"Why did you hit Graham? Do you know that it could ruin my business ties with the Flakes family!?" exploded Dad, his voice loud and heavy. Dina looked down probably due to disappointment over what her son committed or maybe, she just wanted to convey to Keith that she wouldn't be able to save him from his Dad's anger.
"I don't remember hitting Graham, I only remember saving Cystia from being hit… I'm not Graham's villain, but only Cystia's hero. You are seeing the picture from the wrong perspective" explained Keith with no fear, standing brave and bold, keeping his composure.
"Cystia did not deserve to be saved by you. She's a Needy, while Graham was the son of a famous family's leader! Can't you feel the difference? There's no match in their status!" said Micheal, his voice hoarse due to increasing frustration.
"No, I don't really feel any difference. Both are simply humans" said Keith, again in a calmly steady tone.
"Stop Keith. You're misbehaving. Be sorry.. Just be sorry now…!" said Dina, as she stood up from the sofa to convey her seriousness.
"No Mom, I'm not sorry at all. I did not do anything wrong… Graham needs to be sorry to Cystia.." Keith continued reluctantly, until paused by a slap on his face by his Dad.
Tears flowed down his face rapidly, he tried to swipe them with his palm before they could cross his jawline. His cries forgot their voice, resided in uttermost silence, his heart ached along with squeezing his entire existence, Ouch but no, it was not a pain due to slap, it was something else… Why was he in pain? Questioned him to himself. What kind of suffering was it? Was it the fear of losing his Dad's love towards him? No, he never had such fears. He never had any kind of fears. His mind circled around so many questions, all at once.
"You fucking defiant! How dare you answer me like that?! You have crossed all limits of disobedience! How could you be a hero in someone's story when you can't even be respectful to your father?!" yelled his Dad, as he was about to give him another slap, but Dina interfered.
"Stop Micheal…Violence is not going to solve anything. You know him! He's too sensitive and gentle hearted! Don't give him such harsh treatment… Stop please!" said Dina with a worried tone, as she came to stand in between them.
"Do not defend him, Dina! He does not deserve to be defended. Don't you see his arrogant eyes? He's too full of himself. He thinks he's some hero who needs to protect all oppressed ones from some tyrants… And what a Irony that such a heroic person can not even behave humbly to his own parents!" said Dad, his voice still heavy and hoarse.
The tension in the room was thick, the silence deafening. Jason and their mother exchanged a glance, their eyes silently pleading with Keith to apologize to his father. But Keith remained motionless, his eyes red from the constant flow of tears. His chest tightened, the weight of guilt and confusion pressing down on him. The words caught in his throat, too heavy to speak, too tangled in the mess of his emotions.
He knew the accusations. He saw the judgment in his father's eyes. He was being presented as the disobedient son, the one who had failed. But that wasn't who he was. He had always obeyed, always followed the rules. He had never rebelled before, never shown such reluctance. He had always been the good son—the reliable one, the quiet one. But now, in the face of this unspoken verdict, he couldn't find his voice.
How could he tell them the truth? How could he explain that the weight of not saving Cystia had eaten away at him far more than the harsh words being thrown his way? It wasn't just about the apology, the misplaced blame, the accusations. It was about the unbearable pain that could snatch the liveliness from his face in an instant, if he had left Cystia crying of her own.
But there was no way to express it. No way to be understood, to change the course of fate. The truth was, Keith had no choice. He had done what he had to, even if it meant carrying the burden of that choice alone. The world didn't work like he wanted it to. Life didn't follow any rules. Things didn't always unfold in the ways they imagined.
The most successful people, his mind whispered, were not those who could shape the world to their will. They were the ones who survived it—who endured the cruelest turns of destiny and kept moving forward, even when the ground beneath their feet seemed to crumble. He wasn't sure if he could ever be one of them, but he knew now that survival was all he had left.