She was beautiful. Her tanned skin glowed softly under the light, as if kissed by the sun, and her brown eyes sparkled with an indescribable tenderness. Her long, curly hair cascaded in perfect waves, delicately framing her face. Her slender figure radiated a natural grace, a poise that exuded confidence and warmth. But none of that compared to her radiant smile. When she smiled, the world around her seemed to pause for a moment, as if everything else was overshadowed by the brightness of her presence. It was impossible not to be drawn in by the gentleness of her energy, by the magnetic charm she emanated.

"Look, look! He blinked his little eyes!" Her voice was full of contagious excitement, soft, and it made the moment even more special. Her smile widened as her eyes sparkled, looking at the tiny being in her arms—a baby, cradled in her care. I was there, nestled in the warmth of her embrace, so small, so fragile, yet with the whole world around me, feeling protected and safe in her presence.

I didn’t fully understand what was happening. My mind was still a tangle of vague sensations, but one thing I knew for sure: being there, in her arms, wrapped in that comforting warmth, was all I needed. Her touch was a silent promise that nothing could hurt me, a feeling of well-being that enveloped and warmed me. Everything felt perfect, even though I couldn’t yet grasp what it meant to be there.

"What do you think he’s pondering, huh?" the woman said with an affectionate smile, gently caressing my head, as if somehow she knew I understood her, even without words.

"My child, there’s nothing in this world you should fear," she said, her voice filled with a soothing calm. She looked at me with immense tenderness, as if her presence alone was enough to make me feel safe, as if it were all I would ever need. "Your father is one of the strongest men this world has ever seen," she continued, her face glowing with confidence. "And I know he’ll do whatever it takes to protect you."

She paused, her eyes locked with mine, shimmering with determination and love, and then, with a voice brimming with emotion, she said, "Just as I would do anything, even give my life for you and all of you."

Those words settled deep in my heart, a feeling of belonging I couldn’t describe. That moment felt suspended in time, as if anything were possible, as if nothing else mattered but that warmth, that love.

"Your eyes, with their beautiful golden hue, are a symbol of your greatness. I know you’ll grow to be someone I’ll be proud of," she continued, her lips curved into an expression of pride and tenderness. "After all, it was I who chose your name."

"Alexander Wolfgang The Dracknum," she whispered tenderly, and as she uttered my name, a soft, golden light gently illuminated the space around us.

Sniff.

“Imagine, the first thing you do after waking up is cry...” A low, tired, and heavy voice, belonging to a child, echoed in the room.

Confused, I looked around. Six other children were there, all in various stages of discomfort, just like me. I couldn’t focus on them immediately, still dazed, but a deep ache in my chest caused an inexplicable pain. It was as if an emptiness—a longing I couldn’t understand—was suffocating me.

With difficulty, I got up and moved toward a mirror hanging on the wall in front of me. My reflection gradually appeared. There it was again, my face—small, with tears streaming down from my eyes, tracing the contours of my tanned skin. I looked so little, so vulnerable, and the pain in my chest felt like it was crushing me.

“Mother…” I murmured, confused, recalling the figure from my dream. But I didn’t have time to dwell on it, interrupted by a noise coming from the entrance of that strange place.

“I see you’re all awake,” Oswald said suddenly. His voice felt both distant and close at the same time. He stepped into the room, surveying the children around him. Some still had tear-streaked faces, others bore dark circles under their eyes and exhausted expressions, while a few had disheveled hair and small scratches on their skin. The air was heavy, a lingering sense of incompleteness hanging over all of us.

“With this, the process is complete,” Oswald continued, his tone grave. “It must have been difficult, but you’re remarkable for having endured this challenge.” He looked at each of us with a mix of approval and concern, as if trying to gauge the toll this process had taken on us.

For a moment, the room was silent, broken only by the sound of heavy breathing and the murmurs of those still trying to make sense of everything. I felt a lump in my throat, as though Oswald’s words weren’t enough to fill the emptiness left by this transformation.

“Well, take some time to rest, introduce yourselves, and say a temporary goodbye to your friends.” He stepped aside, allowing movement among us, but something in his tone suggested it wasn’t as simple as it sounded. His words carried a melancholic weight that couldn’t be ignored.

“Goodbye?” a small girl with bluish hair timidly asked. Her voice was hoarse, as if she’d screamed and cried endlessly throughout the process. Her eyes were swollen, her face marked by sorrow. She looked confused and lost.

“Hmm, Leopold didn’t explain?” Oswald furrowed his brows, glancing around. He seemed to be gauging our reactions before giving us any further details. “You’ll be going to the states of your new families, but don’t worry. You’ll see each other often—at social events, during activities, and you can even visit one another from time to time. But now it’s time to move forward, to make room for the new identities being created.”

“But I... I don’t want to go.” Her voice, small and timid, carried a fragility that resonated through all of us, like a collective sigh. Those words hung heavy in the air.

Oswald didn’t respond immediately. He looked at the girl with a gentle expression, as if trying to soften the blow of what he was about to say. “I know it’s hard, but in time, you’ll understand,” he said, his tone more soothing now. “This is a necessary step for all of us. You have new opportunities, new paths ahead. It doesn’t mean you’ll lose what you have now—it just means you’ll learn to adapt and grow.”

Despite his attempt to ease the tension, a sense of unease settled among us. The separation felt inevitable, and nothing he said seemed to lighten the weight of it.

“This isn’t the end, everyone,” a girl with golden eyes and hair, strikingly similar to the king’s, interjected.

“And we can write letters, can’t we?” She quickly turned to Oswald. “Mr. Oswald, right? Surely there are other ways to stay in touch in this world?” She rose slightly, taking charge of the conversation, her expression firm and confident. The way she spoke made it clear to me—this had to be Elizabeth.

Oswald looked at her, seemingly relieved to have someone who could maintain their composure amidst the uncertainty. “Yes, yes, of course,” he replied, visibly grateful. “You can write letters, and there are magical communicators as well. But be aware—they’re quite expensive for long-distance use.”

He tried to sound more enthusiastic as he continued. “Or, you could use communication magic...” His voice trailed off as he added, almost in a whisper, “Though only level 5 mages can cast it.” A faint hint of disappointment flickered across his face, as though the restriction was a personal shortcoming.

After a calculated pause, he seemed to latch onto a more practical solution. With a spark of excitement in his eyes, he added, “Oh! There’s also the magical keyboard! A brilliant invention that eliminates the need for a courier. You just synchronize the keyboards, and whatever you write on one appears on the other side.” He puffed up his chest, clearly proud to have redeemed himself with such a clever alternative.

It was amusing to watch a grown man try to cheer up a group of adult children. I let out a small smile at Oswald’s earnest efforts.