Chapter 6: Glass Threads

Kamaria glanced over her shoulder, scanning the quiet hallway. The muffled sounds of laughter, clinking goblets, and

conversation drifted in from the grand dining hall. Guards were distracted.

Nobles were feasting. Servants, nowhere in sight.

She leaned in.

"I'm here because I was sent by—" she

began, but Sulien cut her off.

"ME TOO."

He blurted it out before even hearing

what she was going to say. Kamaria blinked, stunned.

"You were sent by your monarch too?"

she asked, her brows raising in disbelief.

"For what exactly?"

He lowered his voice into a near

whisper. "To spy on the Phoenix Monarch."

Her eyes widened. "Me too."

The silence that followed wasn't

awkward—it was heavy, surreal. They stared at each other, then burst into

unexpected laughter. Genuine, soft, startled laughter. As if, for the first

time, they saw something familiar in each other. Something human.

I've never seen this side of her.

I've never seen this side of him.

The thought passed through both of

their minds like a quiet wind.

"Well," Sulien said with a half-smile,

"We better get back. Don't want the King thinking we've wandered off to

assassinate him."

Kamaria chuckled, brushing back her

hair. "Or worse—eloped."

"NO-."

They laughed again, side by side now,

walking casually back toward the hall.

Were they friends now?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But something had shifted. A spark had

ignited.

As they stepped back into the grand

dining hall, the Phoenix King looked up from his seat at the long table, noting

their return.

"Ah, Tomoko and Mizori. Took you long

enough. Everything alright?" he asked, his tone sharp yet tinged with

curiosity.

"No need to worry, Your Royal Majesty,

we're just fine," they said in eerie unison.

Their eyes met again, then they both

burst into soft laughter. "We just said the same thing again!" Kamaria giggled,

covering her mouth.

The King arched a brow, amused. "Well,

they're in a better mood now," he muttered to a nearby lord.

"Sure thing," the noble replied,

clearly watching the two with suspicion.

After the dinner, the King and his

nobles made their way to the Courtroom—a grand chamber that put the throne

rooms of the Qilin and Chort Monarchs to shame. Perfectly built for formal

discussion and war strategy, it had high glass ceilings and gold-veined marble

floors that echoed with every step.

Among those in attendance: Kamaria and Sulien. But their expressions had changed. No more laughter. No more shared glances.

Now, they wore their roles like armor.

The Phoenix King stood at the head of

the table.

"I've summoned you all here for one

reason," he announced. "I've received troubling whispers… that the Chort and

Qilin Monarchs seek war."

A low murmur passed through the lords

like a ripple in still water.

"I've also been told," the King

continued, "that they may have sent people—spies—into our kingdom. I don't know why. Perhaps fear. Perhaps desperation. Or perhaps… ambition."

So have you, Sulien thought bitterly. Otherwise, how in all the

flames of hell would you know?

The King sighed, pacing slowly.

"Should we strike first? Start war? I don't wish to. War is expensive, and our

last left this land bleeding for a decade."

The nobles exchanged wary glances.

Some nodded. Others stayed silent.

Kamaria and Sulien didn't dare move.

Didn't dare breathe too loudly. If their answers sounded suspicious, it could

all be over.

Then—

"You." The King pointed directly at

Sulien. "Lord Luan. What's your view?"

Sulien's heart nearly exploded.

His hands began to shake.

He bowed low, hiding his anxiety.

"A-heheh…"

"You always have a brilliant

solution," the King pressed. "Like when you suggested the infiltration of

Crystoia. Brilliant plan."

Well, that would've been useful

information! That Luan Tomoko was apparently a legendary strategist!

What?! WHEN?! No not now Sulien! Sulien screamed internally. But his face was calm.

"Do you have a plan?"

He stalled. Thought. Prayed. Nothing came.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, Your Majesty… I

do not have a plan prepared. Please forgive my lapse." His bow grew deeper.

Sweat rolled down his neck.

The King waved a hand. "Ah, no matter.

You've likely been busy. I shouldn't have asked you so soon. My mistake."

Relief washed over Sulien like cool

water on a fever. "A-heh, yes… very busy."

A nearby noble stepped in. "Majesty!

Please reconsider. War would devastate the people! We must think of them!"

Another chimed in. "Send a spy

instead—to Keidonia this time!"

Kamaria's mind went blank. Her hands

clenched in her lap. No. No. No. She had to tell the Chort King.

"You seem deep in thought, Mizori,"

the Phoenix King suddenly snapped, his gaze boring into her.

Kamaria jolted. "O-oh? Not really,

Your Majesty. Just… planning what I'll tell Father after this." She lied

through her teeth, heartbeat racing.

The King slowly descended from the dais. His boots tapped across the marble floor like war drums.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

He stopped right in front of her, staring down with an intensity that made the

temperature in the room plummet.

"Let me make something very clear to you."

His voice dropped into a near-whisper, but somehow it felt louder than anything

else.

"You must not tell a soul about this

meeting," he said, voice like iron. "Not your father. Not a servant. Not your

beloved toad. No one."

