A few chapter on the way to be update today >_< because i want to update HEHEHEHE

  Kael took longer than expected to go downstairs. He stood by the closed window for a moment, his stormy gray eyes closed in thought. His long black hair, still damp from the recent wash, cascaded behind him in soft waves, clinging slightly to his loose white shirt. Normally, he'd use a cloth to cover his eyes—but the dampness of his hair made it difficult. He frowned, thinking hard, before ultimately deciding to close his eyes and tie the familiar piece of cloth gently over them again. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

  Without his cloak, his slender figure was more visible than usual, and as he walked quietly with his wooden pole as a guide, the chimes attached to it jingled softly with every step. As he descended the stairs, one deliberate footstep at a time, a hush slowly fell over the inn. Conversations dulled, and many turned to glance at the mysterious figure making his entrance.

  Gasps were heard, barely stifled. A few guests choked on their meals, astonished by Kael's ethereal beauty—one that almost seemed not of this world. His damp hair swayed like silk with each movement, framing his pale face in an almost haunting elegance. To Kael, the stares felt like daggers, uncomfortable and yet…familiar. This body was not his own—it was beautiful, yes, but delicate, and it lacked the strength he once held. He sighed internally, thinking, Asael… your face was once strong too. This… this body feels like a shell.

  Distracted by his thoughts and unfamiliar balance, Kael bumped his knee hard into a wooden chair, letting out a soft hiss of pain. "Quirl… Quin…" he called out, his voice shaky.

  From the nearby table, Quin snorted, barely holding back a laugh before covering it with a cough. Quirl gave him a light smack on the back and stood up along with him. "Alright, alright," Quirl muttered as the two made their way to Kael.

  Quirl eyed Kael’s soaked hair and the damp cloth over his eyes with a sigh. "Let’s get this off you," he said. Kael nodded didn't want to argue with Quirl, placing his wooden pole aside, and let Quirl carefully remove the cloth. As it was lifted, Killian’s oceanic-blue eyes, which had been following Kael’s every movement in silent astonishment, remained fixed on him.

  Kael didn’t dare open his eyes. He stood there, tense, his eyelids shut tight. Seren and Liu, seated beside Killian, were visibly holding their breath.

  Killian’s expression was unreadable—until the corners of his lips softened into a quiet smile.

  As the moment passed, Quirl guided Kael to the seat beside him while Quin gently placed a glass of water near Kael’s hand. The atmosphere slowly returned to a calm murmur as food was passed around.

  Killian leaned slightly forward and asked, "Sir Quirl, where will your company head to after this?"

  Quirl glanced at Kael, who was quietly eating with measured motions, before answering, "Wherever Kael wishes to go… we will follow. Until he finds what he’s searching for."

  Killian nodded thoughtfully. "And what is it that Sir Kael is searching for, if I may ask?"

  There was a pause before Quirl answered, his voice lower now, "Someone… important to him. We don’t know the full story." Quirl calmly said but his voice lower.

  "I see," Killian said softly, his eyes momentarily distant. He unconsciously reached for the jade pendant hidden beneath his collar. Serenn and Liu noticed the gesture, and exchanged quiet, sorrowful glances.

  Meanwhile, Kael fell into deep thought again, distracted by the presence at the table. When Quin quietly moved behind him to gather his hair, Kael didn’t resist. Quin skillfully tied it into a loose ponytail, strands framing Kael’s delicate face. He then placed the cloth gently back over Kael’s eyes.

  Kael, still lost in thought, recalled the warmth of a familiar embrace—one that echoed through his dreams. Rayne… The name pulsed through him like a heartbeat.

  As a gentle chime rang from the ornament used to tie his hair, Kael lifted a hand to touch it. "Quin," he asked softly, "this hair ornament… who does it belong to?" It was soft delicate butterfly ornament jingling on it.

  Before Quin could answer, a deep, mellow voice came from beside him.

  "It’s mine."

  Kael’s heart skipped a beat.

  He turned his face slightly, a faint smile form his lips, as the hair tie was pretty and EXPENSIVE from what Kael remember as Asael. "Isn’t this expensive, Your Highness, the Crown Prince?"

  The entire table went silent. Quin and Quirl both jumped in unison. "HE WHAT?!" they exclaimed.

