Chapter: 5 Echoes Between Us

The golden glow of the Phoenix Gala faded behind them, but the tension it birthed

clung to the air like dust on glass.

Sulien and Kamaria hadn't said another word to each other since their explosive,

painful encounter. All night, they moved like strangers trapped in the same

story — glancing, glaring, thinking. How is she here? Why him

of all people?

Neither of them had answers.

But what they didn't yet realise was that this uneasy reunion wasn't the end of the

problem. It was only the start.

Now that they were both playing nobles — embedded as part of their respective

"families" — they were expected to attend the same events. Summits. Banquets. Charity gatherings. Gala after gala. No matter how wide the halls or how vast the courtyards, their eyes always found each other.

They kept up appearances, of course — for the mission. For their kingdoms. They

didn't speak of the past again. Not aloud. Not directly. But the air between

them thickened with every forced smile and silent glare. But what they don't know is that a spark inside their heart's had ignited soon.

After the gala, both of them left drained. But for Sulien, that reunion had reopened something in him that had never fully healed.

The cart rumbled softly under the

starlit sky, its wheels crunching against the gravel roads as they left the

palace behind. Inside, the atmosphere was… suffocating.

Sulien sat frozen beside his advisor,

eyes locked on the blurred scenery outside the window. His face was unreadable, jaw clenched tight.

Master Kiyoshi cleared his throat.

"Lord Luan, you're unusually quiet

tonight. I expected a lecture on how dull the gala was," he said, attempting a

light chuckle.

No answer.

Kiyoshi tilted his head slightly.

"Lord Luan?"

Still nothing. Sulien didn't move,

didn't blink. He just stared into the dark, distant night, his thoughts a

cyclone.

She was here. Kamaria. The girl who

ended his life without remorse — was here.

The memories flooded in uninvited. Her

voice. The flash of the headlights. That final blow. That cold ground.

And the darkness.

Tears welled in his eyes, hot and

sharp. He tried to blink them away, but they kept coming — slowly, quietly — falling onto his robe one after the other. He didn't want to speak. He couldn't.

Kiyoshi sat back in silence, eyebrows

narrowing with concern.

He didn't ask again.

The moment the cart came to a halt

outside the Tomoko Villa, Sulien didn't wait for the formalities. He pushed

open the door and jumped out before the driver could even say a word.

"Lord Luan—" a maid called out.

He ignored her.

He stormed through the villa gates,

past the flickering lanterns, past the waiting staff, past Lady Suzume — who

was just reaching for his outer coat.

"LORD LUAN! YOUR SHOES—!"

Too late.

He sprinted down the grand hallways,

feet thudding against polished stone. He didn't know where he was going

exactly, but somehow, instinct carried him. He reached his room, slammed the

door, and collapsed onto his futon fully clothed, face buried in the pillow.

Behind him, the door creaked open.

Lady Suzume stepped in, arms crossed.

"Lord Luan, you've tracked dirt into the—"

Then she saw his shoulders shaking.

The soft, stifled sobs filling the room.

Her tone softened immediately. "Lord

Luan… are you alright?"

Silence.

"Luan?"

Still nothing. Only the sound of

crying. Raw, silent, desperate.

She tried a different approach,

"S-Sulien?"

She slowly crossed the room and knelt

beside him. "Please… talk to me. What happened?"

He turned his head slightly, just

enough for her to catch a glimpse of his eyes — red, swollen, shining with

grief. His lip trembled.

And that was enough.

She pulled him into her arms without a

word. He didn't resist. He leaned into her warmth like a child clinging to

their last safety. The sobs grew louder, the pain unraveling all at once.

"Why… why is she here?" he finally

choked out.

Suzume didn't answer — she couldn't.

She just held him tighter.

"I couldn't get peace in the other

life," he cried. "Because of her. And now… now she's here again! How?! Why?!"

His voice cracked and fell apart as

the tears spilled faster. "She's always there. In my memories. My nightmares.

She's the reason I died…"

He gasped, chest rising and falling

violently as the emotions burst from him.

"She's the reason I never got to live

the life I wanted. And now she's here again. Like nothing happened."

Lady Suzume hushed him gently,

stroking his hair. "It's alright. I'm here. Let it out."

Just outside, Master Kiyoshi

approached the hallway, having followed Sulien quietly after he stormed out of

the cart. He paused at the door when he heard the crying.

Peering inside, he froze.

There was Sulien, curled into Suzume's

arms, shoulders shaking, face pressed into her side like a boy barely holding

himself together. She was holding him like a mother would when her child had

terrible nightmares.

Suzume met Kiyoshi's eyes and gave him a small nod, her expression stern but knowing: Leave him be. Let him grieve.

Kiyoshi nodded once, stepping back

without a word.

The door creaked shut behind him.

The room fell quiet, except for the

soft sounds of a broken boy mourning a past he couldn't outrun.

Sulien held onto her tighter as the

tears fell.