His voice rose. Louder. Sharper. Every

lord turned toward her.

"If this leaks—I will know." His final

words boomed across the room, landing like hammerblows.

Kamaria bowed quickly, hiding the

sweat on her brow. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty."

But her eyes flicked toward Sulien,

and his toward her.

They weren't enemies here. But they

weren't allies yet either.

The war had already begun. They were

just on the inside of it.

The Phoenix turned around, "Ugh… I don't know," He muttered, digging his fingers into his temple. "Just leave. All of

you. You're making it harder to think."

His voice was sharp, frustrated, almost cracking under pressure.

"You're dismissed!"

The lords and nobles quickly bowed and filed out of the court chamber. The air in

the hallway was cooler, but still buzzing with uncertainty. Kamaria moved

forward quickly, eager to get away. Sulien did too. But fate, as it always

does, had other plans.

They bumped into each other just beyond the archway of the hall.

Their shoulders brushed.

Their eyes met.

But this time, no bitterness surfaced.

No flinching. No snarling remarks. No prideful glances.

Just silence.

Soft. Quiet. Meaningful.

Kamaria looked at him—really looked. His white hair, longer now, slightly tousled from the night's tension. His silver-grey eyes, no longer so harsh. For the first

time in this world, he looked… at peace.

Maybe even kind.

And Sulien, in turn, saw something he hadn't seen in her since they were in the

previous world. Something gentle behind those ocean-blue eyes. Her expression

wasn't guarded. There was no smirk. Just a faint smile tugging at her lips. And

under the moonlight that poured through the high palace windows, her pink hair

turned silver at the edges—like glass-threads. Like something from a dream.

He had forgotten what it felt like to look at her and not feel fire.

Now all he felt was stillness.

"Sulien…" she said softly, just as he began to turn away.

He stopped.

She hesitated, then reached into her sleeve and pulled out a crumpled piece of

tissue. She scribbled something quickly on it with a stick of charcoal she had

tucked in her dress. Her hands were shaking—barely—but Sulien noticed.

She held it out to him.

"It's my address," she murmured.

Sulien blinked, glancing down at the tissue. It had crumbs on it. Grease from some roasted vegetable. A little bit of sauce.

Disgusting.

And yet… he took it from her hand with the utmost care, like it was made of glass.

Then, without a word, he fished out a folded napkin from his coat. Clean. Soft. He scribbled his own address, then gently stepped forward and placed it in the side pocket of her satchel.

Their hands brushed, just for a second.

And that second was enough to make both of them look away with awkward smiles.

A warmth bloomed in Kamaria's chest—light, unfamiliar, like spring air after a

long winter.

He smiled, for real this time. Not forced. Not sarcastic. Not bitter.

And she smiled back.

Were they friends now.

Not quite.

But something had changed. Like a spark had lit up after being blown out.

"Lord Luan, over here!" the driver called from the front steps, holding the reins of

the cart.

Sulien turned slowly. The wind brushed against his face. The tissue still rested

between his fingers. Crinkled. Slightly stained.

But it felt… important.

"What's that?" the driver asked, glancing at the way Sulien stared at the paper.

"Just some paper," Sulien replied casually.

But the way he folded it so carefully… tucked it into the inside pocket of his coat

like a treasure…

The driver smirked to himself. Yeah. Sure it is.

Kamaria stood still for a moment as he climbed into the cart and rode off. Her hand hovered over her satchel, feeling the shape of the folded cloth inside.

Her heart pounded—quiet but fast.

And though she didn't know what this feeling was exactly…

It felt good.

It felt right.

*

"Father! I'm home!" Kamaria shouted,

her voice carrying through the quiet villa as if she truly were his daughter.

"Welcome back! Are you hungry?" Mr.

Ayame called back, smiling as he walked to greet her.

"No, it's alright—they provided food

in the palace," she replied with a warm smile still lingering on her face.

"Did you see Lord Tomoko?" he asked

cautiously, his voice dipping low, expecting she might not want to talk about

him.

To his surprise, her smile only

brightened.

"Yes! I did see him—I mean, he's a

Lord, so it's obvious he would be there."

Mr. Ayame blinked in confusion. She

had left the house full of determination to confront him, to catch him in the

act. And now? She looked like a completely different girl. Almost… enchanted.

It was like someone had put a charm on

her.

"Sooo… did he do it?" another voice

chimed in from the next room. Mrs. Ayame peeked her head around the corner, clearly unable to hold back her curiosity.

Kamaria's expression didn't change.

"Well, I did ask him. He said no—he

didn't poison me. He said he wouldn't dare to kill me by slipping something

into my food or drink."

Mrs. Ayame frowned. "And how do you

know he was being genuine?"

"He looked me in the eye when he said

it," Kamaria replied, the softest smile forming again. "And I believe him."

"Why do you keep smiling, dear?" Mrs.

Ayame asked, puzzled. "Just a few hours ago, you couldn't even say his name

without pulling a face. He made a complete fool out of you at the Gala."