  Serenn and Liu, mid-sip, choked on their drinks, coughing in tandem.

  Killian, momentarily stunned, blinked before a faint, amused smile appeared on his lips. "So… Sir Kael knew my identity all along?"

  Kael tilted his head slightly, his faint smile deepening to reveal a small dimple at the corner of his lips. "I did."

  The evening air grew warmer with unspoken truths, shared glances, and the soft crackling of a fire that did little to mask the emotions unraveling at the table.

  The inn had grown quiet as the night deepened, with most of the envoys having retired to their rooms, bellies full and hearts eased after the long travel. Yet Killian remained, not within the walls of rest—but above them, on the inn’s rooftop, where the night wind gently tousled his hood and whispered through his cloak. He sat cross-legged, his gloved hand resting on the tiles beside him, and his oceanic-blue eyes fixed on the starlit sky.

  The silence allowed old memories to slip in uninvited—memories of Asael.

  That clumsiness… it hasn’t changed.

  His thoughts drifted to Kael’s earlier entrance in the dining hall—how he bumped his knee against the chair, how he hissed and called for Quirl and Quin with an endearing fluster, and how his long damp hair clung to his cheeks like dark silk. Killian's lips curled faintly into a melancholic smile.

  Asael would do that, too, he thought. The moment he was embarrassed or flustered, he'd lose awareness of his surroundings. Walk into pillars. Trip over flat ground. Gods... even once poured tea on a scroll because I praised his handwriting.

  He chuckled softly under his breath, the sound barely louder than the breeze. His hand moved instinctively toward the pendant he wore—stormy gray jade, smooth and warm from his body heat. His thumb brushed across it gently.

  Asael…

  He never got the chance to say those words. The feelings he had harbored had remained buried in duty, tangled in silence, smothered by time—and then it was too late. Asael was gone.

  Or so he thought.

  A flicker of motion caught his gaze from the corner of his eye. Down below in the garden yard, under the blooming tree where moonlight pooled like spilled milk, a familiar figure walked slowly toward the bench.

  Kael.

  He was without his cloak again, his pale form glowing faintly in the moonlight, a ghost-like presence of beauty and mystery. His wooden pole tapped lightly against the stone path before he rested it gently beside the bench and sat down with a sigh that carried the weight of something unseen. Killian’s heart tightened.

  You're always drawn to the night, aren’t you?Just like 'him'.

  Kael leaned back slightly, his loose white shirt softly billowing, and tilted his head upward as though trying to glimpse the sky through the cloth covering his eyes. His long black hair, tied into a ponytail, swayed gently behind him.

  Then he coughed—soft, but persistent.

  Killian’s brows knit. His fingers twitched at his side.

  He’s cold.

  His first instinct was to leap down, to drape his cloak over Kael’s shoulders like he used to do for Asael when the latter would forget his own well-being. He even stood up, preparing to do so—but he stopped.

  Because Kael lifted a hand and unconsciously touched his right ear.

  Killian’s breath hitched.

  That habit…

  It was subtle, something only someone who had observed Asael intimately would notice. Asael always touched his right ear when overwhelmed—when his emotions tangled too tight to unravel, or when he fought back tears.

  And now Kael was doing it.

  Killian stared down at the man below, torn between longing and disbelief, and the wall he’d kept around his heart cracked just a little more.

  At that moment, Kael turned his face slightly toward the rooftop. Though his eyes were covered, he seemed to know. Somehow, he felt that someone was watching.

  Kael raised his head and looked to the nothingness.

  That gentle smile—soft, wistful, innocent—stretched across his lips. A smile that stabbed straight through Killian's chest. The very almost same smile Asael gave him the day they parted.

  Killian’s hand clenched. Kael… or Asael… who are you truly? The thoughts was eating him.

  Below, Kael softly spoke into the quiet, not knowing if anyone was listening:

  “It’s peaceful tonight… though it feels like someone is waiting for me.”

  And Killian, still unseen, whispered back to the wind.

  “I’ve been waiting far too long.” Not knowing his words was somehow connected to Kael's.

  He didn’t know if Kael could hear it. But the wind carried his voice anyway.

  Killian remained on the rooftop, watching Kael as the night deepened, heart pounding with questions and echoes of a love that time had tried—and failed—to erase.

