Rowan's POV
We were in the southern region's city market—a sprawling, sun-drenched maze of noise, color, and chaos—where General Voltaire and I were doing the unglamorous work of questioning vendors about the thief we were hunting. Had anyone seen him? Did anyone know anything useful? Even a whisper would do.
While the general and I were busy being productive, Aurein and Serena were... not.
They were browsing.
Jewelry glittered between their fingers. Food stalls stole their attention. Fabrics, trinkets, sweets—anything and everything that had nothing to do with tracking a criminal seemed to captivate them. It looked less like an investigation and more like a leisurely stroll.
To be fair, Serena later assured me that while they were shopping, they were also discreetly talking to people nearby, gathering information in their own way. So—fine. It wasn't completely useless.
Still, General Voltaire and I were the ones actively hunting—eyes sharp, ears open—while they enjoyed the scenery.
They moved through the market wrapped in their cloaks, hoods drawn low, shadows clinging to them like a second skin. To anyone watching, they were nothing more than ordinary travelers admiring trinkets and stalls, their identities safely buried beneath fabric and anonymity.
Meanwhile, I stood bare to the crowd.
No cloak. No hood. No pretense since this is my hometown so it was okay.
Every vendor saw my face. Every passerby knew exactly who I was. While they gathered information quietly, unnoticed, I asked questions openly—my name carrying weight, my presence impossible to ignore.
It was ironic, really.
They were the ones hiding, yet I was the one exposed—standing in plain sight, searching for a thief who thrived in shadows, wondering if he had already seen me long before I ever sensed him.
All of us, however, shared the same goal: to track down that wretched thief, retrieve my sword and the top secret information he stole from the rebels, and—if fortune was feeling generous—secure my revenge.
I suggested to General Voltaire that we spread word about the thief. Let the city know. Let more eyes search for him.
He dismissed the idea immediately. Broadcasting our hunt, he said, would only make the thief tighten his hiding and become even harder to catch.
Annoyingly... he was right.
I sighed inwardly. Of course he was right. He was always right. And handsome. And infuriatingly dreamy. And attractive. And—
Arrgh!
Rowan. Stop it. Now.
"Ah, Lord Rowan," a vendor suddenly said, snapping me back to reality. He stood behind a stall filled with charms of every shape and size. "You've come? Is there something you wish to buy from my shop?"
"No," I replied. "I'm here to ask something."
I leaned closer, lowering my voice slightly. "Have you seen a man with brown hair—tied back, a bit messy—sharp eyes, and the most noticeable thing about him... his fangs. They show when he smiles or smirks."
The vendor frowned, thinking.
"He's a thief, by the way," I added. "If you've seen him roaming this city market and stealing once, twice, or more."
The vendor's eyes widened.
"Ah! That man! Yes—just earlier today, there was word of a woman who was robbed. They say her earring was torn straight from her ear. Poor woman," he said, shaking his head.
"Did he get caught?" I asked.
"They say he escaped immediately. He's been seen many times, but he's fast. Too fast. No one can catch him—not even the warriors stationed to guard this market," the vendor explained.
I frowned. "Has he been stealing here for a long time? Before I left the southern region for vacation in the Central Region, I never heard of this. Did all this happen while I was gone?"
"That is correct," the vendor said. "He appeared only recently. Even the locals don't recognize him, so we believe he may be from another region of Ardentia... or perhaps from another kingdom entirely. We do not know. My apologies."
I exhaled slowly.
"I suppose I'll have to keep searching," I said. "If you happen to see him again, let me know."
"It shall be done, Lord Rowan," the vendor replied.
"I'll take my leave now. Thank you," I said, turning away.
"Wait, Lord Rowan," the vendor called before I could leave. "Would you like to purchase a charm? For wealth, work, or missions?"
"Hm..." I muttered, sighing as my eyes drifted over the neatly displayed charms before me.
"I don't think I need one for money or work," I said thoughtfully. "A mission, perhaps?"
"Ah! Then this may suit you," the vendor said brightly. He picked up a small statue, shaped like a trophy—a man holding a raised sword. "This is the 'Missioner's Charm Statue'. Carry it with you during missions, and luck will follow. You will surely succeed."
I stared at it, then offered a sheepish smile. "I think carrying that on every mission would only get in my way."
I sighed again, glancing once more at the charms.
