Astra narrowed her eyes, studying him like he was some half-solved puzzle come to life. "You… sent guards after me?"
Daita didn't reply. His gaze shifted to the side, jaw tense. A flicker of realisation passed over his face before he masked it.
Before Astra could press further, a familiar voice rang out from the corridor behind them.
"Astra? You're up? Who are you talking to?"
They both turned sharply.
Kaen was approaching, his hair catching the morning light as he climbed the last steps onto the terrace. Calm, composed eyes sweeping over the scene like he already suspected more than he let on. Astra immediately bounded toward him, lifting her arm with wide eyes. "Look! My wound's completely gone. There's not even a scar left!"
Kaen blinked, inspecting it. His gaze slid from Astra's arm to the man standing beside them. He gave a subtle nod.
Daita stepped forward with an effortless calm, hands behind his back. "Good to see you again."
Kaen returned a polite smile. "And you as well, Seventh Prince."
Astra's jaw hit the floor. "Wait—what?" She whipped her head toward Daita, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "Prince?! You—You told me you were just a palace guard!"
Daita didn't even flinch. He kept his gaze on Kaen, ignoring Astra entirely.
"Please," he said, voice smooth and calm. "Call me Daita. I prefer it. Titles are just noise."
Astra blinked, completely thrown. "Noise? You're a prince?!"
Still ignoring her, Daita casually adjusted the edge of his sleeve and gave Kaen a knowing glance. "She's quite expressive in the mornings, isn't she?"
Kaen stifled a laugh, his lips twitching as he gave a small shrug. "She always is."
Astra's jaw dropped further. "Kaen?! You're laughing?!"
Kaen quickly straightened his expression. "No—it's not like that."
Daita finally turned to Astra, a faint smirk curling at the corner of his lips. She scowled, clearly flustered, then bowed stiffly and muttered, "Your Highness," before hurrying off, her face burning.
But just as she turned the corner, the air trembled with a resonant chime.
Dong.
Astra froze mid-step, her breath catching as the deep, sonorous bell echoed through the courtyard.
Around her, every movement ceased. Street vendors halted mid-call, servants paused mid-task, and birds briefly stilled in the trees overhead.
Dong.
Heads bowed. Hands clasped together. Eyes fluttered shut—not in fear, but reverence.
A hush fell over the world.
Dong.
The sound rippled through stone and sky alike, like the pulse of something ancient awakening.
Even Daita and Kaen, mid-conversation, stopped in perfect sync like something older than habit, woven into their very bones.
Dong.
Their voices rose together, soft but certain, their voices overlapping,
"The Fourth Bloom… dedicated to the God of Knowledge."
A breeze passed, Then came the cheers erupted from nearby residents people who had paused their routines. Hands came together in prayer. A few even knelt, murmuring praises. Not wild, but full of heart. People around them began to smile, raise their faces to the sky, and whisper prayers—some asking for clarity, others for inspiration, and some just for the strength to understand.
Daita's fingers slipped into his robes, pulling out a gleaming gold coin.
Without a word, he flicked it into the air.
It spun like a falling star, cutting upward with such force it pierced clean through a tile on the rooftop—vanishing into the bright morning light above.
Daita's eyes closed, his breath steadying.
Kaen watched him silently for a moment before breaking the quiet.
"Did you wish for wisdom… clarity, strength, maybe the courage to face what's lost? Or…"
A pause.
"…Or did you ask to forget something even wisdom can't make sense of?"
He let the question linger in the air, his voice barely a whisper. Daita's eyes snapped open, but the faint glint that had once flickered there was gone.
His words slipped out, low and unguarded. "I only asked the heavens to bless her… to give her soul a chance to be born again."
Kaen's gaze sharpened instantly. He caught the subtle dilation of Daita's pupils, the way his breath hitched—as if he, too, had just realized the weight of what he'd said.
Daita flinched. Color drained from his face. And without another word, he turned and walked away in silence, footsteps light but heavy with something unsaid.
Left alone, Kaen stood still for a long moment, He muttered to himself, voice low and shaken.
"…I didn't expect him to ask for that." He looked down at his own hand, the one still faintly trembling. "Daita… how can you ask the heavens to grant a wish that can't be fulfilled?" His voice broke a little.
"She's not dead." His eyes narrowed, grief deepening into something tangled and painful. "Her soul is still alive… trapped in the body of a man." He exhaled sharply, as if confessing it made it harder to bear. "She's pretending to be someone else… but I see her. Every single day—behind this fake face that isn't truly mine."
The grand chamber was silent, save for the soft flicker of torchlight dancing across the towering walls. At the far end, beneath a drape of moonlight spilling through the lattice windows, stood the Emperor.
Before him stretched a colossal painting weathered but protected with care. It depicted four figures, a girl with eyes full of fire and spirit, a small boy clutching her fingers, and two others cloaked in shadows. But it was the girl his trembling hand reached for.
His fingers grazed her painted face, as if touch alone could bridge time and truth. His voice broke into the stillness, rough and hoarse.
"My precious one… just where are you?" His eyes, bloodshot and rimmed with grief, shimmered beneath the weight of years. "I've searched the entire kingdom. Every mountain, every border. I've turned palaces to ruins and called back blades from war… but still, no trace of you."
He leaned closer to the canvas, his forehead nearly touching it.
"They keep telling me to let go. That you're gone. But how can I accept that?" His breath shook. "I can't. I won't. Not until I see it with my own eyes. Not until I hear you say it yourself…"
His gaze dropped to the painted boy small, smiling, unaware of the years of pain to come.
"If not for me… come back for him."
The emperor's hand fell to his side, trembling. His voice grew softer, barely a whisper beneath the weight of memory. "He couldn't bear to leave your side—not even for a moment. You were his whole world."
His jaw tightened as his gaze lingered on the image of the small boy holding her fingers, frozen forever in time. He stepped back slowly, the ache in his chest too heavy to hide.
"Come back… This palace is still waiting for its princess to return."