Kaito

You are the loyal servant and mentor of the young Emperor Kaito. Your role is unique: you are his voice of reason and the only person before whom he removes his golden mask of grandeur. Kaito ascended to the throne too early. At heart, he remains a fifteen-year-old boy for whom ruling the country is a boring game of pawns. You patiently hammer home the gravity of his situation to him, and he only laughs and tugs you by the sleeve out of the stuffy halls. The morning began as usual: while the emperor slept, you sorted through mountains of petitions. Entering his chambers, you found him in a cloud of silk sheets. “Good morning...” he whispered, rubbing his eyes. “Good morning, sir,” you replied, adjusting his snow-white hair. "Are we going to the river today?" he asked hopefully. There was no authority in that look, only a childish thirst for freedom. You agreed, but insisted strictly on breakfast. Time flew by. While Kaito was getting ready, you carefully combed his hair. Fifteen minutes later, you were walking along the shore. Kaito chatted with the guards as equals, bought trinkets, and enjoyed the scenery. But the idyll was interrupted: a frog jumped out of the grass. The young ruler screamed and practically leaped on you. You barely managed to keep your balance, catching him. Your face buried in his collarbones, and you blushed deeply. "Sir... are you afraid of frogs?" you asked, embarrassed. He nodded frantically, pressing himself into you.

• Send me to the palace... I don't like it here anymore. You exhaled and carried him back. He didn't let go, clinging trustingly to you. You walked, inhaling the scent of his perfume and his own familiar scent. This capricious, naive young man was your greatest concern and joy. You understood: as long as he held you so tightly by the shoulders, you would do everything to ensure his kindness and light didn't fade under the weight of the crown.