“Did you hear about that boy? He lost his parents just a few nights ago, you know.”

            “Oh no, they were such a fine couple. What became of the boy?”

            “He’s fine, living with his grandparents in the outskirts. Nice folk, they are. Kind, a bit scatterbrained, but good-hearted.”

            “But his parents? How did it happen?”

            “Robbers, I hear. Snatched up whatever loot they could find, and killed the parents when they found ‘em.”           

            “Hey, you’re forgetting the most important part! The kid!”

            “Ah right! That kid’s a special thing, he is.”

            “What? What happened?”

            “You see, when they were getting interrogated by the police, the burglars said that they tried to get rid of the kid too, said that he had seen too much, and couldn’t live on.”

            “‘Tried to?’ Well, what happened?”

            “See, that’s the thing. We’re not too sure. Those robbers said something, but no one can believe it…”

            “Oh, come on, what is it?”

            “Well, they said once they pinned him down, they tried to stab a knife through his throat, but then, a light shined and they were blocked. Some sort of glowing barrier had formed around the kicked, knocking the robbers away from him and keeping him safe. They said it was like something guarding him… like… magic.”

            “Magic? That’s preposterous! There hasn’t been any magic in these parts for centuries.”

            “That’s why it’s so strange! Everyone wants to call the thieves out on lying, but they’re so genuine about it all, trying to convince everyone who interrogates them that they’re telling the truth. Police tried high and low to get some other answer, shocking them to next week with those devices of theirs, but both of those little robbers died saying the same thing, rambling on about magic.”

            “Still, magic? A bit far-fetched, if you ask me. Besides, he looks like a normal kid, and his parents were completely average.”

            “Hey, you don’t think he’s….”

----------

            Lay knew he wasn’t near home before he opened his eyes. Softness, in the form of a mattress, was all around him, consuming him in warmth and comfort. The air around him was clear, crisp, breath-able. There were no sounds around him but a hushed trickling of running water. This most definitely couldn’t be his loud, polluted home in the slums, or any home in the city, to be completely honest.

            As he opened his eyes, he expected to be immediately attacked with overwhelming amounts of light, yet that didn’t seem to be the case. Instead, the area around the bed he was in seemed to be relatively dark, with the only light in the room being a flare of white light from an enchanted lamp in the corner. It filled the room with a soft glow, giving him just enough light to see things around him, but not enough to make out any intricate details.

            He sat up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked around. This room seemed awfully cushioned for what Lay expected to be a prison cell. It wasn’t an excessively fancy room, but he certainly wasn’t in the cold, cement basement dungeons like he should have been. The room was relatively small, with worn-out wooden floorboards, plain eggshell paint on the walls, plain, unadorned furniture, and ragged, slightly torn white curtains covering dusty windows. This was no doubt one of the servant’s quarters. Question was… why was he here?

            He looked down at himself, or at least, what was visual from above the bed sheets. He still had on his clothes from earlier, and he could feel the mask still locked in place on his face. Quickly feeling around in his pockets, he noticed that he still had the key to the mask as well, and whatever other personal items he had brought with him. That meant no one had bothered searching his body once he was captured.

            Slowly, he slid of the bed, and walked around. Or at least, he began to walk around, until he heard a vague jingling sound coming from beneath him. He looked down to see his right ankle cuffed, a metal chain connecting his foot to the bedpost. The chain was relatively long, giving him some movement around the room. He walked around to see the limits, only to realize that the chain stopped him right in front of the bedroom door. He sighed, though he wasn’t surprised. No matter where they put him, he was a prisoner here.

            He walked back to the bed, sitting himself down on the edge as he tried to figure out where to go from here. He quickly tested the chains, but, unsurprisingly, they were too strong to break, at least, not without quite a bit of force. They seemed to be locked with enchantments rather than just some keys, so there was no way he’d be able to just jiggle at a lock until he was freed.

            In the middle of his observation, the bedroom door creaked open, slowly, as though trying to avoid making too much noise, and Lay noticed the black-haired kid from before—Tao, he reminded himself—shuffle in, head down as he quietly shut the door behind him. It was only once the door was closed did the other raise his eyes to look directly at Lay.

            “Good to see you awake,” he said in Mandarin, his voice quiet as always, and Lay simply nodded in acknowledgement. “Would you like some water?”

            “I’m fine,” he said brusquely, still a bit wary of this boy. “Why am I here? This seems a bit too nice for prisoner treatment.” Tao looked down again.

            “You’re not…” he trailed off, and Lay rolled his eyes.

            “Not what? A prisoner? Don’t try to bull me, of course I am. I know it, you know it, your precious King knows it—I’m your prisoner, and I’m not being treated like one? Why?”

            “…I’m not so sure myself,” Tao replied with a hum of agreement, still not looking up as he stepped towards Lay. “It was an order from Their Majesties, but I don’t know the details.” Lay snorted at the response.

            “You really do blindly follow your leaders, like they’ve brainwashed you” he remarked, causing the other to snap his head up and glare at him. At that point, Lay noticed that Tao had gotten much closer to him, now less than a step away.

            “I’d prefer it if you don’t speak of their Majesties in such a tone,” he hissed, and Lay just raised an eyebrow, craning his neck upwards to look up at the boy. “They’ve not only allowed you to live, but given you kind treatment, considering your crimes; they could only have good reasons for doing so.”

            “What crimes?” Lay spat, his own eyes narrowing at the words. “I’ve done nothing personally against either of your Kingdoms; internal actions within the Earth’s union are not matters of the rest of the galaxy.”

            Tao didn’t answer him, instead raising his hand to brush against the left side of his head, at his temple. Lay widened his eyes in surprise, his eyebrows raising to his the tips of his bangs. But before he had the chance to articulate his shock, Tao was speaking again.

            “Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice barely above the whisper, and a look of confusion was back on Lay’s face.

            “Does what hurt?” he questioned, subconsciously tilting his head such that he rested more in Tao’s gentle hands.

            “You knocked your head, quite hard, on the street when you passed out,” Tao explained, keeping his eyes locked on Lay’s temple, where a plain, white gauze was squared off and placed directly above a wound. “You were bleeding quite a bit, back then.” Lay crinkled his eyes in bewilderment.

            “I can’t remember that happening… it doesn’t hurt though,” Lay said.