Chapter 47: The Honest Moon
Yuecheng walked through the small garden, his steps slow and thoughtful. His gaze lingered on the statue of a woman standing in the center of the courtyard, wondering what it really meant. He’d asked his mother once, but she hadn’t known. His father would always shrug it off, saying he was too busy.
Yuecheng had inherited his mother’s golden hair, his father’s sharp black eyes, and his noble, masculine features. Combined with his calm, reflective nature, people of the court often called him "The Golden Angel."
He didn’t mind the title – but sometimes it felt too flattering, maybe even a little overpraising.
He liked quiet walks like this. The silence brought him peace.
Unfortunately, his mind was never quiet. Since birth, he’d heard a voice in his head – a presence he called the voice from the stars.
Ughhh. The sound of frustrated sighing echoed in his thoughts.
That idiot. I told her she couldn’t stop the fourth one alone. And now we’ve lost awareness of one of our strongest allies.
Perfect. Just perfect.
Yuecheng knelt beside the flowerbed surrounding the statue, brushing his fingers along the row of yellow tulips.
Listen to me carefully, kid...
Like I have a choice, he thought bitterly and sighed. You’re impossible to ignore.
Though only ten years old, Yuecheng spoke, thought, and acted far older than his age – thanks to that voice. People around him praised his maturity, calling it a virtue.
Only his mother seemed suspicious of it. She’d noticed how rarely he behaved like a normal child anymore. The voice had once told him that she knew – she knew who it had been in its previous life.
Cut the whining. You’re stuck with me just as much as I’m stuck with you. Your cousin Yuri lost her access to awakening her primordial awareness because the second one insisted on stopping the Fourth no matter what. That means you’ll need a teacher.
Me and Yuri? he thought, doubtful.
And Asahi. As for Shion the Second... he’s useless for now. Let him just train to be a halfway decent ruler – that’s the only thing he’s good for. Maybe he’ll help you someday, but I wouldn’t count on it.
I still don’t get it... what’s the point of all this?
It means we’ll be much weaker when facing the fourth one than I expected. You’ll need a teacher, or Yuri won’t unlock her power at all.
And who’s supposed to teach us?
How the hell should I know? You think I’m some all-knowing oracle? I’ve been around fifty times longer than your kingdom, sure – but my sight into the future is blurry, especially now that I’m part of you.
Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just stop talking. My head’s starting to hurt.
That’s the least of your damn worries right now.
Instead of giving me unclear, messy hints about the future, maybe tell me when I’ll have access to my magic? So far I can only do basic magic tricks.
In two years, the abilities of the three who inherited the might of the Primordial Beings will shake the heavens themselves.
Yuecheng wanted to ask what kind of ability he’d receive, but the voice went silent, as if it sensed someone approaching. From the sound of wooden and metal wheels on the stone path, he immediately knew it was his mother.
Behind her, a half-lioness maid named Rouhuo pushed the wheelchair. Yuecheng only knew her for two things: her name, and how close she was to his mother.
Rouhuo was tall, nearly two meters, with strong, sculpted arms, broad shoulders, and a figure that was a little chubby but still slim. Her wavy golden hair framed a face marked by a row of lion claw scars on her right cheek, and her red eyes were both warm and sharp.
"Yue," Ayame called out to him. She wore a pink gown with ornate lace and frills. As queen, she couldn’t dress like she used to, but even after ten years, she still wasn’t used to it. "Yue, what are you doing here? Don’t you want to play? I’ve got some free time."
"I’m just out for a walk, Mom. Wanted some fresh air", he said, in a distant tone.
"Prince, you could at least speak a little more warmly to your mother," the lioness said sharply, eyeing him with suspicion.
Yuecheng felt a shiver run through him. He really couldn’t stand those feline, piercing eyes – and the voice from the stars felt the same.
"I’m deeply sorry, Mother," Yuecheng said, bowing deeply.
"Yue, you don’t need court manners out here," Ayame said with a gentle smile. "We’re alone. Just be yourself with me."
"O-okay," he mumbled shyly. "M-maybe we could play checkers? I feel like playing."
Ayame nodded, and Rouhuo went off to get the board.
"And bring some pillows too. There’s no table here, so we’ll play on the floor."
"As you wish, my lady," the maid replied softly.
As Rouhuo disappeared through the archway leading from the garden into the palace, Ayame sighed.
"Are you sure everything’s alright, Yue? You’ve been acting... strange lately. I know your dad expects a lot from you, but you don’t have to act all serious and obedient all the time, especially now.."
"It’s... it’s not like that, Mom," he said, glancing away.
Tell her. Tell her the truth, the voice insisted.
Won’t she be scared of me?
No. She hates me, sure – but that just means she’ll try to separate us. Eventually, she’ll understand we’re one. Don’t hide it. Being honest will help more than it hurts.
So it’s just a calculated move, huh?
Calculated or not, I just can’t guide you well while you’re torn apart and afraid of your parents. Trust me – she’ll support you
"Hm? You want to tell me something, don’t you?" Ayame asked gently, keeping her eyes on him.
Yuecheng looked straight into her eyes.
The emotions he’d been holding in since birth finally broke free. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he sniffled.
"The voice... I keep hearing it. It keeps telling me what to do..." he said, his voice trembling.
He expected shock, maybe anger, but Ayame simply met his eyes with quiet understanding and care.
So it’s true, she thought. Hoshizuma really is part of my child. Will I ever be able to give my son a normal life?
"Come here, sweetheart," Ayame said, opening her arms.
He didn’t hesitate. He climbed onto her wheelchair and sat beside her, and she wrapped him in a soft, loving embrace.
When Rouhuo returned with the checkerboard and two soft, fluffy purple pillows, she saw Ayame holding her son close. The boy’s shoulders still shook from crying, but the storm inside him was already fading.
Rouhuo didn’t want to interrupt. Instead, she lifted her gaze to the bright sun above and the butterflies fluttering among the flowers.
What a beautiful day, she thought.