Princess closed the door behind her without a sound.
No slam.
No anger.
No royal temper.
Just… silence.
The latch clicked, and her shoulders sank immediately–as if the weight she had been carrying for hours finally slipped.
She stood still for a few breaths.
Then exhaled long, tired, unsteady.
"…Tch."
She walked to the table and sat heavily. The candle's flame wavered, throwing uneven warmth over her hands.
They were trembling.
She stared at them, eyes narrowing in irritation at her own weakness.
"So even my hands betray me now," she muttered to herself.
Her mind replayed everything.
Her harsh tone.
Her threat to Kiaria.
Her stubborn attempt at looking strong.
Her belief she was protecting Diala.
But the memory of Diala's tears cut through all of that–sharper than guilt, deeper than regret.
Not tears of fear.
Not tears of frailty.
But tears born from a quiet loneliness–one Princess had been too blind to see.
"…Idiot," she whispered.
She didn't know whom she meant.
It could've been Kiaria.
It could've been Diala.
It could've been herself.
She lowered her gaze. For the first time since meeting them, something unfamiliar tightened inside her chest.
Powerlessness.
Not the kind faced in battlefields.
Not the kind rulers feel toward politics.
But the kind that comes when someone dear hurts–and you realize you were the cause.
"…She wasn't crying because she was weak," Princess said in a breaking whisper.
"She was crying because she didn't want to disappear."
Her fingers curled into her sleeve–trying to hide how much her heart trembled.
"Where… did I go wrong…?"
A crack ran through her pride.
"How am I supposed to face them now…?"
The candle flickered gently, as if answering with silent reproach.
In Kiaria's room, he didn't tighten his arms around Diala immediately.
He let her cry.
Not out of hesitation–
but because he knew the kind of ache that needed space to spill out before comfort could reach it.
Her fists pressed weakly against his chest.
"I'm tired of being the one who always needs saving…" she whispered, voice shaking.
"Tired of standing behind… tired of being carried… tired of being the reason you both hesitate…"
Her breath caught.
"Every time danger comes… I see the fear in your eyes. Not for yourselves. For me. And that frightens me more than the danger."
Kiaria's fingers slid softly through her hair.
Not controlling.
Not containing.
Just grounding her.
"You think needing protection means you're useless," he said softly.
"But Dia, that's not why we protect you."
She squeezed her eyes shut.
"You don't understand… If I fall behind… you'll move forward. And then I'll be nothing but guilt–someone you both failed to save."
That single sentence pierced him.
He gently lifted her chin, forcing her trembling gaze to meet his.
Her eyes weren't crying because she was scared.
They were crying because she wanted to belong.
"Kia… I don't want to be left behind."
Kiaria leaned forward until their foreheads touched.
"Dia… do you remember how I was when we first met?"
A faint smile touched his lips.
"I was a boy who only knew fists and cultivation. I didn't understand anything beyond strength. My world was dry, harsh, empty."
He brushed her tears away gently.
"You showed me another side of the world. And another side of myself."
He held her closer, voice low and steady.
"You were never a burden. Not once. Not ever. You are part of the reason I anchor myself."
Diala's breath trembled.
Kiaria spoke again, softer.
"And Big Sister… she's harsh because she grew in a world where softness meant death. What she admires most in you… is what she never had."
He exhaled deeply.
"She's afraid of losing that light in you. That's why she reacts strongly."
Diala's tears finally began to quiet.
Kiaria hugged her fully now.
"Dia… forgive us. We didn't mean to crush your heart."
In the adjacent room, Princess covered her mouth as she listened–her eyes filling faster than she allowed herself to admit.
Diala clung to Kiaria's robe like a child clinging to home.
When her breathing eased, Kiaria whispered:
"Sleep. When you wake, leave today behind."
"Mmm…" she nodded softly, eyes heavy.
"…Can you… stay with me?"
"Of course."
Sleep claimed her quickly.
Minutes passed.
Then–
Knock. Knock.
Kiaria opened the door slightly.
Princess stood there, expression small–so unlike her usual commanding presence.
"…Can I stay here… for a while?" she asked, voice barely above a whisper.
"Come in, Big Sister."
She stepped inside slowly, fingers clenched nervously.
"I heard your words. All of them," she said, eyes lowered. "I… shouldn't have spoken so harshly."
"There's no need for apologies between us," Kiaria said gently. "I understand."
Princess walked to the other side of the bed and sat down.
"…Can I be with her?" she asked.
There was no arrogance. No royal tone. Only sincerity.
Kiaria nodded.
She lay beside Diala and pulled her into a soft embrace.
"Little girl…" she whispered, voice breaking. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you."
A few silent tears fell onto Diala's hair.
Diala didn't wake.
Kiaria watched them silently from the chair until his own eyes eventually closed.
Hours later–
"AAAH!"
Diala jerked awake, shoving Princess in panic.
"Kiaria! The Spider–!"
Princess shot up. Kiaria nearly fell off the chair in surprise.
