By the next morning, Rin had already slipped back into the rhythm of Eryden Hollow as if he had never left.
"Oi, Rin!"
He barely had time to turn before an elderly woman grabbed his wrist with surprising strength.
"Don't tell me you're going to pretend you didn't see me," she scolded, squinting up at him. "I waited many years for you to come back and now you'll run past like a stranger?"
Rin sighed, already smiling. "If I knew you'd ambush me this early, I'd have taken the long way around, grandma Merel."
"Sharp mouth as ever,and I told you to stop calling me grandma" she huffed, but she tugged him closer anyway. "You look thinner. And taller. Is the food that bad?"
"Depends. If you like bland porridge and mushrooms, it's excellent."
Laughter rippled nearby. Word had spread quickly—the herbalist's son is back.
Neighbors greeted him openly, some scolding, some teasing, some simply relieved. A few patients were already waiting outside the house, baskets of eggs or dried meat tucked under their arms as payment.
Rin worked through the morning with practiced ease, checking pulses, adjusting poultices, scolding people for ignoring his instructions.
"I told you not to drink rice wine with that medicine."
"It was only one cup."
"One cup too many," Rin snapped, shoving the bottle away. "You want your liver to rot, do it on your own time."
Despite the words, his hands were gentle, his expression focused. To the villagers, this was the Rin they knew—sharp-tongued, reliable, unwavering.
It was near midday when someone hesitated at the edge of the crowd.
Rin looked up—and froze.
"Lys?"
The man blinked, then broke into a wide, almost disbelieving grin. "You're really here."
In two strides, Lys crossed the space and pulled Rin into a tight embrace. Rin stiffened for half a second before letting out a quiet breath and returning it.
"You disappeared without a word," Lys said, voice rougher than his smile. "I thought you'd died."
"I considered it," Rin replied dryly.
"Decided it was inconvenient."
Lys laughed, then sobered. "You vanished in the palace. No message. No explanation. Do you have any idea how—"
Rin stepped back, expression softening just slightly. "I didn't want to drag you into it."
"That's not your choice to make," Lys said, then stopped himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "Sorry. I didn't mean—"
Rin shook his head. "I know."
There was a pause, filled only by cicadas and distant chatter.
Finally, Lys smiled again, gentler this time. "Whatever your reasons. Whatever secrets you're carrying. I trust you. And I'm still here. Don't forget that."
Rin's throat tightened. He looked away with a scoff. "If you get any more sincere, I'll start charging you consultation fees."
Lys laughed and for the first time that day, guilt pressed quietly against his ribs—but it was gentler now, tempered by warmth.
---
Meanwhile, far earlier than Rin, expected Alaric had already arrived in Eryden Hollow.
The secret route had shaved hours off the journey, leaving him standing at the edge of the village long before the bells rang for noon. He pulled his hood lower, masking the sharp lines of his face, and stopped the first passerby he saw.
"I'm looking for a herbalist," Alaric said evenly. "Rin."
The man blinked. "Ah. You mean Master Rin? Straight down that path. Big stone house. Can't miss it."
Big stone house.
Alaric felt a strange flicker of relief at that.
When he reached the house, the first thing he noticed was the scent—sun-warmed herbs, drying leaves, clean earth. The second was the man standing in the yard, methodically laying out bundles beneath the light.
And the third—
"Papa!" Rhen shouted.
Both twins turned at once.
Alaric barely had time to crouch before they barreled into him, arms wrapping tight around his waist.
"You came!" Riven exclaimed.
The man in the yard straightened sharply.
"Who are you?" Rin's father demanded, eyes narrowing, posture stiffening with an instinctive, protective hostility that made Alaric straighten.
"I—"
"You don't just walk up to children," the man snapped. "Especially not mine."
Alaric inhaled. "Father-in-law."
Silence.
"What did you just call me?"
The air shifted, sharp and dangerous.
"Don't tell me," the man growled, stepping closer, "you're that bastard who—"
"Quite the opposite," Alaric said calmly. "Rin left me."
That was the wrong thing to say.
The man's temper flared instantly—until—
Smack.
"Ow!"
The sound echoed loudly.
The twins burst into giggles.
Rin's aunt stood behind her brother, hand still raised. "Cut it out," she said flatly. "You're embarrassing yourself."
She turned to Alaric, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Im sorry about that your highness..No,it's your majesty isn't it."
Alaric inclined his head. "Its okay.And You don't have to be so formal about me."
She sighed. "If you insist ..I know why you came here but Rin's not home. He's out catching up with old friends." Then she glanced at the twins clinging to him. "But since you're here… stay. At least until he comes back."
Rin's father crossed his arms. "I don't approve."
"No one asked you," she replied.
Alaric stayed.
The twins dragged him everywhere—showing him the orchard, the old fence, the swing built beneath the great oak tree.
By early afternoon, the sun was warm enough to drowsy the air.
The wide wooden hammock swing—swayed gently as Alaric lay back, one twin curled against his side, the other sprawled across his chest, their laughter fading into quiet murmurs.
"Don't move," Rhen warned. "We'll fall."
"I wouldn't dare," Alaric murmured.
He closed his eyes briefly.
Then—
"What," Rin said flatly, "are you doing."
Alaric opened his eyes.
Rin stood at the edge of the clearing, hands on his hips, expression perfectly polite and deeply unimpressed.