Ishtar was already about to explode with anger. With this incident added on top, he couldn't hold back any longer. A suffocatingly intense Killing Intent radiated from his body. The air suddenly felt heavy, as if it had become difficult to breathe.
The thugs didn't know what hit them. Seeing the pure desire to kill in the boy's eyes, they began to tremble with fear. Their knives fell from their hands, and they ran away screaming without looking back.
Ishtar took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Fortunately, he had managed to stop himself at the last moment; otherwise, he might have truly killed those thugs. After walking for a while longer, he finally emerged from that damn underground street.
When Ishtar left the suffocating air of the underground street, smelling of mold and rot, and inhaled the relatively clean air of the main avenue, he felt as if he had escaped a poisonous well. His heart was still pounding as if it would break his ribcage, but this time not from fear, but from anger.
"Lunacy..." he muttered to himself, stomping his feet as he walked. "It's all lunacy!"
What that girl said continued to echo in his mind, but Ishtar was determined to tear these thoughts out of his brain.
History is written by the victors... Hah! What a big lie!
Visions of the picture books he had read since childhood, the depictions of the sublime Hero Ashtar shining in the stained glass of temples came before his eyes. Ashtar was a savior who split the darkness with his Sword of Light and brought hope to people. It was impossible for him to be a traitor as that girl claimed. It couldn't be.
If Ashtar was a traitor, all the dreams Ishtar had built since childhood, the wooden swords hanging on his bedroom wall, the ideal of the "Wandering Knight" he wanted to be... They would all be nothing but a lie. And Ishtar could not accept his life being built on a lie.
"They are just brainwashed fanatics," he said through clenched teeth. "They have stayed in the darkness so long that they mistake the light for an enemy. Yes, that's definitely it. That girl... Her eyes... The hatred in those eyes did not belong to a normal human. I am not stupid enough to believe the nonsense of a demonic cult."
For a moment, he remembered what the girl said about the nobles. Looting villages? Kidnapping women? Ishtar shook his head. Of course, there could be a few bad apples, there were in every basket. But to vilify the entire Empire, the entire noble order? This was just a fabrication of wretches who wanted to blame their own failures and poverty on others. The Empire was the bastion of order and civilization.
He instinctively reached into his jacket pocket, where the necklace he bought was. Touching that elegant silver chain gave him strength. Was it possible for a being as pure and noble as the Princess to be part of that corrupt world the girl described? Could there be evil in the Princess's sad but beautiful eyes?
As he walked down the street, his shoulders squared. He pushed that strange, dark surge of power he felt against the thugs, that "Killing Intent," into the deepest corner of his mind. He didn't want to remember that moment. He was going to be a hero. Just like Ashtar. And heroes did not heed the whispers of dark cults.
"Forget it, Ishtar," he told himself as he walked toward the city lights. "Pretend this night never happened. When the sun rises tomorrow, everything will be as it was."
But the uneasy stirring inside him, the knot in his stomach, seemed to whisper that even if the sun rose, everything could not be as it was. Still, Ishtar quickened his steps to avoid hearing that voice.
Ishtar had a lot on his mind. On top of the Tirkan incident, this had happened; his head was very full. He took a deep breath to calm down; he had to do something to distract himself. Suddenly, his favorite restaurant came to mind. He was hungry too, so he decided to go there. Luckily, the restaurant was close; it was on Sweets Street.
Ishtar started walking toward Sweets Street. It was 5:00 PM. Time had passed very quickly; probably because there was no light when he went underground. Ishtar looked at the sunset and thought about what happened today. His thoughts were practically at war. If what the girl said was true, everything he believed in would be turned upside down. And why did they come and follow him out of all people? The girl said she would answer, but she hadn't. Maybe she was going to; only he didn't give her the chance because he got up and left early.
Ishtar decided to forget everything that happened today and cast it aside because he was going to his favorite restaurant. If he ate with this mindset, he wouldn't enjoy the food. Ishtar was so lost in his thoughts that he only realized he had arrived at the restaurant and was standing in front of it. This surprised him because he wasn't normally such an absent-minded person. The moment he entered the restaurant, he left all his thoughts aside; since he had been coming here since childhood, this place was special to him.
The moment Ishtar entered the door, the reception greeted him. Since he came here often, the waiter knew him. The waiter smiled upon seeing Ishtar:
"Welcome, sir. Are you alone today, I presume?"
