He was dressed in a way that made it impossible to mistake him for anything other than royalty. Not the ornamental kind that ruled from a throne, but the sort that belonged on a battlefield just as much as in a palace hall. A blue and black robe hung from his broad frame, elegant yet practical, with the sleeve of a black undervest peeking from beneath it. His long black hair was pulled neatly into a ponytail, revealing a face that carried both youth and quiet authority. Dark eyes glistened with calm awareness as he smiled at the girls, not with arrogance, but with measured warmth. There was something disarming about his presence, something that made the air around him settle. The moment he spoke, the guards reacted instantly, stepping back as if pulled by invisible strings. Their hostility drained away, replaced by rigid obedience.
Aroha and Zhiyi both cringed. Of all the people who could have intervened, it had to be someone like this. Someone important. Someone who would complicate everything. Where had he even come from, and how long had he been watching? More importantly, who exactly was he?
Aroha opened her mouth, but Zhiyi acted first. She remembered too well how Aroha's bluntness had soured things with Prince Ara. They did not need a repeat of that disaster.
"Thank you very much," Zhiyi said quickly, bowing her head just enough to be polite without seeming submissive.
Aroha could feel irritation flare in her chest, but she held her tongue. Barely.
The man studied them for a moment before speaking again. "Surely you two could do better than causing trouble on your very first day in the capital," he said mildly. "Aroha and Zhiyi Renoff."
The effect was immediate. Every guard in the vicinity went pale. Spears clattered to the ground as they dropped to one knee in unison, heads bowed low in respect and fear. Some of them looked as though they wished they could sink into the stone beneath their feet. Being reprimanded was one thing. Crossing the daughters of Gero and Miya Renoff was something else entirely.
With a simple gesture of his hand, the man dismissed them. They did not hesitate. Within seconds, the square emptied of uniformed presence, leaving behind only whispers and stunned onlookers who now suddenly found other places they urgently needed to be.
It had been years since Gero and Miya had appeared in the capital. Had they still been active there, recognizing their daughters would have been effortless. Aroha was nearly identical to Miya at that age, from her sharp gaze to her fiery temperament. Anyone who had grown up alongside Miya could see it immediately. Zhiyi, on the other hand, was a seamless blend of both parents. She carried Gero's restless curiosity and Miya's quiet empathy in equal measure.
Their parents themselves had been an unlikely pair. Gero had been reckless in his youth, constantly testing limits. Miya had preferred solitude, not out of bitterness, but because she found peace in stillness. It had been Miya's twin sister who bridged that gap, pulling her into the world and eventually into Gero's path. Without her, Gero and Miya might never have met. Yet her name was rarely spoken now. Death had a way of silencing even the most important people.
Zhiyi lifted her head. "How do you know who we are?"
The man smiled faintly. "It is my duty to know. Zenon Lo. Third prince of the Lo kingdom. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."
Zhiyi nearly screamed internally.
One of her crushes. And she had not embarrassed herself. Not yet. Compared to how things had gone with Ara, this was already a miracle. They might have arrived in the capital under chaotic circumstances, but at least they appeared strong rather than foolish. That had to count for something.
"Oh. You are Zenon," Aroha said flatly.
Zhiyi felt her soul leave her body.
She shot Aroha a sharp glare, one that carried a very clear message. Do not say another word. Aroha read it instantly and smirked.
"Thank you for stepping in," Zhiyi said quickly, bowing again. Zenon returned the gesture with equal courtesy. Up close, he was exactly as she had imagined. Calm, gentle, and undeniably handsome. Maybe things could still work out. Maybe fate was giving her a second chance.
Then Aroha spoke.
"Do you mind following us somewhere? There is someone we need to beat up."
Zhiyi felt her heart shatter.
Of course. Of course Aroha would do this. Was this revenge for every time Zhiyi had annoyed her? Was she determined to ruin every possible romantic opportunity in existence? Beat up. They had arrived in the capital less than a day ago and now they were apparently assaulting citizens. Zhiyi knew exactly who Aroha meant. The blacksmith. The one who refused to help them. Aroha never forgot a slight, especially when it involved Zhiyi being treated unfairly.
"No," Zhiyi cut in, clamping a hand over Aroha's mouth. "She means meet up with."
Aroha did not stop talking. "No. I meant beat up," she said through Zhiyi's fingers.
"No, meet up," Zhiyi insisted, mortified.
Zenon watched the exchange in silence, clearly amused. These two were unlike any royals he had ever encountered. Unfiltered, chaotic, and oddly refreshing. He could tell at a glance that they were strong. Their movements alone gave it away. Strength like that paired with such carelessness reminded him of Ara.
Ara, who stood at the peak of power. Ara, whom Zenon had spent years chasing.
Ara's strength came from his immense beast mana, so overwhelming that many believed he rivaled the original beasts themselves. No one alive could confirm it. Those creatures had vanished centuries ago. Still, Zenon believed it. He had fought beside Ara on countless battlefields and never once seen him falter.
If Ara was the pinnacle of beasts, then Zenon would become the pinnacle of humans. That resolve had driven him beyond conventional limits, into techniques few even knew existed. He would not be left behind.
Zenon smiled softly. "Why exactly do you want to beat someone up?"
"No questions," Aroha replied, finally freeing herself. "Just follow us. He deserves it."
Zenon nodded. "Very well. Lead the way."
Zhiyi stared at him in disbelief. Even he was encouraging this. With no better option, she followed, determined to stop Aroha before things escalated further.
Aroha led them straight back to the blacksmith's shop without hesitation. Almost as if she had memorized the path while fleeing earlier. That alone was concerning.
"That is him," Aroha said, pointing. "That traitor of a blacksmith."
The blacksmith was young. Too young to be alone in a capital forge. Zenon noted it immediately. He should have been an apprentice at most. Someone like him would have drawn attention long ago.
The blacksmith noticed them but did not react. He recognized Zenon instantly. And the presence of two pureblood Renoffs with him told him everything he needed to know. So this was retaliation. He sighed inwardly. It always ended this way.
Dragging his feet, he approached them. "Just do it," he said bitterly. "I know why you brought him."
Zenon frowned, displeased by the tone.
"Oh no," Aroha said brightly. "He is not here to beat you up. I am."
The blacksmith laughed. A short, hollow sound.
Then Aroha punched him.
The impact snapped his head back and wiped the humor from his face instantly. It was a heavy blow, one he felt deep in his bones.
"Fight back," Aroha yelled.
He did not.
Zenon saw it clearly. The blacksmith was not mocking her. He simply did not care. The punch had power, real power, yet the damage was minimal. His body reminded Zenon of Ara. Dense. Resilient. Built to endure rather than retaliate.
"Hit me if you want," the blacksmith said. "I will not fight. When you are done, leave."
Aroha froze. Then she turned and stormed out without another word.
Zhiyi rushed after her.
Zenon lingered. He studied the blacksmith carefully.
"This will not be the last time we meet," Zenon said calmly. "What is your name?"
Silence.
Zenon turned to leave.
"Kiro," the blacksmith said at last. "Kiro Ner."
Zenon smiled.