And she sang:
"Where roots grow deep and shadows cling,There once was crowned the Forest King.
He spoke in leaves, he ruled in hush,His throne was moss, his court the brush."
"But truth, they say, is never still—It bends, it breaks, it learns to kill.
And in his grove, beneath the skies,The truth he loved became his lie."
"So bloomed the Lotus, turned in shame, Its petals dark, its stem untamed.
It drank the light and bloomed anew—Inverted, wild, and far from view."
"Now those who walk with noble breath,Forget the roots. Forget the death.
But in the hush, if you still seek…The Forest King is not yet weak."
The last note hung in the air — trembling, soft — and then faded.
Rei stood frozen a few steps away, breath caught in his throat.
"...What was that?" he asked quietly.
She looked at him, calm and unreadable. "Oh, this?" Her voice was soft. "It's nothing more than an old folksong."
He blinked. "Folksong…? It sounded enchanting."
She offered a faint smile but didn't elaborate.
Rei scratched the back of his head, awkward now under her gaze. "I—uh, I didn't mean to sneak up on you or anything. Just… heard the song and…"
He hesitated.
"You sing nice," he added lamely.
She giggled — light and sudden, like wind brushing windchimes. "What are you doing here, then?"
"Oh. Me? Uh…" Rei shifted, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'm, uh… a merchant. Or I was. Still am, technically. But recently I got assigned to this new position under the Crown. Some kind of, uh… intel-gatherer."
He saw her eyebrow lift slightly.
"Wait—it's not as weird as it sounds!" he blurted, waving a hand. "I'm not like a spy or anything! It just has a cool name, alright? All I do is… deliver stuff. Like scrolls. Maps. Sometimes fruit."
Her smile widened, clearly amused. "So you're a delivery boy with a dramatic title?"
Rei laughed. "Exactly. Honestly, I'm only dangerous if you're allergic to peaches."
The woman let out another soft laugh, but her eyes never lost that smoky stillness.
And Rei, despite himself, didn't look away.
She laughed again, softer this time — but her eyes never lost that smoky stillness.
Rei, despite himself, didn't look away.
Then she stepped down from the edge of the well.
"Well then, noble courier," she said, brushing her braid behind her shoulder. "It's time I go."
Rei hesitated. "Wait—what's your name?"
She turned slightly,her gray eyes are meeting his.
"That's a secret," she said.
And with that, she walked off — barefoot, calm, harp still in hand.
Rei stood there for a long moment, watching her disappear into the morning light.
Her steps were silent, unhurried — almost like she belonged more to the wind than the world. The way her braid shifted across her back. The way her gray eyes had looked at him, calm and unreadable.
A flutter stirred in his chest.
Huh.
She was… beautiful.
in a way that lingered. Like a song you didn't know you'd been missing until you heard it.
He stared after her until even her silhouette vanished behind the bend.
Still, he didn't move.
His eyes stayed fixed on the empty path, as if hoping she might reappear — just once more.The morning breeze tugged gently at his sleeves. Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed.
But Rei remained there, unmoving, caught in a quiet he didn't quite understand.
His thoughts had drifted with her — still trailing behind her steps, still wrapped around that soft, strange song.
Then he snapped back to reality.
"…Damn it," he panicked at last, running a hand through his hair. "I should've pushed. How am I supposed to find her again?"
He exhaled and finally turned away — but something inside him lingered.
"This is probably karma," he grumbled. "For laughing at Kazuo's flirting failures."
The morning faded into afternoon. Then dusk.
And as night fell over the palace —
The chamber was dim, lit only by the flicker of low-hung lamps. Scrolls and books lay open across the central table— some stacked, others strewn mid-reading, as though dismissed for failing to provide answers. One heavy volume sat open in the center:
Bloodlines.
King Cedric stood beside it, one hand resting lightly on the table's edge, the other held behind his back in perfect posture. He didn't move when the door creaked.