He laughed first. Loudly.
Diala blinked. "B-Big Sister? Why are you in my bed?!"
Princess stiffened. "Ahem. Nothing. And… I'm sorry for earlier."
"Sister… don't say that," Diala whispered. "I should be the one to apologize."
Princess's lips trembled into a small smile.
Kiaria cut in.
"We'll talk later. For now… Cemetery Island."
Princess exhaled.
"So you really intend to go through with it."
"What else?" Kiaria replied.
Princess shook her head.
"Don't warn the others. They won't listen. They'll just become worse."
Kiaria frowned.
"They still have their reasons."
"And that's why they're dangerous," she countered.
His silence said she was right.
"Then I'll test them," he said finally.
"With what?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
Kiaria's gaze didn't waver.
"Evil Spider's domain."
Both women froze.
Diala's fingers tightened unconsciously around the edge of the blanket. Princess's expression darkened, all traces of lazy humor wiped clean.
"You're insane," Princess muttered at last. "You saw what it did to an entire tribe."
Kiaria met her eyes steadily. "That was a Emperor Realm Mythic Spider at full strength. I won't give them that. I'll borrow only the domain's essence."
Princess's jaw clenched. "And what do you expect them to survive inside it?"
Kiaria's voice lowered, calm but unyielding.
"If they can't hold themselves in front of the Evil Spider's soul whispers–the cries of cruelly tormented dead–and if their minds collapse the moment its puppeteer ability brushes their spirits… then they can't step onto Cemetery Island at all. That place is worse than any ghost prison."
Diala swallowed, her throat dry. She had seen a glimpse of that despair already, from the outside. Even imagining common treasure hunters thrown into that pressure…
"Kiaria…" she whispered, "what if some of them don't come back from that domain? What if their minds break there itself?"
"Then it's better they break here," he answered softly, "than disappear forever in that Island without anyone even knowing why."
Princess stared at him for a long time.
"…You really don't intend to bend on this, do you."
"No."
She clicked her tongue. "Fine. Do it your way. But listen carefully–test them, don't cleanse them. If you push even a little past their limit, they'll become walking corpses long before Cemetery Island does anything."
Kiaria nodded. "I know where the edge is. I've crossed it once."
Diala looked between them, then took a quiet breath and straightened her shoulders.
"…Let's go see everyone first," she said. "We don't even know how long we were trapped inside that illusion. Maybe they're already impatient."
They left the room together.
The corridor outside was dim and unnaturally quiet. The ship's wooden frame creaked softly, but no footsteps, no drunken snoring, no casual chatter reached them.
The silence felt wrong.
Princess frowned. "Where's all the noise…?"
"They might be sleeping," Diala said, but even she didn't believe it fully. Treasure hunters rarely slept early–not with liquor and boasting still unfinished.
"Let's check," Kiaria said.
They started with the rooms closest to the hall.
Princess opened the first door without knocking.
Empty.
The bed was neatly made, covers untouched. A wine cup on the table still held half a sip, the liquid undisturbed as if its owner had vanished mid-drink.
Princess's expression tightened.
Next room–
Kiaria slid the door open.
No one.
Boots left in the corner. A cloak draped over a chair. Weapons laid carefully on the rack. Everything spoke of people who intended to return in a few breaths… and never did.
"They didn't pack," Diala murmured. "This isn't like leaving the ship."
They moved systematically–room after room.
Empty beds.Scattered dice.A dropped hairpin.A half-eaten piece of dried meat hardened on a plate.
Not a single person.
Only traces of life, abandoned too suddenly.
Princess's heartbeat quickened, though her face stayed composed. "They wouldn't all leave the ship at once. Not even for a treasure map."
"Captain's cabin," Kiaria said.
They reached Azriel's quarters.
Princess knocked once out of habit, then pushed the door open.
No one inside.
The chief's cloak hung on the wall. His ledger lay open on the desk. The ink on the last written line had dried completely, but the chair behind the table was empty–as if he had just stood up and walked straight out.
Princess stared at the empty space behind the desk, her eyes growing colder.
"…He wouldn't leave his post without at least one guard on this floor," she said quietly. "Something pulled them all outside."
Diala hugged her own arms lightly. "Do you think… something attacked the ship while we were inside the Illusory Arshland?"
"If it did, there'd be signs of battle," Kiaria replied. "Broken planks. Blood. Damage. The corridor is clean."
"That's worse," Princess muttered. "At least battle is straightforward."
The three of them returned to the hall.
Still empty.
No overturned chairs. No spilled liquor. Just a heavy stillness hanging over every table, as if laughter had been chopped off mid-sound.
Diala looked around, unease growing. "It feels like… everyone just stood up and walked away in the same direction."
Princess nodded slowly. "That direction can only be–"
"The deck," Kiaria finished.
He could feel it now too–
a faint pressure pressing from above, almost like attention.
They exchanged a look.
No one suggested resting.No one suggested waiting.
They moved together toward the stairs leading up.