Kaiser opened his eyes slowly, deliberately, like a glacier shifting beneath the surface of a frozen sea. There was no urgency, no abrupt gasping or trembling—the world simply returned, piece by careful piece, assembling itself from shadow into clarity. His gaze traced the faint patterns the moonlight carved into the ceiling above, emotionless, unfeeling.

Turning his head slightly, Kaiser noted the deep darkness that lingered outside, whispering that dawn was still distant. He blinked slowly, processing without thought or feeling. He should still be asleep, yet the sounds of his dream resonated stubbornly within the depths of his mind, unwilling to fade gracefully.

With mechanical precision, Kaiser sat up and swung his legs from the bed. He paused, movements slow, deliberate, without hurry. Rising, he walked calmly to the wardrobe, retrieving a silken black shirt that flowed effortlessly across his muscular frame, the soft fabric settling like shadow across chiseled, scarless muscles. Comfort was a rare luxury he seldom indulged, yet tonight, perhaps, comfort could quiet the restless whispers from within.

Before dressing fully, Kaiser found himself at the window, staring blankly into the silent world beyond. He drew the pane open slowly, allowing the cool night air to wash over him, a fleeting moment of sensation in a night otherwise devoid of feeling. The soft caress of darkness seemed to sharpen his thoughts, pulling forward a memory he had not intended to revisit so soon.

"Emotion," he whispered softly to himself, recalling vividly the words from the book. "The pure, untamed tides of feeling that surge beneath the surface… power tied to joy, rage, terror, despair…"

He scowled faintly, brows drawing together in muted disdain. His thoughts returned unbidden to Sabel. The laughter, the rivalry, the genuine warmth that had once tied them so deeply—the dream had been hauntingly vivid. His fingers tightened momentarily upon the windowsill as the faintest spark of resentment stirred within him.

"I still can't believe it," Kaiser murmured bitterly, voice barely audible even to himself. "How can that have been the same man?"

He shook his head slowly, the motion filled with quiet, helpless disbelief. And then, quieter still, his voice betrayed a vulnerability he had thought long buried beneath layers of strength and discipline. "I might even hope he had no choice… that he had some reason I could understand. Something, anything, that would justify it..."

A hollow laugh escaped him then, dry and brittle as autumn leaves. His eyes hardened, glaring out into the black void of the night.

"Hope," he spat quietly into the chill air, "Is the cruelest of emotions. It speaks of promises it cannot keep, sings songs it cannot finish, and leaves me broken on the jagged rocks of reality when the illusion finally shatters."

His gaze drifted again to the horizon, waiting for the first hints of dawn to fracture the darkness. Kaiser lingered a moment longer, allowing the stillness to soothe the turmoil stirring within him, before turning away from the window.

He moved methodically back into the room, carefully slipping into the shirt, relishing briefly the cool smoothness against his skin. As he dressed, a detached observation surfaced from the haze of his mind: Why was he this calm? It was unnatural, unsettling in its serenity. Emotions that should have raged, should have clawed at his heart and soul, were distant, muted as though locked away.

Then realization struck gently, like the memory of a forgotten song. This calm—it was familiar. He recalled vividly the first time he had slept in this strange world, lying quietly within Glunko's caravan. The fury, fear, confusion—all had vanished, wiped clean as though spirited away in his sleep, leaving only quiet emptiness behind.

Yet, he pondered, this sensation had not come when sleep was forced upon him. In Arkhold, fleeing desperately, or the brutal fight against Chaos, those stolen moments of unconsciousness had left him raw, unhealed, wounds open and emotions fresh, even if he was able to control them. Only genuine sleep, willing sleep, seemed to offer this strange reprieve.

He stood quietly, contemplating this discovery, the silence of the room pressing in gently around him. What hidden truth lurked beneath this revelation?

Kaiser shook his head gently, dismissing for now the unanswered questions. They would linger, waiting patiently. For now, the calm would suffice. He would use it, savor it, harness it as he did every other resource he was granted. Emotion, sleep, memory—all would bow eventually.

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"All things," Kaiser whispered quietly, the edge of cold resolve returning to his voice, "Must serve the one who masters them."

He took a slow, measured breath, closed his eyes for a single heartbeat, then reopened them, the last traces of uncertainty and melancholy erased entirely.

Kaiser finished buttoning the last clasp of his silken shirt, every motion as precise and deliberate as a soldier folding a flag. He smoothed the covers of his bed with practiced efficiency, every crease vanishing beneath the weight of disciplined hands. Even here, in a world so distant from the fields and barracks of Nebrosa, he could not abide disorder, not even in sleep.

