A decade ago, within the imposing stone walls of the Magic Academy, a young Ray is seen darting through the first year’s building. His small feet echo against the cobblestone path, his breath ragged, and tears streak his face. In his haste, he stumbles over a rock and falls, scraping his knee against the rough stone.
Sitting up, he winces as he touches his bleeding knee. His blonde hair is tousled, and his blue eyes are brimming with unshed tears. As he inspects his injury, the cruel laughter of approaching children resonates behind him. Recognizing the voices, he stiffens.
“Hey, Fake Prince,” they taunt, their words slicing through the air like a knife. “Having trouble walking? Or is that just another thing you can’t do?”
Ray clenches his fists, their words stinging more than his scraped knee. He remains silent, bowing his head and enduring their laughter. This pain is all too familiar.
The scene transitions to the academy courtyard. Few months back, “Hey, look! It’s the fake prince!” an older boy points at Ray. The courtyard falls silent before erupting into laughter. Ray’s face pales, but he retorts, “I’m not fake!” His voice is drowned out by their laughter. “Oh really? Then where’s your royal blood, Ray?” another boy steps closer, taunting him.
The laughter intensifies, and Ray feels a lump in his throat. He scans the crowd for help, but all he sees are faces filled with mockery.
In the present time, Ray flees from the academy. The laughter echoing in his ears, as the kids mock him. He doesn’t stop until he reaches his room in the palace. He slams the door shut and slides to the floor, his back against the cold, hard wood.
Maximus and Celestina, hearing the commotion, rush to his room. They knock gently, “Ray? What happened?” calling out to him, but Ray doesn’t respond. “Open the door, Ray. What’s wrong?” He sits in the corner of his room, his knees pulled up to his chest, tears streaming down his face.
Unable to get through to him, they call for Hiro and Sakura. They arrive quickly, concern etched on their faces. After a few moments of whispered conversation, “Alright then,” Hiro gently pushes the door open. As he opens the door, everyone present by the door has their eyes widened. The sight that met their eyes broke their hearts. There, in the corner of the room, sat their young prince, his body shaking with silent sobs. His usually bright blue eyes were dull and red-rimmed from crying.
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Sakura and Celestina rush to his side, wrapping their arms around him. The others join them, forming a protective circle around Ray. They don’t say anything. They didn’t need to. Their presence was enough.
But in that moment, everything changed for Ray. He started to distance himself from everyone. Whenever he looked at other people, he felt their faces to be of mockery and started to judge everyone on his own.
Back in the present, Kai was hearing every detail about it from Eva. After hearing all of the story, he scratches his head. “No wonder he is so closed off,” he thought to himself holding a paper piece in his hand. He recalls back to when Ray came to his room.
“I am just wasting my time trying to make this worksheet for you!” Ray throws away the paper in his hand and leaves the room. One of them falls near Kai, which he picks up.
Kai sighs, sitting up straighter. His eyes linger on the worksheet Ray had discarded. “He put a lot of effort into these…,” he thinks, a mix of admiration and concern tingeing his thoughts. “Ray Leonhart, the Crown Prince,” he muses. “Despite the trials he’s faced, Ray isn’t embittered. He’s a testament to resilience, his character forged but not defined by his past. He wears his title with grace, bent on proving his worth to the world and to himself.”
After a moment, he reaches for his wheelchair. “Let’s see where he’s off to.” With a determined look, he exits his room, wheeling himself in the direction Ray had gone.
On the other side, Ray moved down the hallway, each step seeming to require an immense effort, as if his legs were made of lead. He reached the balcony, his hand trembling as it clung to the pillar. His vision blurred, the world around him tilting precariously. A sigh escaped his lips, a whisper of exhaustion. His steps were shaky, swaying from side to side. His voice was barely audible as he muttered, “I can’t anymore…,”
Suddenly, his hand slipped from the pillar, his heart pounding like a drum in his chest. Time seemed to stretch, each second an eternity as he felt the terrifying sensation of falling. His eyes fluttered closed, a silent acceptance of his fate. But then, he felt a strong grip on his hand. His eyes snapped open, his vision still blurry. He squinted, trying to make out the figure. His breath hitched as he took in the sight.