Kray finished her meal in silence, then leaned back into her chair, a lazy smile playing on her lips.
— "Since you've paid the price for the information… you'll have it."
She paused for a moment, her voice dipping into a quieter tone.
— "There's only one place anyone goes when they truly want to know something.
Doesn't matter the race, the status, or the bloodline.
It's called the Eye Guild.
It's located in the Royal Capital.
You'll pass it on your way to the Royal Academy."
But just before he could reply, that look returned to her face—clever, mischievous, dangerous. The look of a seasoned fox who never plays fair.
— "You got your answer, my dear client.
But next time… the price doubles."
The king leaned back into his seat, a quiet smile crossing his face.
— "As you wish. After all… there are no losers in a fair trade."
Then the smile faded. What came next was silence—heavy and deliberate.
— "I want to leave. For a while."
She froze .
It wasn't unexpected. She knew it would come.
But the wave of fear that surged in her chest still struck without mercy.
(Why am I still afraid?)
She'd always known he was different.
Not just in how he looked—but in how he thought, how he moved, how his silence spoke louder than anyone's voice.
But this time… this request went far beyond even that.
(The Extended Void… a grave that longs for death. Nothing escapes it.)
And yet, refusing him might push him further away.
He'd never dropped his guard around her—not since the day he was born.
He was never at ease. Never at peace.
As if born ready to kill… in every passing second.
She gathered her thoughts and asked softly, almost pleading:
— "Will you allow me to come with you?"
His reply came without hesitation:
— "Of course. I'll need a shield to guard my back."
She looked at his face—still, unreadable.
Not a flicker of warmth. Not a trace of rejection.
Just certainty. Not seen… but felt.
— "Alright… I won't stand in your way.
If I can make sure you return safely, then I'll do whatever it takes.
Whatever you ask. No matter the cost."
She paused… then whispered as though making a vow:
— "No matter what happens, I'll always believe you'll choose the right path."
But the moment her words faded, the air grew heavier—charged with a sudden heat.
Isaac stood abruptly, his movement sharp, voice cutting through the silence like a drawn blade:
— "Enough. Stop offering these hollow emotions."
His hand struck the table with a force that echoed, his eyes still closed, yet his face burning with visible fury.
— "I do not need feelings. I do not ask for affection. And I will never value sacrifices I did not request.
Your need to give without being asked… I despise it.
Weakness begins with emotion.
Avoid emotion… and you avoid collapse."
He turned and left the room like a storm unleashed—his body trembling, his blood roaring, as if desperate for a fight.
Lara remained beside her, watching her face in silence—
as if searching for a way to speak without disturbing what was left of the quiet.
— "My lady… he wasn't being cruel on purpose.
I think he's just… more exhausted than he lets on."
But there was no anger in Kray's expression.
On the contrary, she smiled—a faint, weary smile… but sincere.
The kind that comes not from pain, but from understanding something deeper.
— "No, … you don't need to defend him.
I'm not angry. I never could be—not at him.
It's just… I see him clearly, when no one else does."
He lashes out, yes—but even in his rage, he holds back.
He's been at war with himself since the day he was born.
Fighting to bury feelings… not because I don't deserve them,
but because he fears they'll make him weak.
She lowered her gaze, and her voice dropped—almost like a prayer.
— "He thinks he's erased those emotions…
but I've seen them. Buried beneath his stillness.
He may have locked them away…
but they're still there.
And even if one day he hurts me… I won't walk away.
Because being at his side… was never conditional."
The next day, Lara had prepared everything required for the journey—precise maps, carefully selected herbs, storage stones, survival tools, and even a few rare royal coins that were nearly impossible to trace.
When she arrived at his chamber to deliver the travel pack, she found him already standing there…
Gazing through the towering window, just as he always did.
, his expression suggested something deeper—
as if his eyes, though useless for sight, were still trying to pierce the glass.
Like a bird born in a cage, unaware of the sky's shape, yet somehow still hearing its call.
He wore garments dyed in absolute black, stripped of all insignias—no name, no crest, no past.
And over his face, a seamless mask of solid metal—cold and expressionless, allowing only his breath to escape.
Lara hesitated, her mind catching on the sight before her. Then, in a quiet, uncertain voice, she asked:
— "My lord… why hide your identity?"
He stepped toward her in silence.
His movements were unhurried, but each one carried a deliberate weight—
as if even the air made way for him.
He took the pack from her hands and replied, his tone low, but final:
— "What happens there… stays there."
He didn't elaborate.
He didn't pause.
He passed by her like a cold gust cutting through stone corridors, and vanished into the shadows of the hall.
At the rear gate of the palace, Kray was already waiting.
Fully veiled, just as he had instructed, standing with perfect stillness despite the bitter cold.
No emotion showed through her presence—only silence, only readiness.
As he approached, she stepped forward.
From her back, she drew a sword—one he had never seen before.
Its blade was narrow, gleaming, so sharp it looked as though it could slice the wind before thinking
In its hilt pulsed a large crimson gem, glowing with a strange energy…
not just magical—but almost sentient.
And without hesitation, she drove the sword into the earth… and knelt before him.
— "Today… I will be your blade, my lord."
He stood still, watching her in silence.
She had always given without asking, endured without question—
but even he, the king, had not expected this degree of devotion.
For a moment, it felt like something within him cracked.
Like principles he once believed unshakable began to slip from under his feet.
Like a debt… ancient and silent, had come due.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
And with quiet resolve, he placed his hand on her head.
— "You answered my cruelty… with kindness.
A silent clash… between hate and love."
And then, something shifted in him.
The face that—even in its rare smiles—always held a chill…
softened, just slightly.
He looked at her, and with a voice that sounded almost… human:
— "But love… won this time."
At that same moment, Rainer sat in a quiet corridor, away from the main halls.
The light was dim, the air still—
and across from him sat Kamon, the old palace servant who had been at his side since the earliest days.
— "Not long now until they return…
Have you noticed anything? Even the faintest whisper of a leak?"
Kamon smiled faintly, his eyes reflecting a quiet pride.
— "The young lady… lives up to her title, as always.
Not a word of value left the palace.
Whatever rumors surfaced outside… were nothing more than dressed-up silence."
Rainer's features grew still, the lines of his face tightening as a quiet sigh escaped his lips.
— "If only she had returned to training…
If she could just find a way to heal that injury…
I'm certain she would have surpassed me.
No doubt in my mind."
He looked upward, slowly, as though searching for an answer in the ceiling's silence.
His voice dropped—directed at someone no longer present, but still deeply felt.
— "Why did you do it… my dear?"
Kamon's smile lingered, but behind it was a thread of something older—something weary and wise.
— "I haven't seen you like this in a long time, my lord.
But don't worry… I believe things will change."
Rainer studied the old man's face for a long moment.
Then, in a whisper that barely made it past his breath, he said:
— "I hope so, Kamon…
I truly hope so."