"Then which charm would you like?" he asked.
"I think... maybe next time," I said, turning away at last.
Because honestly? What I needed wasn't luck.
It was a thief with fangs—and my sword back in my hands.
Then I saw them—Aurein and General Voltaire—some distance away.
They stood at a small stall selling shawls and trinkets, the kind meant more for sentiment than utility. Aurein was on his toes, carefully fastening a shawl around General Voltaire's neck. The general had bent slightly, accommodating him without complaint—despite being absurdly tall—just so Aurein could reach him.
They looked... happy.
Genuinely, painfully happy.
There was something effortless about the way they moved around each other, something unspoken but unmistakable. Anyone with eyes could tell they were in love. And worse—luckier—they had found each other, and their feelings matched perfectly.
Meanwhile...
The one I wanted didn't want me.
I let out another long sigh.
And then—an idea struck me.
Slowly, almost suspiciously, I turned back toward the vendor I had spoken to earlier, as if what I was about to ask was a crime I didn't want overheard.
"Do you... by any chance," I whispered, glancing around to make sure no one was listening, "have a lucky charm for finding love?"
The vendor's face lit up immediately.
"Ah! Perfect timing!" he said excitedly. "Do you have a woman in mind—someone you wish to win over and make fall in love with you?"
"Sort of," I said with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of my head. "But do you have something discreet? Something small. Easy to hide. Not... obvious and bulky like that mission statue charm you showed me earlier."
"I have just the charm for you, Lord Rowan!" the vendor said enthusiastically.
He reached behind him and brought out a small chest. He opened it slowly, almost ceremoniously.
Inside lay a heart-shaped gemstone—deep red, polished to a soft glow.
"Is this a real gemstone and not a toy?" I asked.
"Yes," he said. "And it is sacred. This is the only one of its kind—'The Heart of the Hopeless Romantic'. For you, Lord Rowan, I can give a very special offer."
He leaned in, lowering his voice, as if sharing a secret too valuable for the world to hear.
"I can even pay full price," I said quickly. "But... does it really work?"
I hesitated before continuing, my voice quieter now. "If I have this... will I truly meet the person I'll love for the rest of my life? Someone I'll care for? And someone who will love me back?"
"It is guaranteed to work, because of this, I found my wife. Now, I'm selling this to help someone find their true love." the vendor said confidently. "Here is my proposal. Take the charm now. Once you meet the person you are certain you love because of this charm, that is when you pay me. If it does not work, you may return for free. You lose nothing. A fair deal, is it not?"
I nodded slowly. "That does sound fair. So... how does it work?"
"The rule is simple," he said, lowering his voice like he was about to reveal a great secret. "The first person—other than you—who touches the charm and accidentally catches their reflection in it will be your soulmate. Your lover for lifetime."
He lifted a finger.
"You're not allowed to hand it to them. No dramatic gestures, no 'oops, here you go.' They have to touch it on their own, completely by accident." He smiled.
"So... whoever touches it first unexpectedly will be the one I love—and who will love me for the rest of my life," I said. "But that sounds difficult, especially if it's hidden."
"Love always finds a way, Lord Rowan," the vendor said serenely. "This charm is merely the answer to your wish."
He handed me the chest.
"All right," I said. "I suppose I'll believe it when I see it. How do I take it? Do I remove it from the chest?"
"Yes," he replied. "The moment you touch it, the charm becomes yours—and its power begins."
So I did.
I took the red heart-shaped gemstone charm from the chest.
"Should I feel something?" I asked, turning it in my palm, catching my own reflection in its polished surface.
"No," the vendor said. "What you feel now is normal. Only when the one you truly love touches it—by accident—will trigger the charm's efficacy. It will bring you closer together as if you two will be inseparable. After you meet your one true love, you may return it to me."
"All right," I said. "I'll come back once I know whether it works."
"I shall await your return, Lord Rowan," he said warmly. "May you find the one you love."
"Wait," I added suddenly. "What if the first person who touches it is someone I don't like?"
"The charm will do its job," he said calmly, as if he were explaining the most ordinary thing in the world. "It will lead you straight to the right person. This charm doesn't force love—it just points the way. It already knows who you're meant to love with your whole heart. You might not like them when you first meet—honestly, you might even find them annoying—but don't worry. Destiny has a way of fixing that. Love will sneak up on you whether you're ready or not."