And for the first time since he was

reborn into this world…

He didn't feel powerful.

He didn't feel noble.

He just felt lost

*

The ride back from the gala felt

longer than the journey to it. Longer than the years she'd spent trying to

survive in a world that treated shadowbinders like disease.

She sat still in the cart, hands

pressed together, nails digging into her palms.

But she didn't feel the pain.

Because her mind was somewhere else

entirely.

Sulien.

The way he looked at her.

The way he said her name with disgust

— like it burned his tongue.

And the way he walked away, like she

wasn't even worth his anger anymore.

That was what broke her.

Not the words.

Not even the spit.

But that finality. That rejection.

That silence louder than any scream.

He was here. Alive.

After all these years of her

pretending his death hadn't meant anything. After all the justifications she

made to sleep at night — "He was weak. He got in the way. He deserved it." —

none of them held up when she saw his face again.

The truth was sharper than her own

shadow.

She killed him.

She let envy wrap itself around her

heart like vines, and she watched him fall.

And now?

Now he wore royal fabrics and a new

name and power.

And he hated her.

And he had every right to.

She sat stiffly, her breathing uneven.

Her "father," Mr. Ayame, sat opposite

her in the cart, talking casually about the nobles at the gala, the food, the

music, the Phoenix Monarch's attire.

Kamaria didn't respond.

Not once.

She couldn't.

Her throat had locked shut. Her tongue

felt foreign.

Even if she wanted to say something,

she didn't know what would come out.

Tears?

Laughter?

A scream?

Maybe a breakdown right there in front

of him.

So she said nothing.

Inside her head, the same words

repeated again and again:

"You took his life." "You made him

feel small." "You thought you were untouchable." "You made him wish he wasn't born."

It didn't stop.

Like an endless clock chime, hammering

at the edges of her sanity.

She felt disgusting.

Like her skin no longer belonged to her.

Like her own existence was something to apologise for. For the first time in

both her lives, Kamaria Suzuki wanted to disappear. Not because of punishment.

Not because of fear. But because she finally understood the weight of what she

had done.

"Sir Ayame, we have arrived at the

Ayame Villa," the driver announced, voice sharp through the fog of her mind.

"Thank you, driver," Mr. Ayame said. Kamaria blinked. She hadn't even noticed they'd stopped. As she made to step down from the cart, Mr. Ayame's voice stopped her.

"Mizori. I would like to speak with

you." The breath in her throat caught again.

She didn't argue. She couldn't. She

followed behind him like a shadow.

And for once, being invisible felt

like a mercy.

Inside the grand villa, warm

chandeliers glowed above them and servants bowed as they passed — but Kamaria didn't take in any of it.

The walk down the hallway felt like a

funeral procession.

She sat across from Mr. Ayame in the

same room where she'd first met him, hands folded tightly in her lap. Her head

bowed lower than expected.

"I saw you and the boy," he said

plainly. "At the gala. The one who shoved you. You seemed… well enough before

he took you aside. But after, you looked shaken."

He leaned forward slightly, voice more

curious than accusatory.

"Are you two friends? Have you met

before? What did he say? And why, exactly, did he push you?"

Kamaria's throat dried instantly. Of

course he'd seen it. How could he not? A noble shoving a girl like her to the

floor in front of dozens of people. And yet… no one stepped in. Not him. Not

the staff. Not the guards.

Because she was just a fake daughter.

And Sulien or 'Lord Luan' now, had

status.

And this was the reality of their

world.

Kamaria's voice barely made it past

her lips. "He was… just a childhood friend," she muttered, ashamed. "Our

friendship went sour. That's all." But that was far from the truth.

She could barely look at Mr. Ayame.

Her eyes flicked downward again, staring at the edge of her red dress. The

fabric looked too good for her. It felt like she was defiling it by simply

wearing it.

Just then, a maid appeared quietly

behind her. "Miss Mizori, please — allow me to help you change." Kamaria didn't

even nod. She just stood, hands trembling.

Her fingers grazed her upper arm as

she rubbed it absentmindedly — a tick she hadn't done since she was a little

girl.

Her breathing trembled. And for the

first time, she whispered something under her breath no one could hear.

"…I wish I had never been born."

She didn't even realise she'd said it aloud.

Inside her room, as the maid gently

removed her jewellery and folded away her gala dress, Kamaria stared at herself

in the mirror.

The red lipstick.

The styled hair.

The expensive necklace.

The illusion.

It was all fake.

She touched the pendant at her neck

and winced.

She could still feel Sulien's eyes on

her. That look of betrayal. That look that told her no apology would ever be

enough.

She wanted to cry.

But no tears came.

Because sometimes the guilt goes so

deep, even tears don't dare touch it. 

Kamaria sat in silence on the cold

tatami floor of her guest room, knees folded beneath her as the paper door slid

gently shut behind the maid. Outside, wind rustled through the bamboo stalks,

casting long, thin shadows across the rice paper walls. The soft creak of wood

and the scent of incense lingered in the air, but her thoughts were louder.

