Max held the locket close to his heart, feeling a pang of regret. His fingers trembled as he clutched it, memories flooding back like a torrent.

"Mom! Dad! Look at Max! He fought with some kids again!" Naomi's voice rang out, sharp and accusatory.

She had striking yellow eyes, and her long, deep midnight-blue hair flowed like a dark river down her back.

"He fought because he’s a strong man, little princess," their father replied with a playful grin, flexing his muscles as if to demonstrate his own strength.

He shared their hair color but boasted hazel eyes that sparkled with mischief. Clad in a simple white shirt and brown pants, he looked every bit the proud father.

[SMACK]

A ladle came down sharply on his head.

"Elias De Mendoza, you are teaching your kids bad things!" his wife admonished, hands on her hips and a stern look in her eyes.

Her yellow eyes mirrored Naomi’s, but her hair was black and pulled back into a tidy bun. Dressed in a flowing green dress adorned with delicate floral patterns, and she was wearing an apron, she radiated authority.

"Sorry, ma’am," Elias said, lowering his head dramatically like a chastised child.

"And you, Mr. Fighter, you won’t be leaving this house for a month."

"A month? But Mother…" Max protested, his hazel eyes wide open in disbelief. 

"No buts," she replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But Mom, he will continue fighting after his punishment; it doesn’t matter to him," Naomi interjected, concern etched across her small face.

"Naomi!" Max whispered urgently, panic creeping into his voice.

"Hmmm… I see. Then I have an idea," their mother said thoughtfully.

"Make a promise with him," she suggested.

"A promise?" Naomi's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, here, take this." She removed the locket from around her neck and handed it to Naomi, whispering instructions in her ear.

"Okay, I got it," Naomi said with a determined nod and a thumbs-up.

"He's gone!" Naomi shouted suddenly.

"Don’t worry; I’ve got it," their mother replied confidently.

"Oh dear husband…" she began with a playful voice.

"Y-Yes, dear?" Elias asked, straightening up as if preparing for battle.

"If you want dinner tonight, I want you to help this young lady find her brother."

"Ay ay, ma’am!" Elias said with an exaggerated salute before scooping Naomi up onto his shoulder.

"1... 2... 1... 2... 1... 2…" they chanted together as they searched high and low for Max: in his room where toys lay scattered like fallen leaves, in the bathroom where the mirror reflected their worried faces, and in the storeroom filled with forgotten treasures. But there was no sign of him.

Suddenly, Naomi pointed excitedly at a sturdy oak tree outside. "Look, Papa! There!"Max was sleeping against the trunk, his tousled hair catching the last rays of sunlight.

"Yaaaawn…" Max woke up groggily.

"Wait, why am I tied to a chair?" he exclaimed as he looked at his bound hands and legs.

"And is this the storeroom?" he mused loudly.

"So you’re finally awake, young man?" Elias boomed dramatically, striking a pose as if he were a villain from stories.

"Is that you, Father? And why are you wearing an eye patch?" Max squinted up at him.

"I am not your father but a…" Elias paused.

"A… yes, a bandit!" Elias exclaimed with wide eyes.

"Okay…"

"And he is not alone," said Naomi as she walked up from Max's left side with an air of mystery.

"You too?" Max asked incredulously.

"What is this? Free me at once!"

"We will," Naomi replied earnestly. "But first you have to promise us you won’t fight in the streets again."

"I… will… try," Max said reluctantly.

"No! Not that. We want a solid promise."

"Here!" she showed him the locket their mother had given her.

"What’s that?" Max asked curiously.

"It’s a locket with my picture and yours in it."

"Okay, so what is that supposed to mean?"

"I want you to wear it as a token of promise. You have to promise me that you will never fight again."

"Okay, fine by me," Max said with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

"Oh? So you think this is going to be a simple promise?" she said with a chuckle before her expression turned serious.

"If you still fight after making the promise, I will get angry with you. Mom and Dad won’t ever talk to you again. Furthermore… you will become a monster with big teeth!"

"Hahaha! You know that monsters like that don’t exist, right?" Max laughed dismissively.

"But fine! If it’s that important to you… I won’t fight," he declared defiantly as if sealing an oath.

"That’s more like my big brother!" She cheered as she carefully placed the locket around his neck.

"Now please untie me," he said with an exaggerated pout.

"Okay! Okay!" Naomi giggled as they worked together to free him from his bindings.

Once liberated, they all headed to the kitchen for dinner. Laughter echoed through the air as they recounted tales of their day—stories filled with adventure and mischief that made even their mother smile despite her earlier sternness.

