A sudden shift rippled through the crowd. Dozens of eyes, sharp and suspicious, snapped toward Akira as if a single mind controlled them all. Murmurs rose—annoyed, judgmental, eager to blame someone who wouldn't fight back.
Akira didn't argue. He simply stood there quietly, hands loose at his sides, posture straight even while the weight of their stares pressed on him like stones.
Astra blinked, completely thrown. "…Wait—what?"
"You! Beggar!" the porcelain-stall owner roared, face crimson with rage. "Do you know how much those jars cost!? Those were imperial-grade moon-glazed vessels!"
"And now they're moon-glazed dust!"
"That's right! He did it!"
"Saw him standing there suspiciously!"
Astra stepped forward instantly. "W-wait—there's a misunderstanding, it was—"
But Akira's hand gently tugged her back. He leaned in just enough for only her to hear. "Let it be."
"But—"
"Trust me. These people aren't kind."
The stall owner, fueled by the crowd's anger, suddenly scooped up a handful of shattered porcelain and hurled it at Akira's feet. The shards clattered loudly.
"LOOK!" he spat. "Do you even understand what you've done?!"
Akira lowered his head slightly. His voice remained steady. "I… am blind. I cannot see what was broken. But if you tell me the price, I will try to compensate for your loss."
The street exploded with harsh laughter.
"Compensate? You?"
"A beggar paying for moon-glazed porcelain?!"
"Don't joke, boy!"
A man with a cane stepped forward and jabbed the stick into Akira's shoulder, sneering. "Look at him—dressed like a stray dog! Where would he get the money? Maybe he should pay with his own ragged clothes!"
Another echo of laughter crashed through the crowd.
The stall owner's smile twisted, growing colder. "Even if you sold yourself, you wouldn't make half the cost. Don't waste my time."
Astra's face heated with anger. She yanked her arm free from Akira's grip and stepped in front of him.
"Stop insulting him," she snapped. "It was an accident—and it was caused by me, not him! So if you want to yell at someone, yell at me!"
A wave of disbelief swept over the onlookers.
A woman scoffed loudly. "What, she's taking the blame for a beggar now? Is this girl blind or just stupid?"
"Maybe she's with him," another jeered.
The man with the cane shoved Akira again, snickering. "Tch. How did he manage to pull such a pretty girl? Something's definitely fishy here."
A few others joined in, pushing Akira's shoulders as if he were nothing more than a sack of rice. Astra immediately stepped in front of him, hands on his arms to steady him.
Murmurs rippled through the gathering crowd, whispers sharp as needles.
"Unbelievable… Lowborn riffraff shouldn't be allowed on this street."
"No manners, no shame…"
"Look at him. Probably waiting to steal something."
Astra's jaw tightened, her voice already trembling with anger. "I said it was an accident. I bumped into him, there's no need for any of this."
"Oh?" The man with the cane sneered. "And I suppose someone like you thinks she has the right to raise her voice here?"
Before Astra could fire back, Akira gently stepped in front of her, his tone soft and steady. "We're sorry. I'll pay for the damage. There's no need for—"
"How dare a beggar lecture me!?" the man barked, spit flying. "The guards should've taken care of people like you long ago. Letting you wander freely—someone like you deserves to be executed!"
He swung the cane directly toward Akira's head.
Astra's hand shot out, catching it mid-strike. With a sharp twist, the wood snapped sideways and so did the man's wrist.
A sickening crack echoed across the street.
The man's scream split through the marketplace. "A-AHHH! Guards! Guards!! Someone call the guards! This woman attacked me! She broke my hand!"
The crowd erupted into panic, voices rising in frantic overlapping shouts.
Astra flicked the broken cane toward the man's feet. It hit the ground with a clatter that made him jump back, trembling. She stepped forward, eyes blazing. "Before you accuse him of deserving execution, maybe you can explain what crime he committed."
The man, clutching his twisted wrist, howled, "Existing! He committed the crime of existing!"
Astra stared at him, then at the scattered shards glittering on the dirt. Her voice dropped into something cold. "Does a handful of broken porcelain cost more than his life?"
A moment of stunned silence washed over the crowd.
Then a woman snapped, "Of course it does!"
"Yes! Obviously!"
"Didn't you hear what the shopkeeper said? Those were imperial-grade vessels!"