Heavier.

Sulien.

The name hadn't left her mind since

the Gala. Since his voice — older now, deeper — echoed her name with nothing

but disdain.

Kamaria's fingers dug into the fabric

of her red dress. Her chest ached with a guilt she hadn't known she could feel.

She stared down at her lap, her hands shaking slightly. The silence in the room

felt like punishment. And maybe that's what she deserved.

She, Kamaria Suzuki, once daughter of

influence and elegance, now sat like a criminal in a room she didn't belong in

— haunted not by ghosts, but by memories. By the weight of what she had done.

Sulien was supposed to be gone. Dead.

That night — that terrible night — it should've ended everything. Instead, they had both awakened in this world, in different bodies… but with the same sins.

Her jaw clenched.

He had every right to hate me.

She'd ruined him. Not just that night

— for years. Back in their old world, she'd hurt him again and again. His face

when she taunted him. His smallness in a room where he never belonged. His

silence.

Her shame.

And now, the roles reversed — him a

noble, her the shadow in his new light — and all she wanted was to beg for

forgiveness. But her pride had always been a cage.

Until now.

Kamaria pushed herself up off her

knees and stood for a moment, eyes distant. Her gaze fell on the low wooden

writing table near the corner of the room. The inkstone sat neatly to one side,

and beside it — a small, blank scroll.Her hands reached for it before she could

think twice.

"Excuse me…" she called softly into

the hallway.

No response. She swallowed. "Where is

the paper kept?"

But she stopped herself.

You're not a noble, Kamaria. Not here.

Not anymore. No giving orders. No demanding things like you used to.

Before she could leave to get it

herself, the paper door slid open gently. "Please, Miss Mizori," the maid said

kindly, bowing low, "remain seated. I will bring the writing paper to you."

Kamaria blinked. "Th-Thank you." The

title still felt foreign. Her mouth wasn't used to speaking with softness.

Soon the maid returned, placing the

paper in front of her. She lingered for a moment, studying Kamaria with curious

eyes.

"May I ask you something?"

Kamaria looked up, startled. "Y–Yeah…

ask away." "You just seem very… upset. I know Master Ayame asked you about it,

but it feels like it's something much deeper."

Kamaria's throat tightened.

She hesitated. Her fingers gripped the

edge of her sleeves, eyes glued to the floor. The words pressed against her

lips like floodwater.

"It's… something no one would

understand. Except me. And him."

"Him?"

Her voice dropped. "Lord Luan.

Sulien." The maid tilted her head. "I'm afraid I don't know who that is."

"I figured," Kamaria whispered.

"That's why you wouldn't understand."

She turned away. Sat properly on the

floor. Her knees tucked under her. Her back straight. A brush in her trembling

hand.

She dipped it into the ink.

Dear Sulien or Lord Luan Tomoko,

She paused. Her heart thudded like it

was trying to escape her chest.

I know this isn't ideal. Writing to

you instead of saying it face to face. But I don't think I could look you in

the eye right now. I just…

She clenched her jaw.

Start over.

I know nothing I say can undo the

past. Not what I did to you. Not how I treated you. I was cruel. Arrogant. I

let everything I was born with make me believe I was more than you.

And you paid the price for that.

I am sorry.

She sat still. Her brush hovered.

The next words were harder.

It's not enough, I know. I don't

deserve your forgiveness. But I need to say this. Because I've been thinking

about you. All night.

She paused, her brush starting to

tremble in her hand. Her breathing slowed.

All night.

The shame, the guilt — it built again.

She reached for more ink, but her hand

faltered. The brush slipped from her grasp, hitting the wooden floor with a

soft clatter.

Her vision blurred.

Her head swam.

What…?

She reached toward the table to steady

herself, but her limbs had grown weak, like her body no longer belonged to her.

A wave of dizziness swept through her, followed by a sharp tightness in her

chest. Her throat constricted.

Then came the panic.

She gasped, trying to inhale, but the

air barely reached her lungs.

Her fingers curled helplessly against

the floor. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

Then… foam.

White.

Foam from her mouth.

Her body jerked slightly before

collapsing onto the tatami mat. The parchment beside her fluttered as her final breath left her mouth in a whimper.

If this is death… then let it take me

away from him. Far away. I don't want to reincarnate again. I don't want to

remember.

The paper — her letter — now smudged,

soaked in the ink that dripped from her brush and her tears.

The characters were still barely

legible:

I just wanted to say… I'm sorry.

And Kamaria lay unconscious on the

floor, the silence around her thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

*

Sulien had cried himself to sleep the night before, his tear-stained pillow still damp beneath his head when the morning sun crept through the slats of his shoji window. His face, pale and swollen from the weight of emotion, wore a hollow

look. He hated her. Kamaria. And yet… a part of him didn't want her dead. That

part of him — the gentle, reluctant softness that never quite died — clung to

the belief that she could change.