That sounded dangerously like a scam.
But since it came with a free trial, I supposed it wasn't so bad.
"Just make sure no one grabs it from you by force while it's still in your hands," he added seriously. "If that happens before you meet your one true love, the charm will lose its effect. Fate works best when it's... not manhandled."
"I will keep that in mind. Thank you."
I left the stall and walked away, staring down at the heart-shaped charm resting in my hand.
"Please," I murmured under my breath. "I know I look desperate for believing in something like this—but if you're the only way I can find my true love... I'm counting on you, Charm of the Hopeless Romantic."
"What's that, Rowan?" a voice suddenly asked. "What did you buy?"
I stopped dead in my tracks.
I turned—and nearly jumped out of my skin.
Serena stood in front of me, eyebrow raised, her gaze fixed suspiciously on the charm in my hand.
"S-Serena!" I said in surprise.
"You look like you've just seen a monster," she said, sounding mildly offended. "What is that?"
"Oh—this?" I said quickly. "It's nothing. I just liked the design."
Which was a lie. A very weak one.
Serena clearly didn't believe me. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the charm.
"Let me see it," she said, reaching for it.
I immediately pulled my hand back and hid it behind me.
"What is your problem?" she snapped. "Why are you hiding it? I'm not going to steal it—I just want to look!"
"U-um... there's no need," I said awkwardly. "It's really just a simple thing."
She growled softly, her eyes narrowing further.
"If it's simple, you wouldn't hide it," she said irritably. "So let me see it."
"Well, you see, Serena—"
"What? Don't tell me you're planning to give that to Aurein or General Voltaire," she said sharply. "Please, Rowan. Don't interfere with their relationship. Aurein already lets us fantasize about Voltaire, and you know Aurein doesn't like you."
"Ouch," I said flatly. "You didn't have to stab me like that."
"I'm just being honest," she replied. "So what is that heart-shaped gemstone really for?"
She reached behind me, actually chasing me around as she tried to grab it. I lifted my arm high above my head, holding the charm out of her reach.
"Rowan! Give it to me! Let me see!" she said, standing on her toes, then jumping to reach it.
She still couldn't.
"I'm curious because you're acting suspicious!" she snapped. "If you weren't hiding it, I wouldn't be bothering you!"
Then she smirked.
"Or should I call General Voltaire?" she threatened. "I'll tell him about the thing you refuse to show me. He can take it from you himself."
"All right! All right!" I said quickly. "I'll tell you. But you have to promise—not to tell anyone. Not General Voltaire. Not Aurein. Please. I'd die of embarrassment."
She grinned. "Deal. I'm a girl of a hundred secrets. One more won't hurt. Go on—spill."
"Promise me first that you won't laugh," I said. "Or tease me."
"I promise," she said, raising her right hand.
Her left hand was very suspiciously hidden behind her back.
"All right..." I muttered, taking a deep breath to gather my courage. "This is a charm called 'The Heart of the Hopeless Romantic'. It's supposed to lead me to the person I'll love for the rest of my life."
There was a brief moment of silence.
Then Serena burst into laughter.
Loud, uncontrollable laughter.
"You said you wouldn't laugh!" I protested.
She laughed so hard she had to wipe a tear from her eye, still trying—and failing—to calm herself down.
"So you actually believe in things like that?" she asked, barely holding back her laughter.
"I don't totally believe in it," I said defensively. "I just thought—well—I wanted to see if it worked."
She laughed again, openly this time, eyes gleaming with mockery. "So how does this charm supposedly work?" she asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.
I straightened, answering with full seriousness. "The first person who accidentally touches this—aside from me—becomes my true lover."
She burst out laughing so hard she slapped my arm, the sound sharp enough to sting. I shot her a glare, but it only made her laugh more.
"Rowan," she said between giggles, "if I were you, I'd put that thing back where you found it. My God. You're actually entertaining nonsense like this? This is a scam."
"I might give it a try," I replied stubbornly.
She tilted her head, eyes narrowing with mischief. "And what if an old man touches it first? Would you fall in love with him?"
"They told me it would lead me to the person I'm truly meant to love," I said firmly. "Which means it has to be someone around my age. At least close to it."
Her lips curved into a wicked smile. "Then let's put it on the ground and hide. Whoever picks it up first becomes your lover."
