Totem King

Night.

In the study, a boy of sixteen or seventeen lay asleep at his desk, sprawled over a large, thick parchment scroll. Books were piled high upon the table before him, many of them battered and worn, as if they had been left untouched for decades.

Knock, knock, knock!

Suddenly, the door was rapped upon, and a slightly androgynous female voice called from outside, “Charles, are you in there?”

When no answer came, the visitor simply pushed the door open. She was a striking woman, exuding an aura of martial prowess, like a general returning from the battlefield. Yet, upon seeing the sleeping youth, a gentle expression softened her features. She walked over and gently shook him. “Charles, don’t sleep here. Go to bed, or you’ll catch a chill.”

She shook him several times, but he remained unresponsive, frightening her into hastily pulling him upright from the desk.

“Ugh, my head hurts!” The boy murmured, rubbing his messy wine-red hair with his right hand, which now tumbled down to his shoulders.

“You startled me—I thought something happened to you.” The woman patted her chest in relief, causing a wave that made the boy’s dazed eyes widen with surprise.

She didn’t notice, though; instead, she reached out to tousle his hair, turning it into a bird’s nest. “I’ll be leaving early tomorrow. While I’m gone, you must take care of yourself.”

“You—” Charles barely managed a word before she pulled him into her arms. The softness pressed against his chest made his nose tingle, and he quickly relaxed, afraid he might embarrass hims