The breeze carried a soft warmth as I leaned against the balcony railing, a steaming cup of coffee nestled between my palms. Morning sunlight spilled over the fields beyond, golden and gentle, and the air was crisp with a new day's promise. It was nearly 9 a.m.—I was getting better at waking up early now. Strange, considering how chaotic everything had been. Yesterday marked the end of our final game, the last promise we had made to each other inside that merciless cycle. And now… it was over.
Or at least, 'that' part was.
The silence felt unfamiliar. Almost eerie. The stillness wasn't empty—it was just full of things I almost wasn't used to: quiet skies, birdsong, the smell of brewed coffee instead of blood or fog. I took a sip. Bitter warmth steadied my thoughts.
Kei. I wondered if she was okay.
Then again, if I made it out, worrying about Kei was pointless. She always survived. Always found a way , even when the world was crumbling around her . No one wore resilience the way she did.
I heard soft footsteps behind me before I heard her voice.
"Hey," Inaya said quietly.
I turned to see her, breath slightly uneven, her clothes clinging to her from sweat. "Hi. You're still training?" I asked, half-smiling. "What's with the sweat?"
She stretched out her shoulders. "Isn't it obvious? This is just the beginning. I'm not planning on relaxing while there's more to learn. Celestina's helping me control these powers—I'm not wasting that chance."
"Wait… Cel's here?" I blinked. "I thought she wouldn't be around for a few more days."
"She's busy with the palace reconstruction, but she's still here." Inaya glanced toward the horizon. "I think she's doing more than building, though. She said the palace will be bigger. A new start. And some new members will be joining too… We're fewer now."
I nodded slowly. "I see…"
A wind rolled over the balcony, ruffling the trees and catching our silence like it was something sacred. I didn't know what came next. But for now, this calm… this moment—it felt real.
And that was enough.
I looked up at the vast sky, the clouds drifting lazily across the blue canvas above us. Then, almost on a whim, I turned to Inaya and asked, "Inaya..."
She glanced at me, curious. "What is it?"
I hesitated for a moment, then the question slipped out, sudden and unplanned. "If there was a symbol that could describe you… what would it be?"
Inaya sighed softly, as if searching deep within herself. After a thoughtful pause, she said, 'Daisies under a deep blue ocean."
I blinked, caught off guard. "Daisies? Under the ocean? I'm usually good with these things, but that one's… mysterious. What does it mean?"
She smiled, a quiet challenge in her eyes. "Try figuring it out yourself."
Then she turned the question back to me. "What about you?"
Without much thought, I answered, "The sky before the rain… That's how I see myself. Though, I don't even know if that's right."
Inaya's smile softened, and she said gently, "Only you truly know yourself, Shin. If from the depths of your heart you see yourself that way, then maybe... that's exactly who you are."
The scene shifted as Inaya and I stepped onto the bustling mainland of Dagahra, cloaked in the familiar black fabric that seemed to swallow us into the crowd. The market stretched before us—a vibrant tapestry of colors, scents, and sounds that felt like stepping into the pages of a living historical novel.
We were low on supplies, so food was our mission. Earlier, as we stood on the balcony, Celestina had instructed us to come here, though this time she hadn't sent Sergio along. She said I knew the place well enough already, and Inaya was making her first visit.
"This feels like we've stepped into a storybook," Inaya murmured, her eyes wide as she took in the stalls bursting with exotic spices, woven fabrics, and fresh produce.
I smiled, the memory fresh. "Yeah, when I came here the first time, I was just as amazed. It's like a blend of Japanese, Chinese, and British historical charm all tangled together."
The market's lively chatter wrapped around us, a strange but comforting reminder that even in worlds so strange, some things—like the hum of life in a market—remained timeless.
The bell above the jewelry shop door gave a soft chime as Inaya stepped inside, her cloak brushing lightly against the wooden frame. The shop was dimly lit but shimmered with the golden glow of hanging ornaments and precious stones. She leaned in to examine a delicate silver chain when the sudden commotion from just outside shattered the calm.