But he couldn't afford that softness now. Not today.

The Phoenix Monarch was expecting him.

By the time Sulien joined Master Kiyoshi for breakfast, he had washed his face and

tied his hair neatly, but the dullness in his eyes betrayed him. The dining

room — usually filled with the soft clinking of tableware and polite

conversation — was silent. Uncomfortably so.

Kiyoshi glanced at the young man across from him, his hands paused over his tea bowl. He opened his mouth to say something, then hesitated.

Maybe now's not the time.

Instead, he picked up his chopsticks and took a quiet bite of rice.

The silence lingered like fog until Kiyoshi finally cleared his throat. "Ehem… So…

Young Sir, I hear today is the visit to the Phoenix Monarch."

"Mhm." Sulien didn't lift his eyes. He just pushed his food around with the edge of

his chopsticks.

"…Alright then." Kiyoshi forced a light chuckle but took the hint. Sulien wasn't ready to talk. Not yet.

After breakfast, Sulien made his way back to his chambers accompanied by the same silence that had followed him all morning. The house was quiet, as if everyone knew not to disturb him.

The maid beside him bowed low once they arrived. "I'll assist you with your

garments, Lord Luan."

"Mhm," he murmured again, eyes distant.

Not long after, there was a soft knock.

Knock. Knock.

The shoji door slid open just enough to reveal a familiar, gentle presence.

Lady Suzume.

She peeked in before Sulien glanced over his shoulder and gave a small nod,

silently permitting her inside. After all… she'd seen him at his worst last

night — crumpled in her arms like a child, broken and ashamed. There was no

hiding from her now.

"Good morning, Suzume," he said quietly as he began changing into his under-robe.

"Good morning, Lord Luan." Her voice was warm, but tinged with concern. "How are you today?"

He shrugged faintly, eyes still focused on the folded clothes laid out before him.

He didn't know how to describe the mixture of dread and exhaustion still

weighing down his limbs. Maybe he didn't want to try.

Suzume didn't press. She simply moved to assist him, her movements practiced and quiet. But something in her eyes spoke of unspoken worries, things she knew but chose not to say aloud.

"I heard from Master Kiyoshi you're visiting the Phoenix Monarch today?"

"Yeah…"

Sulien replied with a sigh. "I'm nervous. What if he notices I'm not like the

others? That I'm not… one of them?"

The fear was real — not just the fear of being discovered, but of being lesser.

Unworthy. An imposter in a role too big for him.

Suzume smiled gently and held up a neatly folded robe. "It's alright, Young Sir. I stitched a new formal mage's robe for you last night. Dark green, trimmed in

gold — something subtle, but noble. If he asks about your magic, tell him

you've a charity event to attend tomorrow and don't wish to exhaust your mana.

Nobles use excuses like that all the time."

Sulien looked up at her, his expression softening. "Thank you, Suzume. For everything. Really."

"You're very welcome," she said, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "You remind me of someone."

He tilted his head, curious. "Who?"

"My son," she said after a pause, folding her hands in front of her.

Sulien blinked. "You… had a son?"

Suzume nodded. Her eyes turned slightly distant — not vacant, but nostalgic. Like she was replaying a memory far too delicate to touch for long.

"He was your age when he started changing. Quiet. Anxious. Always in his head. He was kind, so kind… too kind for this world. He kept everything to himself until it grew too heavy."

Sulien's chest tightened. He had a feeling where this was going, but he still whispered, "What happened?"

Suzume's smile wavered, her voice barely above a breath.

"He took his life. A few years ago."

The room fell silent. Even the wind outside seemed to pause.

Sulien froze, the robe half-buttoned in his hands. He didn't know what to say — if

there even was anything to say. He turned around and hugged her.

"…I'm sorry," he finally whispered.

"It's alright." She tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear with a motherly

tenderness. "I've made peace with it. But whenever I see you… I remember the

boy he used to be. The way he carried everything alone. The way he smiled when he didn't want to cry."

She looked at him — really looked at him — and her smile returned, softer now, but

strong.

"I see the same strength in you. But strength isn't about hiding pain. It's about

living through it."

Sulien nodded, too choked to speak. For a moment, he simply let the quiet wrap around them again — but this time, it wasn't empty. It was comforting. Shared.

And he realised then that even though he hated Kamaria… some part of him still

wished she would become better. Not for him. But for herself.

Because no one deserved to carry that weight forever.

Not even her.

*

As morning crept in, light filtered gently through the rice-paper windows of the

Ayame Villa. The scent of bitter herbs, incense, and something faintly metallic

lingered in the air. Kamaria stirred on the futon, her limbs heavy, breath slow

and uneven.

"Miss Mizori!"

"Mizori!"

"Kamaria!"

Voices, frantic, overlapping, distant — rang through her ears like echoes in water. Shecouldn't tell who they belonged to, only that they were filled with panic.