"No," I said quickly. "It doesn't work that way. I was told it shouldn't be intentional. It has to be... organic. I think."
She sighed, crossing her arms, shaking her head as she smirked. "I almost feel sorry for you, Rowan. Desperate enough to chase charms after being rejected by Aurein—and after falling for General Voltaire."
I looked away. "I just need a distraction. Someone else to think about. At least then... I won't think about them anymore."
She softened slightly. "Love can really make you stupid."
"Well," I said, glancing at her, "don't you want to meet your true lover someday?"
She scoffed. "How would I? My existence is already tied to Aurein. And besides—I don't need one."
Before I could reply, a familiar voice cut in.
"So this is where you two are," General Voltaire said as he approached with Aurein beside him.
I instinctively slipped the charm into my right pocket.
"Any news about the thief, Rowan?" he asked.
"They don't know his name," I reported. "But he's been causing trouble in the city market recently. Apparently, it only started when I arrived from the central region. The locals don't recognize him—he might be from another region. Or another kingdom entirely."
"I see," General Voltaire said. "That matches what I heard. Finding him won't be easy. We'll have to lure him out."
"How?" I asked.
"With something he won't be able to resist stealing," he replied calmly. "We corner him before he escapes. Like trapping a wild beast and locking it in a cage."
"But how do we catch someone who could appear anywhere at any moment?" I said.
Serena suddenly smiled. "At this rate, we might find your true lover before we catch the thief."
I froze. My eyes widened at her in warning.
"True lover?" Aurein asked, confused.
"Oh—nothing!" I said quickly, laughing. "Serena's just teasing."
"We should focus on the plan," I added hastily. "Catching the thief comes first."
"Wait," Aurein said suddenly, squinting as he looked off to the side. He took a few steps forward.
"What is it?" I asked. "Did you see the thief?"
"No... someone else," he said slowly. "I'm not sure, but I think I just saw Ton-Ton at a food stall."
All of us turned to where he was looking.
"How would he be here?" General Voltaire said. "You're probably imagining things. If it really were him—or the other two—they wouldn't enjoy the punishment for escaping training."
"Maybe," Aurein said, uncertain. "I thought I saw him at a food stall. Maybe it was just someone who looked like him. I guess I just miss Ton-Ton and the others." He sighed. "It would be easier if they were here. More people means better chances of finding the thief."
"You have a point," Serena said. "If we split up, we can track him more efficiently."
"And Asper's speed would help," Aurein added. "He could catch up to the thief easily." He paused, frowning. "Wait—what's going on over there?" he asked, pointing ahead.
"Let's see," Serena said. "Looks like the crowd's enjoying something."
"I think it's a magic show," I said. "It is usual here in this market."
"Really?" Aurein's eyes lit up. "I want to see it!" He grabbed General Voltaire's arm and pulled him along, grinning, while Serena and I followed behind.
* * *
Third Person POV
In a narrow, shadowed alley where three figures were crammed tightly together—
"This is your fault, Ton-Ton," Asper hissed. "The moment food is involved, you lose all control. We almost got caught. Prince Aurein was already watching you."
"I was hungry," Ton-Ton said cheerfully. "And the food smelled amazing."
Dante crossed his arms, eyes thoughtful. "It seems we'll have to help them catch this thief."
"I agree," Asper said. "But we reveal ourselves only when they truly need us. For now, we stay hidden. I know General Voltaire won't be pleased if he sees us following them."
Yet in Dante's mind, urgency burned.
The thief was holding something important—an object taken from the rebels. Something that needed to be retrieved at all costs.
"I have to catch him first," Dante thought grimly.
"Before they discover what the thief is really carrying."
And somewhere in the city, fate quietly began to move.
* * *
Rowan's POV
On one side of the city market, a magic show was drawing a lively crowd, pulling people in with laughter and wonder.
The magician lifted his tall hat, and to everyone's delight, a cascade of red roses spilled out from within.
"That's incredible!" Aurein exclaimed, clapping enthusiastically. "How does he even do that? I admire him!"
"I can do that too," General Voltaire said seriously. "I also know magic."
Aurein turned to him at once. "Really? What kind of magic can you do?"
"I can make that magician lose consciousness in an instant," General Voltaire replied calmly. "And you won't admire him anymore."
