The corridor of the royal palace hummed softly beneath the shimmer of rune-lights.
Warm light broke across the gold-ornamented arches —
reflecting on polished marble.
The floor clicked faintly beneath the queen's steps — her pale blue silk gown flowing in rhythm with her movements along her legs.
Ayumi looked as though she did not belong to this world.
Her braided hair kept the chestnut-brown strands in strict order.
"It's incredible!"
Loose wisps framed her temples — swaying with every breath of air like small, living shadows.
A smile rested on her blood-red lips —
a gesture that seemed meant more for others than for herself.
"It's wonderful, Valerius!"
She repeated herself — for the tenth time already.
The guard behind her gave only a curt nod.
For the tenth time as well.
Valerius was tall, his body rigid, his expression stern — like a weapon waiting to be used.
"Magnificent."
His reddish-brown eyes glowed faintly in the half-light — a scar ran across the bridge of his nose.
The black G.O.L.D. robe stretched across his broad chest, the crest gleaming in gold upon his shoulder.
The sword at his side was far more than mere ornament;
every breath he took betrayed his readiness to draw it in the queen's service at any moment.
"You don't understand." Ayumi shook her head, playfully defiant.
His polished boots echoed heavily behind the click of her heels, cutting through the silence in an even rhythm.
Shuzo.
Her boy.
He had smiled.
A real, genuine smile.
After so long.
A warm tingling ran through her at the thought of Donovan —
that strange demon who had managed to awaken something in Shuzo she had missed so dearly.
Perhaps? Perhaps it was fate?
Yes, Ayumi… perhaps it was.
A soft laugh — little more than a breath — slipped across her lips.
Her sky-blue eyes sparkled as her lashes cast faint shadows over her pale cheeks.
"He has a friend, Valerius."
The sweet, floral scent of heavenly orchid spread gently around her—
Her thoughts raced.
"I just hope he doesn't get hurt."
Her fingers traced nervously over the golden ring, the word "Vynesalic" engraved deep into the metal.
"He won't…" Valerius's voice — deep, rough, certain.
A brief silence.
Her thoughts drifted:
Kuroboshi.
"He told the truth…" she murmured softly — more to herself than to anyone else — followed by a dreamy flutter of her lashes.
For a moment, a faint blush colored the bridge of her pale nose — a warmth, an embarrassment.
The image of Kuroboshi rose before her mind's eye.
Emerald eyes — sharp and stern, yet beneath them, that warmth — the kind that—
She stopped herself, gasping.
"I think!" she straightened her shoulders, brisk and nervous — then, playfully:
"We should throw a celebration, don't you think?"
Her voice sounded like a song — full of joy.
Like the song of a nightingale in its most vivid colors.
Valerius stopped abruptly.
His brows furrowed — the scar across his nose tensed like a drawn tendon.
"Celebrate?"
He repeated it hoarsely — as if the word itself were foreign, an unworthy sound in his throat.
It was unusual to see the queen so… blossoming.
Almost—
Ayumi laughed softly, teasingly.
Almost… mischievous!
Valerius tightened his jaw.
He saw her earrings catch the rune-light — a brief flash of silver.
She was just about to say something — mischievous, playful:
"Why—"
But the words broke off that very instant — when a scent cut through the air.
Sharp. Acrid.
Ayumi froze mid-breath, her gaze questioning.
Disinfectant?
Her steps grew unsteady.
She wavered — barely noticeable.
But Valerius was already there, one hand at her arm — not gripping, but steadying, protective.
His posture remained taut, like a drawn bow.
They both saw it.
At the end of the corridor,
in the distance,
a figure began to take shape.
Narrow shoulders beneath a frayed white coat.
Gray skin. Greasy black hair clinging in strands to his temples.
Dr. Vynrek.
He walked hunched, yet with purpose —
two figures in dark coats followed behind him like spectral shadows.
His round glasses caught the light for a moment before he adjusted them with a nervous flick of his hand.
He smacked his lips — as if they moved of their own accord —
a sound that made the hairs on Ayumi's neck stand on end.
"Hm?… He's been around quite a lot lately…"
A shiver crept over the bare skin of her arms.
She watched him as he disappeared toward the entrance hall.
She had always found him a little strange.
But today—
Today it was worse.
Like a sickness spreading slowly through her stomach.
A younger voice pulled her back.
"Your Majesty?"
Female. Soft, yet steady.
Ayumi blinked, forcing herself to tear her gaze away from Vynrek and look down —
into a pair of water-blue eyes.
Glossy black hair, cut straight to her cheeks, framed a pale face.