Her eyes fluttered open, blurry and unfocused at first. The shapes above her slowly sharpened — Mr. and Mrs. Ayame hovering above her, faces pale and drawn with concern. Beside them stood the maid, wringing her hands nervously.

"You fainted last night," Mrs. Ayame said, eyes glossy with worry. "Collapsed on the

floor in your room. The maid found you foaming at the mouth—!"

"You were poisoned," another voice interrupted coldly.

Kamaria shifted, her weak neck lifting just enough to see the unfamiliar woman at the foot of the futon. She was tall, sharp-featured, her lab coat pristine. Thin

spectacles sat on the bridge of her nose, which she adjusted before leaning

forward and peering into Kamaria's eyes.

"I suppose I never introduced myself," the woman said. "I am Dr. Risa. Apothecary

to the nobles of Thildesa and long-time practitioner of poison diagnostics."

Kamaria blinked slowly, her mind foggy and heart racing.

"Based on your symptoms — the frothing, the collapse, the stiffness of your limbs — it was Strychnine powder. A pinch in a drink or meal is all it takes. The poison stiffens the body like wood, arches the back, locks the jaw, and sends the lungs into violent convulsions. The victim often appears to be drowning in air.

Death is not quick, nor is it merciful."

Her voice was clinical, almost bored, as though reading from a textbook. But her

words hit Kamaria like iron weights.

"You could have died," Dr. Risa added, matter-of-fact. "If the maid hadn't found you in time, you would have."

Kamaria sat up slowly, her chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. Her head throbbed, but her mind was now spinning faster than ever. Poisoned. Someone had tried to kill her. Already.

One day in. One gala. One run-in… and someone wants me dead?

She stared down at her hands, the guilt from the previous night now mixing with a

dangerous cocktail of dread, paranoia, and something else.

No. It can't be. He wouldn't. Would he?

Her mind flashed back to last night. To his words. His eyes. That venom in his

voice. That cold hatred.

Sulien…

Her pulse quickened. Her fingers clenched the blanket around her like a lifeline. Her lips trembled — but then curved ever so slightly into something darker.

"Is everything alright, Mizori?" her 'father' asked, gently placing a hand on her

shoulder.

Kamaria didn't look at him right away. Instead, she kept her gaze lowered, like she was collecting her thoughts — or holding them back from spilling out. Finally, she nodded once.

"I think," she said slowly, "I have a very brief idea who might be behind this."

Her voice was quiet, almost calm. But there was something sharper underneath — a blade's edge hidden in silk.

"Oh?" the apothecary leaned forward, clearly intrigued. "Say the word and we'll open an investigation. If it's who you think, I can gather my resources to ensure they're apprehended immediately. A noble trying to assassinate another — that's high treason."

"Who is it, dear?" Mrs. Ayame asked, eyes wide with maternal concern.

Kamaria tilted her head, a little smile creeping onto her lips like a shadow slipping under a door. She rubbed her hands together, her voice now smooth but calculated.

"Lord Luan Tomoko."

The room fell silent.

Even Dr. Risa, despite her professionalism, raised an eyebrow. Mr. Ayame's mouth parted slightly in shock.

Kamaria sat up straighter now, confidence returning to her posture despite her still-recovering body. That little smile remained, but her eyes — ocean blue and gleaming — were sharp as glass.

"If anyone wants me dead this early into the game… It would be him."

"Miss Mizori Ayame, the King has summoned you. You are to present yourself at once — he demands proof of your existence, as he does not believe you are truly alive." An advisor burst into the room without pause, his words firing out like arrows.

Kamaria froze. Her fingers stiffened around the edge of her futon.

"And… how exactly am I supposed to prove that to him?" she asked, blinking, her voice dry with disbelief.

The advisor didn't flinch. "Simple. Just show up."

Kamaria gave a slow nod, processing the absurdity. I mean, I just have to

show up? It can't be that hard, she thought, dragging herself upright. Her legs wobbled slightly beneath her, but she steadied herself. If I can survive being poisoned and nearly dying, I can

survive this.

She had barely taken three steps when—

"You mustn't."

The voice was firm, familiar. It was the apothecary, stepping forward with her arms crossed. "You've just awoken from a fourteen-hour coma. Fourteen hours, Miss Ayame. And now you plan on walking into an audience with a monarch as if your lungs weren't seizing and foaming half a day ago? You'll faint again!"

Kamaria stared at her blankly, expression unreadable. Her mind was already elsewhere, weighing the cost.

If I don't go, I risk being exposed and thrown out. But if I do go, I might drop

dead halfway through a bow.

She gently touched her chin in thought, her eyes narrowing in decision.

My duty is more important than my health right now. I must go.

"I appreciate your concern," she said finally, bowing politely, "but my assignment is critical — even if my health is on the line. So I'm sorry, Doctor. I will be attending this visit."