  Kael sat quietly beneath the blooming tree, the bench cradling his weight like an old friend. Moonlight filtered through the petals above, painting dappled shadows across his pale skin. The wooden pole leaned beside him, momentarily forgotten. He shifted slightly, his fingers grazing his right ear—slow, almost uncertain.

  His breath hitched.

  A tight knot twisted inside his chest.

  Why… why do I still do this?

  He stared up at the sky, though his eyes were covered. His other senses, dulled and unfocused, couldn’t quite pinpoint the presence watching from above. But still… something stirred.

  Someone’s watching… but I don’t feel threatened.

  Just… seen.

  With his even good senses in Kael's body, Asael can't sense a spiritual mana flowing in hidden.

  Kael touched his ear again, fingers trembling slightly. The movement wasn’t conscious—it was instinct, born of years long forgotten but not erased.

  His lips parted slightly as he exhaled, a shaky breath slipping out with a sigh.

  “How long… do I keep searching?” When Killian heard this he somehow realized that it was impossible Kael is Asael, because Kael was searching for someone from what he collected from Quirl words.

  His voice was a mere whisper, spoken into the night air that did not answer.

  The memories that haunted his nights returned—flashes like broken mirrors.

  A final moment.

  A gentle hand.

  That person desperate called through trembling lips.

  Who are you?

  That was what left his lips burned at the edges of his mind, sweet and cruel all at once. As Kael leaned back slightly and closed his eyes beneath the cloth, a memory surfaced: a rooftop, a breeze not unlike this, and a figure standing far behind him as he was about to leave.

  Rayne was there—silent, unreadable, but unmistakably… hurting.

  Kael no, Asael had smiled at him that day.

  A soft, resigned smile.

  The same smile that now curved his lips as he sat beneath the tree.

  “I smiled… because I didn’t want him to follow.”

  He winced at the thought, arms wrapping around his body as the cold breeze snuck past the thin fabric of his shirt. His long black hair, tied loosely, swayed gently against his back. He coughed again, the sound sharper this time, and pressed a hand to his chest.

  “I was so cruel… wasn't I?”

  His voice broke with the weight of his guilt.

  Back then, each time he looked into Rayne’s—Killian’s—eyes, he had pulled away just a bit more. Every time Ashen’s shadow loomed near, he distanced himself, thinking he was doing the right thing. Thinking he was protecting Rayne from a truth too heavy to bear.

  But all I did was abandon him.

  The memory of Rayne’s eyes—so blue they felt like an ocean swallowing him whole—haunted Kael even now. And now that he was Kael, not Asael, everything blurred like morning fog.

  Where do I even begin? What if… What if he never forgave me?

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He hugged himself tighter.

  His skin felt cold—too cold. His cough returned, weaker now, but more frequent. The breeze was gentle, but to his fragile body it felt like a thousand small knives dragging across his chest.

  Still, he didn’t want to leave this moment.

  “Rayne… if you’re out there, and you still remember me…” he whispered Rayne-Killian names quietly, pausing as he bit his lower lip, “then I hope you’re warm tonight.”

  A silence followed, where only the breeze answered, rustling the branches above and causing a single petal to drift down and land in his lap.

  Kael didn’t notice the silent figure on the rooftop watching him—Killian’s heart aching from every word unspoken.

  All Kael did was slowly lean back on the bench, resting his head against the bark of the blooming tree, his lips still holding the echo of that old, familiar smile—soft, longing, and full of everything left unsaid. A single tears unconsciously slipped down from his covered eyes that tied loosely early, still covered his eyes.

  The night air hung heavy with silence, laced with the soft rustle of leaves and the faint scent of blooming flowers. Killian remained still on the rooftop, half-shrouded in moonlight, his gaze locked on the figure below—the man seated alone on the bench beneath the flowering tree.

  Kael.

  His long black hair swayed gently in the breeze, tied loosely at the nape, shoulders slightly hunched as he stared up at the night sky. A wooden pole rested against the bench beside him, forgotten. Killian's sharp gaze softened the moment he noticed Kael’s hand lift and brush lightly over his right ear.

  A familiar gesture.

  It stole his breath again but making himself believe it was just coincidence as he closed his eyes for a brief second before opening them.