"I'm done."
She wore a simple white dress — tight, strapless, ending at her thighs.
White boots with feather-trimmed zippers shimmered under the corridor's passing lights.
"Amilia," Ayumi smiled softly.
Even Valerius's stern expression softened for a heartbeat — when he caught the sweet scent surrounding Am;
like freshly washed linen.
A trace of purity — out of place, yet somehow calming within this palace.
"I cleaned and tidied Shuzo's room…" Am explained, her voice calm, almost husky.
Her chest rose with quiet anticipation, as though waiting to be rewarded for her words:
"I heard him laugh."
Valerius instinctively stepped closer.
His presence fell over her like a shadow.
Ayumi noticed — and cast him a teasing look.
"Valerius, please. Am is just a palace girl — a guardian angel in service. You're overreacting."
His reddish-brown eyes met hers — for a moment too long — before he reluctantly stepped back.
Am wavered, confused, a trace of fear in her expression.
As if the sheer weight of his attention had struck her physically.
"Did I do something wrong?" she asked hesitantly.
"Come, Am. Let's see if we can throw a celebration!"
Ayumi's voice was warm, playful — an attempt to smooth away the tension.
"Celebrate?"
Am's lips curved into a shy smile.
A soft laugh escaped her as she hurried to keep pace beside the queen.
"Yes, celebrate!"
Ayumi nodded firmly, tossing her head back slightly — her gaze gliding over the walls as she spoke:
"But first, I must see my husband. I want to thank him!"
The portraits looked down at her.
Kuroboshi. Shuzo. Herself.
Between them, reliefs of older times — crystal-blossom forests depicted in shimmering light,
and levitating railways threading through the modern age.
A kingdom that felt both ancient and new.
Their steps carried them deeper, past the corridors of the west wing — ever closer to the throne hall.
But suddenly — like a cold breath — she felt it.
A hand —
on her shoulder.
She froze.
Turned.
Her heart was racing.
"What—?"
Her pupils widened, scanning the corridor.
Valerius tensed, his hand snapping to his weapon.
Am gasped in fright:
"What? What's happening?"
Terrified, she pressed herself against the wall.
"Who—"
Ayumi's voice trembled, barely perceptible beneath her distrust.
Was that…?
She took a few cautious steps back, Valerius moving protectively in front of her.
Yet he could sense nothing.
Nothing at all.
Every instinct told him there was no danger.
There was nothing.
Only the palace's shadows.
Her lashes fluttered, searching — but the corridor remained empty.
"What happened, Your Majesty?"
Valerius's voice was deep, stern, commanding — as he finally looked at her.
"I thought…" she began.
But then Ayumi slowly shook her head, whispering:
"I… don't know."
Confusion was written plainly across her face.
With one last glance over her shoulder — cautious, searching — she moved again.
Kept walking.
The silence in the west corridor had grown heavy.
No laughter. No playfulness.
Only the soft hum of the crystal lamps beneath the ceiling — steady, unwavering.
Until Ayumi's steps halted once more.
It wouldn't let her go — she couldn't let it go.
"Wait."
Her gaze had caught on a section of the ornate wall — there,
where between two blue, almost translucent curtains, a narrow gap yawned open.
No.
A door?
"Your Majesty?"
Valerius looked puzzled — he followed her gaze as she walked toward the opening,
and finally saw it too:
"What is that?"
Amilia stayed behind in the corridor.
Her water-blue eyes flickered nervously between the queen and the curtain.
It was clearly too eerie for her.
Her fingers lifted uncertainly to her chest.
"Is it bad?" the little guardian angel asked softly, fear trembling in her voice.
"There… isn't supposed to be a door here?"
Ayumi didn't answer.
She stepped forward in silence.
Gently, she pulled the curtain aside.
Behind it—
a hidden chamber revealed itself;
dark,
the air stale,
smelling of paper and yellowed leather.
Shelves crammed with oldscrolls and books pressed against the walls —
their surfaces veiled by fine spiderwebs.
A room…
one that was meant to be forgotten.
Ayumi's breathing grew shallow.
Her gaze drifted across the furnishings — mechanical, drawn —
until it landed on a painting.
"Look…"
She stepped closer.
"A portrait…"
An old — yet remarkably well-preserved — painting, framed in simple black.
It depicted a shimmering figure,
barely discernible;
a being of light, with long white hair.
So pale, it seemed to fade into the canvas itself.
A delicate circlet gleamed faintly across the brow — almost invisible.
Self-painted. Undeniably.
Beside it — a man,
rendered in the same stark black-and-white tones.
