On the last night before their departure from Naples, Lumiere stayed up late sparring with Julian.
His swordsmanship was still rough, his movements unpolished—but at least now, he could keep up with his father. Julian still dictated every blow, parry, and step, but Lumiere wasn't faltering as much.
After a few minutes, they paused to catch their breath.
"I've got to get going soon," Lumiere said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I promised Xia I'd spend some time with her before we leave tomorrow."
Julian sighed. "Don't you think you're moving too fast?"
Lumiere sat on the edge of a nearby wall, swinging his legs slightly.
"Yeah, I know. Anywhere else, it wouldn't be like this. But with the way things are going… who knows if I'm even going to live long enough to take my time with love."
"That's why I've been teaching you how to fight."
"Doesn't guarantee anything," Lumiere said quietly. "Besides, her life's on a timer anyway. We aren't anything proper, but if my presence makes her happy, then it's my duty to fulfill it. That's what Tao said, at least."
Julian looked at him carefully. "And how do you feel about her?"
"I love her. But I don't know if it's that way. Maybe it could be. I just haven't known her long enough to understand what I feel. And at this rate, I don't know if I'll figure it out before it's too late."
Julian gave a small smile. "Just like my Elise, huh?"
"No," Lumiere replied, voice suddenly cold. "Mother wouldn't have died if I hadn't been born."
A silence settled between them.
"Just… don't break the girl's heart, okay?"
"I never planned on it," Lumiere said. "I may not understand my feelings yet, but I care about her. I'm going to stick with her—until the end."
Julian patted him on the back.
"Claude raised you well. I wish I could see him again."
Lumiere smiled faintly. "He always spoke fondly of you."
"Really? I thought he'd hate me."
"No, never. He loved you like a son."
Julian chuckled. "I'm glad."
"Well, anyway…" Lumiere jumped down from the wall. "Thanks for the training."
Julian watched him disappear into the night. As his son vanished from view, Julian felt a quiet satisfaction settle in his chest.
As Lumiere walked down the corridor to Xia's room, a quiet regret stirred in his stomach.
He cared about her—truly—but he still couldn't say if what they had could ever become real love. Not with death waiting just around the corner for both of them.
He knocked gently. No response.
He tried again, louder. Still nothing.
Growing uneasy, he began to bang on the door until finally, he heard movement on the other side.
The door cracked open. Xia stood there—hair a mess, her eyepatch missing, and the heavy smell of wine clinging to her like fog.
"Oh hey, Lumi," she said groggily. "Didn't hear you."
Lumiere blinked, flustered at the sudden nickname. "Are you… okay?"
She yawned, stretching her arms. "Yeah, just napping." She smirked faintly. "Were you worried?"
"Of course I was. I never know if something's happened to you."
She coughed, then waved a hand dismissively. "You shouldn't worry so much. I'm not that pathetic, right?"
"Of course not. But you can't ignore your condition."
Xia scoffed. "I'm fine."
"Have you been drinking?"
"Maybe just a little. Helps me sleep."
Lumiere sighed. "Yeah… sorry. I didn't mean to come so late. I got caught up sparring with my father."
"It's fine," she said, turning back inside. "You can make it up to me."
He followed her in and smiled faintly. "I'll get up early and spend some time with you before we leave. Sound good?"
She stopped. "Oh... You're not staying tonight?"
Lumiere hesitated. "Well… no. Why would I?"
"I just…"
She trailed off. The silence pressed in.
Lumiere's chest tightened as he realised how cold he must've sounded.
"I can, if you want. It's just…" He glanced away. "I don't want to rush anything. We're not even dating and—"
She grabbed him by the collar, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Please."
A few minutes later, he lay in her bed, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
Her breath was soft against his neck.
She was fast asleep, one hand curled unconsciously around his arm.
And still, that single word echoed in his head:
'Please.'
She stirred slightly as she slept, her face visibly strained as she clung to him.
Lumiere turned slightly, unsure if she was awake. But her eyes stayed closed, her brow furrowed.
One hand clenched the bedsheet tightly—like she was bracing for something.
Then, almost too faint to hear:
"Stop it"
Lumiere froze. But Xia was already somewhere far from him, lost in a memory deeper than sleep.
In her dream, she sat at a long dinner table. Beside her were her younger siblings; across from them sat her older sisters. Incense burned where Rin would've sat. Opposite her sat Tao-Da, and to his sides were the three other princes.
The fourth prince: Mu-Long. A prodigy in every sense of the word. At the age of six, he mastered the three-section staff. During his very first time wielding it, he killed his instructor.