The apothecary's jaw dropped, her face an open portrait of disbelief. Her thoughts

ran wild, practically screaming out of her expression:

Is she serious? You've just been poisoned, survived a coma, and now you're galloping off to play spy for the monarchy? Who even does that? Obviously Kamaria. Idiot.

"Very well," the apothecary said at last with a sigh. "I will continue investigating

your poisoning and begin the search for this Lord. Good luck."

She gave one final, deep bow before sweeping out of the room, coat fluttering

behind her like a disapproving cape.

Kamaria exhaled and turned to grab her original outfit — the one she wore when she first arrived. Her hand barely grazed the fabric when—

"No, no, no. No no no no NO!" a voice shrieked in horror.

Mrs. Ayame. Standing in the hallway like she'd just witnessed a murder.

"You cannot—absolutely cannot—be seen wearing those scruffy rags you

dragged yourself in with. Honestly, you'd bring shame to our whole name. Do you

want the King to assume we raise trolls in our villa?"

Kamaria blinked, confused. "Then what do I wear? I don't exactly have a personal

wardrobe of noble attire."

Mrs. Ayame huffed dramatically and shoved a bundle of fabric into Kamaria's arms. "Here. Wear some of my clothes. And I don't want to hear any complaints."

Kamaria looked down at the garments, then up, then back down again — inspecting the outfit like it was a suspect in a murder case.

"Stop looking at them like you've seen better," Mrs. Ayame said, rolling her eyes.

Without waiting for a response, she shoved Kamaria further inside the room with a swift push.

The door slammed shut behind her with a click, leaving Kamaria alone with a pile of elegance and pressure.

*

Once Sulien had finished getting ready, he stepped out of his chambers, and

instantly, the room was engulfed in silence. The air thickened with awe.

"Wow, Sulien…" Master Kiyoshi's voice broke the stillness. He stared at the boy with wide eyes, utterly taken aback. "You look like a true mage—no, a noble. Regal."

"I do?" Sulien blinked, surprised, glancing down at his robes.

"Yes!" Kiyoshi nodded enthusiastically. "That's exactly how high-ranking mages dress for royal summons. You wear it well."

"Thank you," Sulien replied softly, almost shyly.

"Where's Lady Suzume?" he asked, glancing around the corridor.

"Right over there," Kiyoshi said, gesturing toward the far end of the hall.

There stood Suzume, frozen mid-step, her expression a blend of pride, astonishment, and warmth. She looked at him as if she were seeing her own son grown before

her eyes.

"Hello," Sulien greeted with a gentle smile.

"Oh… Young Sir…" she whispered, approaching slowly. "You look… so handsome."

A faint blush rose on Sulien's cheeks, but he smiled warmly. "If it weren't for

your incredible sewing, I'd still be wrapped in plain robes. Thank you,

Suzume."

Her lips curved into a proud smile as she stepped forward and patted his back

gently, then without thinking, pulled him into a brief but heartfelt hug.

"Make sure you come back to us, Young Sir," she murmured, voice thick with meaning. Then, in a whisper so quiet only he could hear, "Try not to get eaten."

Sulien let out a breath of laughter, the tension in his shoulders melting. He

appreciated her sarcasm — it grounded him. She always knew how to say the right thing.

"I'll be careful," he said.

He turned to both of them, posture straightening with solemn gratitude.

"Well then… I should be off. I don't want to keep the King waiting." He bowed low —

not out of obligation, but genuine appreciation. "Thank you, Master Kiyoshi. And you too, Lady Suzume — especially you."

Kiyoshi gave a nod, though his face flushed slightly pink — a mix of embarrassment and something bordering jealousy.

"You're most welcome, Lord Luan," he replied, clearing his throat.

"Go on now," Suzume said, bowing back, this time even deeper. "Make us proud."

As Sulien turned toward the front gates, his footsteps light but sure, he didn't

feel like a scared boy anymore. For the first time since waking in this world,

he felt… capable. Anchored.

And most of all, he felt like he belonged — not as Lord Luan, but as Sulien. The

boy who had nothing, but had come so far.

*

The wheels of the carts creaked gently

against the cobbled road, the rhythm syncing with the steady breath of the

horses guiding them through the realm of Thildesa. Two carts, traveling along

separate winding paths of the same grand road, unknowingly drew closer toward a shared destiny.

Inside one, Sulien sat upright, his

hands loosely folded over his lap. His gaze remained glued to the passing

scenery outside, eyes wide with a strange mix of wonder and wariness. Trees taller than towers lined the road, their silver-leaved branches swaying softly in the warm breeze. Children with fairy wings darted past on beetle-drawn

scooters, and floating lanterns danced over the rooftops of quaint mushroom

homes nestled deep within flowered groves.

It was all surreal. Dreamlike.

Beside him, curled up and utterly

uninterested, was the black cat—lazy, sluggish, and clearly bothered by the

journey. Sulien glanced at the animal, which groaned before flicking its tail

across his thigh as if to say, you brought me, deal with it.