Astra let out a breathless, disgusted laugh. "Unbelievable…"
Just then, the sharp clatter of hooves echoed down the street. A small unit of guards rode in, armor gleaming, crest unmistakable.
The crowd gasped.
"Imperial Palace guards?"
"What are they doing here?"
The leading guard pulled his horse to a sharp halt, eyes sweeping over the shattered porcelain and the gathered crowd. "What's this commotion?" he demanded. "What's happening here?"
Before Astra could speak, the man with the broken hand and the stall owner practically tripped over themselves rushing forward. "There! Arrest them!" the injured man wailed, pointing at Astra with his trembling good hand. "She broke my hand—she attacked me! These two are nothing but lowlifes!"
"And that beggar!" the owner added, jabbing a finger at Akira. "He's a thief—he caused this entire mess!"His voice rose in near hysteria. "He broke my imperial-grade moon-glazed jar, the very one I was planning to present to the Crown Prince on his birthday!" Clutching his head, he wailed, "It was imported from a distant land! Heavens above—look at what's become of it now!"
Astra threw her hands up. "I said it was me! I bumped into him—"
The man instantly stumbled backward in exaggerated fear. "You see!? She's attacking again! Arrest them both!"
"Yes! Arrest them!" the crowd echoed eagerly.
"Unbelievable! They ruined a gift meant for the Crown Prince!"
"I feel terrible for the shopkeeper—he's from the Lu Clan!"
"That jar must've been worth a fortune if it was meant for His Highness!"
"Arrest them at once!"
Akira's posture stiffened, tension tightening through his shoulders. Astra felt him subtly shift like he was preparing for something unpleasant.
The lead guard watched the chaos, then lifted a hand. The other guards immediately moved in.
"Wait—what?" Astra sputtered as hands grabbed her arms. "I can explain! It was him who hit Dan first! You have to listen…it isn't fair!"
"Fair?" the lead guard scoffed. "What's fair and what's not is for us to decide. You are hereby arrested for violating the capital's laws and attacking a noble with intent of revenge."
"Revenge!? Are you serious!?" Astra pushed against them. "Let me go—this is injustice!"
"….Revenge?" a new voice called casually. "I thought it looked more like self-defense."
Akira stiffened immediately. "…oh no…"
The guards froze mid-motion. The lead guard turned sharply toward the voice.
"Your highness….The Seventh Prince!"
The entire street snapped its attention in the same direction.
There, lounging on a passing cart, was Daita legs crossed, lazily popping grapes into his mouth as if watching a street play.
Astra squinted. Have I… seen him before?
The crowd immediately dropped into hurried bows. "Your Highness!"
Daita hopped off the cart, tossing the grapes aside, dusting his hands. He gave Akira a knowing, teasing glance before strolling right up to Astra not even acknowledging the guards' bows.
"I am quite certain," he said smoothly, "that this girl was merely defending herself along with that… poor boy." His gaze flicked briefly toward Akira, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, before addressing the crowd. "And that man over there," he continued, pointing at the shop owner, "was the one who began hurling insults at them in the first place even after the boy offered compensation."
Astra lit up. "Yes! Exactly! See? Now let me go!"
The guards exchanged looks. Daita's gaze darkened not overtly threatening, but enough to make their hands snap open instantly.
Astra rushed straight to Akira. "Dan—are you alright!?"
Akira nodded gently.
The owner and the broken-handed man were not ready to give up. "This is injustice, Your Highness!" the owner cried. "She broke his hand—they must be punished!"
"Injustice?" Daita's gaze sharpened.
"You're the son of Minister Hong Rui, aren't you? The man who secretly funded illegal alchemists, distributing untested poisons through the black market. Half a district fell ill because of him. And didn't you pay the guards to silence their report during his last investigation? Yet you dare speak of 'justice'?"
The man went pale, sweat rolling down his temple while whispers erupted among the crowd.
Daita's gaze shifted back to the trembling shop owner. His expression softened—dangerously so.
"Wait," he said casually. "Aren't you from the Lu Clan?"
The man stiffened at once, then bowed deeply. "Y–Yes, Your Highness. I am. The second son of Lu Shenhao." He straightened slightly, pride edging into his voice. "It is an honor that Your Highness recognizes me."
