The guards left Hellen at his door. He slipped inside, clutching the last of his cookie like it might vanish.
Momo padded in after him, her paws soft against the floor. She meowed, curling up on the bed as if nothing had happened.
Hellen sat beside her, letting the silence fill the room. He stroked her fur, his voice low.
"…Momo… I don't get it. First that shadow person, then that princess… Why am I even here?"
Momo purred, nuzzling his hand, as though that was the only answer that mattered.
Hellen gave a weak laugh. "You're right… as long as I've got you, I'll manage."
He broke the cookie in two and shared the piece with her. Momo nibbled happily, crumbs dusting her whiskers.
For a moment, it felt almost normal — a boy and his cat, sharing food.
But the taste was bittersweet.
"Still…" Hellen murmured, staring at the candlelight flickering on the wall. "Something's wrong here. I can feel it."
The weight of the day pressed down on him. His eyelids grew heavy. He curled up beside Momo, whispering, "Tomorrow… maybe I'll figure it out…"
Within minutes, boy and cat drifted into uneasy sleep.
---
Far across the castle, behind guarded doors, another meeting took place.
The king sat upon his cushioned chair, his great belly spilling over golden robes. He held a goblet of wine in one hand, the jewels on his fingers glittering with each careless gesture.
Beside him, his son lounged arrogantly, a sharp smile cutting across his young face. Around them stood a circle of high officials — armored generals, silk-robed nobles, and the robed magicians who had performed the summoning ritual.
The air was thick with incense and ambition.
"Where is he?" the fat king growled suddenly. "Where is Sage Aramis? Why does he not stand before me with the rest of you?"
A young mage swallowed nervously and stepped forward, bowing low. "Y-Your Majesty, Sage Aramis… he cannot appear. He was… gravely wounded during the summoning accident. He—"
The king's fist crashed against the armrest, cutting him off. "Enough! Do not speak another word of this in my presence!"
The mage froze, sweat running down his neck. The room fell silent, the other officials exchanging uneasy glances, but none dared to ask more.
The king leaned forward, his eyes sharp. "What matters is that the ritual succeeded. The boy is here. The kingdom has gained a new weapon."
The prince smirked, eyes gleaming. "Besides, what danger can that frail thing cause? He's barely fit to stand. Yet the sages called him 'hero.' If we can chain him, bend him to our service, then the kingdom gains a tool without risk."
Several ministers murmured in agreement.
The mage who had spoken before hesitated again. "But… Majesty… the corruption we saw in the circle, the dark tendrils—"
"Silence!" the king roared, his voice booming across the chamber. "Do you think your petty fears outweigh the will of your king? You are alive because I allow it. Do not test my patience."
The mage bowed low, biting his tongue, his words strangled before they could escape.
The fat king leaned back, chuckling, his jowls quivering. "Hmph. One week. That's all the time he has. If he shows promise, he will serve the crown. If not—" His small eyes gleamed with cruel delight. "—then we cast him aside, like all the other failures."
The prince raised his goblet in a mock toast. "To the new hero, then. May he amuse us before he dies."
Their laughter filled the chamber, rolling like thunder.
But outside the doors, the wind howled against the castle walls, carrying with it a sense of something darker, waiting, watching.
And in his room, Hellen dreamed — though whether of salvation or of doom, none could yet say.