Shinkai - The Eyes That Shouldn't Exist

Darkness clung to the edges of Kazuo's vision. A chill ran through his arms — not from cold, but from the tightness of rope biting into his wrists. His ankles too. Tied. Restrained.

He blinked.

Then realized — he wasn't lying down.

He was sitting upright on the polished floor, knees folded beneath him, arms wrenched behind his back.A ceremonial prisoner's posture.

Where am I?

Polished marble ceiling. Sunlight filtering through stained glass windows. The air smelled of lavender, gold, and control.

Too clean.

Too quiet.

This wasn't a cell.

It was something worse.

A cage wrapped in velvet.

Two guards stood like statues at the far ends of the chamber. Their armor bore the insignia of the capital: a gilded spiral wrapped in a crown.

I'm in the palace, Kazuo realized. The royal palace.

His heart kicked once, hard.

Kazuo's last memory was the cold — then nothing.

And now?

He was awake.

How did we leave the Hollow Veins…?

His pulse quickened.

The Hollow Veins were easy to enter but hard to exit. Layered. Forgotten. A maze of death and whispers.

Even the locals said you just can't exit them without getting lost.

I thought it was nearly impossible…

He looked down at the polished floor beneath his knees — and the ropes biting into his skin.

This wasn't survival. This was delivery.

Did he carry me the whole way?

A moment later, the tall double doors opened — not with trumpets, but with a soft, precise groan.

And the man who stepped in wasn't a noble, nor a king.

It was the Ice Magic user.

His white hair was messy, wind-blown — not regal, not styled. His icy blue eyes gleamed with sharp amusement, the kind that didn't care for rules or titles. He wore light clothing, more suited to an adventurer or traveler than any royal knight — sleeves rolled, collar loose, posture lazy.

And yet…Kazuo remembered the fight.

He remembered the speed. The precision. The frost that climbed his lungs.

The man leaned casually against the nearest column, arms crossed — like he hadn't just hunted Kazuo like prey in the dark.

"Morning, prisoner," he said, voice calm. "Or should I say… guest?"

Kazuo glared. "Still deciding?"

"Hey, I wasn't the one who tied you up."

"No. You just froze my legs and knocked me out."

The man grinned. "Hey — you threw water at me. I was just defending myself"

Kazuo narrowed his eyes. "You're not a knight. You're not a guard. So are you a failed assassin?"

The man raised an eyebrow but didn't answer.

Before Kazuo could push further, the air in the chamber shifted.

Not temperature.

Not wind.

Gravity.

It felt like the walls leaned inward. Like the floor bowed slightly under unseen weight — as if the room itself understood who was about to enter.

The second set of doors opened — slowly, cleanly, without sound.

King Cedric.

He didn't need guards. He didn't need announcement.

He simply arrived.

Draped in white and gold — sharp lines, flawless cut. His wings wings folded behind him with celestial precision, their edges faintly glowing. His blonde hair smooth like poured mercury, shimmered in the stained glass light. A silver Tiara rested on his head — not large, not boastful — just enough to remind the world that he didn't need to prove anything.

He was power.

Kazuo blinked.

This is King Cedric? The King of Yurelda is a fairy?

That… wasn't what he expected.

And the Ice Magic user — so cocky seconds ago — stood straighter as Cedric entered. His smirk faded, just slightly. His hands dropped from his chest.

Cedric didn't look at him.

He only stared at Kazuo.

Eyes gold and void of warmth.

"Why," Cedric said softly, "is he breathing?"

The Ice Magic user didn't blink.

"Green eye."

Cedric's golden gaze narrowed. He stepped forward, slow, deliberate — like a sculptor inspecting a crack in marble.

"You disobeyed me."

The man shrugged, just slightly — too casual for a palace.

"Technically, I interpreted your order. You said 'eliminate the anomaly.' I thought… containing it might be smarter."

Kazuo stared, stunned.

How is he talking to the king like that. Are they like close friends?

Who the hell is this guy…?

Cedric stopped walking — but not because he was satisfied.

He turned, stepped up to the elevated throne behind him, and sat with practiced elegance. One leg crossed over the other. His left elbow rested on the throne's carved armrest, two fingers pressed lightly to his cheek. The golden circlet on his brow caught the sun.

He looked like a man about to sign a law. Or pass a sentence.

Not like someone whose orders had just been ignored.

A long silence stretched — heavy, brittle.

Finally, Cedric spoke again.

"Setsuna," he said, the name low, sharp, echoing. "Knowing you… there is a deper reason. Convince me."

Setsuna…

Kazuo filed the name away like a weapon. The name of the man who froze him. The name of the one who walked through water and laughed while he hunted.

Setsuna didn't flinch.

"If he had only the black eye, I'd have done it. But the green eye complicates everything. People saw it. The Nobles and the lower class and on top of that he used advanced magic. 

Cedric's voice dropped to a blade.

"So you brought a threat into my palace?"

Setsuna's tone sharpened — not in defiance, but intent.

"I brought you a question the world is already asking. Better we write the answer."

Kazuo's throat tightened. Rage pushed through the fear.

"This is so sick…" he snapped. "You people talk like I'm some disease."

Cedric's golden eyes turned toward him. Cold. Calm.

"You should not exist," he said. "A black-eyed slave with noble color. You are a crack in the mirror we've spent generations perfecting."

Kazuo held his gaze. "Then kill me."

Before Cedric could respond, Setsuna stepped forward. The casual humor in his voice was gone now — replaced by something colder.

"You want truth, Highness?" Setsuna said, voice smooth but firm. "If you kill him, it won't be whispers anymore. Word will spread — fast. The nobles will question your judgment, and the lower classes won't hesitate. A green eye butchered like a criminal? That's no longer an execution. That's a spark. They won't mourn him… they'll rally. You won't silence a problem — you'll unite both ends of the kingdom against you."

Cedric said nothing. But his jaw tightened.

He's listening…

Setsuna continued.

"He's a paradox. But paradoxes are powerful. Used right, they keep the system from collapsing. Kill him, and he becomes a banner. Keep him under your banner? Then you own the narrative."

Kazuo couldn't breathe.

They're not arguing about justice.They're negotiating my meaning.

Cedric's voice was ice. "And what do you exactly suggest?"

Setsuna smiled, just barely.

"We leash him. Publicly. Fold him into the very structure he threatens. Let them see him walk beneath your wings, not against them."

The room held stillness like a blade held at the throat.

Cedric studied Kazuo — but like a sculptor judging stone.

He's not deciding if I live. He's deciding how I'll be used.

Kazuo felt it — the pressure. The silence. The future being written without him.

Kazuo said, voice low, teeth gritted,

"You're not people. You're monsters — playing chess with human lives."

Cedric's golden eyes met his tightend — slow, cold, deliberate.For a moment, the king said nothing.

A quiet shift — but it felt like thunder.

"You're right," he said, voice calm and cutting. "I'm not human. I'm a king."

Then, with measured grace, he uncrossed his legs.

And with that single motion, the weight in the room shifted — as if the world itself obeyed.

"But this was never about what we are."

He rested his arms on the throne.

"It's about what you are."

Then his gaze sharpened.

"So tell me, Kazuo… what are you? Are you Pawn or Player?"

Cedric stood up