Chapter 11: A Week of Lies and Truths

The wind was quiet as the adventurer walked along the dusty road. Morning light fell gently through the trees, and his steps echoed with a peaceful rhythm. The dream from last night still lingered in his heart — a bed, a woman with tired eyes, and a little girl holding his hand.

He didn't know who they were. He didn't even know if it was a real memory.

But it felt real.

It felt like a part of him he had long forgotten.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. For the first time since waking under the stars, he had cried. And now, with the dream still fresh in his mind, he had decided.

"I need to find the truth," he whispered.

His journey must continue.

Suddenly, the ground shook. A goblin leapt from the bushes with a rusty spear in its hand. The adventurer didn't panic. He grabbed a broken branch lying nearby and swung it.

Thwack!

The goblin stumbled, surprised by the sudden hit. Another one appeared behind it.

Two more jumped out.

The adventurer moved quickly. He dodged, rolled, grabbed a rock, and threw it hard at the closest goblin. It hit the creature's forehead and knocked it out cold. He breathed heavily, sweat on his brow. It wasn't easy. But he survived.

"I really need to get better at this," he muttered, brushing dirt from his shirt.

Then, he heard the sound of hooves.

A luxurious carriage stopped a few meters ahead. Its emblem bore a silver lily over a blue crest. The door opened, and a voice called out.

"You there! Are you injured?"

A young woman peeked from behind the velvet curtains. She wore a white and gold dress and had long brown hair tied up elegantly. Her eyes were sharp and filled with concern.

"I'm fine," the adventurer said.

"You were fighting goblins with a stick."

"…It worked."

The woman chuckled and stepped down from the carriage. A pair of knights flanked her, but she waved them off.

"My name is Princess Elenya of the Kingdom of Seraphen. What's yours?"

"…I don't know," he replied.

She blinked. "You don't know?"

"I lost my memories."

There was a short silence before Elenya smiled softly. "Then… may I call you something?"

He nodded.

She looked at him, thoughtful. "Then… I'll call you Lior. It means 'light' in the old tongue."

"Lior…" He repeated it slowly. It felt warm. Familiar.

"You saved yourself from goblins with a stick. That's impressive. And lucky. But maybe I can help you more."

"How?"

Elenya looked around, then leaned closer.

"I want you to act as my husband."

"…What?"

She smiled, amused by his reaction.

"I'm supposed to marry the prince of the Empire of Velmaria next week. It's a political marriage. I don't love him. He only wants Seraphen's power, not me. My father believes it's the only way to stop war… but I refuse to be sold like that."

"…And what does pretending to be your husband solve?"

"The royal ball is in a week. My father hasn't seen the Velmarian prince in years. If I show up with a husband I chose with my own will… someone brave, someone kind… maybe I can convince him."

The adventurer, now named Lior, looked down at his scratched hands.

"I'm not a noble."

"You will be. In seven days."

And so, the week began.

Elenya arranged for Lior to stay in the guesthouse of the castle. It was his first time sleeping in a bed so soft, wearing clothes so clean. But the peaceful days didn't mean rest.

Each morning, he woke early. A grumpy old nobleman named Sir Calvern taught him how to walk, bow, and speak like a noble. It was hard. Lior stepped on his own cloak. He bowed too low. He tripped on words like courteous and majesty.

In the afternoons, Elenya would sit with him in the garden.

"Hold the teacup gently. Don't slurp. And please, don't sit like that."

He adjusted himself awkwardly.

She laughed. "You're hopeless."

"But you're smiling."

"Only because it's fun teaching someone with no pride."

He looked away.

She suddenly softened her tone. "I didn't mean it cruelly. It's just… you're not like anyone I've met."

They spent time watching birds in the garden, dancing awkwardly in the ballroom, and even cooking together in the royal kitchen.

Lior was terrible with knives.

The princess nearly lost a finger once trying to stop him.

But every moment they spent together, something grew.

Not loud. Not dramatic.

Just warm.

Elenya would sometimes pause when she looked at him, as if she wanted to ask a question. And Lior, who had never known a past, began to wonder if he had a future.

The night of the ball came.

Lior wore a tailored dark blue coat with silver buttons. His hair was brushed back, and he looked… almost noble.

Almost.

Elenya appeared in a dress of white silk that shimmered like starlight.

"You look nervous," she said as they walked toward the ballroom.

"I am."

She touched his arm. "You'll be fine. Just stay close."

Inside, nobles whispered. The hall was full of glittering chandeliers and golden tapestries. Music floated in the air. But all eyes turned to them.

The king of Seraphen stood at the top of the grand stairs. His expression was unreadable.

Then the prince of Velmaria entered. His armor gleamed. His smile was thin and sharp.

"This must be the chosen husband," the prince said. "You found someone from the forest, Elenya?"

Lior stepped forward. "I may not have a name or a title. But I would rather be a stranger who cares than a prince who conquers."

The room went silent.

The prince sneered.

But the king raised his hand. "Let the evening continue."

Later that night, in the royal garden, the prince cornered Elenya.

"You insult me before all these nobles?"

"You only want Seraphen's lands," she replied calmly.

"I'll take them anyway."

Suddenly, Lior stepped between them.

"I won't let you hurt her."

The prince laughed. "You? You're nothing."

Lior didn't reply. He picked up a branch from the ground and held it like a sword.

The prince drew a real blade.

But before the duel began, light shimmered faintly from Lior's hand — a thin, silvery thread, glowing like moonlight.

It moved with the wind.

The prince slashed.

Lior dodged. The thread moved with him, guiding him like instinct.

With one move, he struck the prince's hand, making him drop the sword.

Silence.

Then gasps.

The thread vanished.

But the moment had passed.

The king stepped down. "Enough."

Elenya bowed her head. "Please, Father. Let me choose."

There was a long pause. Then the king sighed.

"…Very well."

That night, under the moon, Elenya and Lior stood by the balcony.

"You really saved me," she said.

He didn't answer.

"I know you're still searching. But… I want to be part of that search. Even if just for a while."

She reached for his hand.

But he stepped back.

"…I'm still a shadow," he said. "You are light. If I stay, I will only bring trouble."

She bit her lip, holding back tears. "Then… may I wait for you?"

He looked at her with soft eyes.

"If I ever remember my name, you'll be the first to hear it."

They shared a quiet moment.

No promises.

Just warmth.

Just truth.

As he left the castle the next morning, villagers gathered. They waved, whispered, and smiled.

The man who came from nowhere.

The man who stood up with only a stick and a heart full of mystery.

Lior walked on, the road stretching before him.

He didn't know who he was yet.

But he had protected someone.

He had made someone smile.

And deep in his chest, something began to glow again.

The journey continued.

And the song in the wind whispered once more—

"Even the lost will find their way… if someone remembers their name."