The night was a disaster.
The rain was coming down so hard it felt like the sky was tearing open. Prince Hayate, soaked to the bone and shivering, spurred his horse, Kage, through the dark woods bordering the River Tsukikawa.
Hayate was barely twenty years old, but the burden of his half-angelic bloodline and his crown weighed heavier than any armor. He had just returned from a political meeting that had gone spectacularly wrong. The neighboring nobles had laughed at his youth and mocked his gentle diplomacy.
"They doubt me, Kage," Hayate murmured to his horse, trying to act mature but feeling every bit the young prince he was. "They think a King should be cruel, not kind."
He was furious, but he couldn't let anger show. As a semi-human prince , he was expected to embody calmness and grace, traits he tried desperately to maintain.
The road was slick, forcing him to slow down near the violent rush of the River Tsukikawa. That's when he saw the shadow.
It was a young man, collapsed right on the muddy riverbank. He was dark-haired and roughly the same age as Hayate. He was barely moving.
Hayate, driven by his pure-hearted nature, didn't hesitate. He slid off Kage, ignoring the mud that instantly ruined his expensive leather boots.
"Hey! Are you alright?" Hayate called out.
The young man didn't answer. He was lying face down, his clothes torn. Hayate saw immediately that the man's arms were bound tightly behind his back, and his exposed back was crisscrossed with whip marks. Someone had tortured him and left him for dead.
Hayate knelt in the mud, carefully turning the man over. He was unconscious, his face scraped, but even in that state, his expression held a fierce defiance, not weakness.
Hayate felt a strange, cold pull in his chest. It was a faint, unsettling feeling, almost like a warning, that he recognized instantly as his magical perception of danger. This wasn't just a random stray; this was trouble.
He shook the feeling off. "I can't leave him here," he decided.
As Hayate reached out to check the man's pulse, the young man's eyes snapped open. They were sharp, dark, and instantly wary.
The man tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed again. He bit back a sound of pain, refusing to show weakness.
"Who did this to you?" Hayate asked softly, his tone gentle. He felt a deep surge of pity and a confusing sense of attachment to this fierce stranger.
The man blinked slowly, his dark eyes focusing on Hayate's face. He looked confused, lost, and dangerously aware.
"I... don't remember," the stray whispered, his voice rough and barely audible.
Hayate knew he couldn't leave him to die, even if it risked a scandal. He quickly cut the ropes binding the man's arms and gently helped him sit up.
"My name is Hayate. I'm going to take you to a safe place," Hayate said.
He carefully lifted the man and carried him on his back. The man was heavy and strong, even injured, but Hayate's angelic bloodline gave him extreme strength. He loaded the man onto Kage, securing him gently before mounting behind him.
The journey back to the Aurekawa Citadel was slow. Hayate, holding the injured man in front of him, felt the warmth of his skin against his own. For some reason, this felt right. It felt like destiny.
The Forbidden Rescue
The Aurekawa Citadel was the largest, most formidable fortress in the kingdom, a monument to the Angelic bloodline. Bringing a bloody, unknown stray through the main gates was impossible.
Hayate dismounted Kage outside the secluded Royal Stables. He quickly dismissed his few remaining guards, using his charisma to command instant, loyal obedience without question.
"Forget you saw him," Hayate ordered. "If anyone asks, I was alone."
He carried the unconscious young man up to his private, lavish quarters in the highest spire of the Citadel. He knew he was breaking every single royal law. Palace rules strictly forbade bringing any outsiders into the inner sanctum without the King's (his recently deceased father's) explicit permission.
Hayate laid the man on his own massive, soft bed. He quickly pulled water and clean linen from his cabinet and began the tedious task of cleaning the whip marks. The sheer cruelty of the torture made Hayate's hands tremble.
As he worked, a few members of the inner palace staff, who were extremely loyal to Hayate, saw the Prince carrying the stranger. They immediately started to whisper:
"The Prince brought home a stranger?"
"He's injured! Will the King's guard allow this...hmm?"
"He is so young to be taking such risks."
Hayate ignored them all. He was focused on the battered stranger. The man's face, now clean, was handsome—sharp, serious, and deeply troubled.
Hayate finished cleaning and dressing the wounds. He sat by the bed for a long time, watching the man sleep, his healing aura softly permeating the room, naturally trying to calm the man's physical pain.
"You are safe now," Hayate whispered. "You have a place here."
He still didn't know the man's name. But in his heart, Hayate knew this meeting was not an accident. This young man had walked out of the storm and into his destiny.
Finally, exhaustion caught up to him. Hayate changed his ruined clothes and collapsed onto a sofa across the room, leaving his own bed for the injured man. He fell into a restless sleep, dreaming of stormy rivers and silent, challenging eyes.
He didn't know the pain and confusion that this forbidden rescue would bring.