Project Superior: A Hero’s Awakening

The grand office exuded an air of majesty, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings and golden accents reflecting the glow of the setting sun. A white-haired man sat at a mahogany desk, his sharp yet gentle gaze focused on the documents before him. Standing nearby was his butler, Viktor Mirovich, a man whose every movement spoke of practiced elegance.

A soft knock interrupted the tranquil atmosphere.

"Enter," the man said, his voice steady yet inviting.

The heavy oak door creaked open to reveal a maid, her steps precise and head bowed respectfully. "Greetings, Your Majesty," she said, her tone humble but steady. "What may this lowly servant do for you today?"

The man before her was none other than King Graviil Ivanovich, sovereign of the Great Russian Empire, Lord of Light, and head of the illustrious Ivanovich family.

Graviil set his pen down, the faint scratch of ink against parchment ceasing as he turned his full attention to the maid. "Raise your head, Irina. There's no need for such formality between us."

"As you wish, Lord Graviil," she replied, lifting her face to meet his gaze. His piercing eyes, radiant and kind, seemed to command both respect and trust.

"How is the child?" Graviil asked warmly. "Is she adjusting well?"

Irina hesitated, her composure faltering for a moment. She clasped her hands tightly, a flicker of worry crossing her face. Noticing this, Graviil leaned forward slightly, concern etched into his expression. "Is something wrong?"

"My apologies, my lord," Irina stammered. "Things were fine at first, but…" She swallowed hard. "The girl has locked herself in her room. She hasn't eaten in three days."

"What?" Graviil's voice, though not raised, carried a weight that made Irina flinch. "And you're only telling me this now?"

Irina took a step back, her cheeks pale. "Forgive me, my lord! We tried to inform you, but you were away on a business trip. We thought it best to handle the situation ourselves…"

Graviil sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. "First, my daughter gets attacked, and now this? I shouldn't have let my guard down—not after everything."

Viktor, ever observant, intervened with a calm yet firm tone. "My lord, if I may—dwelling on what-ifs will do no good. Your ability, the All-Seeing Eye, was sealed for a reason. Lady Svetlana herself implored you to deactivate it to honor the freedom and privacy of all under your care. You must trust her judgment."

Graviil closed his eyes, recalling the solemn promise he'd made to his wife. His All-Seeing Eye, an ability part of his 'Absolute Light' gifted power. Capable of illuminating and observing everything within the reach of light, was an unparalleled gift. Yet Svetlana had argued passionately against its use, believing it could erode trust and strip away their country's people's intrinsic right to privacy.

After a moment, Graviil nodded. "You're right, Viktor. As always."

"I live to serve, my lord," Viktor said with a slight bow. "Now, as for the child, Lady Svetlana has already taken it upon herself to tend to her. The royal family and the nation remain secure—I've ensured that personally. You have many who stand by you. Remember, even the strongest shoulders must share their burdens."

Graviil let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The weight on his chest lightened slightly, thanks to Viktor's steady reassurance.

"Thank you, old friend," Graviil said quietly. "You're more a brother to me than a servant."

"It is my honor," Viktor replied, a rare softness in his tone.

The scene shifted.

The room was dark and cold, a sanctuary of silence broken only by the occasional creak of floorboards as I shifted. I sat alone, knees drawn up to my chest, consumed by a storm of thoughts. Why? I wondered, the question echoing endlessly in my mind.

Why did I have to endure this? The trauma, the loss, the unrelenting sadness. Why couldn't I have a life like any other girl? A normal life. My heart twisted painfully as my thoughts drifted to Eighteen. She was so young, so full of light. Why couldn't she have lived the life she deserved—blissful and bright?

The weight of these thoughts dragged me deeper into the darkness, my body growing numb as though surrendering to the void. I was barely aware of the world around me when a sliver of light pierced the gloom.

A voice followed, soft yet exasperated. "Goodness, just look at this mess! I cleaned it not too long ago. And why is it so dark in here? Did you shut all the curtains?"