Ishtar dropped the unhappy expression on his face and smiled:
"Ah yes, I was out for a stroll today. I decided to stop by when I got hungry."
"In that case, let me take you to your usual spot. Right this way."
The waiter led Ishtar to the table where he always sat. The restaurant had a rather fairytale-like design. Upon entering the shop, a red carpet welcomed you as if you were in a palace. Passing through the entrance, a magnificent view appeared: a huge terrace. In the middle of the terrace was a circular carpet; this was the dance floor. People were dancing here accompanied by classical music. Tables surrounded the circular carpet, but what truly made the restaurant magnificent was the ocean view. At this hour, with the effect of the sunset, it became uniquely beautiful.
Ishtar sat at his table, which was covered with a velvet floral tablecloth. The waiter handed the menu to Ishtar:
"The usual, sir?"
"Yes, and I would also like to try that new dessert of yours after the main course."
After taking the menu back, the waiter headed to the kitchen. Ishtar looked at the sunset merging on the ocean horizon. Combined with the classical music coming from the background, it became a visual feast.
Suddenly, a girl sat opposite his table. Her hair was grey, and her eyes were green; they looked just like Neosa's. Ishtar was surprised that a lady he didn't know sat across from him. Her face looked familiar, but he couldn't quite place where they had met.
"Umm, do we know each other, Signora?"
The girl suddenly started laughing. Her face definitely looked familiar from somewhere, but Ishtar just couldn't remember. With an affectionate voice, the girl said:
"It's me, did you forget me so quickly, Monsieur?"
Ishtar narrowed his eyes and carefully examined the girl's face, and finally, he remembered; it was the Princess! Although she had changed the color of her eyes and hair, her facial features wouldn't lie. Ishtar's heart began to pound. Even though it had only been 2-3 days since he last saw her, he had missed Neosa.
Ishtar suddenly straightened up, approached the Princess's side, and knelt:
"My Lady, forgive me for not recognizing you."
Neosa opened her fan and leaned forward slightly, hiding half of her face. Her green eyes behind the fan scanned the other tables around with unease.
"Stand up, you fool!" she whispered, her voice harsh yet filled with worry. "You're going to draw the attention of the whole salon. Do you want to waste the hours I spent disguising myself, Monsieur?"
Realizing his mistake, Ishtar quickly recovered and sat back in his chair. When Neosa slowly lowered her fan, a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.
"Besides... don't we need to be in the palace for you to kneel before a princess? This is just a restaurant, Ishtar. And right now, I am just a mysterious stranger who wants to have dinner with you."
Ishtar blushed slightly when he noticed a few curious eyes on them, but he didn't break the nobility of his stance. He decided to shake off his earlier surprise and turn the moment into an elegant gesture. Adjusting his tone, he spoke with a softness only the princess could hear:
"I am sorry, My Lady, forgive me. I just got a little excited in the heat of the moment when I saw you."
Then he stood up slowly. As if he were at a royal ball rather than a restaurant, he brought his left hand exactly over his heart, on the left lapel of his jacket. While bending slightly forward at the waist, he extended his right hand toward Neosa, palm facing up. This was the most respectful invitation a knight could offer his lady. He fixed his eyes on Neosa's—currently—green eyes:
"May I have the honor of dancing with you until the food arrives, Signora?"
Neosa slowly closed her fan and left it on the edge of the table. The smile on her lips wiped away all that artificial makeup and the altered features on her face, revealing the real princess underneath. Without hesitation, she placed her slender and elegant hand into Ishtar's calloused palm.
"The honor is mine, Monsieur," she whispered.
Ishtar lifted the princess, holding her hand firmly but gently, as if afraid to hurt her. Together they walked to the circular carpet in the middle of the terrace, to the dance floor.
At that moment, the orchestra was playing a slow waltz, heavy with violins, suitable for the melancholy and romance of the sunset. When they reached the center of the floor, Ishtar placed one hand on Neosa's waist and joined his other hand with the princess's in the air. As the setting sun over the ocean cast crimson and orange lights upon them, the world around them faded away. Only the rhythm of the music and each other's eyes remained.
Neosa held lightly onto Ishtar's shoulder and leaned toward his ear:
"Even though I was in disguise... it warmed my heart that you recognized me so quickly, Ishtar."
Ishtar got goosebumps at that moment. It was as if everything he had experienced today had flown away. The two danced on the restaurant's flashy floor until dinner was ready. Finally, when the food was ready, they sat at the table.