  "Asael..." the name pressed at the edge of his thoughts. That same habit. That same expression whenever overwhelmed—flustered, uncertain, distracted. Asael had done the same. Over and over. Even now, the memory surfaced, unbidden, of Asael sitting just like that under the palace tree—when they were younger, freer, before things unraveled.

  Killian's heart clenched.

  His ocean-blue eyes didn’t waver, watching as Kael wrapped his arms around himself, the breeze playing with the loose strands of his hair. A soft cough broke the silence, followed by a heavy sigh—exhausted, almost...lonely.

  Then, Kael whispered, voice barely a breath:

  "Where... Where should I start looking? The one who was with me... on that last day... before everything faded..."

  Killian’s breath hitched.

  But Kael’s voice didn’t rise. He didn't say the name aloud. The wind had carried parts of it, scattered the pieces.

  Kael tilted his face upward, veiled eyes seeming to find a presence despite not seeing any spiritual mana flow. He smiled faintly, so faintly it nearly disappeared into the gloom.

  That smile...

  Killian's heart ached.

  Then—a single tear.

  It slipped from the corner of Kael’s covered eye, glistening as it caught the moonlight. Killian’s chest tightened, inexplicably aching, drawn to the sight like gravity itself had shifted.

  And then—

  “Achoo—”

  A small, involuntary sneeze, followed by another dry cough.

  That was enough.

  Without another thought, Killian leapt from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the damp grass a few paces from the bench. Kael turned quickly, startled, rising shakily to his feet.

  “Y-Your Highness... what are you doing this late?” Kael asked, voice laced with surprise, but trembling slightly somehow afraid he heard what he says.

  Killian noticed. The hesitation. The weakness in his stance.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” Killian replied simply, walking toward him, his tone calm and unhurried. “The air helps clear the mind.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Killian removed his cloak and draped it gently over Kael’s shoulders. Kael stiffened under the sudden warmth and gesture.

  “You’ll catch a cold dressed like that,” Killian murmured.

  Kael hesitated before speaking, “Aren’t you worried someone might recognize you without your cloak, Your Highness?”

  Killian offered a small smile, a faint sniffle betraying his own chill. “It’s fine. I’ll be known by morning anyway.”

  And just like that, the night settled again.

  The two sat side by side on the wooden bench, the moonlight casting pale silver shadows around them. A quiet wind swept through the garden, rustling the branches above, petals from the blooming tree drifting lazily down.

  Surprisingly, the silence between them wasn’t heavy.

  It felt... comforting.

  Killian glanced sideways, then back to the sky, his voice low but sincere. “You know, Sir Kael... your clumsiness... it matches someone I once cared for deeply.”

  Kael’s breath hitched softly.

  He noticed. That specific habit.

  He remembered. Even he himself didn't notice his own habit.

  Inside the cloak, Kael’s fingers curled slightly.

  “Really?” he managed, tone quiet. “They must’ve meant a great deal to you... if you remembered something as small as their clumsiness.”

  Killian chuckled under his breath, making Kael a little surprised seeing Killian chuckled for the first time since they met at the Silverstone ground. “He was important to me. The most important.”

  Kael turned his head slightly toward Killian, though his eyes remained hidden.

  “...The most?” Kael echoed, almost breathless.

  Killian’s smile faltered, his gaze fixed far beyond the horizon.

  “Yes,” he said softly. “The only person close to me after my mother passed.”

  Kael felt a slow, aching pang in his chest.

  He could hear it—

  The grief beneath the calm.

  The longing tucked between each word.

  The tears Killian didn’t allow to fall, but which pooled quietly in his oceanic gaze.

  “I never knew... you were so alone after I left you.” An inner voice inside Kael's body.

  Kael's lips parted, wanting to say something—anything. To comfort him, to apologize, to confess. But the words tangled in his throat, buried under guilt and truth left unspoken.

  He looked down, feeling the warmth of the cloak Killian had wrapped around him—remembering how, once, long ago, Rayne had done the same when he was alive as Asael.

  Silence lingered again, but this time... it wasn’t lonely.

  It was shared.

  Kael leaned back slightly, letting the soft breeze caress his skin, and for the first time in a long while, let himself exist in that fleeting peace beside Killian.