The familiarity of that voice jolted me. It was hers—the beautiful woman they called "Lady Svetlana." My heart quickened as I tried to piece together why she was here.

Before I could think further, the room was flooded with light. The curtains had been pulled back, and the windows opened wide. A fresh breeze carried the scent of morning air, brushing through her caramel-gold hair that gleamed like sunlight. Her eyes sparkled with warmth as she turned toward me, smiling softly.

"How are you feeling, dear?" she asked, her tone gentle but probing. "Did you sleep well? Have you eaten yet?"

I didn't respond, my lips refusing to form words. But she didn't seem fazed. She moved gracefully around the room, tidying the chaos I'd created.

Kneeling before me, she brushed a stray strand of hair away from my face. "I know you don't want to talk," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm. "But promise me you'll take care of yourself, alright? You need to stay healthy, even if it's just for you."

Her words lingered, a warmth I didn't quite understand blooming in my chest.

Before I could process it, another figure burst into the room—a girl whose presence felt like the sun breaking through storm clouds. Her silvery hair caught the light as she dashed toward me, grabbing my hand with childlike enthusiasm.

"How have you been, my heroine-knight?" she chirped. Her eyes, blue as the sky, sparkled with excitement. "Did you sleep well today?"

This was Princess Fyodora Ivanovich, the daughter of Lady Svetlana. Her cheerful energy was impossible to ignore, a stark contrast to the darkness that had engulfed me. She didn't seem to care that I didn't answer, launching into a stream of thanks and praise.

"You were so brave that day," she said, squeezing my hand tightly. "You saved me, and I'll never forget it!"

Her words hit me like a wave. I stared into her eyes, so full of life, and thought of Eighteen again. She reminds me of her…

Then my stomach growled—a sound so loud that everyone froze for a moment. Heat rushed to my cheeks as I tried to shy away, mortified by the betrayal of my own body.

"You must be hungry," Lady Svetlana said with a laugh, her smile as warm as ever.

"Absolutely!" Fyodora exclaimed. "Come on! Mama makes the best breakfast in the world—you'll love it!" She tugged at my hand, her excitement pulling me out of my shell just a little.

I followed them, drawn to the light they seemed to carry. It was a feeling I couldn't describe, like a moth to a flame.

They filled me with food I'd only dreamed of, each bite a revelation. Afterward, they took me to their garden—a sprawling paradise of flowers, trees, and creatures I'd never seen before. Maids bustled about, tending to the vibrant life that thrived here.

The beauty of it all mesmerized me. I walked through the garden, lost in its wonders, when I suddenly collided with something—or someone.

I stumbled back, clutching my nose as pain flared. When I looked up, my heart stopped. Towering over me was a man whose presence felt as unyielding as a mountain. His hair was white, tinged with silver, and his piercing blue eyes burned like fire.

"Who… who are you?" I stammered, my voice trembling as fear gripped me.

The man's gaze bore into me, cold and unrelenting. His voice was deep and commanding, shaking me to my core. "Hmph. Is that how you thank the man who saved you and offered you shelter?"

I was too stunned to respond, my legs threatening to give out beneath me. But before the tension could crush me entirely, Lady Svetlana and Fyodora rushed over.

"Graviil!" Svetlana snapped, marching up to the man. "What do you think you're doing? And why did you scare her like that?"

Graviil, the man I now realized was King Graviil Ivanovich himself, raised his hands defensively. "Easy, Svetlana. I didn't hit her. She bumped into me, and her nose started bleeding."

"Is that so?" Svetlana narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Well, rude or not, you owe her an apology."

Graviil sighed, ruffling his silver hair before extending a hand to me. "My apologies, young lady. I wasn't myself today. Please forgive me."

I hesitated, still shaken, but his hand radiated warmth—a light I hadn't expected.

"That's better," Svetlana said with a triumphant smile, patting his back. "Now, since you're here, we were just about to have a tea party. Care to join us?"

