After hours of assisting my father’s guild members with the townspeople in the Eñeforte territory, I make my way to Dominic’s tent, my heart pounding with relief. Auntie Celine had told me that Doms was back—safe. I had been worried sick since he disappeared. Doms… he’s my best friend, my brother in all but blood. Even though I’ve always felt like I was living in his shadow, I’m just glad to know he’s okay. I would do anything to see him safe, no matter what.

As I reach the tent, I take a steadying breath, ready to step inside—only to stop, frozen by his voice.

“Célestin… I’m not the ‘Domy’ you know. I’m not even… Dominic.”

I blink, my hand hovering in midair. What? My mind races, trying to process what he’s just said. I find myself inching closer, barely breathing, until I’m peering through a small gap in the tent’s flap, my gaze locking onto Doms and Célestin inside.

“So… you’re not… Domy?” Célestin’s voice is a strained whisper, confusion painted across his face.

Domy? Did Célestin have a nickname for him? Maybe it’s just Célestin’s thing to come up with nicknames for people. But I can’t shake the oddness of it—Célestin calling him Domy, like he’s someone deeply familiar.

“No,” Doms says, his voice low but resolute. “I’m… not Dominic. I’m… Clark.”

Wait… what? My head spins, and my heart drops. Doms isn’t… Doms? He’s Clark? The same Clark I saw—we saw—at La Table Royale? I feel like the ground has just been pulled out from under me. Nothing makes sense.

“What… what do you mean, Clark?” Célestin’s voice shakes slightly, his expression as bewildered as I feel. “Are you saying… you’re the same Clark, like the kid I met earlier?”

Doms—no, Clark—nods, a troubled expression shadowing his face. “Yes… that Clark was me—or rather, a past version of me. Somehow, I was transported here… and I ended up in Dominic’s body, along with him.”

My mind races, trying to keep up with what I’m hearing. I feel a pit of confusion and dread growing in my stomach. This whole time… this “Doms” wasn’t the Dominic I’d grown up with? The same person I’d known since we were kids? It’s like I’m trapped in some kind of nightmare where nothing makes sense.

I glance back at Célestin. He looks just as stunned as I feel, his gaze flickering between disbelief and pain.

So… the reason Doms had changed so much… was that he wasn’t really Doms at all.

Memories flash through my mind: how he stood up to Renard without fear, the newfound confidence, the sudden desire to be a Stargate Raider when all he’d ever talked about was becoming a Magitist. How did I not notice it sooner? I feel like an idiot. How did I just accept all those changes without a second thought?

“I’m… from another world. I died there, and when I woke up… I was here. In Dominic’s body.” Then I hear his voice again, soft and full of sadness. I’ve never heard from him.

This hits me like a punch to the gut. This person isn’t the Doms I’ve known since childhood. He isn’t the friend who has been with me through everything, whom I’ve laughed, fought, and dreamed with. This is someone else who has been pretending to be Dominic for weeks, carrying a secret I hadn’t even begun to suspect.

Is that why he seems… better than me? More driven, more determined? No. The real Doms had always been better than me; he had always been the one who stood out, the one who never let anything hold him back. But this… this is different. This person is a stranger in my best friend’s skin, and the realization tears something deep inside me.

“Wait… wait…” Célestin finally stammers, holding up his hands as if trying to steady himself, his voice tinged with desperation. “Just… give me a moment to process this.”

I can see the struggle etched in his expression—how he’s grappling to make sense of it all. And at that moment, I understood him perfectly—the confusion and the disbelief. I am feeling it, too.

“So… if you’re here… then what happened to… Domy?” Célestin’s voice comes out low, barely a whisper as if he fears the answer.

The same question pulses through me, sharp and relentless. What happened to my Doms?

“He’s in Japan…” Clark—wearing Dominic’s face—replies, his words heavy, carrying the weight of something lost.

Japan? The word is strange, foreign, echoing in my mind. A country, maybe?

“Japan?” Célestin echoes, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“It’s a country… in another world—my world,” Clark clarifies, his gaze growing distant, his tone thick with emotion. “He’s there now, living his life to the fullest, in a place without Mana, without any of this.” His voice grows tighter as if saying the words aloud hurts.

I stand there, feeling like the world is closing in, the weight of Clark’s words settling heavily in my chest. Japan? Another world? My mind struggles to make sense of it, to understand that the friend I’d grown up with, my Doms, is gone, living in some far-off place I can’t reach or even imagine.

My throat tightens, and I clench my fists, a dull ache spreading. He’s living his life to the fullest, somewhere without Mana, without everything we’ve grown up with. It’s hard to even picture. Part of me is… relieved that he’s safe, living free from this world’s dangers. But another part—an aching, selfish part—feels abandoned. He left me behind, left everything behind.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Why hadn’t he taken me with him? Why did he leave me alone, trying to fill the void with someone who wasn’t him? All those years and memories, and in the end, he’d gone off to live somewhere I couldn’t follow.

I feel a strange mix of sadness and anger, hurt and confusion. My mind screams Why?—why would he just leave, without any warning, without even a chance to say goodbye?

I bite down on my lip, struggling to keep myself steady. I don’t want to look at Clark, to see that familiar face with unfamiliar eyes, a stranger wearing my best friend’s skin. My Doms, the Doms I’d grown up with, is gone. And I am left here, trying to pick up the pieces of a friendship that has been shattered in ways I never saw coming.

I turn and quickly leave the tent, the heavy air inside suffocating. Each step feels unsteady, my mind spinning with too many emotions—hurt, anger, confusion—all tangled together. I need space and air—anything to stop the ache growing in my chest.