He moved through the door without a sound, steps falling with a predator's quiet along the darkened corridor. Lamps along the hallway guttered with a faint golden glow, casting distorted shadows across the walls.

Kaiser reached the end of the hallway, and stepped firmly on the platform that Sama had shown him yesterday. He paused to glance at it, standing firm as the platform lowered itself, right until it left him in front of the familiar doors, and he stepped through them.

He let the door to the garden swing closed behind him, the latch clicking softly behind him. Outside, the world had not yet woken. The moon hung low, draping the garden in pale, spectral light. Dew glittered on every leaf, each blade of grass gleaming like a soldier's polished spear. Kaiser walked without hurry beneath the canopy of sleeping trees, the night air carrying the faintest traces of soil, sap.

His breath did not cloud; the chill only cleared his head further. Here, among earth and moon and silence, he allowed his mind to drift—not aimlessly, but with the steady current of a river that never forgets its course. He traced the winding stone path with the same certainty that had led him through so many battlefields. Each step measured, each sense attuned.

Then, as he turned past a row of trellised roses, a figure emerged from the half-light, a slim young woman, basket balanced expertly on her hip, arms braced against its weight. A half-bitten apple was clamped gently between her teeth, her free hand sorting through an unruly collection of fresh vegetables: plump tomatoes, leafy greens, a pair of muddy carrots with the tops still on.

Sila. There was a quiet steadiness about her, the same unhurried focus Kaiser admired in a well-trained soldier, though he doubted she'd ever once seen a battlefield. She didn't notice him at first, absorbed in her task, the moonlight turning the edges of her hair.

Kaiser paused a moment, half-hidden by the low-hanging branches. He watched the scene unfold—a woman alone, working by moonlight, carrying the fruits of earth and effort home before dawn. For an instant, the world seemed smaller, almost gentle.

He stepped out into the open, boots brushing the grass, making just enough noise to be noticed.

Sila looked up, the apple still in her mouth, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Then, recognizing him, she offered a muffled, sheepish smile around the fruit, shifting her burden to greet him properly.

Kaiser inclined his head in greeting, his voice low and measured, breaking the quiet. "Sila. You're up early."

Sila pulled the apple from her mouth and tucked it into the basket, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Lord Kaiser," she said, trying for nonchalance but failing to hide the faint tremor of surprise in her voice. "I didn't expect to see anyone else out here before sunrise."

Kaiser's gaze lingered a moment longer than politeness required, eyes flicking from the half-eaten apple to the faint flush on her cheeks. He tilted his head slightly, studying her as one might study a suspect.

"I can't sleep," he replied, voice even. "You're up late for someone with chores at dawn." He let the observation hang, his tone not quite accusing but far from casual.

Sila shrugged, basket shifting on her hip. "Sometimes it's easier to work before the world wakes up." Her eyes flicked away, toward the shadowed path behind her, where the dew on the grass was flattened in a telltale trail. "It's peaceful."

Kaiser didn't answer immediately. He stood quietly, letting the night air do its work, watching the moonlight glint off the apples and the silver at her temples. He noticed, now, how her hands trembled ever so slightly and how the bright mask of her smile slipped when she thought he wasn't looking.

He frowned, tone dropping softer. "Why do you look so bothered, Sila?"

Sila tried to muster a brighter smile, but even in the soft moonlight, her sorrow was written plain across her features. The basket nearly slipped from her grasp as she paused, searching Kaiser's face for comfort.

"It's Celestine," she said softly, voice fragile. "She just returned from Regulus's burial. I… I don't know what to do for her. Is there something I could—anything to make her happier?"

Kaiser looked at her, gaze steady and cool, yet softer than most would ever see. "Leave that to me," he replied quietly. "I'll speak to her. Some burdens are best carried by those who understand their weight."

Sila opened her mouth to protest, hesitating on the verge of argument, her need to help wrestling with her respect for Kaiser's authority. In the end, she caught herself, lowering her eyes. "I just thought… You were close to Regulus as well. It must be hard for you, too."

Kaiser's expression remained inscrutable, but there was something in the way he regarded her, perhaps a flicker of acknowledgment. He nodded once, the motion final, the matter closed. "We all grieve differently."

Sila swallowed her reply, shoulders sagging as she accepted the truth she could not change. With a last, grateful glance, she turned toward the manor, steps a little steadier than before, leaving Kaiser with a new mission.

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