He sighed and turned back to the

window just in time to see it.

A sign, gilded in gold and adorned

with phoenix feathers, shimmered like a beacon before them:

PHOENIX PALACE. NO ENTRY UNLESS SUMMONED.

The letters weren't just written—they

were engraved, as if carved by the flames of a celestial fire. They radiated

both power and beauty, striking awe into those who dared to approach. Even the

driver straightened his posture in respect.

As they passed the sign, the cart

entered a glowing magical barrier that shimmered like the surface of a bubble,

thin and translucent but pulsing with energy. The moment Sulien passed through it, a chill climbed his spine like fingers trailing down skin.

A pulse of magic washed through him.

"What is that…?" Sulien muttered.

The driver chuckled. "That, Young

Lord, is the King's Veil. A detection spell—if someone who bears ill will or

has falsified their identity attempts to enter, the veil… lets us know.

Loudly."

Sulien swallowed. "And… I passed?"

"Clearly." The driver grinned through

his thick beard. "You're still breathing."

Relief hit Sulien like a wave, but it

didn't cool the heat of nerves prickling beneath his skin. That veil was no

joke. It hadn't just scanned him—it had seen him. Beneath the clothing, the

title, the disguise… and yet, it had let him pass.

He let out a shaky breath just as the

palace loomed into view.

And by the stars above—it was

breathtaking.

The palace stood on a green hill, shining like it was made of light. Its tall

towers sparkled in the sun, and flags of deep blue and gold waved in the

breeze. The walls were smooth and white, with vines of glowing flowers climbing up the sides. A clear, gentle river circled the palace like a moat, and a

bridge of silver stones led to a grand gate. Birds with bright feathers flew

around the tallest spires, singing songs that sounded like laughter. Around the

palace, gardens full of strange and beautiful plants bloomed all year

round-trees with golden leaves, flowers that opened when you spoke to them, and butterflies that shimmered like tiny stars. The whole place felt alive.

"…This is insane," Sulien whispered,

leaning so far out the cart window he nearly fell.

Meanwhile, not far behind on another

path carved between crystal trees, Kamaria sat cross-legged in her own cart,

her head leaning against the side. Her expression was hard to read—part awe,

part exhaustion, and part please let this ride end.

Mellie the frog sat sluggishly in her

lap, doing absolutely nothing except occasionally flicking out its long, slimy

tongue to snatch a gnat. Kamaria didn't bother moving her. The thing weighed

almost nothing but brought a full bucket of embarrassment. She had tried to

ditch her once. The maid said if she did, she'd be reported for "endangering a

noble's sacred familiar." So dramatic

Figures. It's always the weird ones

that get called sacred.

She shifted slightly and glanced

outside.

The road glistened under warm morning

light, fairies flew past in swarms, and small dragons lounged on the roofs of

inns. It looked like a page from one of those fantasy books she used to mock

Sulien for reading in the old world.

Except now… she was in it.

Her cart turned a corner, and that's

when she saw it.

PHOENIX PALACE. NO ENTRY UNLESS SUMMONED.

Her eyes widened. "So this is it…"

The cart slowed as it approached the

veil. Her stomach twisted. The driver didn't warn her—just kept moving.

The magical barrier swallowed them

whole.

Kamaria's skin prickled. Her lungs

felt heavy for a moment. And for one terrifying second, she thought it might

reject her. Call her out. Expose her. But… nothing. She passed.

"Guess I'm not a threat," she muttered

under her breath.

When the palace came into view, even

Kamaria had to sit up properly.

"Lord Luan Tomoko, we have arrived."

The cart came to a slow halt before towering gates of fire-gilded obsidian, framed by marble phoenix wings that shimmered in the daylight. Sulien stepped out, blinking upward. The Phoenix Palace was massive—monumental even—but still not as vast or formidable as the Balancer Palace back home. Still, this one was alive with power. The fire-wrought sigils on its gate pulsed gently like a heartbeat.

He squared his shoulders and walked forward.

"Who goes there?" barked a voice from the gate.

"Lord Luan Tomoko," Sulien replied, voice firm and proud—as if he had been born to carry that name.

The guards squinted, taking in his changed features. "Hmm… you look different today, Lord Luan. Did you… grow your hair out?"

Sulien felt his heart skip a beat. "Ah… yes. I've been quite busy lately, haven't had the time for a trim. When your schedule's a mess, even hygiene slips through the cracks, eh?" he laughed, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

The guard chuckled. "I can agree with you there."

Disgusting tramps.

"Your Majesty, Lord Luan has arrived."

The Phoenix King nodded once, his

voice warm, but edged like a sword. "Let him in."

Kamaria, seated to the side with the

nobles, felt her stomach twist violently. Luan? Her head snapped toward the

door.

What is he doing here?

The great doors opened—and there he

was.

"Ahh, long time no see, Lord Luan

Tomoko." The king's voice echoed across the throne room. "How goes business?"