From the fish shop beside us came the harsh sounds of shouting — then the thud of fists meeting flesh. I turned my head sharply and saw 'royal guards', dressed not in the standard navy or black uniforms, but in deep violet cloaks embroidered with silver. They dragged the fish salesman out by the collar, throwing him onto the ground as his wife and two small children cried and clung to his clothes.
The guards did not flinch. One kicked the man in the ribs. Another raised a rod. The beating was relentless.
Inaya's voice was barely above a whisper, though heavy with confusion.
"Who are they? They're wearing such extraordinary clothes… Are they royalty? But I thought they wore black or navy…"
The old jewelry salesman barely looked up from his counter.
"They're the royal guards of the King's older sister," he said flatly.
I stepped forward, my voice quiet but firm.
"Why are they beating him?"
The man hesitated, then sighed as if the air itself weighed him down.
"He owes money."
"How much?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.
"A lot… but it's not just that," the jeweler said, finally meeting my eyes. "Each month, we pay twice — once to the King, and again to his sister. If someone can't pay, the price isn't just gold. Their children might be taken… or their wives. Whatever they value most. That's what they come for."
Inaya said claimly
"That's barbaric. Has it always been like this?"
The man shook his head.
"No. There's no such law in the royal code. This is her doing. The King's older sister made her own rules — rules enforced by her own soldiers."
Inaya's voice was sharp now, defiant.
"Then why endure it? If all of you stood up—if you resisted together—wouldn't it be easier to fight back?"
The man stiffened. His eyes narrowed.
"You don't understand, ma'am. People have tried. Brave ones. But they were burned alive in the square—burned while we watched. And still, somehow, the King never hears any of it. The sister controls what reaches his ears."
He turned away, clearly unwilling to say more.
"I don't want trouble. If you're buying, buy. If not, leave."
Inaya gripped my hand and pulled me aside, her voice low, her eyes scanning the market.
"I think everyone—except maybe the King—is part of this. Or else how could something this big stay hidden from him?"
I stared at the crying family outside — the man still on the ground, the wife shielding her children with trembling arms.
"Maybe… but what can we do, Inaya? We're outsiders. We can't stop them. But standing here and watching—" My voice broke. "It's unbearable."
And it truly was. The cries didn't just echo in the street — they followed me into my bones.
Inaya's eyes flickered with a quiet storm as she watched the scene unfold — her gaze calm but piercing, taking in every detail without a sound. She didn't rush to intervene, but the weight of injustice settled deep within her.
I felt her grip tighten on my hand, a silent signal — not panic, but a readiness, a resolve beneath that composed exterior.
The marketplace buzzed around us, but here, in this moment, the noise dulled. The cries, the brutality — they weren't just background. They were a call, and Inaya was listening.
"What do we do now?" I whispered, not expecting an answer. But her eyes met mine, steady and unreadable, and with a slight nod, I knew she was already planning the next step.
"We do nothing, Shin." Inaya's voice was soft, but there was a quiet steel beneath it as she gently squeezed my hand. The touch steadied me, grounding my restless thoughts.
"But—" I started, the weight of injustice burning in my chest.
She cut me off before I could finish. "We can't be a part of this, Shin. We need to buy our food and get out of here. Listen carefully, no matter what happens, you have to remind yourself every second: 'Whatever they do is their business, not ours.' Will you do that?"
Her eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, calm yet mysterious, as if she was reading my soul.
"But don't you feel bad for them?" I whispered, the ache in my voice impossible to hide.
Inaya's expression softened just slightly, but her resolve didn't waver. "Look, Shin, we can't do anything right now. We aren't civilians here — we can't help them ourselves."
"So, what are you planning?" I pressed.
"We'll leave after buying what we need. Then, we'll meet Sergio. We'll tell him everything — every detail we've seen, everything we've learned here."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Okay."
We moved quickly through the market, buying our supplies with heavy hearts, then returned directly to the kitchen. As we helped Uncle Zeno place the bags down, a sudden presence froze me in place.
"Kei—" My voice faltered. My heart pounded violently. I couldn't move. Time seemed to stop.
The air hung heavy between us, charged with unspoken fears and questions. Whatever awaited ahead, one thing was certain — nothing would ever be the same again.