Graviil smiled back at her, his expression softening. Fyodora, meanwhile, leapt onto his back with a gleeful shout. "Horse ride, Papa! Let's go!"

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of something unfamiliar but welcome—hope.

Graviil smiled softly and said, though with some reluctance, "Alright, alright. I'll give you your horse ride, my little Princess."

Watching this exchange, I couldn't help but feel a pang in my chest. The sight of a loving family—so warm, so natural—was like staring at a world I'd always dreamed of but could never touch. I wished, not for the first time, that I could have had something like this for myself. For Eighteen. For the others.

We soon gathered in a beautiful gazebo surrounded by the garden's vibrant colors and fragrances. Life thrived all around us, but I felt like the only thing in the scene that didn't belong.

Lady Svetlana handed me a cup of tea, her movements graceful and calm. "How is your nose? Does it feel better now?" she asked with genuine concern.

I hesitated but felt compelled to respond. "Yes... It feels better."

Hearing my voice seemed to surprise them all. Lady Svetlana and Princess Fyodora exchanged gleeful smiles, their joy almost infectious. Even Graviil, with his normally stoic demeanor, allowed a faint smile to cross his face.

I took a cautious sip of the tea. It was unlike anything I'd ever tasted—soothing and flavorful. Lady Svetlana noticed my reaction and smiled warmly.

"Forgive me for asking," she began gently, "but you've never told us your name. It would help to know how to address you properly."

Her kindness made it difficult to ignore the question, though the answer caught in my throat. "My name?" I said softly. "I don't really have one. My master called me... Sixteen. I was his sixteenth hound."

"Hound?" Fyodora asked, tilting her head in confusion. "What do you mean by that? And who is your master, Miss Heroine Knight?"

Lady Svetlana immediately raised a hand, stopping her daughter. "Fyodora, dear, we shouldn't pry into our guest's personal matters if she doesn't wish to share."

Realizing her mistake, Fyodora apologized. But before she could finish, I spoke, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's alright."

I stared into the steaming tea as if its surface held the answers to questions I hadn't yet dared to ask myself. "I don't know who I am. I don't know my parents. The only thing I've ever known is that I was a hunting hound, taken in by my master to kill his enemies."

Their silence felt heavy, but I continued, unable to stop. "My whole life was nothing but servitude and blood. I was a tool, a pair of shears used to snip away at anything deemed unwanted."

I paused, my hands trembling slightly. "But now... Now they're all gone. My brothers and sisters—my family—are dead. And I'm left alone to carry the weight of the lives I've taken. The lives I could never save."

The air grew still. Lady Svetlana's eyes glistened with unspoken emotion, Fyodora's usual cheerfulness dimmed, and even Graviil, who so often seemed unshakable, looked troubled.

Sensing the tension, Lady Svetlana clapped her hands lightly, her radiant smile breaking through the somber atmosphere. "I think that's enough heavy talk for today. Why don't we take a trip to the city lake?"

Fyodora immediately brightened. "Yes! And there's a festival happening! We could all go together—it'll be so much fun!"

She turned to me, her hands gripping mine as she looked at me with sparkling eyes. "What do you think? Will you come with us?"

I hesitated but finally nodded. "Sure."

"Yay!" Fyodora exclaimed, pulling me to my feet. "You're going to love Moscow!"

As she led me away to prepare, Lady Svetlana lingered at the gazebo. She turned to Graviil, noticing the shadow in his expression. "What's wrong, honey?"

Graviil shook his head, attempting a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nothing. Don't worry about it."

Lady Svetlana didn't press further. Instead, she smiled knowingly. "Alright, if you say so."

As we walked off, Graviil watched me disappear into the distance with Fyodora. His thoughts were heavier than he let on.

That child… he thought. Her essence feels like a void—a hollow darkness that has swallowed every bit of light. To think someone so young could endure such pain… It's unbearable.

He clenched his fists, his heart aching in ways he wasn't used to. But he resolved himself. Whatever had been done to me, whatever I had endured, he silently vowed to help me find a spark of light again.