Sulien stepped forward with calm

elegance, giving a deep bow. "Very good, Your Royal Majesty. Just… overwhelming

at times."

The king gave a low chuckle. "I

thought so. I wasn't planning to summon you today, but I figured after your

recent return, a visit was in order."

"Hehe," Sulien chuckled awkwardly,

still bowing.

The King narrowed his eyes slightly,

scanning him. "You've changed. A stronger frame. Hair longer. Almost… as if

you're not the Lord Luan I remember."

Sulien's lungs clenched. His heart

pounded against his ribcage like a caged animal. His palms turned clammy, and

the room suddenly felt ten degrees hotter.

"E-Erm… I mean—work's been relentless. No time for cuts. I guess the strength comes with the job." He forced a smile, praying it didn't tremble.

A beat of silence passed.

"…Ah-ha. That makes sense." The king

finally smiled. "Come then. You must be starving."

Sulien exhaled silently in relief, and

looked around—just to ground himself.

And then their eyes met.

Kamaria.

His gaze collided with hers across the

opulent hall. A spark of recognition, then shock, then restrained panic flared

in both of their expressions. They locked eyes for what felt like eternity—frozen in place.

"Tomoko," the king continued,

oblivious, "you know Mr. Ayame, yes?"

Sulien blinked, tearing his gaze away.

"Yes, I do. Why?"

"Well, he's recently been reunited

with his long-lost daughter. Mizori Ayame." He gestured toward Kamaria.

She blushed slightly as eyes turned to

her.

Sulien's jaw twitched. "Ah-huh. I definitely

know who Mizori Ayame is." He said, voice dipped in sarcasm. Kamaria shot him a sharp look.

What is she doing here? A

shadowbinder? In front of a mage king? Does he not know?

Kamaria's heart thudded in her chest. What is HE doing here?! A balancer? Posing as a mage? Her face burned. Does he not realise how obvious it is?

The king, sensing the crackle in the

air, clapped his hands. "Come, let's head to dinner. You must be famished.

Perhaps some ribeye?"

The dining hall sparkled with candlelight and suspended fire crystals. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted meats, fruits dusted in sugar, and goblets filled with golden wine. Nobles spoke in polite murmurs, laughter punctuating the din.

But at the center of it all—Sulien and

Kamaria sat silent.

No words. No glances. Only fork to

plate. Bite. Chew. Repeat.

"Lord Luan," the king finally spoke,

breaking the lull, "you're unusually quiet. Quite unlike your usual self."

Not observant, my ass? Sulien thought, barely hiding his annoyance at Master

Kiyoshi's earlier claims. He cleared his throat, every noble at the table

falling silent.

"Forgive me, Your Majesty. The

workload lately has been… draining."

He risked a glance at Kamaria—and shot

her a venomous glare.

"And you, Mizori?" the king turned.

"You also seem withdrawn. Is that your natural state?"

Kamaria looked up, startled. "N-No,

Your Majesty. I'm just… nervous, I suppose."

The king nodded. "Perfectly natural."

Moments later, they both politely

excused themselves.

But neither of them went to the

restroom.

As soon as they were out of sight, Kamaria grabbed Sulien

by the arm and yanked him down a quiet marble hallway.

"SULIEN." Her voice was a sharp

whisper laced with fury. "Was it you?"

He blinked, feigning confusion. "What

are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?"

"Don't play dumb." Her voice was

shaking with restrained rage. "You poisoned me. Don't lie to me—I know it was you."

Sulien scoffed. "Kamaria, really? You

think I would poison your food?" He laughed cruelly. "If I wanted you dead, I'd

do it with style. I wouldn't use powder like some petty assassin. I'd make sure

you knew it was me."

Her eyes searched his, desperate for a

crack in his mask. "How can I be sure?"

He leaned closer. "All those years.

You bullied me. Humiliated me. Hurt me. Did I ever hurt you? No, cause it was always you."

Kamaria stilled. The silence between

them screamed louder than their voices.

"No. But what if you were planning to?"

she said, softer now, but no less desperate.

Sulien laughed again—too loud, too

bitter. "If I had plans to kill you, you wouldn't be here asking me. You'd be dead, Kamaria."

She stared at him, a war of guilt and

uncertainty crashing behind her eyes.

And then, something changed.

They both started laughing. Hollow.

Nervous. Hysterical.

Their rage cracked for just a moment.

His expression softened, and her heart skipped.

His grey eyes shimmered—not with

anger, but something unspoken. Something she couldn't place.

She couldn't believe it. This boy…

this young man in front of her… was the same child she used to torment.

"W-Why are you here, anyway?" Sulien

finally asked, brushing a tear from his cheek.

Kamaria hesitated. Her voice dropped

to a whisper. "I'm here… on a mission."

Sulien stiffened. She grabbed his

wrist and pulled him into a side room, closing the door behind them.

"Let me explain," she whispered.

And this time, for once, Sulien stayed

silent—and listened.