But then everything went dark in Max's mind. "I-I... wish... that... could... have... lasted... longer..." he murmured softly to himself.

"I still remember that day when my parents passed away," he whispered into the silence that followed laughter—a shadow creeping back into his heart.

"They were high-ranking knights in the Chronothia kingdom. When they were sent on a dangerous mission… they were killed."

"Then my sister and I became orphans and had to live in our uncle's mansion."

The grand mansion loomed before them, its imposing facade a stark contrast to the home they had known. Eleven-year-old Max gripped his sister's hand tightly as they approached the ornate front doors.

"I'm scared, Brother," Naomi whispered, her wide eyes shimmering with unshed tears. 

Max squeezed her hand reassuringly. "It'll be okay, Naomi. We have each other."

He swallowed hard. "I know what I said wasn't true," he thought bitterly, "but I couldn't tell her that the only reason we're even in this situation is that my uncle wanted all our parents wealth for himself." 

"I didn't want this to happen. I knew my father would never allow me to get close to his brother, but I felt powerless because he had connections in the royal family. 

"If I didn’t accept his proposal to forfeit our inheritance, he threatened to file false charges against us."

"Oh Dad," Max choked out silently.

"If only I could hear your jokes one more time."

"Mom," he thought wistfully, "if only I could hear your sweet voice and taste your delicious food once more."

"I'd give anything just to be grounded by you again," Max thought as his heart ached painfully at the memories of happier times.

Suddenly, the doors creaked open slowly, revealing their uncle's towering figure. His thin lips curled into what might have been a smile—but his eyes remained cold and calculating.

The interior of the mansion was a maze of polished marble and gleaming chandeliers. Their footsteps echoed in the cavernous foyer.

"What is this? You’re supposed to bow, you insects!" he sneered.

Naomi felt a chill run down her spine as she and Max instinctively lowered their heads.

"I shall forgive you this once," he sneered. "Now start with your job," he announced, gesturing vaguely toward the kitchens. "You will sleep in the servants’ quarters—except for her." His gaze flicked disdainfully toward Naomi.

A sinister laugh echoed from behind him; it was their aunt.

"But Uncle?" Max tried to reason with him because he and his sister were tired and hungry from traveling.

The sharp crack of his uncle's hand across Max's face silenced him. "Remember your place," the man hissed. "Be grateful for the roof over your head."

Tears stung Max's eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He had to be strong for Naomi.

"Yes, Uncle," he replied through clenched teeth. Turning to Naomi, he forced a smile. "It’s going to be okay."

Days blurred into weeks and then months. Max's hands grew calloused from endless chores; his back ached from scrubbing floors and hauling water.

"Man, I lost 100 gold coins in the card game today," a boy grumbled as he walked with two friends.

"Wait—isn’t that the new slave we acquired?" He spotted Max cleaning the mansion windows outside.

"Let’s have some fun."

"Hey! You low-life! Come here!" He shouted at Max.

"Yes, sir?" Max came running and bowed low.

[Thud]

The boy kicked him hard in the shoulder; Max fell to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Let’s test how durable this slave is," he said with a smirk as he cracked his knuckles.

They began to kick him while he lay there helplessly.

"Each kick is like a reminder of my failures—of how powerless I am to change our fate." Max thought as they kicked him.

"Hey Gilbert, his nose is bleeding! We should stop," one friend exclaimed.

"Fine! If he dies, then who’s going to clean my toilet?" Gilbert retorted dismissively before stepping back slightly from Max.

[Spit]

Before leaving, Gilbert spat on Max's face—a final act of humiliation.

"Now I feel satisfied," Gilbert told his friend as they walked away.

Max slowly tried to get to his feet.

[Thud]

He fell while trying to rise, but on his second attempt, he finally managed to stand up. Then he picked up the scrub and continued cleaning the windows.

Max became like a punching bag for Gilbert whenever frustration struck him. His spirit slowly crushed under the weight of constant abuse and exhaustion. Yet amidst it all, his connection to Naomi remained his only solace.

But the physical pain paled in comparison to the ache in his heart each time he saw Naomi's once-bright eyes grow dull with despair. Naomi was arranged to marry their uncle's son Gilbert, who had an unhealthy obsession with her.

"Here’s your food for the day," said a butler with a very long beard.

"Just a piece of old bread? Can I get another one?" Max asked.

"Be grateful; you’re getting at least one," the old butler replied.

Max lowered his head. "Yes, sir," he responded.

He thought to himself, "I am happy to eat bread like this as long as my sister can have real food."