  Not as Asael.

  Not as Kael.

  Just... someone who listened. And remembered. The few moment Kael sit together with Rayne aka Killian in some conversation, Kael, no, Asael didn't even remember when was the last time he had this kind of time with Rayne.

  Kael's lips parted.

  “Your Highness… I…”

  His voice was no louder than a breeze, fragile with hesitation, yet steeped in longing.

  But before he could utter another word, the sound of hurried footsteps cut through the night.

  “My Prince!”

  Killian turned instinctively, his relaxed expression instantly sharpening as a figure approached from the inn’s side entrance.

  It was Liu—the ever-loyal knight with his silver crest glinting under the moonlight. His face was tense but respectful as he offered a sharp bow before speaking.

  “A letter,” Liu said firmly. “Sealed with the insignia of HuaLian Kingdom. It was brought by falcon moments ago.”

  Kael stiffened beside Killian, his words swallowed by the interruption. Whatever courage he had been mustering collapsed like sand under water.

  Killian gave a small nod and stood, brushing imaginary dust from his attire. “I’ll see it right away.”

  He turned to Kael, who quickly lowered his face to hide the pain flickering across his features.

  “You should head in, Sir Kael,” Killian said gently. “You’re still recovering, and it’s far too cold tonight. Wouldn’t want you catching a fever.”

  Kael forced a smile, his voice steady despite the tremor beneath. “Yes, Your Highness. Thank you for the cloak.” This moment Liu just look between Killian and Kael without a word before he choose to keep quiet.

  Killian hesitated for a second as if he wanted to say something more—but instead, he simply offered a nod. His footsteps echoed lightly as he and Liu disappeared into the warm glow of the inn.

  The moment they vanished inside, Kael let out a trembling breath.

  The warmth that lingered in the cloak was fading.

  And so was the moment.

  He looked up at the starlit sky, as though searching for answers—or perhaps seeking the strength to bear the pain blooming inside his chest.

  Slowly, shakily, he raised both hands and tore the cloth from his eyes, letting it flutter to the grass at his feet. The bandage that once hid the truth was gone, and Kael was now bare to the night.

  The cool breeze touched his eyes like a whisper from a long-lost memory.

  “I was right here… right in front of you…” he whispered to himself, clutching the front of his shirt over his heart. The pain gnawed at him, deeper than anything he had felt since his death—because this was the pain of knowing how deeply he had been loved… and how blindly he had run from it.

  Kael lowered his head, fingers trembling as he gripped the edges of the cloak that now clung to him like a second skin.

  “Rayne… you’ve always loved me…”

  His voice cracked, the syllables barely holding together.

  “…And I never realized it. Not then… not until now…”

  A soft sob escaped him as he sank to his knees, then pulled himself up again using his wooden pole for balance. He didn’t return to the inn. He couldn’t.

  The emotions were too much—twisting like storms inside him. He needed to breathe. To run.

  With one last glance at the abandoned cloth, Kael slipped quietly toward the back of the inn and exited without a sound.

  No one saw him go.

  Not Quirl.

  Not Quin.

  Not Killian.

  He was a shadow in the moonlight, vanishing into the silence.

  Kael didn’t stop until his legs carried him to the edge of the forest—a forgotten little grove where children used to play. Now, it was quiet. Empty. A haven for the broken.

  He dropped to the grass, leaning back against a tree whose bark pressed cool and solid against him. The pole lay beside him, abandoned, as he wrapped his arms around his knees.

  The tears came slowly at first.

  Then, all at once.

  Years of buried sorrow, confusion, guilt, and yearning poured from him like a dam finally shattered. He cried not just for himself… but for Asael. For Killian. For the time they had lost.

  “I’m sorry…” he whispered into the night. “I’m sorry, Rayne…”

  He hugged his knees tighter, trembling.

  “I pushed you away… I thought it was to protect you… but I was just a coward…”

  The breeze brushed through the trees as if listening.

  “I should’ve listen to you. I should’ve… told you everything…”

  His voice broke again as he pressed his face into the hollow between his knees and chest. The moon above offered its quiet company, its light filtering through the trees like a lullaby for sorrow. Kael don't even realized his emotion was easily swayed when it come to Rayne aka Killian.

  And then—

  A faint shimmer glowed from Kael’s forehead.

