He had changed.
The soft, curious child she once knew was gone.
In his place stood a stranger — sharp, cold, unreadable.
But something hadn't changed.
The same set jaw.
The same fire behind those tired eyes.
Only now, it was aimed at her.
Velza didn't speak. Not yet.
The silence between them wasn't empty.
It was heavy — thick with words unsaid and wounds time hadn't closed.
The door clicked shut behind her.
He looked up. Just once.
Then came his voice.
"So, you're the dog my father sent," he muttered, barely louder than a breath.
He scoffed. "That fool. As if I need a guard."
She opened her mouth, but he cut in.
"Anyway. What's your name?"
"Velza Kaithryn."
"Never heard of it."
A beat. Then—
"You can leave now. Come tomorrow to play your part."
"But—"
"No 'buts.' That's an order. Leave now, or I'll have you replaced."
She didn't argue. Just muttered, "Okay," and turned on her heel.
Her boots struck the floor like war drums — fast, loud, angry.
She reached the door.
"That attitude will get you nowhere," he spat. "Grow up, you imbecile."
The words hit harder than they should have.
She pushed open the doors, stepped out —
and they slammed shut behind her.
That was when it broke.
Tears spilled fast, hot, unstoppable.
Her back hit the wall just outside. She pressed her hands to her face, trying to breathe —
but it wasn't anger anymore.
It was something colder.
Something lonelier.
She wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve.
No more breaking.
Not here.
Then, head low and footsteps soft, she started walking toward her dormitory.
✦✦✦
After she left, Vaelen didn't move.
He just sat there, like nothing had happened.
"Well. That was easy."
The words felt sour the moment they left.
He leaned back, exhaled long through his nose.
"Maybe I was too harsh…" he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "But what choice do I have?"
His jaw clenched.
"She's just another mouth reporting to my father. Every step, every breath — another chain around my neck."
He stared at the floor like it had betrayed him.
"No thanks. I don't need a spy with a sword pretending she cares."
But his voice sounded less certain now.
Almost… bitter.
✦✦✦
In the dormitory, a soul lay curled on her bed — quiet, broken.
That soul was Velza.
Tears soaked her pillow, hot with the sting of humiliation.
Not just from his words — but from the fact that they still mattered.
That he still mattered.
She had faced blades sharper than his tongue.
But somehow, this cut deeper.
Why did it hurt like this?
Her thoughts swirled, dragging her backward —
To the courtyard.
To that day.
The wind had been cruel, tossing her hair into her eyes as the wooden sword slipped from her trembling grip. The older boys had circled like vultures, ready to mock her yet again.
"Can't even hold a stick, Kaithryn?" one of them sneered.
And then —
Vaelen stepped in.
She still remembered how he moved. Quick. Certain.
He didn't say much.
Just looked at them, cold and calm, until they backed off.
Then he turned to her and handed back the sword.
"Try again, Damaris" he said, quiet but sure.
"You'll get it right."
That had been the first time someone believed in her.
The first time she thought — maybe she could belong here.
What happened to that boy?
Where did he go?
She curled tighter under the blanket, breath shaky.
"I don't want to fight him," she whispered to the dark.
"But if he thinks I'm just another pawn…"
Her jaw tightened.
"…then I'll become the one piece he never sees coming."
✦✦✦
The night passed in silence and cold resolve.
Morning came — pale and sluggish.
Vaelen blinked awake, rubbing his eyes as he sat up with a groggy grunt.
"Ugh… long night." A deep yawn escaped him. "Studied magic until my mana gave out."
He dragged himself off the bed, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, brain half-dead.
Still yawning, he stumbled toward the door.
"I need a bath. Then maybe food. Then maybe I'll stop feeling like roadkill."
He opened the door —
—and froze.
There she was.
Velza. Standing there like she'd never left.
His eyes went wide. He slammed the door shut.
Click.
A sigh slipped out. "Maybe I was too harsh."
A beat passed. His scowl returned.
"He shook his head. "She's probably just another set of eyes for him."
He turned to the window, muttering,
"Not today. I can't deal with this right now."
He leaned against the door, muttering to himself, voice flat.