At seven, he mastered the four-section staff. With it, he single-handedly crushed a rebellion in a nearby village. After this victory, he moved on to other weapons.
At eight, he mastered the sickle and chain. At nine, he had the royal smith forge him a giant dadao, nearly twice his size.
Finally, at ten—wielding both the sickle and the dadao—he conquered a small country by himself.
This was his first time having a meal with his family. The emperor had kept him in isolation his entire life. He saw the boy's talent for war and shaped it into a weapon to serve the Qing. Soon, all of Asia came to know him as a new god of war—the reincarnation of the one from Japan.
To Tao-Da's other side sat the second prince, Zhi-Wo—the emperor's favorite. He was the type to send others to fight in his place rather than dirty his own hands. His proficiency in bloodshed came through poison and archery.
It took many years and many workers to create his signature weapon: a monstrous ivory bow, nearly three times his height. The heads of his arrows could be filled with anything—gunpowder, poisonous gas, acid. It hardly mattered. The arrows alone could tear through anything they struck.
Once, when he was younger, he "fell for" a girl he saw in the streets. When she rejected his advances, he forced himself on her and had his guards "discard" her.
When the girl's father heard, he stormed into the palace with a rifle, demanding a duel. The guards tried to drag him out, but to everyone's shock, Zhi agreed—bow in hand, rather than a firearm.
The father, enraged, raised his gun on the spot. Before he could pull the trigger, an arrow had already pierced his shoulder. He pushed through the pain, but his arm wouldn't move.
The arrow had been dipped in a substance that paralyzed every nerve in his body. Before he could recover, the guards fed him to the pigs.
There were many more incidents like this, but Zhi always returned to one recurring victim: Xia.
The first prince was named Lao. He had been Tao's idol growing up, and a guardian to all his siblings—except for Mu and Zhi. Mu had been hidden away, and Zhi never suffered the same abuse as the rest.
In his free time, Lao would walk the streets, feeding the poor and needy, often with Tao at his side. Xia always wished to join them, but the princesses were forbidden to leave the palace.
Later that same year, Lao would be ambushed and killed by assassins.
During the dreamt dinner, an argument had broken out between Lao and the emperor over Rin's execution years earlier. Lao had always been close with Rin and believed her death was unjust.
It escalated into a physical altercation between Lao and Zhi, who had taken the emperor's side. Tao tried to grab the younger siblings—including Mu and Xia—and lead them out of the room.
Mu pulled out of his grasp.
"Why should we leave, brother?"
Tao sighed. "Please, Mu. I know you're not used to this family, but this is for your own safety."
Mu tilted his head, puzzled. "Is what they're doing bad?"
Tao, now sweating, answered, "Yes, very much."
Mu smiled. "Don't worry. I'll fix it."
He unclipped the chain from his belt and began to swing it.
Moments later, the roof collapsed. Lao and the emperor escaped unharmed. Zhi wasn't so lucky—his hand was crushed and later replaced with a hook. One of the elder princesses was also buried under the debris. She died instantly.
Tao and Xia stood frozen in a mixture of relief and horror at Mu's terrifying power. Mu, on the other hand, simply smiled like the child he was and ran off downstairs to play.
Seeing Zhi's mangled state, the emperor exploded with rage. He lashed out at his children one by one. After beating Tao more than the others, he turned to Xia.
"You useless little mistake," he spat. "You made him do it, didn't you?"
Lao tried to stop him, but it was no use. The emperor whipped her again and again, covering her back in lashes that would never fully heal. For a second, he stopped. She dared to open one of her eyes.
He whipped it directly from the socket.
After he finally left, Lao and Tao stayed with her the entire night. They stitched her an eyepatch and comforted her until she passed out.
As her vision blurred, she saw only her brothers—Lao's gentle kindness, Tao's quiet bravery, even Mu's overwhelming strength, though she had only just met him. What stayed with her most, however, was the image of Zhi. She knew he would blame her for what happened, and as someone who was already suffering under his cruelty, she couldn't imagine what he would do next.
From that day forward, she lived under the protection of her elder brothers—until Lao's funeral.
That day had already been unbearable, but what happened afterward would be carved into her memory forever.
As that final memory flickered in the dream, Xia snapped awake, gasping.
She looked around. Cold air drifted in through the open window, sending a chill down her spine. Moonlight spilled across the room.
Then her eyes landed on Lumiere, fast asleep beside her. Her heart slowly settled. He looked so peaceful.
She curled herself into him and closed her eyes again—this time, more comfortably.
After all, this might be one of the last times she would ever get to rest like this.