  A mark. Delicate. Ancient. Left by Yunari’s divine touch.

  It pulsed faintly—one beat… two… like a response to the storm within him—before dimming and fading back into stillness.

  Kael didn’t notice.

  He was too lost in the ache of everything he'd ever left unsaid.

  Too consumed by the warmth that Killian had offered him, both then and now.

  Somewhere within a shrine where Yunari's reside, she sense the mark she left on Kael's was reacting to his emotion, which Yunari can feel the surge of emotion from Kael's.

  The Night Deepened

  Kael’s body trembled well into the late hours, his tears long dried against the skin of his cheeks. Yet his eyes refused rest. He curled tighter beneath the tree, knees pressed to his chest, arms around his legs. His cloak had slipped down his shoulders sometime during the early dawn chill, but he hadn’t the energy to pull it up again.

  The air was damp with the weight of dew. A few birds began to sing lightly as the horizon turned the faintest hue of rose.

  His thoughts were fragments—hazy and jumbled.

  "Killian... Rayne... always loved me?

  How long had he loved me?

  Why didn’t I see it… why didn't I ever….noticed?"

  His heart ached, and though the sobbing had long stopped, his chest still clenched from the effort of holding back.

  “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” he mumbled to no one, to everyone, to the universe—still curled like a child beneath the moon’s final kiss.

  And then, slowly sleep finally took him.

  At the Inn – Morning

  The sky was gold with early sun when Quin stirred from the shared room.

  He yawned, rubbing his eyes, then blinked at the empty bed beside Quirl.

  “Mm… Kael?” he murmured, sitting up fully. He stood and walked to Kael's bed, patting the empty bedding.

  A little confused, he turned to Quirl, who was just waking as well.

  “Maybe he’s already downstairs,” Quin said casually, slipping into his tunic.

  Quirl nodded, half-asleep. “Maybe.”

  But downstairs, the inn’s dining hall was already busy with a few early guests and sleepy-eyed merchants eating their breakfast. No Kael.

  They searched the tables.

  Nothing.

  They asked a server.

  She hadn’t seen him.

  Quin’s brow furrowed. “He’s not down here either.”

  Quirl’s smile slowly faded. “Wait... last night… Quin, did Kael follow you after we separated from the table?”

  Quin turned, alarm blooming. “Me? I thought he followed you!”

  Quirl’s eyes widened in realization. His voice trembled, almost breaking. “No. He didn’t. I—I thought he was with you…” Both of them fell into silence.

  Then they rushed around the inn.

  No Kael.

  They asked the cook, the merchant’s daughter, the foreign guest in the back room.

  No one had seen the boy with long black hair tied loosely behind and the ever-worn cloth over his eyes.

  Quin’s breath caught as panic began clawing at his chest. “He wouldn’t just leave… not like this…”

  Then, from the stairs, Serenn descended—rubbing his eyes and stretching until he caught the distressed looks on the two mens’ faces.

  “What’s going on?”

  Quin turned swiftly. “Sir Serenn! We… we can’t find Kael. He’s not in the room or down here, and no one’s seen him.”

  Serenn blinked.

  Once. Twice.

  Then his expression dropped, eyes widening, remembering.

  “He didn’t take his medicine since yesterday night, and today,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone.

  Without wasting another breath, Serenn turned sharply and strode toward the entrance. “Dareth! Jornas! Mikel!”

  The three soldiers were still finishing their morning tea when Serenn’s voice snapped them to attention.

  “He’s gone—Sir Kael’s missing. We need to find him immediately. He’s in no condition to be wandering alone, not like this.”

  “Aye, understood!” said Dareth, grabbing his spear.

  Jornas and Mikel nodded in unison, the three of them scattering to check the inn’s perimeter and surrounding areas.

  Moments later, Dareth returned—his face grim.

  In his hand, he held something limp. Familiar.

  A piece of cloth—soft, grey, and slightly frayed at the edges.

  Quirl’s eyes widened and he instinctively stepped forward, trembling hands reaching.

  “That’s… that’s Kael’s…”

  He took it in his hands, holding it like it was made of glass.

  “No,” he whispered. “Please… not like this.” All thoughts crosses his mind.