I keep walking, trying to keep my breaths steady, to keep my thoughts from spiraling. I don’t want anyone to see me like this, unraveling over something I can’t even understand. All I know is that I feel… abandoned, left behind. The one person I thought would always be there, who knew me better than anyone, is gone.

And this… stranger, this Clark, is all that is left in his place.

I clench my fists, trying to cool my head, to stop the storm of emotions from swallowing me whole. But it is impossible to ignore the emptiness his absence leaves behind.

“Hey, you’re Arthur Lyon, right?”

A female voice cuts through my thoughts. I turn, spotting a girl with short, vibrant purple hair. Her name is Violette, if I remember right.

“Yes, that’s me,” I reply, polite but guarded. “You’re Violette, correct?”

“Correct.” She flicks her hair with a practiced motion, giving off an air that instantly rubs me the wrong way.

Something about her demeanor screams arrogance, and I get the feeling she’s one of those spoiled, rich types who look down on everyone else.

“Anyway, have you seen Célestie?” she asks, her voice suddenly light and flirty.

Célestie? Does she mean Célestin? The familiarity in her tone suggests they are closer than I had expected.

Keeping my expression neutral, I point toward Dominic’s tent with my thumb. “He’s in there, with Dominic.”

The mention of Dominic’s name causes her face to twist in disgust. “You mean he’s with that… Manaless? What on Sylvestria does he see in him?”

The casual disdain in her voice makes my jaw clench. She doesn’t even know him, doesn’t know anything about what he’s been through—or who he is, for that matter. And yet, she judges him, dismisses him with a single word.

“How about you shut up, bitch?” The words leave my mouth, cold and cutting, and I can feel the force behind them.

Violette’s eyes widen, stunned, her usual arrogance faltering as she stares at me in disbelief. She hadn’t expected anyone to talk back to her like that—especially not with such bluntness. For a moment, silence stretches between us, tense and heavy, before her shock twists into something sharper, something almost offended.

But I don’t flinch. I hold her gaze, steady and unyielding, making it clear I won’t back down or let her words slide.

“You don’t know anything about Dominic,” I say, my voice low but persistent. “So maybe keep your mouth shut about people you clearly don’t understand.”

With that, I turn away, not waiting for her response. Despite everything—the hurt, the betrayal I feel over Dominic leaving me behind—I can’t stand by and let someone reduce him to just a label, dismissing him because he’s Manaless. He’d been my best friend, my brother, and even if I don’t fully understand what he’s become, I know the person he had been—the person he still deserves to be recognized as.

The ache in my chest tightens, and I keep walking, fighting the urge to look back. Letting go of the Dominic I had known is painful, but I’ll be damned if I let someone like Violette speak of him as if he were less than anyone else.

════⋆★⋆════

Violette Florelle

I watch Arthur walk away, not even sparing a glance back or waiting for a response. The nerve! How dare he speak to me like that? I’m from the Florelle family, direct descendants of the court magicians who served Charlemagne, the former king of Verdant Haven!

Just because he’s the heir to Les Arcanes Éternels, the second-largest Stargate Raiding guild in Verdant Haven, doesn’t give him the right to disrespect me. My family’s legacy is just as significant, if not more so!

And the gall of him, to forget how I’ve helped him before—the nerve of him and that… Manaless Dominic, and even that Everheart girl. The audacity! They ought to be thanking me for my generosity, not snapping back as if they were somehow superior.

“Hmph!”

I spin on my heel, heading in the direction Arthur had pointed, still fuming. My mind races as I walk, trying to make sense of Célestie’s strange fascination with that Manaless. Dominic has no Mana, no lineage worth mentioning, nothing that should make him stand out. So why does Célestie spend so much time with him, talking to him like they’re… like they’re close? Friends? No—more than that. They act like… like boyfriends! The thought makes my blood boil.

I clench my fists, recalling a moment when Célestin talked about Dominic, his voice so warm and unguarded. I can still hear his words as if he had been completely smitten.

“He just… surprises me,” Célestin had said with a soft smile, as if he couldn’t help himself. “No matter how many times I look at him, it feels like there’s more to discover. He’s stronger than he knows, and every time I see that strength in him, it makes me want to be better, too.”

The memory makes my stomach twist with irritation. The way Célestin speaks about him—like he’s utterly captivated by Dominic—it’s infuriating.

As I near the tent, I notice the flaps are open, allowing a sliver of the scene inside to spill out. Unable to resist, I lean closer, peeking in.

There is the Manaless, embracing a woman with black hair—his mother, I guess. Beside them stands a young brown-haired boy, likely his younger brother. On a nearby bed lies an unconscious man with similar brown hair, his face slack in deep rest.

Standing at the side is that crimson-haired man with piercing green eyes who had rescued us earlier, and beside him, Célestie. He is watching the Manaless with a gentle smile on his face.

That smile… it stirs something unfamiliar and frustrating in me. If Célestie wasn’t as handsome as he is, I’d have half a mind to march in there and knock that expression off his face. But seeing him smile like that… it’s rare, far rarer than any of his practiced grins. There is a warmth to it I can’t quite understand, something soft and… genuine.

A pang of jealousy twists in my chest, sharp and unbidden. But along with it, there is another feeling, softer and more surprising: a strange desire to let them be. As much as I despise the Manaless, if he makes Célestie happy, then maybe—just maybe—I can find a way to accept it. Célestie deserves happiness, even if it is with someone like him.

With a sigh, I turn away, letting them have their moment, even though every part of me hates leaving Célestie in the presence of that Manaless.