Lady Elyria stepped inside, her silver hair catching a thread of lamp-light. She paused, eyes scanning the disarray.
She had seen war rooms look more orderly.
"I didn't expect you to still be up," she said quietly.
Cedric didn't look up. His gaze fixed on the pages.
Her gaze landed on the book before him."…Bloodlines?" she asked, voice careful. "Why are you reading that?"
Cedric didn't answer.
He continued turning the page — slowly, deliberately — as though she hadn't spoken at all.
She studied the notes beside the book — scribbled margins, crossed-out diagrams, noble blood trees intersected by peasant lines. Records. Anomalies. Unions.
Elyria stepped closer to her father. "Father… this chaos." Her eyes swept over the scattered papers, the open books, the ink-stained notes. "It's unlike you."
Still no immediate reaction.
Her voice lowered. "Is this about Kazuo?"
That made him stop.
He looked up at her — finally — his expression unreadable, but his voice carried weight.
"How many times have I told you not to concern yourself with that boy?"
The words hit like frost.
He turned back to the table and shut the book with slow, deliberate finality.
"Get out."
Elyria flinched, almost stepped back — but didn't. Her eyes locked on his.
For a moment, she just stood there, heart tight in her chest.
She didn't answer right away. Instead, a tight breath caught in her throat.
This isn't like him, she thought. Father was always composed. Controlled. Unreadable.
Strict with me — yes. But I remember a time when he even laughed… back when Mother was still alive.
Now, everything's different. And ever since Kazuo appeared…
He's been unraveling.
He doesn't show it, but I can feel it. Bit by bit, he's losing his composure — and for whatever reason… I know it's Kazuo that's eating him alive.
That's why I can't back down anymore.
Because I promised Mother…
Her voice caught but she pressed on.
"Let me help. If this truly concerns the future of our kingdom — if he poses a threat or a possibility — then I should be part of it."
A pause. The silence between them tightened.
Something in the room shifted — not tension, but the faint sense of a blade being unsheathed quietly.
Cedric studied her for a long moment. Then, without a word, he turned and walked to the tall window, his footsteps slow, measured. Moonlight touched the edge of his white sleeve as he clasped his hands behind his back, gazing out over the silent courtyard.
"Why should I?" he said calmly. "What benefit is there in letting you meddle in something that doesn't concern you?"
Elyria hesitated. Her hands were clenched at her sides.
She steadied herself.
"…Because I found him."
Cedric didn't turn.
Her voice trembling just enough to betray the weight beneath it.
"I saw him on that rooftop in the Lower Crescent… and I couldn't look away. Since then — just like you — I've been obsessed."
He still said nothing.
"This won't go away," she continued. "So if you truly want me not to concern myself… then let me satisfy this hunger for understanding. Let me be part of the answer."
Her throat tightened.
"We're sitting in the same boat, Father. You just don't want to admit it."
At that, Cedric finally looked at her.
The weight of his gaze was absolute — but something in it had shifted.
His eyes flicked back to hers.
He stepped toward the table, resting a hand on the closed book — fingers firm, unmoving.
"What I want to understand… are his eyes."
Elyria drew a breath, her voice low but steady. "I know..."
She hesitated, then let the truth fall, heavier than she expected.
"From the moment I saw him…I've been trying to understand. A black eye and a green one..."
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"I just want to understand… what those eyes mean."
Cedric's gaze held hers a moment longer than usual.
Then — finally — he exhaled. A soft, almost inaudible sigh.
"…You're just like your mother."
Elyria blinked. He hadn't spoken of her in years.
"Very well then." he said.
He turned back toward the window.
Moonlight traced the hard edge of his silhouette as he clasped his hands behind his back once more. The courtyard beyond lay quiet — undisturbed, unknowable.
For a moment, he stood perfectly still.
Elyria… I do want to know.I want to understand — just as you said.
But as the thought settled in his chest, another followed, quieter, colder.
It's the knowing that scares me...