Daita laughed aloud. "How could I not?" He gestured idly. "Wasn't your clan leader the one who presented those moon-glazed jars so faithfully to the palace? If I recall correctly, the Crown Prince even keeps one in his chambers." His tone shifted, lighter. "Ah… but it's unfortunate. Your father passed away three months ago, didn't he? And more it's even more unfortunate that His Highness won't be receiving any more gifts from your clan."
The shop owner's face tightened. "Y–Yes… my father's passing was a great loss," he said quickly. "But this year, I intended to take his place. I prepared an even more valuable offering for His Highness—" His eyes flicked toward Astra and Akira, bitterness twisting his features. "And because of these lowlifes, everything was ruined."
"Oh," Daita murmured. "That is a misfortune."
He stepped forward, nudging a broken shard on the ground with his boot. Slowly, he bent and picked it up, turning it between his fingers. Then he laughed again—this time sharp, unmistakable.
"…But this isn't original."
The crowd gasped. Murmurs exploded into chaos.
The shop owner's eyes widened in panic. "Y–Your Highness, what are you saying? You must be mistaken! It's genuine…I displayed it earlier myself! Everyone saw its value before the accident!"
Daita tilted his head. Without another word, he tightened his grip.
Crack.
The shard fractured in his hand, crumbling effortlessly into fine powder. He blew the dust forward straight into the shop owner's stunned face.
Silence fell.
"Mistaken?" Daita said lightly. "I don't think so." His eyes hardened. "Not after the information I received recently."
He leaned closer, voice dropping just enough to cut. "You were planning to duplicate imperial porcelain and sell it at twice the price to Lady Yun of the Southern Court, weren't you? And you still dared consider sending such a forgery to the palace?" His smile returned razor-thin. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You would have tarnished your clan's name… and disgraced your late father's legacy."
Gasps rippled like a wave.
"Given that," Daita continued mildly, "shouldn't you two be imprisoned first? Especially since you insulted a resident of the capital, attempted fraud, and attacked someone as well?"
"Given that," Daita continued mildly, "shouldn't you two be imprisoned first? Especially since you insulted a resident of the capital, attempted fraud, and attacked someone as well?"
The two men glanced at each other. They gulped hard. Sweat visibly beaded along their temples as the weight of his words sank in.
Daita tilted his head. A suffocating stillness descended over the street. Even the crowd, loud moments before, fell dead silent. When Daita finally spoke, his voice had dropped to something low and dangerous.
"Ask forgiveness," he said, each word dragging like a blade against stone, "from them." He nodded toward Astra and Akira.
A shadow passed through his eyes, a quiet, chilling darkness that made the two men flinch as though struck. Their breath hitched; even the surrounding onlookers felt their backs go rigid, a shiver running down the line of bowed heads.
Astra blinked, surprised by how quickly the men had collapsed into trembling apologies. She turned to Akira just as he lifted a hand gently, tapping the closest man's wrist, a small polite gesture that made the man flinch harder.
Akira quietly shook his head.
"I can't forgive you," he said quietly.
Astra nodded immediately, stepping beside him. "Yes. He can't and he shouldn't."
Daita's lips curled in satisfaction. His gaze darkened, the weight of it enough to send a shiver down both men's spines. With a lazy flick of his hand, he signaled the guards.
The soldiers moved at once.
"No—no, please! Your Highness, spare us!"
"We beg you! Forgive us! Forgive—!!"
Their pleas dissolved into panicked wailing as they were dragged away, hands scraping against the dirt.
Astra folded her arms, exhaling sharply through her nose.
"They called you a beggar," she muttered, watching the two vanish down the street. "And now? Look at them. They're the ones begging. Pathetic."
Daita's sharp gaze swept over the remaining crowd. The moment their eyes met his, a ripple of panic ran through them. Murmurs turned into hurried apologies, feet shuffled, and within moments the onlookers had scattered in every direction, leaving the street eerily quiet. Even the stray cats seemed to scuttle away faster than usual.
With the chaos cleared, Daita's eyes settled on the remaining two. He walked toward them. Astra opened her mouth, eager to spill her thanks, her voice ready to gush.
"Thank you so much, Your Highness! I mean—"
"Guards," Daita interrupted sharply, not missing a beat, his tone leaving no room for argument, "arrest them."
Astra froze mid-step. Her jaw literally dropped. "Wait—WHAT!?"