[Flashback to the day when Xavier take Raphael to his room] Raphael's POV The news of Raphael being sick was delivered in the grand hall, but the king barely lifted his head. “His health’s deteriorating,” the physician murmured, wringing his hands, eyes flicking to Hael for support. “He hasn’t eaten in days,” Hael added, voice low but firm. “The fever won’t break. If this continues…” King Arthur didn’t even glance up from the scroll in his lap. “And?” “And?” Hael echoed, barely hiding the disbelief in his tone. “He is your son even it's only in name.” The king finally looked up, cold and bored. “He is also a drama-fed child with a habit of faking ailments for attention. Let him sleep it off.” I wasn’t there for the words. But I felt them. Every day blurred into another—hazy, fever-thick, unbearable. No one visited. No one cared. Not even the king whose blood ran in my veins. After Mother died, I became something forgotten. A shadow in gold silk. A prince in name, bu
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