"Well. I didn't think she'd actually come back."
A pause.
Then a groan.
"This is going to be a problem. I don't want to face her again."
Without thinking twice, he spun on his heel, sprinted across the room — and lunged straight out the open window.
Mid-air, hair whipping and bathrobe flying, realization hit him like a brick.
"Wait—crap. My wand."
He flailed, cloak snapping in the wind — then exhaled, resigned.
"Whatever. I'll survive. Probably."
Still falling, he twisted mid-sprint, flipping to face the ground. His hand pointed down.
A strange word escaped his mouth — nothing like the incantations others used.
Suddenly, four glowing magic circles shimmered into existence, layered in the air near the ground.
He passed through each one in sequence — fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh, fwoosh — each slowing him down like an invisible parachute.
He landed with a light thud, perfectly balanced, cloak fluttering behind him.
He dusted himself off and walked away like nothing had happened, casually whistling as he strolled toward the hot spring.
But just as he neared the entrance, his whistling stopped.
Someone stood outside the gate.
His eye twitched.
"Damn. That girl again? So much for my dramatic exit," he muttered, rubbing his temple. "Guess I have to face it after all."
He walked toward the gate, expression blank.
As he neared, she greeted him with a bright, "Good morning."
His response? A silent gesture—zipping his mouth shut, as if to say don't even start.
Her left eye twitched.
Without a word, he stepped past her and shut the door behind him.
Moments later, he sat in the spring, freshly rinsed, steam curling around him.
He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging.
"This... this is going to be hard."
✦✦✦
Steam gone, fully dressed, Vaelen stepped out of the spring room.
She was still there. Still waiting.
He didn't say a word—just walked off toward the dining room.
Behind him, Velza followed like a silent shadow.
In his head: So this is what I'm stuck with.
He entered the dining room. Only one maid stood inside, waiting by the table.
"Cireon, the food was almost getting cold. What happened today?" she asked.
"I was studying all night."
"Well, eat up before it really gets cold."
"Yes, I will."
Behind him, Velza froze. Did she just call Vaelen by his first name?!
Vaelen pulled out a chair and sat down, unbothered.
Then, without even looking at her, he spoke:
"No need to look so shocked. I gave her permission," he said flatly.
Then, his tone sharpened. "But that doesn't extend to you. For you, it's 'Your Highness.' Know your place, peasant."
He finished eating—plate wiped clean.
Then, his voice echoed across the hall, clear and formal:
"I'm done. It was delicious."
He stood and walked toward his office.
Velza followed, silent as ever.
Inside, he dropped into his chair.
She stayed on her feet, at his side.
He glanced at her once, then said,
"Speak up."
She opened her mouth—
—but he cut her off.
"Only if it's necessary. Continue."
Velza exhaled, choosing her words.
"Your Highness… why do you live in the outskirts of the capital with little to no security? Just five maids, one butler, and no guards?"
He didn't flinch.
"I told you—only speak if it's necessary."
"Your father told me to find out."
Vaelen leaned back slightly.
"Then tell him I like peace and quiet."
The day passed.
Dinner was done.
She had stood beside him the entire time—quiet, persistent, unshakable.
A shadow, but not unnoticed.
As he walked toward his room.
She said it flatly, like it meant nothing.
"I'll report back now"
He didn't flinch.
Didn't glance her way.
Just kept walking down the quiet stone corridor, his cloak trailing behind him.
Only when he reached his chamber door did he speak.
"…Then go."
His hand lingered on the handle. A pause.
Click.
The door shut behind him.
She stood there a moment longer, face unreadable in the dim hallway. Her fingers curled slightly—like they remembered something she was trying to forget.
Then she turned. No footsteps echoed behind her.
She left in silence.
Inside the room, Vaelen leaned back against the door, eyes closed.
He exhaled.
"…Why did you come back in the first place?" he muttered to the dark ceiling.
No answer.
Only the hum of faint magical wards activating, sealing the chamber for the night.
He walked to the window and stared out. The moon sat high. Stars cold and distant.
His hand clenched slightly.
"I don't need her," he told the glass.
"I never did."
But the silence didn't argue.