The Kingdom of Teglardia
14 April, 1518 – Menyver, The Great Simon Circus
The seats were packed as always. There wasn't even space to walk. The Great Simon Show had long been one of the finest traveling circuses in the kingdom—but ever since Kian Lighthart joined the troupe, its fame had reached new heights.
Jugglers, jesters, fire-breathers, and daring ringmasters—every act brought laughter and awe. But now, the moment everyone had been waiting for had arrived.
In the middle row, sitting between a pair of curious old men, a small boy leaned forward in his seat. His name was Kite Lighthart. He wasn't performing tonight—his stomach ached too much—but no sickness could stop him from watching his father's show.
"Chu-Chu, it's about to start! Are you excited?!" he whispered.
His best friend, Chu-Chu, poked out from his breast pocket. The tiny woolly mouse—rare, clever, and adorably fuzzy—twitched its nose and squeaked in reply.
"Chu-Chu!"
Woolly mice were considered magical in some circles, but to Kite, Chu-Chu was a reminder of home—a final gift from his late mother, Aurelia Lighthart.
"And now, laaaadies and gentlemeeen!" the announcer shouted, drawing out the words with flair. "May I kindly borrow your attention... for the main act of the evening!"
The crowd burst into cheers.
"There he is!" someone shouted.
High above, standing tall on a narrow platform, was Kian Lighthart. He was in his late twenties, he looked strikingly young—his hair neatly parted, a sharp beard framing his strong jaw. Gasps filled the tent. Women squealed. Children pointed. Even older men looked impressed.
He was a legend—and he performed without a safety net.
"You can do this, Dad," Kite murmured, gripping the edges of his seat.
Kian leapt.
First swing—smooth.
Second swing—with a twist.
Third—he soared, flipping gracefully through the air.
He landed perfectly on the next platform. The crowd erupted in cheers.
"Yoohoo!"
"Once more!"
"He's incredible!"
Kian turned, gave a confident grin, and readied himself for one more round. Kite watched in awe. His father wasn't just an acrobat—he was a hero.
Then, Kian leapt again.
Swing one—perfect.
Swing two—with a somersault.
And now... the final move: his famous triple somersault.
One rotation.
Two.
Three.
He reached out—fingers extended—aiming for the final bar...
He missed.
Time stopped.
Kite's eyes widened. His breath caught. Chu-Chu froze.
Then—thud.
The sound of flesh against wood. A woman screamed. Gasps turned into shrieks as the circus tent plunged into chaos.
Kite stared at the body in the ring.
Lying still. Unmoving.
It was his father.
"Dad...?"