His braid pulled tight,
his robe ornate.
The colors were gone,
but the eyes… stood out.
Broken. Empty.
As if the man's gaze could drag the viewer straight into the depths of their own soul.
Ayumi felt it — something pulling her downward,
an invisible weight pressing against her chest.
Her heart began to race; she forced herself to look away.
"The Goddess…"
Her voice was barely more than a thoughtful whisper.
"That's the Seelenhymne (Soul hymn) — the Goddess of this planet."
"And the Untergott of the Guardians…" Am's voice came trembling from the doorway;
she had stepped closer, disbelief flickering in her eyes.
"Her Guardian… Kenji…"
Her tone wavered — like a child afraid of speaking too loudly.
Ayumi nodded — quick, restrained.
Her thoughts refused to settle.
"I don't know this painting… this illustration. And yet—"
Her lips didn't quite close as she drew in a trembling breath.
"And yet I'm one of the attendants who should be closest to the Goddess," she whispered.
"A healing witch from the border realm of Daria, beyond the waters."
She was speaking the truth —
and yet it sounded as though she had to remind herself of it.
A servant of the shrines.
And now she stood here — a queen.
The Queen of Vynesalic.
Suddenly— a whisper.
Barely audible.
Right at her ear.
It forced her eyes to shift sideways;
The curtains along the wall… moved just slightly.
Ayumi's hand rose on its own, guided by something unseen,
pulling the fabric aside—slowly.
Her breath caught.
What lay hidden behind it made her chest tighten.
"Weapons…?"
The word escaped her in disbelief.
She stumbled back, voice trembling.
"Next to a divine image?"
On the wall they hung—
two forged katanas.
The upper one—deep black, matte, unassuming—
and yet a faint shimmer lingered within it,
as though its holiness had long since been lost.
It felt ominous.
As if it carried stories that should never be told again.
Beneath it hung another—dark as well,
its blade long, hand-forged,
etched with runes that glowed faintly silver in the half-light.
Those markings reflected in Ayumi's sky-blue eyes.
A simple inscription along the edge.
"Ibo…" she whispered the name.
Reverence drew her brows together,
a quiet furrow forming on her forehead.
But something distinguished the blades—
it was immediately clear.
"It's dulled…" Ayumi murmured, half to herself.
"And someone must have opened this room," Valerius cut in, his voice low and gravelly.
His gaze snapped sideways.
Then, without another word, he turned sharply and stepped into the corridor.
One hand rested on his holster, eyes alert—
as if the intruder might still be nearby.
Ayumi's fingers trembled.
She moved closer to the lower katana.
Her hand rose—almost against her will.
She brushed gently along the hilt,
over the bound leather,
along the soft waves of texture—
until she reached the beginning of the dulled edge.
A shiver ran through her as her fingertips traced a little farther.
Her skin tingled—
as though the blade were touching her instead.
Suddenly—
a burning sting.
She flinched.
A thin red line appeared across the tip of her finger.
"Impossible…" she breathed, staring at the blade.
It had been dull.
She had seen it.
How could it cut so deep?
She had barely touched it.
Ayumi pressed her lips together,
placed her other hand over the wound.
A faint, bluish healing light flickered to life beneath her palm.
The cut vanished as quickly as it had come.
Only a faint scar remained.
"No…"
Her voice was barely audible, her eyes wide.
She felt it—
not pain, but something else.
An echo.
Deep. Dark.Familiar.
With a sudden jerk, she pulled the curtains shut again—
as if she could bury what she had seen back into the dark.
Her breathing quickened.
The warmth in her cheeks was gone.
"We… we should keep moving!"
Her voice trembled, fractured—
yet she forced herself to stand tall.
She turned away, sweeping past Valerius, her gown brushing the marble.
With a sharp motion, she struck the door's control panel with her fist.
A faint hum — then the door slid shut.
Slow. Heavy. Final.
For now.
Am lingered for a moment longer.
Her water-blue eyes clung to the curtain.
She was certain she had just seen it —
a faint, pulsing white glow.
Soft. Flickering.
Like a breath.
Her fingers brushed nervously against her lips.
"Your Majesty, wait for me!"
Quickly, she hurried after the queen.
Her footsteps echoed down the corridor—
while the door behind her remained sealed.
Or did it?
The room… was silent again.
Only the old painting on the wall.
The image.
Veined with delicate black lines,
as if invisible parasites were trying to erase it—
piece by piece.
Until one day,
nothing would remain…
Except a final inscription,
whispering,
like the dying breath of a melody in dust:
»…even if you have destroyed our world once more.«