"That's brutal!" Aurein laughed.
The magician raised his voice, brimming with excitement. "For my next act, I will cut one of you in half! Who would like to volunteer?"
"Me! Me!" Aurein said eagerly, raising his hand.
General Voltaire's eyes widened.
"You know you can't step forward," he said sharply. "If you go up there, people will recognize you."
"That's not fair," Aurein complained, crossing his arms and pouting. "I really wanted to be cut in half."
"I'll do it for you," General Voltaire murmured in a low voice.
Standing behind them, I saw it clearly—his hand slipped far too casually against Aurein's butt cheeks.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head, my mouth falling open in shock.
That... was definitely not the kind of "splitting in half" the magician was talking about. But the general had something else in his mind.
I instinctively grabbed my own butt cheeks and frowned.
No. Absolutely not. If I ever find my next lover, I'm the one who's going to be dominant.
General Voltaire will be the last man I ever submit to.
Only he could ever make me feel that way—and that's exactly the problem.
Moments later, the magician chose a volunteer—a woman—guiding her into a long wooden box placed atop a table. Her head and feet stuck out from either end, while the rest of her body disappeared inside.
"Watch closely," the magician announced. "With this blade, I shall cut her in half!"
He pressed the blade into the center of the box, slowly pushing it downward.
The crowd held its breath. Aurein and Serena stared in fascination. General Voltaire, however, wasn't watching the act at all—his eyes were scanning the surroundings, ever vigilant.
When the blade was fully inserted, the magician separated the box.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The woman was alive—moving—her head and feet still perfectly intact, as if nothing had happened.
Thunderous applause erupted. The magician removed his hat and held it out, and the audience tossed gold coins inside as payment.
Aurein and Serena threw gold as well, laughing excitedly.
I was impressed too. Reaching into my right pocket, I felt something solid—lucky, I thought. I still had a piece of gold.
Without thinking, I flicked it toward the magician's hat.
"Thank you very much!" the magician said cheerfully, setting the hat aside. "And now, I shall restore her body. Watch closely!"
He rejoined the box, counted to three, and opened it again. The woman sat up, whole and unharmed.
I applauded along with the crowd, genuinely entertained.
"I thank you all—from the bottom of my heart—for supporting my magic," the magician said. "Tomorrow, I shall return with a brand-new performance."
The crowd slowly dispersed, everyone going their separate ways.
"So, what's the plan now?" Serena asked as we walked. "Do we continue searching, or hunt for the thief?"
"We should plan for now and return to the farmland," General Voltaire said.
"Wait," I added. "You haven't met my father yet. Would you like to come to our house first? We can eat while we talk."
"That's a good idea," Serena said. "I'm getting hungry." She glanced at Aurein and General Voltaire. "At least we won't just eat oysters."
"We can ask them to cook oysters for us," Aurein said with a grin.
"You're the instigator!" Serena teased. "Do you want more kiss marks added to your neck?"
"Let's go before you start yelling in public," I said, laughing.
We started heading toward my home.
Aurein and General Voltaire walked ahead, while Serena stayed beside me.
"Look at those two," she muttered irritably. "Just because they're wearing cloaks, they suddenly feel bold enough to hold hands. I swear, I should yank your cloak off, Aurein, so everyone can see your true colors!"
"If you're jealous, find a hand to hold," Aurein called back, laughing. "Why not hold Rowan's hand? You can be partners."
Serena turned to look at me.
"No thanks," she said smugly while only I could hear it. "I don't like men who rely on charms to find their one true love."
"If you want," I replied, "you can get a charm for yourself so you won't be so grumpy."
I reached into my right pocket to touch the charm—
And froze.
I stopped walking. My eyes widened.
"Oh?" Serena said, raising a brow as she stopped too. "What's wrong?"
My breathing stalled as I checked my other pocket.
Nothing.
"Serena," I whispered, panic creeping in. "My charm is gone."
She struggled to suppress her laughter.
"Well, that's exciting," she said. "Looks like your charm is finally working. I wonder who has it now."
"This isn't funny!" I hissed. "That charm cannot fall into someone else's hands—especially when I don't even know who has it! Where do you think I lost it?"
She thought for a moment. "When was the last time you reached into your pocket?"
My blood ran cold.
