In the capital of the Kingdom of Gardinas, Legrand. In a corner of its central district stood the Forge-Magic Institute—a place where the art of imbuing weapons and armor with magical power, known as forge-magic, was taught. Here, Allen worked as an apprentice. He was hammering a lump of iron heated to a brilliant red. Inside the furnace, Lenz stones glowed with a pale blue-green light, and the air always carried a faint metallic scent. Wiping away sweat, Allen swung his hammer down. The rhythmic sound echoed through the workshop. [gentle] "Allen." Suddenly, a voice like the chiming of a small bell changed the atmosphere of the workshop. Turning around, he saw Lilia standing there. Her platinum-blonde curls, reaching down to her waist, shimmered like pearls in the light of the furnace. Her large, emerald-green eyes, which usually narrowed gently when they looked at him, were different today. Lilia's eyes were red, as if tears might spill over at any moment. Her small frame trembled faintly, and her usual elegant posture was shadowed with something dark. She clasped her hands tightly in front of her chest, seeming to want to say something, but the words wouldn't come. Allen set down his hammer. A terrible premonition traced a cold line down his spine. [serious] "What's wrong, Lilia?" [whispers] "...Allen, please listen calmly." Lilia's voice trembled. She took a step closer to him. The gesture was painfully fragile. [whispers] "Your... family." Allen's breath stopped. [whispers] "Their carriage fell from a cliff. Your father, your mother... and your little sister. None of them survived." The words wouldn't sink into his mind. *(My family... all of them?)* The hammer slipped from Allen's hand. Only the dull thud of it hitting the floor reached his ears with terrible clarity. The strength drained from his knees, and he slumped down on the spot. He felt dizzy. The ceiling of the workshop seemed to spin around and around. The fire in the furnace looked like nothing more than a distant star. *(Dad, Mom, and...)* His little sister's face floated into his mind. Only ten years old, always smiling. *(It's a lie. A lie, a lie, a lie.)* But Lilia, with that expression on her face, couldn't possibly be lying. [sad] "I... I don't know what to do..." Lilia knelt before Allen and wrapped her slender arms around him. [gentle] "It's all right. I'm here. I'll stay with you, always." A faint floral scent drifted from her hair. As he buried his face against her chest, her warmth reached him. That warmth, right now, only made him sadder. Allen cried out loud. He hadn't cried like this since he was a child. His throat felt like it would tear, and the tears kept overflowing, unstoppable. Lilia silently, gently, tenderly stroked his back. *(Only Lilia. Lilia is the only one left for me...)* Her kindness was the single thread tethering Allen as he sank into the depths of a profound sorrow. Once he was shown to the parlor, Lilia efficiently prepared some warm tea. She handed him a steaming cup and sat down beside him. She gently wrapped both of her hands around his trembling one. Her hands were slender and white, holding his as if it were something fragile. [gentle] "The Fernan family will handle all the funeral arrangements. You don't need to worry about a thing." [serious] "...I'm sorry. For everything." Allen spoke without looking up. His voice was hoarse, barely audible even to himself. *(If Lilia weren't here, what would have become of me?)* Her kindness was something he was grateful for, but it was also sad, and it made his chest ache again. Lilia quietly shook her head. With the motion, her platinum-blonde curls swayed softly. [gentle] "No. I would do anything for you. Because I am your..." Lilia stopped speaking and looked down slightly, as if holding back her own sadness. But— Allen didn't see it. He only felt the warmth of Lilia's hands. That's why he didn't notice. He didn't notice the cold light that flickered for just an instant deep within Lilia's emerald-green eyes. That night, Allen couldn't sleep no matter what. He tossed and turned in his bed. Every time he closed his eyes, his family's faces appeared. His father's smile, his mother's voice, his little sister's small hands. All of it—things he would never touch again. His throat was dry. Allen got up and left his room to get some water. The corridor was dim, lit only by the faint, pale light of the forge-magic tools attached to the walls. The stone floor was cold, sapping the warmth from the soles of his bare feet. That's when it happened. He saw someone standing further down the passage. The person stood with their back to him, leaning against the wall. Even in the dim light, the rich, platinum-blonde curls were unmistakable. It was Lilia. *(What is she doing at this hour...)* He was about to call out to her, but Allen stopped in his tracks. Lilia was talking to someone. Hidden in the shadows of the passage, he couldn't see them clearly, but it seemed to be a guard wearing armor. [cold] "That takes care of the nuisances." Lilia's voice echoed through the corridor. Something clicked inside Allen's head. *(Nuisances?)* [cold] "Now all that's left is to manipulate Allen skillfully. I'll take advantage of his grief over losing his family and make him dependent on me." Her voice wasn't trembling. It was completely different from the gentle voice that had been comforting him just moments ago. It was cold, calculating, and even held a hint of amusement. [cold] "I'll have to play the grief-stricken lover for a while... but he'll become attached soon enough. That pure boy was so grateful for my kindness." Lilia let out a small laugh. The guard said something in a low voice, but Allen's ears no longer registered anything. His breath stopped. His lungs wouldn't work. The blood drained from his fingertips. The coldness of the stone floor seemed to creep up from the soles of his feet, freezing his entire body. *(Lilia... my family?)* Those tears. That embrace. Those warm hands. Was all of it, everything, a lie? The pale light leaking from the forge-magic furnace illuminated Allen's face. The light was cold, highlighting his pale cheeks and his wide-open, gray eyes. The tears were already gone. Instead, deep within Allen's chest, a freezing, cold anger quietly ignited. It was less a flame and more a blade of ice. Not a chill running down his spine, but a coldness that seemed to freeze his very soul. *(She killed them. Lilia did. My family. To control me.)* He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm. He didn't even feel the pain. Lilia was still talking, but to Allen's ears, it was just noise. With an elegant gait, she disappeared deeper into the passage. Her back was perfectly straight, and she looked as if she didn't have a shred of guilt. Allen stood rooted to the spot. He didn't know how much time passed. The furnace fire crackled. The pale light traced the left side of Allen's face. There was no scar there yet. For now, there was only the smooth skin of a young man who had known nothing. But something inside him had changed, decisively. *(Lilia... you...)* No voice came out. There was no way it could. Instead, all expression vanished from Allen's eyes. It wasn't that his tears had dried. It was the deep, dark, quiet color of rage that only appears when a person truly hates someone from the bottom of their heart. The world he had believed in was nowhere to be found. Neither the face of his kind lover. Nor the dream of a warm future. Everything had crumbled away. All that remained was a coldly burning hatred. Allen couldn't move, his fist still clenched. He just stared, fixedly, into the dark passage where Lilia had disappeared.