  Quin was speaking to the innkeeper, describing Kael’s pale features, his slight frame, his quiet demeanor. The innkeeper shook his head sadly, and a few guests offered only shrugs.

  “I don’t like this, Quirl,” Quin said softly. “What if… something happened?”

  Quirl couldn’t speak—his throat closed. Worried.

  Serenn pressed a hand to his brow, frustration and worry mounting. “The capital’s too big to search blindly. We need a trail.”

  Just then, one of the market stallholders who was coincidently was inside the inn who was a guest of the inn owner friends—an elderly woman selling herbs—stepped forward.

  “I did see someone with long black hair heading toward the eastern edge, before dawn. Looked tired. Didn't see his face clearly, though. Oh, I think that person was holding a wooden pole with ornaments attached to it.”

  Hearing this, Quirl and Quin exchange looks before rushed outside the inn to the direction the market stallholders tell them.

  Without wasting time, the group headed in that direction—only to find nothing. No footprints, no cloak, no trail. Just trees and streets and more worry.

  Meanwhile – Somewhere in the Capital's Edge

  Kael stirred at last, eyes slowly blinking open against the dappled morning light filtering through the leaves. He winced, his lashes damp, his eyes sore from crying. The forest birds chirped nearby, and he rubbed his temple, still curled against the tree’s roots.

  It’s morning… already?

  He exhaled softly, voice hoarse.

  His head rested against his knee, his arms hugging his legs once more.

  The world was peaceful around him—but inside, his thoughts still churned. Memories, warmth, the whisper of Killian’s voice calling him “Kael” with that gentleness that broke him.

  He stared upward, the clouds drifting slowly above. The sky had turned soft blue. And just nearby, he heard the laughter of children playing.

  Kael looked at them quietly.

  He didn’t smile.

  But something in their joy steadied him, just a little.

  He stayed there, under the tree, with his pain and his silence, watching the sky.

  Back at the Inn – Noon Approaches

  Inside the inn, the atmosphere was heavy.

  Quin sat by the window, eyes scanning the road again and again.

  Quirl was pacing.

  Serenn spoke to a guard outside about expanding the search.

  The door creaked open.

  Liu entered, brushing dust from his shoulders.

  “I’ve delivered His Highness’s message to the minister,” Liu said. “What’s with all the tension in here?”

  Everyone looked up.

  Serenn approached quickly. “Sir Liu… Sir Kael is missing.”

  Liu’s calm face shifted subtly. “Missing?”

  “He hasn’t returned since last night,” Serenn confirmed. “He was last seen with His Highness outside the inn.”

  Before Liu could speak again, the inn door opened once more.

  Killian entered.

  He looked every bit the composed royal—until he noticed the tense stares and Quin hiding something behind his back.

  Killian’s voice was cool, but curious. “Why do you all look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

  The group bowed slightly. “Your Highness,” they greeted.

  Killian looked around.

  Then “Who’s missing?” Then look toward Liu's.

  Liu glanced at the cloth in Quin’s grip.

  Killian’s gaze followed—landing on the soft grey fabric.

  His breath caught.

  That cloth.

  It had always been with Kael.

  “What do you mean missing?” Killian asked again, his voice no longer calm.

  “He was with you last night,” Liu said, confused. “Before the letter from HuaLian arrived.”

  Killian's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked to Quirl.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness,” Quirl said quickly, bowing deeply. “But Kael never returned to our shared room last night. We only realized it this morning. We've searched the inn, questioned everyone—we can't find him.”

  Quin added in a soft voice, “We’re really worried. He’s… he’s not well.”

  Serenn gave a solemn nod. “His body’s still recovering. He hasn’t taken the medicine since yesterday. His condition—”

  “I understand,” Killian said suddenly, voice like steel wrapped in velvet.

  He turned to Liu, his ocean-blue eyes commanding.

  “Summon the city watch. Request the assistance of the kingdom’s elite scouts. I want a search party deployed to every corner of the capital immediately.”

  Liu bowed. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Quirl and Quin was stunned by Rayne aka Killian orders.

  Killian turned back toward the door.

  His hand curled tightly, heart pounding. He felt something he hadn’t felt in years—fear.

  "Kael…be safe."

  To be continued...>O<

  *Authors Note - Poor Kael... :)