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The clang of armor echoed down the training yard as a young knight shoved Peter hard against the stone wall.
"Watch where you're going, servant."
Peter gritted his teeth, fists clenched. "I'm not a servant."
The knight scoffed, eyes gleaming with contempt. "You walk like one. You eat like one. What else should we call you?"
A few others chuckled. One tossed a dirty rag at Peter's feet. "Might as well clean the floors while you're here."
Peter didn't hold back. He stepped forward, shoulder slamming into the knight who first insulted him.
"Say that again."
The knight didn't hesitate—he struck. The scuffle was quick and loud, drawing attention from all sides until—
"Enough!"
Valerian's voice cut through the tension like a blade.
He strode into the scene, his cloak trailing behind him, expression unreadable. The knights immediately straightened. Peter stood his ground, blood at the corner of his mouth.
Valerian looked at the others first. "You disgrace your rank by ganging up on someone."
Then his cold gaze turned to Peter.
"And you disgrace your station by fighting back like a wild dog."
Peter opened his mouth to speak, but Valerian raised a hand.
"No food. Two days. Let hunger teach you discipline."
And just like that, he turned and walked away.
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That Night…
The storeroom was cold, dim, and silent.
Peter sat in the corner, back to the wall, arms wrapped around his stomach.
Day two with nothing to eat.
His thoughts wandered to the fight, to the humiliation… to how even when he was a thief, he had dignity.
Now he was something less.
Then—
A soft knock at the door.
Peter's eyes opened slowly.
"…Who is it?"
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped in quietly, like the flutter of a moth.
Soft pink hair, pale skin, and translucent butterfly wings that trembled as she moved.
She held a small woven basket.
"Um… I'm sorry… I brought something for you."
Peter blinked, unsure if he was hallucinating.
"You… brought food?"
"I know it's not allowed… but I couldn't just do nothing. I'm L— I mean… Luna."
She set the basket down gently and sat a little away from him, nervously fiddling with the hem of her sleeve.
"I don't think you deserve to be treated like that. People make mistakes…"
Peter's heart ached, but his voice was dry and rough.
"…Thank you."
As he reached for the basket, his eyes caught something at her waist.
A small, old leather-bound book tied with string.
He froze.
"…Is that…?"
Luna quickly turned to the side, trying to hide it.
"Ah—! It's nothing, really…"
But Peter was already leaning closer, heart racing.
"Wait… is that 'The Song of the Silent Blood'?"
She turned to him, eyes wide. Then—
Her face lit up.
A pure, bright glow filled her eyes like he'd just said magic.
"You… you know that book?!"
She clasped the book to her chest, completely forgetting her shyness for a moment.
"No one here ever talks about it! I thought I was the only one who read it! It's… beautiful, tragic… I don't know why the writer disappeared. They never published a second volume."
She paused, eyes sparkling as she looked at him.
"It's my favorite story. It helped me through a lot. I… I even memorized parts of it."
Peter stared at her for a long moment.
Then, for the first time in a long while, he laughed.
Not a bitter laugh. A soft, surprised, genuine laugh.
Luna blinked.
"What's so funny…?"
Peter smiled, shaking his head.
"You're the first person I've ever met who loves that book…"
He looked into her wide green eyes and said quietly:
"…I wrote it."
The room went still.
Luna's mouth fell slightly open. She stared at him, blinking once. Twice.
"…You're joking."
He shook his head slowly. "I printed only a few copies. No one bought them. I gave up."
Her hands trembled. Her voice came out in a whisper:
"But… why?"
Peter looked away.
"Life took more than I had. I stopped writing when I got too hungry to dream."
There was a soft silence…
Then Luna smiled—shy, warm, filled with something too soft to name.
"I always thought… the writer must've been lonely. But his words never made me feel alone."
Peter looked up, and his voice came low:
"And you… fed that writer, even after his words were forgotten."
They sat there, quiet, while the night whispered outside.
And behind her, Luna's wings shimmered faintly—trembling like her heart had heard something new, and maybe… it liked the sound of it.
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