Chapter 2: The way of dragon

"Ayumi had always dreamed bigger than their tiny apartment allowed. She wanted to be a superstar songwriter, singer, voice that filled stadiums. She poured everything into her music: late nights hunched over a cheap keyboard, lyrics scribbled on napkins, recordings made on her phone. Kai was there for every single one. Her first few songs got exactly one view each. That one view was always Kai. One evening, after another upload tanked, she sat on the floor staring at the screen, motivation bleeding out. Kai knelt beside her, took her hands.“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m your first and biggest fan. And what do you do with fans? You entertain them. You can’t give up now. I’m always waiting to listen and enjoy your new songs.” Those words were oxygen. She hugged him so tight he laughed. Slowly, painfully, the views climbed. Comments appeared. People shared. Her ballads raw, aching, hopeful started to resonate. One night while they were on bed Kai said " hey, don't forget me when you get famous okay? I don't want to lose you " she as always hugged him again, his words always fueled her will. She loved him the most.Years passed. Ayumi was different now. Interviews, photoshoots, brand deals. She glowed under stage lights, but at home the light dimmed. She ignored his texts. Snapped when he asked about her day. On TV, Kai watched her laugh and flirt with male idols, the host teasing “chemistry.” He didn’t get angry. He just turned off the screen and whispered to the empty room, “Still your biggest fan.” One night she came home late. Kai tried to reminisce. “Hey, remember that night you almost quit ” “Shut up, freeloader,” she cut him off, voice sharp. “I’m tired. This is my private time.” He smiled faintly. “I know. I’m proud of you.” She rolled her eyes and walked past. One night, she returned to find his phone on the desk the one she’d gifted him years ago, the case still cracked from when he dropped it celebrating her first real gig. He never left it behind. Panic hit like ice water. She remembered every cruel word. Every time she’d brushed him off. Every “freeloader” thrown like a knife. The house felt too quiet. She tore through rooms, calling his name, heart hammering. When Kai stepped through the door from a simple walk, he found chaos: shattered mug, overturned chair, Ayumi in the middle of it all, sobbing on the floor.“What happen....” he started. Her head snapped up. Eyes wide, terrified. She launched herself at him, arms locking around his waist, face buried in his shirt.“I thought you left me,” she choked. “I thought I finally pushed you away.” Kai blinked, then wrapped his arms around her. “I was just out for a walk, dummy. Why would I ever leave you? ”She cried harder. “I remember everything you said. You were the one who kept me going when no one else believed. And I treated you like… like you were nothing.” He stroked her hair. “You’re not nothing to me. You never were.”She clung tighter. “It’s been an hour. Let me go already.” “No,” she declared, squeezing even harder. “I can no longer leave you freely. Tonight I’m not leaving you.” Kai chuckled softly through the lump in his throat. Never forget who supported you when you were suffering. "

                                    ....

The world was still blurry at the edges, but the steam rising from the wooden bowl in front of me was sharp enough to cut through the haze. Plain boiled rice, flecked with a few stray grains clinging to the side. My stomach twisted so violently I almost doubled over.

I didn’t hesitate. Hands shaking, I scooped the rice straight into my mouth with bare fingers, barely chewing before swallowing. Hot, bland, perfect. I shoveled faster, grains sticking to my palms, falling onto the thin blanket across my lap.

“Slow down, son. It’s all yours.”

The voice was the same gravelly warmth from before. Grandpa Mar sat on a low wooden chair across from the simple cot, elbows on knees, watching me with calm eyes. No judgment. No hurry.

I nodded once couldn’t speak yet and kept eating. The heat spread through my chest like something alive. When the bowl was scraped clean, I looked up, breathing hard.

“Want another?” he asked, already reaching for the pot on the small stove. I nodded again.

He ladled more rice into the bowl and slid it across the low table. “Before that… tell me your name.”

I stared at the fresh steam. The full name Vaelor rose in my throat like bile. I swallowed it down.

“Yagmi,” I rasped. The word felt small, stripped.“Only ‘Yagmi’?” Grandpa Mar raised one gray eyebrow. I nodded.

He didn’t push. Just handed me the second bowl. I ate slower this time, savoring the warmth even though it had no salt, no flavor beyond the faint earthiness of the rice itself. It was still the most delicious thing I had ever tasted. My throat loosened enough to speak a little.

“Where is your family?” he asked quietly.“They abandoned me.” The words came out flat, final. I didn’t look up.“I see.”

Silence settled between us, broken only by the soft crackle of the fire in the stove. Grandpa Mar leaned back in his chair. “From today, call me Grandpa Mar.”

I met his eyes for the first time. They were steady, lined with years but kind in a way that didn’t feel forced.

“Yes, Grandpa Mar.” He gave a small nod, satisfied. “You look like a twig that’s been snapped in half. We must train for strength.” I blinked. Train?

“Hmmm,” I managed, not sure what else to say. He stood slowly, joints popping, and gestured toward the door. “Rest tonight. Tomorrow we begin.”

I didn’t argue. The rice sat warm in my stomach, the blanket was soft against my skin, and for the first time in weeks, the ache in my chest wasn’t the only thing I could feel.

Meanwhile, in the Vaelor mansion

The grand dining hall echoed with silence except for the soft, persistent rain against the tall windows. Yuki sat alone at the end of the long table, knees pulled to her chest, the indigo umbrella lying across the polished wood like a forgotten promise.

“Where are you, big brother?” she whispered, voice breaking on the last word.

Tears fell freely now. She didn’t bother wiping them away. The umbrella’s handle still bearing the small, clumsy star charm Yagmi had carved for her all those summers ago felt heavier than the entire mansion around her. 

She had kept it hidden under her pillow when the elders visited, but tonight she had carried it down here, clutching it like it might bring him back.

“I should have saved you,” she said to the empty room. “When you were crawling away in the mud… when you looked back at me from the gates… I just stood there. Like a statue. Like I was nothing.”

She pressed her forehead to the damp fabric. The umbrella still smelled faintly of the oil he had used to waterproof it, of the afternoons they had spent laughing under it during sudden downpours.

“I should have run to you. I should have opened the gates. I should have ”

Her voice dissolved into quiet sobs. The mansion stayed indifferent. No footsteps hurried down the hall. No door opened. Only the rain answered her.

“Where are you?” she whispered again, hugging the umbrella tighter. “Please… come back.”

In the woods, at the cabin

“Son, come here.”

Grandpa Mar’s voice carried through the open door, steady and unhurried. I pushed myself up from the cot, legs trembling but holding. The second bowl of rice still sat warm in my stomach, grounding me. I stepped outside into the gray morning light.

He stood near a stack of fresh-cut logs, axe resting casually on his shoulder. The forest mist curled around the trees like smoke, and somewhere deeper in the woods birds called to each other.

“We’re chopping trees today,” he declared, simple as if he were announcing breakfast.

I looked at the axe, then at him. My hands still raw from crawling flexed instinctively.

Grandpa Mar held the handle out. “Strength starts here. In the body. The rest comes later.”

I took it. The wood was smooth, worn smooth by years of use. It felt solid. Real. For the first time in weeks, I didn’t feel like I was fading.