Chapter 1 #2
“Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re running out of time,” she continued, hands flying to her hips.
“We have two weeks to build a team before the qualifiers. So yes—we’re desperate.
Wouldn’t you be in our situation?” Her lips pursed as she sized him up, clearly expecting him to react to her attitude.
When he didn’t, she pressed on. “Are you interested or not? If not, move. We’ll try our luck with that guy over there with the green belt.
” She gestured toward a table of three men wearing green identifiers.
“Greens are reliable. He might be a better choice than whatever black hole you crawled out of.”
Rain folded his arms, amused. “Sign me up,” he said confidently.
The woman blinked, thrown off. She had clearly expected him to be offended and walk away. Instead, he looked genuinely entertained. He had just saved them from a dangerous situation; he’d expected at least a hint of gratitude. Her outburst only made the moment more amusing.
Wide-eyed and horrified by his friend’s behaviour, the young man jumped in.
“Ermm—sorry about her.” He shot her a pleading side-eye before turning back to Rain.
“Have you competed before? We need eight more members to participate. We know it’s basically impossible to build a whole new team with only two weeks left, but after being kicked out of the Carminia Reds, we want to compete against them and win.
Show them what they lost.” His words tumbled faster and faster.
“If you mean it—if you’re really interested—what skills do you have?
Any unique strengths? You look buff but—”
His confidence faltered as his eyes travelled over Rain’s body. He shifted awkwardly, nervous energy spilling everywhere.
Rain watched him, enthralled by the adorable ramble spiralling out of him—awkward compliments melting into passionate fury over the injustice they’d faced.
Heat flared in his aura as he described being kicked from their national team in favour of “mediocre friends.” A rosy blush scorched his cheeks as he realised he was spiralling. His eyes darkened with panic.
“…I can’t stop talking, someone please stop me.” He crashed the words out, inhaling a shuddering breath as he clutched his friend’s arm.
“Take a breather,” Rain chuckled, offering his hand. “Let’s start over. Hi. I’m Rain. Nice to meet you both.”
The young man released his friend and grasped Rain’s hand eagerly, an adorably shy grin creasing his features. They lingered in the handshake, Rain’s thumb absently brushing the back of his hand as he continued.
“I don’t know anyone who can join us. But game policy dictates that my position takes up two slots. That gives us one less to fill. And yes—I’ve competed before. For my national team.” His voice softened. “Let’s just say emotions got in the way of that endeavour.”
The air shifted. Their jaws dropped in unison.
“OHBYTHEGODS! YOU’RE A ROYAL!” the girl squeaked. The young man yanked his hand back, shoving it into his pocket.
Fear thickened around them, heavy and suffocating. Rain pressed a finger to his lips, urging silence. His eyes swept the room, checking for anyone who might have heard. The last thing he needed was attention—or for anyone to realise exactly which royal he was.
Their hearts hammered. Their fear was raw. They had already pieced it together.
He hoped he could still reassure them.
“I prefer to keep that quiet here,” he murmured.
“But yes. I’m a royal. Which means I have powers that could help us.
Though I’d rather win by skill alone and I’m damn good at what I do.
” He paused, reading their panic. “I understand if you don’t want me on your team.
I can be… intimidating. No harm done. I’ll leave you be. ”
“But… you’re Rain Royale,” the woman whispered, horrified. “The royal of royals. The dreaded Blue Prince on all the posters.” She shuddered. “I knew I recognised your eyes. The lighting softens them, but—gods—it’s you.”
Rain tensed as emotions flickered wildly across her face.
He opened his channel again and immediately regretted it. Their fear hit him like a wave, twisting into suspicion and deep-rooted hatred.
“Why would you want to team up with us?” she demanded. “We’re Red. Did you target us? Is this some twisted plot to get intel? Two innocent bystanders becoming convenient prey?”
She lifted her chin, trying to mask her fear with bravado. But Rain felt the truth beneath it—fear, resentment, and a lifetime of propaganda-fed hatred aimed squarely at him.
Her reaction was predictable. To the Red Kingdom, Rain wasn’t a person—he was a monster carved into their collective memory.
A living symbol of everything they feared and despised.
His infamy came not only from his father, the Blue King, whose relentless hostility toward their kingdom kept tensions burning, but from the atrocities Rain himself had committed.
The mass deaths tied to his name had cemented him as public enemy number one.
Even within his own kingdom, people regarded him with a wary distance, unsettled by the sheer magnitude of his power.
From childhood, Red citizens were raised on stories of the catastrophes Rain had been involved in.
Their education system never bothered with nuance, no context, no explanations, no acknowledgement of the circumstances that had driven him.
Only the devastation mattered. Only the fear.
And in recent years, after a series of attacks on Red trade routes orchestrated by the Blue King, the propaganda had intensified.
Rain’s image had become a weapon—one used to stoke hatred, unify their people, and justify their fear.
He exhaled slowly, bracing himself to leave. Dinner awaited him at home, and the weight of their perceptions pressed heavily on his mind.
Then the woman blurted, “You killed my auntie!”
Her hand flew to her mouth as if she could shove the words back in.
The accusation hung between them, sharp and suffocating.
Rain felt it like a blade to the chest. Emotion crashed over him—devastation, guilt, and a familiar, hollow ache.
Part of the pain was selfish: a reminder that he would never be allowed ordinary moments, never be permitted the simple comfort of friendship or anonymity.
Every interaction circled back to the same truth: he was a destroyer. A monster. Someone to fear.
Their judgement pressed down on him, and he knew he deserved it.
The hatred wasn’t just for the soldier he had been—it was for the horror of what he had done.
Acts committed in duty. Acts committed when he lost control of the curse he was born with.
A torment he could never outrun. Others suffered because he existed, and he believed he alone should have borne that burden.
Sick with shame, Rain staggered backward, desperate to put distance between himself and their pain. His legs hit a wooden stool, sending it clattering to the floor. The sharp crash jolted him from his spiralling thoughts.
Only then did he realise his channels were wide open.
His emotions were flooding the room—raw, unfiltered, overwhelming. Patrons hunched over their tables, tears streaming down their faces as his sorrow washed over them. The two friends stood ghost-pale, clutching their chests, drowning in the intensity of his grief.
Rain reacted instantly, slamming his emotional barriers into place. He fought to contain the bitter self-loathing gnawing at him, panic clawing at the edges of his mind. He shouldn’t be here. He didn’t belong here. And once again, he was hurting people who had done nothing to deserve it.