"When I threw gold into the magician's hat," I said slowly. "Oh no... what if I threw the charm instead?"
She burst into laughter this time. "Well then," she said teasingly, "your true love is the magician."
"That's impossible!" I said in horror. "Aurein! General Voltaire! I need to go back to the magician's spot—I left something!"
The two stopped walking.
"We'll go with you," Aurein said.
"No need," I replied quickly. "I'll be right back!"
I turned and ran.
"Please," I prayed silently. "Please don't let him have touched it yet."
He cannot be my true love.
First of all, he's too old.
And second—I don't like him at all.
* * *
Third Person POV
The magician gazed down at the hat in his hands, smiling as he looked at what lay hidden inside it. Relief softened his features, and for a brief moment, the noise of the market seemed to fade around him.
"At last," he said quietly, his voice warm with hope. "I can finally buy food and medicine for my pregnant wife."
Carefully, he set the hat down beside his foot, placing it just within reach, as though afraid even the ground might steal it from him. Then he began packing away the tools of his craft—wooden boxes stacked neatly, blades wiped clean and wrapped in cloth, lengths of fabric folded with practiced care. Every motion was slow, methodical, unhurried.
He never noticed the eyes watching him.
From a narrow alley nearby, a figure cloaked in black stood perfectly still, half-consumed by shadow. The fabric of his cloak drank in the light, making him seem less like a man and more like a void carved into the world.
The thief Rowan had been hunting.
He did not move. Not yet.
He observed everything—the shuffle of passing feet, the fading excitement of the crowd dispersing after the performance, the dust settling back onto the stones. His gaze flicked briefly toward the guards. One breath in. One breath out.
Perfect.
A friend approached the magician then, greeting him warmly, clapping him on the shoulder as he launched into an animated story. The magician laughed, his head turning just enough, his attention pulled away.
That was when the thief moved.
One step out of the alley. Then another. Then a third.
He slipped between people like a shadow given intent—silent, precise, never brushing a sleeve, never drawing a glance. His hand reached the hat, swift yet reverent, the motion of someone who had done this a thousand times before.
In a single heartbeat, the hat was gone.
No one saw him, though the market was crowded. No one felt his presence pass. The magician did not notice a thing. The thief merely walked on, unhurried, vanishing into a concealed path with the hat cradled under his arm—heavy with gold.
Moments later, the conversation ended. The magician returned to his things, humming softly as he finished packing. Only when everything was neatly stowed did he reach for the hat.
His hand met empty air.
He froze.
"My hat!" he shouted, panic tearing through his voice. "It's gone! Someone stole it!"
The cry rippled through the market, heads turning, voices rising in alarm.
From a distance, the thief watched.
Beneath the hood, the corner of his mouth lifted into a dangerous, almost playful smirk. One sharp fang slipped into view, catching the light for a fraction of a second.
Then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone—swallowed whole by the dark.
* * *
The cave welcomed him like an old accomplice.
Hidden deep within the stone was his hoard—a quiet sanctuary of stolen treasures. The thief stepped inside, the dim glow of a lone lamp revealing rough walls and scattered chests, the air thick with dust and secrets.
He laughed softly as he tipped the magician's hat over in his hands.
"That's quite a haul," he said, clearly pleased. "How many gold is inside of this hat? Let's see."
He reached inside and pulled out a gold coin.
"One," he said, placing it on the wooden table with a soft clink.
His hand went back in.
"Two."
Again and again, the gold followed, each counted with lazy amusement. Then his fingers brushed against something different.
He paused.
His brows drew together as his hand searched deeper inside the hat.
"What's this?" he muttered.
He withdrew it slowly.
Between his fingers lay something that did not belong among gold.
He tilted it in his fingers, and even beneath the weak lamplight, the charm caught the glow. Its surface gleamed—smooth, polished, almost alive.
He brought it closer, drawn by something he couldn't name. And there, staring back from the red gemstone, was his reflection—his own sharp, curious eyes captured in its surface, perfectly mirrored.
He tapped it against the wooden table. Solid. Real.
Intrigued, he brought it to his mouth and bit down gently, testing it with both fang and teeth.
"It's a real gemstone," he said, frowning as the red, heart-shaped gem glimmered defiantly in the dark. "But what is this supposed to be for?"
The charm gleamed in silence, offering no answer—only promise.
End of Chapter 45