Althur's youth was filled with happiness and wonder as he spent his days in a small house, listening to his mother's enchanting tales. She was a fountain of joy, and every night she would fill his dreams with tales of wonder and heroism. Until a terrible event shattered his peaceful painting and sent Althur into wandering.

After that, he was afraid to go to sleep because his dreams turned into terrifying scenes of violence and death. He'd wandered for a long time, looking for a safe place to live, but no one wanted a homeless child.

Hoping for some peace and quiet, the lost boy found himself in a burial ground. He snuggled down next to crackling firewood that was lit in a lantern he had borrowed from a nearby grave. Lying next to unknown graves was old, or because it has been so long that people have forgotten. At least he knew the names of the people whose names were still on the grave, but now anonymous.

He wondered if anyone in the world would know about him, or if he would just be a forgotten corpse to be found when spring came. He feared the coldness, the loneliness that gnawed at him, as if he were alone in the world.As if the hero had broken the sword, he was letting up silently, waiting for the last light to fade away. Something had changed at that moment. Those footsteps, in the cold air that froze his breath in his chest, stirred up his already dull senses.

The middle-aged man appeared; under the faint light of the lamp he was wearing, his eyes were like those of a dead person. Staring at the two faded tombstones, which were covered by a thin layer of snow. Althur looked into those eyes. He recognized those eyes, mirroring his own loss of the world’s treasures.

The man was emotionless; under the dying fire, Althur's dim eyes saw only a stern shadow. At least, as Althur recalls, that's what he remembers. When the ball of fire was no longer bright enough for Althur to see the light, the donkey seemed to burn again. The man turned and stood in front of him.

"What's your name?"

"Althur." He weakly replied:

"Ar - thur." The man muttered.

"No sir, Al-thur." Discrete syllables repeat again.

"Still the same, same as my son's name," the man's lips sagged as he said. "Even age." The man mumbled, but Althur's dim senses didn't notice.

"Where is your son, sir?" Something made Althur feel he should not ask. But the cold numbed almost everything, including his little will.

"There." The man looks at the small grave.

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"Why are you here?" The man turned around as the weak flame slowly grew brighter. It made the man see the child's face. Weak, dusty, and desperate.

"Where could I be, sir?" Althur whispered.

"How can you live until now?"

"I do not know. I don't think I'm alive. However, I don't want to be forgotten, Sir. I don't want to forget my mother either."

"Follow me." The man's voice was low and hoarse. He was wearing a black suit and a pair of black gloves when the light on the man's arm made Althur see a little of the light.

"Maybe you'll find a way to live your life. Come and tell me about your family. At least someone will remember you and the person you hold dear." The man with a gentle but quiet voice said.

It's a mystery when someone wears a face like that and shows up in the middle of the night at a cemetery. Althur recalled that night.

Unable to understand what he was doing, Althur only knew that he was not alone. You are not the only one in this world. He quietly followed the man, even though he didn't know what the future held.

Memories gradually fade from the mind. Althur carefully examined his mind; it seemed that something in that nostalgic memory had been erased. Even his power, which is almost the best for tracing traces of the past, can't be found.

Althur sighed before the grave.

"Three people have come from the Academy to purify and separate the supernatural elements from your body. However, they received nothing. They assumed that was the master's plan."

Initially, they wanted to cremate him and bring his ashes back to the academy. However, Robert disagreed. The captain said that it was his will. So, they agreed to bury him here. At least Robert was here, and they didn't want to be on the bad side of him. But he seems to be quite busy these days, so he can't visit the teacher often; their supervision probably makes him uncomfortable."

"He wished someone would listen to his complaints in silence. However, perhaps you are the only one willing to do that."

He muttered in front of the grave. "But now there's no one left." He stood there like a statue, his eyes glazing over the headstone. A bit of anger stirred in his gut as what was on his mind swirled even deeper. He gritted his teeth and continued speaking.

"They think he has a strange curse; they have many speculations."

"They know your soul disappeared, but no one knows what happened. Only Robert felt discord. However, the Captain cannot be doubted much."

"I can't tell them, but hopefully it will be different in the future. That power is too arbitrary and strange; it blurs the minds of others and slowly and silently changes one's existence. Until that person's existence is erased, do not live. As if that person never existed. That's what I infer based on what happened. Some of his memories are lost. However, it does not affect my cognitive abilities."

"But don't worry too much; I don't think I can let you disappear, too." After saying that, he put the carnations that were a little wilted on the ground.

Althur was still standing there. He stood like a statue in the cemetery garden. The sun shone in those gray eyes, reflecting a little emptiness from the pale irises.