Note: In the 19th century, psychiatrists were known as alienists. They specialized in treating and caring for people who had mental illnesses referred to as 'aliene.'

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The relentless ticking of the metronome filled the air, each click slicing through the heavy silence of the room like a raindrop on a tin roof, weaving a tapestry of peace but serves as a relentless torment to Sebastian.

*THUD!*

A soft tap echoed as the hourglass was gently lowered onto the table by an elderly man with spectacles perched on his nose. His hair was like spun of moonlight, framing a face etched with time's passage. Dressed in a crisp shirt and a neatly knotted tie as his forked coat hung gracefully on the coat rack by the door.

"It's a RARE sight to find YOU HERE, sitting in front of me, MY LORD."

His gravelly, blunt voice sliced through the air like a knife as the alienist's bristly mustache matched the austere line of his mouth. His words, which seemed so mocking, drew a pair of knitted brows on Sebastian, revealing a shadow of displeasure crossing his features.

"I'm not here by CHOICE, either."

Sebastian replied, his voice was like frost on the ice, as he folded his arms tightly across his chest.

"Well, we can't do anything about that, since you still need to return to the camp—

Sebastian cut him off, his voice was firm as though he had already made a final decision.

"I'M NOT GOING BACK TO THE WAR."

As the sand slowly trickled down the hourglass, the old man's patience gradually wore thin.

"It might be BEST for you to simply surrender and accept the TREATMENT offered by His Grace."

It made him scoffed.

"HA!"

"I will if you'd all stop treating me like an aliene!"

There was a mix of disgust in Sebastian's voice, fully aware that aliene like himself was considered as a people possessed by demons, a moral deviants and mad dogs believed to have no ability to reason and in need of being tamed.

Surprisingly, the man was not appalled to hear such a thing come out of his mouth. Instead, his following words of disdain left Sebastian's nerves tense in his neck, paired with trembling lips as he boiled with rage.

"BUT YOU ARE… ARE YOU NOT?… MILORD?"

He then stood from his seat, holding a 7mm blade in his hand, and before Sebastian could explode with wrath, the man pressed the blade to his palm, slicing it without much thought. His crimson blood that was thick as paint, trickled down his hand, making Sebastian—who was about to tick like a bomb—sweat immensely as he gripped the table with his nails, trembling like a shivering dog. He pierced the man with his murderous gaze while the man stood there, staring at Sebastian as if he were the one who held the power.

"HUFF! ARGH! HA-HUFF!"

Sebastian's sight began to blur, blinking as he tried to fight the voices in his mind.

As his eyes rolled back along with his sight, Sebastian found himself standing in the middle of a nerve-wracking battlefield. His vision was cloudy, as the cauldron-black sky seemed to swallow the last glimmer of light, leaving only an oppressive, starless void in sight.

*BOOM!*

He flinched every time he heard the sound of missiles landing like meteoroids hitting the ground. Heat and dust engulfed the place as streaks of fire rapidly spread like a plague, engulfing the entire surroundings like a nightmare along with the continuous firing of guns and the various cries of people pleading to be saved echoed around him.

He—help me, sir! I—I still have children at ho-home… 

The man beg, blood spilling from his mouth while one of his arms lay detached from him.

And before he could get near him, a missile landed on the man, nearly deafening him. Yet it was not a hindrance to block the voices around him.

Le… let—hork!… me—me li—live…

Sebastian then paused as he felt someone tightly grabbing his feet, staring at the man in a soldier's uniform, showered in blood as he crawled towards him. Followed by the cries of young soldiers not yet in their twenties, washing the dirt from their faces with their tears like streams. Unable to get up, as they badly met with misfortune—bombed legs, shattered arms, and bloody eyes—while spouting the same heart-wrenching words from their mouths…

I—I just wa-want to go home…

Just before Sebastian could lose his mind, a familiar sound tried to wake him…

*Tick!*

*Tock!*

*Tick!*

*Click!*

…The man then pinned the silver pocket watch and tucked it into his trouser pocket before wiping his bloodied hands, leaving Sebastian gasping for air as his right hand clutched his chest.

"HUFF! AH… HUFF!"

"And that's 10 minutes and 14 seconds."

He stated while Sebastian struggled to catch his breath.

"You've endured quite well."

He added, continuing to wipe his bloody hands before tying a clean handkerchief around it.

"I just have to prescribe you benzodiazepines. You can take them to calm your nerves—

"HUFF! ARGH! I—I DON'T FUCKING NEED THAT!"

The old man merely scorned as Sebastian hardly slapped his hands, causing the bottle of tablets to scatter on the floor.

"Your pride won't save you."

The man then turned away to retrieve something from the large brown bag.

"I bet your luck is what's saving you from the war, knowing you've got that attitude."

*BAM!*

Hearing his words, Sebastian exploded; his fist slammed down on the table as he swiftly pointed the blade at the man, who merely looked at him with void eyes.

"I'll take this savagery as an improvement to your health."

The man did not dare to move, feeling the blade only centimeters away from his neck.

"Then how about I shove this knife into your throat!"

Silence enveloped the man for a moment as he calmly took a deep breath, staring into Sebastian's quavering oceanic eyes.

"I do not intend to cause you any harm, milord, as I'm just following the orders of His Grace."

Sebastian tightened his grip on the man's collar.

"Why won't you treat him then?! I bet he's just as crazy as I am! His blood runs in my veins, after all!"

He then stabbed the knife into the table and stormed out in a fit of rage.

He truly is the ultimate weapon of the royal family!

A sudden thought swirled in his mind as his knees trembled while watching Sebastian leave the room.

I'm lucky that the young duke isn't in his right mind right now… if not, I bet my head would no longer be attached to my neck!

He then grasped his neck, his feet momentarily freezing as his eyes widened. Feeling a small trickle of blood when he wiped it with his fingers. Upon looking at the mirror, he noticed a fresh cut marking his neck.

Meanwhile, Sebastian was fuming with rage as he fixed his tie, walking aimlessly while the voice of the grand duke echoed in his mind.

REMEMBER YOUR PLACE!

HOW CAN YOU CALL YOURSELF A MARSHAL WHEN YOU QUAVER AT THE SIGHT OF BLOOD?!

His tone rose, becoming sharper with each word he hurled at Sebastian.

PATHETIC!

"Argh! Damn it!"

Sebastian ruffled his hair in frustration as he momentarily stopped when he heard a quiet rustle in the bushes. Looking at the vibrant colors of the flowers surrounding him and the striking light from the sun prickling his skin, it was then he realized he was already in the garden of the dukedom.

*SIGHED*

He then rubbed his face in irritation.

As the rustling continued, he caught sight of a brown rabbit, with cottony fur, pointed ears, and a fluffy tail.

"HA!"

A smirk formed on his lips as it reminded him of Julianne.

When Sebastian tried to approach it, the rabbit immediately darted away, dashing quickly as he followed.

"I'm not gonna hurt you—

His feet were glued to the ground as he found himself standing in front of a familiar figure. There was Keith, trembling on his feet, a hot flush billowing into his cheeks as he pushed a familiar face behind him. It was Ciarán, whose face was buried against Keith's neck like a predator, his golden, slit-narrowed pupils screaming death as he tightly gripped Keith's waist, treating him like a mere possession.

"Ugh! I-it's not what you think—Ack!"

Keith's voice trembled as he desperately tried to break free from the crown prince's embrace.

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