The bustling city was called Camilo. Its streets were wide, the buildings stood in dense rows, and the calls of merchants rose and fell like waves. People hurried by, their eyes sharp and quick, carrying a worldliness and prosperity that felt entirely different from a rural town.
Noah held Anya's hand as they made their way through the crowd. His movements, as always, were smooth and natural, but now he was more restrained. He no longer spoke in public, nor did he reveal any overly human emotions. He was just a puppet—a finely crafted puppet under perfect control. At least, that was how it appeared.
"Noah, watch your knees," Anya whispered softly, her fingers lifting slightly as she mimicked the motion of pulling strings. She helped him spin in place. "That was too natural. People will start to wonder."
Noah nodded. His gaze drifted across her face and settled on a single strand of hair damp with sweat. In a quiet voice, he said, "I kind of miss the flower you wore last time."
Anya blinked, then blushed. She looked down and smiled to herself. From behind him, she murmured, "Then I'll wear it again tonight."
Their performance was set in the city's entertainment quarter, located near the outskirts. It was a place where performers, acrobats, and street singers gathered. Though it lacked the splendor of the noble theaters in the city center, it drew the largest crowds.
To ensure everything went smoothly, they arrived early to prepare. Anya adjusted the props backstage and helped Noah into his new costume—a navy blue robe trimmed with silver, its cuffs embroidered with delicate wind patterns. A small feathered cap completed the look. She walked around him to smooth the collar, then said, "Tonight, it's the tale of the knight and the maiden. You're the brave knight, and I'm the girl trapped in the tower by an evil dragon."
"You always play the maiden so well," Noah said softly.
Anya pretended not to hear him. She turned away to adjust the curtain, hiding the flush creeping up her ears.
By dusk, a crowd had already gathered around the stage. As the show began, Noah moved precisely as if pulled by invisible strings. At times he appeared comical, at times clumsy, yet his flow remained seamless. He leaped into the air and landed on one knee, brandishing his sword toward the "tower"—a set piece on the left side of the stage, where Anya peeked out from behind the backdrop.
The audience burst into applause and laughter.
"He moves just like a real person. That puppet's amazing!"
"Do you think she's using a machine? There's no way a puppet can do that on its own!"
Noah stood in the spotlight. Behind him, Anya's silhouette looked like that of a puppeteer guiding his every move. From a distance, they truly resembled a performer and her marionette.
Under the shade of a tree farther away, a young man in a hunting cloak brought his horse to a stop. His gaze fixed on Noah and Anya, filled with astonishment, confusion, and something more complex.
It was Prince Laian.
He had been hunting in the countryside when the noise from the crowd caught his attention. At first, he planned to ride away, uninterested. But the moment he saw the puppet on stage, he froze.
That was no ordinary puppet. It had a soul.
He had seen countless puppet masters—some with great skill, others who used clever mechanisms—but never before had he witnessed a gaze like that. It was unmistakably human. Especially when that puppet looked at the girl.
Laian's fingers curled slightly. He knew that if he could present this puppet to the king, it would be a marvel unlike any other. Yet he wasn't foolish. He could sense something deeper between them. That puppet cared for the girl.
He stood still, watching the rest of the performance. At the end, he saw Anya walk quietly to Noah's side and gently pat his shoulder.
"You were wonderful," she said with a bright smile. "We can get extra fruit tonight."
Noah dipped his head slightly, his eyes soft with affection.
The prince frowned. For the first time, he hesitated.
Force would never work. If the puppet refused to cooperate, he would be nothing more than lifeless wood. Laian needed him to obey willingly.
His gaze darkened. He gave his horse a nudge and turned away. The fading sun stained his golden hair with a shade of red. His shadow stretched long behind him as he disappeared into the edges of the city.
After the performance, Anya held a basket in one arm and Noah's hand in the other. They walked together into the forest to pick fruit. The evening air was cool and carried the scents of grass and ripening berries.
They chatted and laughed. Noah even tried to mimic her dancing. Though his movements were still stiff, Anya laughed so hard she nearly doubled over.
"Were you human once?" she asked suddenly.
Noah paused. "I don't know," he said at last. "But if I ever was, I think I was meant to be yours."
Anya lowered her gaze, too shy to reply.
Neither of them knew that someone was watching from the shadows.
High in the treetops, the prince sat quietly, his expression unreadable. Now he understood that he wanted more than just the puppet.
He wanted the girl's heart.
Only then would the puppet follow him, willingly and without resistance. She was just a girl, after all. How hard could it be? He had power, wealth, and charm. He could give her anything she desired.
All it would take was a little planning.
The prince smiled to himself. In his eyes, a cold glint of calculation began to shine.