The sunlight over the palace courtyard poured down as always, warm and golden on the marble tiles, yet none of it reached Noah's eyes.
He stood at the center of the grand platform, preparing for another performance. This one was meant to be the highlight of the kingdom's annual celebration. The king sat below with an eager expression, surrounded by whispering nobles. Noah lifted his head and saw Anya seated among the honored guests. She wore a gown embroidered with gold thread, her hair arranged into an elegant knot, her face touched with light makeup and a subtle smile on her lips. Her gaze fell on him—not with the warmth it once held, but with a quiet, distant expectation.
Something pricked within Noah's chest, sharp and cold.
He lowered his head, adjusted his posture, and the performance began.
His movements were fluid, precise, and expressive, just as they always were. Then came the final leap, the most difficult moment of the dance. He launched into the air—and just as he landed, he heard a faint, brittle snap.
A crack.
His right leg had broken.
He failed to steady himself and collapsed hard onto the stage. A murmur of alarm rippled through the audience. Laian frowned. The king's expression darkened.
"What happened?" the king asked sharply.
Laian stepped forward at once and bowed. "It must be a mechanical fault, Father. I'll have it repaired immediately."
The king snorted. "Unseemly."
He turned away, no longer interested.
——
Several days later.
Noah sat quietly in the corner of a workroom. His leg had been repaired, though it no longer moved as it once did. There was a stiffness in every motion. He had not practiced since the fall. Instead, he stared at the freshly mended joint of his right leg. The cracks in the wood remained like scars that refused to fade.
The door suddenly creaked open.
Laian stepped in, his face twisted with rage.
"This is how you repay me?" he stormed forward and looked down at Noah. "I gave you a chance, and you embarrassed me before the entire court?"
Noah tried to speak, to explain, but Laian kicked him hard before he could utter a word. The blow sent him crashing against a crate, the impact dull and heavy.
"Useless." Laian spat the word. "I had your leg fixed, and this is all you can manage?"
He yanked the whip from his belt. The sound of it lashing through the air cracked like thunder.
"You think you're something more? You're just a puppet!" Another lash. "If you're broken, you should be thrown away!"
As if the whipping was not enough, Laian kicked him again, this time shattering the same leg that had just been repaired. Noah crumpled, unmoving.
"Get out of here," Laian said in disgust, dropping the whip. "Don't contaminate my space."
He walked out without a backward glance.
Noah lay curled on the ground, eyes open. He felt no pain—he never did—but some things hurt far more than broken wood.
Humiliation. Regret. Grief. A loneliness so deep it felt carved into his very form.
——
The guards dragged Noah out and tossed him away like refuse.
He crawled across the cold stone toward the castle gates. He wanted to see Anya. Just once. Even if only from afar.
He didn't wait long.
The doors opened again—not for her smile, but for her broken silhouette.
Gone were the lavish gowns and the glittering jewels. She now wore coarse linen. The rouge on her face had long since smeared. She was shoved out by Laian's attendants and stumbled to her knees. But she scrambled up quickly and ran forward, screaming,
"Laian! Laian! Why are you doing this? Didn't you say you loved me?"
Laian stood atop the stairs, his voice icy. "I never loved you. You were just a means to an end. Now that the puppet is useless, so are you. Throw her out as well."
The grand doors slammed shut behind her. The guards shoved her hard. She fell onto the stone steps, her voice hoarse as she continued to cry out until it faded into silence.
Noah inched forward, dragging his broken leg, each movement scraping against the ground.
He could no longer run. Only crawl.
"Anya…" he whispered.
She turned at the sound of his voice.
At first, her eyes widened with surprise. But the next second, they filled with fury.
"Why is it you?" she hissed. "Why are you still here?"
Noah stopped just in front of her and reached out a hand.
"Why are you so useless?!"
She slapped his hand away.
"You said you'd make me happy! You said I'd live in a grand house, with servants and beautiful dresses! And now look what's happened. You made me lose everything!"
She lunged forward and kicked him hard. His body tumbled across the ground, the sound of splintering wood trailing behind him.
"Liar! You liar!" she sobbed, her voice raw.
Noah lay on his back, staring up at the ashen sky. His mouth opened, as if to say something, but no words came out.
At last, he understood.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how deeply he loved her, he was still only a puppet.
She had only ever cared for what he could offer. Now that he had nothing left to give, she no longer saw him at all.
He could not cry. He had no heart to break. And yet, he felt as if something within him had been torn apart, slowly and completely.
Just then, the crystal necklace on his chest began to glow with a faint blue light.
A wave of dizziness overtook him. He closed his eyes and sank into darkness.
——
In a quiet art gallery in New York, sunlight streamed through tall glass windows, casting golden reflections on the polished floor.
A young woman stood before a glass case, gazing at a beautifully crafted wooden puppet. A soft smile touched her lips.
Behind her stood an easel with a freshly completed painting. It depicted a sorrowful puppet curled in the darkness, surrounded by fragments of shattered starlight.
Realm of the Puppet — End.