Hellen awoke with a sharp gasp, the ghost of a nightmare still clinging to him. His chest heaved, sweat dampening the sheets.
The dream had felt too real — that same darkness, those whispering voices calling his name.
He sat up slowly, rubbing his temples.
"Why… why does this keep happening?" he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Momo lifted her head from the pillow beside him, meowing softly as if sensing his unease. Her small body curled closer, purring gently to calm him.
Hellen smiled faintly and stroked her fur.
"It's fine, Momo. Just another bad dream… I'll be okay."
But deep down, he wasn't sure.
A sudden knock broke the silence.
Hellen blinked, startled. "Uh… come in?"
The heavy door creaked open, and an elderly maid stepped in — short, gray-haired, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Her gaze swept over Hellen's tattered clothes, her expression softening into mild disapproval.
"My, my… young man, should you not wash up first thing in the morning?" she said kindly, though her tone left no room for argument.
Hellen froze. "Wash… up? I, uh… don't exactly know where to do that."
The maid sighed, shaking her head. "You foreigners never do. Come along then — I'll show you. Bring the little one too."
Momo blinked up at her, tail flicking, before hopping onto Hellen's shoulder.
They stepped out into the long marble hallway. Morning light filtered through tall windows, and distant chatter echoed faintly from deeper in the castle.
As they walked, Hellen noticed a group of younger maids clustered near a doorway, whispering in hushed voices.
"…Princess Selene again. Cold as ice, that one…"
"…Careful! You'll lose your tongue if anyone hears you—"
The words cut off abruptly as the old maid passed by. Her silence was heavy, sharp enough to slice through gossip.
Hellen glanced at her curiously. "Selene…?" he murmured, but the maid didn't answer.
Her eyes stayed forward, her steps never faltered.
After several turns, they reached a guarded section of the corridor. One of the castle guards stood there — tall, broad-shouldered, with the same familiar face from the night before.
"Morning," Hellen greeted awkwardly.
The old maid spoke first. "This young man needs to wash. See to it, will you?"
The guard nodded with a small grin. "Sure, I can handle that much."
He motioned for Hellen to follow.
"Come on, kid. The bath's this way."
Inside the bath chamber, steam filled the air and the sound of splashing water echoed off the stone walls. Several other guards were already there, laughing and chatting.
Hellen hesitated at the doorway.
One of them whistled. "Well, look at that — didn't think the 'summoned hero' would be built like that! Kid's got some muscle."
Hellen flushed red as laughter filled the room. But the mood was friendly, and soon he relaxed, joining in their banter.
It felt… almost normal.
For a moment, the coldness of the castle seemed far away.
After washing up and changing into clean clothes the maid had brought, Hellen followed the guards to the dining hall.
They ate together — simple food, warm bread and soup — before the day turned to dusk.
As evening settled, Hellen found himself wandering alone down the corridors again, Momo padding beside him.
That's when he heard it — a sudden crash, the clatter of something metallic.
Then a shout.
"Thief! Stop that thief!"
Hellen spun toward the sound. A dark figure sprinted across the far end of the hallway.
Without thinking, he ran after it.
"Momo, stay close!"
The thief was fast — a blur of movement in the torchlight. Momo darted ahead, tail flicking, determined to keep pace.
"Stop!" Hellen yelled.
The thief turned sharply, leaping over a fallen chair — and then, with sudden speed, kicked Hellen across the head.
The blow sent him reeling, vision flashing white.
He hit the floor hard, but his grip on consciousness held. Momo hissed, claws flashing, but the thief was already running again.
"Not yet…" Hellen gasped, pushing himself up. "I'm not letting you go!"
They chased through twisting corridors, the thief grabbing whatever was nearby — plates, books, vases — and throwing them to slow him down.
Glass shattered, echoes thundered through the hall, but Hellen and Momo dodged each projectile, refusing to give up.
The chase burst out into the open courtyard. Moonlight bathed the stones in silver.
The thief didn't stop. With a final sprint, they vaulted over the wall — clearing it in one impossible leap — and vanished into the night beyond.
Hellen stumbled to the edge, breathless.
Momo sat by his feet, fur bristling, her eyes fixed on the direction the thief had fled.
"…Who… was that?" Hellen whispered.
Behind him, guards shouted, racing toward the commotion. But he barely heard them — his mind was spinning with questions.
And far above, high in her tower room, Princess Selene stood by her window. The moonlight traced the curve of her pale face, her silver hair glowing faintly in the dark.
She watched Hellen and Momo from afar, her gaze sharp and unreadable.
"So," she murmured, her voice barely more than a breath. "The boy can move after all."
The corners of her lips lifted — not in kindness, but in quiet, knowing satisfaction.
Her eyes turned back to the window, to the direction the thief had escaped.
"Things are getting… interesting."
The curtain fell shut.
And below, Hellen stood under the cold night sky, unaware that his every step was now being watched.