Max couldn't sleep at nights. Every bruise on his body throbbed with pain, serving as a constant reminder of his uncle's cruelty and Gilbert's relentless torment. It felt as if each blow had chipped away at his very soul.

Each night, even though he was tired or hungry, Max would carefully approach Naomi's window, whispering words of comfort and hope.

"How are you, sis?"

"I am fine, big brother... cough," she replied weakly.

"But what happened to your face?" she asked, concern etched in her voice.

"Oh, it's nothing; I just fell down the stairs," he lied, attempting to downplay his injuries.

"Don't worry, Naomi," Max would say softly. "When I'm stronger, I'll help us escape this place."

"Okay... cough, cough," Naomi replied, her voice weak yet filled with trust.

Their brief interactions served as a lifeline in their bleak existence. The siblings clung to each other's presence as their only solace in a world of cruelty.

However, their hopes were dashed when Naomi fell ill with a disease that swept through the region, and the only available treatment was costly. Their wealthy uncle refused to spend even a fraction of his fortune on her care.

"We will not spend a single coin on her treatment. Her illness is not our concern," the uncle declared, his voice as cold as the marble floors beneath them.

"But she's dying! Please, she needs help!" Max pleaded desperately.

"Enough. You are no longer welcome here," his uncle snapped, his eyes narrowing.

With a wave of his hand, he commanded, "Throw both of them out."

"Please, Uncle! Don’t! I beg you to help her!" Max cried out, tears streaming down his face as he clutched at his uncle’s leg.

"I said get out!" His uncle kicked him away without hesitation.

A servant seized Max by the arms and dragged him toward the main door, tossing him onto the muddy ground outside.

"Brother!" Naomi’s weak voice called out as she stumbled toward him, her frail form barely holding itself upright.

"Sister, please don’t worry; it will only worsen your state," Max urged gently, trying to keep her calm.

"Nothing else matters to me but your well-being..." She coughed violently, her face pale and drawn.

"Naomi!" Max shouted as she suddenly collapsed unconscious before him.

"Naomi! Wake up!" He tapped her face gently but urgently; she didn’t stir.

She was breathing but growing colder by the second…

With panic gripping his heart, Max ventured into town, searching for anyone who could help his sister.

"Please, my sister needs medicine. Can anyone help?" He pleaded as he approached a group of men huddled near a tavern.

"Your family has never helped us. Why should we help you?" one man retorted harshly, pushing Max.

Both he and Naomi fell to the ground. He quickly got up to check if Naomi had been injured, but she didn’t have a scratch on her.

[KNOCK] [KNOCK]

He knocked desperately on a nearby door.

"What do you want?" a woman’s voice barked from within.

"Please, miss! I need money for my sister; she is very—"

"Go away!" she shouted before slamming the door shut.

Refusing to give up hope, Max approached a man slumped against the wall with a bottle in hand. "Mister, do you have some money for my sick sister?"

The man sneered and swung at Max, landing a punch that sent him reeling back.

The townspeople had grown resentful of his uncle's arrogance and wealth; he treated them poorly every time they asked for help. 

But none of that was Max's fault—he had nothing to do with his uncle's cruelty—but they didn’t care. They closed their doors in his face and turned their backs on him. No one listened; no one cared.

All of Max's hope faded away. He fell to his knees, crying—hungry, cold, shaking—and utterly helpless.

A frail hand brushed against his cheek; it was Naomi's touch, faint yet reassuring. "It’s... going... to... be... alright," she whispered through labored breaths.

"I’m... sorry..." Max said weakly, tears blurring his vision,  his eyes red and swollen.

"Don’t... worry... big brother..." she murmured softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm so sorry, Naomi. I couldn't... I couldn't save you. What kind of big brother am I?"

As he looked at her pale face, memories flooded back—her laughter echoing through their old home, the way she would chase butterflies in the garden while their mother watched with a smile. How did it come to this?

"Naomi?" he called softly, hoping for any response.

"Hey Naomi?" he tried again, desperation creeping into his voice.

"No! Don’t do this to me!"

"Naomi... please... open your eyes," he pleaded again, gently shaking her shoulders as if willing her back to him. 

"Please," he whispered again, desperation clawing at his throat. "You have to hold on."

He hugged her tighter, rocking back and forth as thunder rumbled ominously overhead.

"Brothe—"

Suddenly, her hand slipped from his face like a leaf falling from a tree.

[Rain Started]

"N-No..." 

"Nooo..."

"Noooooooooo!"

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

His cries were swallowed by the storm raging around them as he clutched Naomi's lifeless body tighter against him, feeling utterly alone in a world that had turned its back on them both.