Several minutes passed, giving time for his parents to fully retreat to their bedroom. The heavy and tense air lifted, bringing relief to the young man. Abdullah approached quietly, gently patting Raignald’s back with the white towel, then sat in the chair across from him.
"That was intense… but you did it. You’re free now." The butler’s words fell like water on hot coals, quenching the tension inside him.
"Don’t overthink the bad parts of what just happened. Focus on the good. Yes, being rejected as a son hurts—but those are empty words. Deep down, even if they don’t show it, they do care. They’ll be watching over you, always. They won’t let you see it, but I promise you—it’s there."

Raignald lifted his tired, hollow gaze, and found comfort in Abdullah’s empathetic expression, full of understanding and support. His somber lips softened into a smile.

"I’m glad I have you, brother," he said, a tone of relief in his voice, as if the worst was finally behind him. "And you’re right… my own path begins today. It fills me with determination… but also a little fear—not knowing what’s to come."

"That’s normal, Raignald," Abdullah said, reaching for a knife to cut a slice of the Lotus cake.
"You’ve never seen anything beyond the high-ranking zone of this kingdom. But you have to be strong." He placed a large slice on the young man’s plate, then smiled teasingly: "You're not going to let this cake go to waste, are you?"

Raignald chuckled and dug in. The cake melted in his mouth, releasing an explosion of a thousand flavors—though its lost chill stole a bit of its magic. Abdullah watched him with joy, as if seeing his brother savor a final, cherished treat.

"I know you want me to stay the night, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep after all this," Raignald said.

Abdullah poured him a bit of orange juice to help with the meal, and Raignald drank it slowly, savoring each drop.

"Try to get some rest and wake up just before sunrise. I’ll prepare everything you need and wait for you at the mansion’s entrance."

Raignald didn’t waste any time. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and headed to his room, exhausted and distressed by the conversation, yet filled with determination for the day ahead.
Abdullah began clearing the table and washing the dishes in calm silence.

Once inside his room, Raignald gently closed the door behind him and threw himself onto the bed. It was hard to close his eyes, but slowly, he calmed himself and drifted off to sleep.

Time passed quickly, and Raignald woke to the subtle call of Abdullah, traveling through the flow of mana. He had slept for about four and a half hours, but felt surprisingly energized. He went to where his butler had told him to meet. Wearing clothes he usually used for outings, he stepped outside into the vast garden, pushing open the large doors.

There stood Abdullah, a large backpack strapped to his shoulders and something wrapped in cloth in his arms. Raignald approached slowly, already smiling from a distance.

"Good morning, my brother," Abdullah greeted him softly. "Are you ready?"

"Well…" Raignald sighed, a bit uncertain. "I guess I have to be." He looked at the items Abdullah carried: a heavy-looking backpack and something wrapped in what looked like bed sheets.

"This…" Abdullah began, gently setting down what he was holding and slipping off the backpack, "has everything you’ll need to survive for a few weeks, until you find a job and a place to live. Though I have a feeling you won’t need it for long." He pulled a metallic card from his pocket—Raignald recognized it instantly. A mana-forged card, used to store the global currency, primarily by the wealthy who had nowhere else to keep their riches.

"This is from your father… He came to me this night while I was cleaning the table. He insisted I give it to you. I know you might not want it, but… trust me, take it."

Raignald sighed, slinging the backpack over his shoulders and taking the card.

"I do feel more empathy for my father… and since you're the one asking me, I’ll accept it."
He slipped it into his pocket, then focused on the object hidden under the sheets.

"And what are you hiding there?"

"This?" Abdullah smiled, picking it up and stepping closer. "It’s my birthday gift to you. Go on, open it."

Raignald took it into his hands with care, a mix of curiosity and tenderness in his touch.
Slowly, he unwrapped the cloth until he finally saw it. His heart trembled—surprised and overwhelmed with emotion: It was a sword. Long and sheathed in a jet-black scabbard, the hilt made of silvery steel. He looked up, and Abdullah nodded solemnly, giving him silent permission to draw it. Soft tears began to fall. The sunlight, rising in the east, reflected on the silver blade as it emerged. A single tear landed on the polished steel. And there, in the gleaming surface, his reflection quivered—caught between emotion and memory.

"It's not that big of a deal, you should’ve expected it. Besides, with the money you have now, you’ll find an even better one." Abdullah smiled, trying to ease the emotion in the air.

Raignald wiped his tears and strapped the sheath to his waist. Then, he took a better look at the blade—there was something engraved near the hilt.

"Is this your language? What does it say?" he asked with curiosity.

"You noticed," Abdullah stepped closer, holding the tip of the sword to read the inscription. "Yes, it’s in Arabic. It translates to Hope of the Dawn. If you want to pronounce it, it’s something like Amal al-Fajr."

The young man admired the sword even more tenderly. He swung it through the air, and the blade sang, cutting the wind like a whisper.

"It’s perfect. I’ll never replace it, Abdullah." With elegance, he sheathed the sword again and suddenly embraced his friend.

"Well, well..." Abdullah laughed, surprised, and returned the hug warmly. "For the record, yes, I forged it myself."

"There are still so many things I don’t know about you… brother." Raignald stepped back and extended his hand. "One day, we’ll meet again."
"Yes," Abdullah accepted his hand, shaking it gently, smiling, "but next time, you’ll come to my homeland. I’ll be waiting for you there."

"Wait, what?" Raignald looked at him, puzzled. "You’re not going to keep working for my parents?"

Abdullah shook his head.

"Remember, you’re the reason I wasn’t fired when they discovered my beliefs. I’ve been serving you from the beginning, so there’s no reason for me to keep working for them." He placed a reassuring hand on Raignald’s shoulder, full of calm and understanding. "Don’t worry. I’ve been wanting to return to my homeland. It’s been a long time, you know?"

The two of them understood the paths ahead of them and smiled together. It was a unique friendship, one built on unwavering support. For instance, once Raignald’s parents saw Abdullah praying in secret and tried to fire him, since their family did not accept other beliefs. But Raignald refused to have any other butler, clinging to him as a symbol of hope, and they finally relented, letting Abdullah remain in service of their son.

"Before you go," Abdullah said, offering one last piece of advice, "if you want a good start, I recommend becoming a Forest Hunter."

"Forest Hunter?" The words echoed in Raignald’s mind, awakening his curiosity like a path yet to be explored, full of experience and mystery. "I remember reading about a great forest where hunters devote their lives. But I never really looked into it deeply."

"Well, that’s your beginning, young Raignald. Head to the lower region of the kingdom and ask for the Central Hunter Zone. Once you get there, it’ll be easy to find your way."

"I see..." he sighed, gazing at the sunrise. The light from the east slowly bathed the land, warming it as morning broke.

The two of them left the mansion and parted ways, saying farewell one last time, with the hope of meeting again in the future—as better versions of themselves.
Raignald walked on, with a backpack full of supplies that weighed heavily on him, a card holding more wealth than he had dared to count, and a long silver-steel sword—one he would wield with love and hope, forging a brighter future.