Night settled quietly over the royal camp.
Inside the royal tent, Prince Leon slept.
His breathing was slow and steady, his body finally surrendering to rest after a long, exhausting day—but his mind refused to find peace.
In his dream—
He stood once more in the forest.
Not the chaos of the hunt.
Not the sound of arrows or shouting knights.
Only silence.
Moonlight filtered through towering trees, soft and silver, painting the forest floor in a glow untouched by time.
And there—
He saw him.
The one who had saved his life.
A silver-haired stranger stood beside a narrow stream, his reflection trembling in the flowing water like something unreal. His eyes—deep purple, like glowing rubies—were gentle, yet distant, as though he belonged to a world far beyond Leon's reach.
"Wait," Leon called, stepping closer.
The stranger turned.
A faint smile touched his lips.
For a brief moment, warmth spread through Leon's chest—the same warmth he had felt inside the cave when death had been only a breath away.
"You saved me," Leon said quietly.
"Who are you?"
The smile slowly faded.
The forest began to blur.
The stranger stepped back, his form dissolving—into light, into water, into nothingness.
"Don't go," Leon whispered.
He reached out—
And woke with a sharp breath.
Leon stared at the ceiling of the tent, his heart pounding.
Silver hair.
Purple eyes.
His hand moved instinctively to his chest, to the place where the wound had once been.
Slowly, he turned his head.
The white fox was awake.
It was watching him.
Their eyes met.
For a single heartbeat, Leon felt his breath stop.
Those eyes…
"They're the same," he thought.
"The same beautiful purple eyes…"
The fox blinked calmly.
Only then did Leon notice the faint light seeping through the canvas walls.
Morning had already come.
He remained still, his thoughts tangled.
---
That same night—
Joon-Woo stood alone.
He had slipped away quietly, deep into the forest beyond the tents, where no one could see him.
The world was still.
No voices.
No footsteps.
Only the whisper of leaves and the sound of his own breathing.
He raised his hand slowly, his heart pounding.
"…Water," he whispered.
For a moment—
Nothing happened.
Then—
The moisture in the air trembled.
Dew lifted from the grass. Tiny droplets shimmered, gathering before his palm. A thin stream formed, floating unnaturally, bending to his will.
Joon-Woo's eyes widened.
"It's real…"
He focused harder.
The stream thickened, swirling gently like a living ribbon. It responded to his emotions—steady when his mind was calm, unstable when his thoughts wavered.
He released his breath.
The water fell softly back to the earth, vanishing without a sound.
A quiet laugh escaped him—half disbelief, half joy.
"I really have power now."
For the first time since arriving in this strange world, he didn't feel completely helpless.
But as the excitement faded, the questions returned.
Will this power be enough?
Can I survive here?
…Will I ever go home?
He lowered his hand and gazed up at the moon shining faintly through the trees.
Joon-Woo continued training.
Again and again, he practiced controlling the water element—shaping it, dispersing it, calling it back. Time slipped by unnoticed as he focused entirely on the flow, learning its rhythm, its limits, its strength.
Only when his breathing grew heavy did he finally stop.
He looked up.
The sky was changing.
A pale glow spread across the horizon.
"…Morning already?" he murmured.
Startled by how much time had passed, Joon-Woo quickly gathered himself and hurried back toward the camp. Before anyone could notice his absence, he slipped quietly into his tent, returned to his fox form, and curled up as if he had never left.
At the same time—
Inside the royal tent, Prince Leon stirred.
His eyes slowly opened.