"Yes… he did," Kamaria admitted, her

voice quieting as she looked down. "But I deserved it. I was very horrible to

him when we were younger."

Her tone had shifted. And for the

first time, she looked ashamed.

"Ahh, makes sense now," Mrs. Ayame

murmured. "Alright, then. The maid will take you to your room to get ready for

bed since you won't eat anything."

"Come, Miss Ayame," the maid said,

appearing gently in the doorway.

Kamaria followed her up the corridor

in silence.

Once in her room, Kamaria set her

belongings down while the maid prepared her clothes for the night.

"Hey… umm, could I get the paper from

last night?" she asked suddenly.

"Paper?" the maid tilted her head.

Kamaria looked at her, hope flickering

in her eyes. "Yeah."

"Ohh… that paper. I put it in the bin.

It was all smudged when you collapsed, and I didn't think you'd want to keep

it. Please forgive me." Her voice turned panicked as she quickly bowed in

shame. "I didn't realise it was important to you."

"You can get up," Kamaria said gently.

"It's alright. I was going to throw it away anyway. It had loads of mistakes."

The maid slowly straightened up,

clearly flustered by the forgiveness. "O-Oh, okay. I'll get you some fresh

paper right away!"

Ten minutes passed before the maid

returned, panting.

"H-here you go, miss. These were

hidden pretty well… I'm guessing your brothers must've taken them."

Kamaria blinked.

Brothers?

She had completely forgotten she had 'brothers'. Rasetsu and Sora didn't have any other kids after Kamaria, even though she wanted some siblings. In her previous life, it was just her, her mother, her father, and her twin sisters—Hana and Himawari. She had never known what it was like to have brothers.

I guess taking on this role meant

having brothers.

"Thank you so much," she said, bowing

slightly.

The maid looked shocked, almost

scandalised. She stared as if Kamaria had just broken an unspoken rule. Then

she quickly bowed deeply and fled the room, as if avoiding the awkwardness.

Kamaria sat down at her desk, lit

softly by the glow of a candle. She dipped her brush in ink and stared at the

blank paper for a moment. Then, carefully, she began to write:

Dear Sulien,

Before I will even start any of this

writing or letters to each other… I wanted to start by saying—

I'm sorry.

She paused. A single droplet fell onto

the page. Not ink… A tear. Her vision blurred. Tears filled her eyes and

spilled down her cheeks, one after another. She kept writing.

I couldn't say it to you face to face

because I'd—

Another tear landed.

Cry.

She was already crying. She couldn't

even hold the brush steady anymore.

I'd cry so much I wouldn't even be

able to say the words. I'm sorry, Sulien. I'm sorry for being selfish. I'm

sorry for being the person who killed you. I'm sorry for—

The ink smudged as the tears hit the

paper again and again.

Making your life a living hell. I

shouldn't have done that. If only I knew how you felt. Maybe I wouldn't be the

person I was… or am. I want to change. I want to be better. I want to make up

for all the things I did. Please. I know now probably won't be the time, but—

Could you forgive me some day?

Sincerely,

Kamaria Suzuki

The tears didn't stop. They soaked her

sleeves. Her voice was gone. Only soft sniffles and the sound of her sobs

filled the room.

She placed the letter carefully on the

desk to dry, its surface already warped by the ink and tears.

And then she collapsed into her futon,

too exhausted to change, too broken to do anything else.

She fell asleep crying.

Not from weakness, but from release.

From guilt.

From finally facing what she had

become.

The maid quietly entered after the

sounds had faded. She glanced down at the page.

She didn't understand all the words.

But she knew what it was.

Regret.

And without saying a word, she stepped

back and closed the door behind her. Weirdo.

*

"Good morning, Sulien."

Master Kiyoshi's voice, smoother than

ever, glided into the room as if nothing had happened the day before. His sleek

violet hair was pulled back into a high, disciplined bun — not a strand out of

place — and his clothing looked freshly pressed, his posture impeccable.

Sulien blinked at the sight of him.

Why does he look like he just stepped out of a noblemen's portrait? he thought,

squinting slightly. He clearly woke up early. He never wakes up

early.

Sulien replied with a short, tired,

"I'm fine. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm doing so well," Kiyoshi said

with a smug grin. A little too well. Sulien kept his lips sealed,

suspicion crawling through his gut. Something about Kiyoshi's mood felt off — cheery, almost fake.

Kiyoshi trailed him to the breakfast

room like a nosy older brother.

"So… what happened yesterday?" he

asked, casually picking a fruit from a basket and tossing it into the air, then

catching it again without looking.

Sulien didn't even glance at him. "I

can't tell you."

"Can't? Or won't?" Kiyoshi leaned

against the doorway, clearly enjoying the silence that followed.

Just then, the door slid open with a

soft swish.

"Good morning, Lord Luan," came a much softer voice. It was Lady Suzume, carrying a tray of tea and some warm sweet rice balls. She walked in with her usual grace, her presence like a cooling

balm to the rising heat in the room.

"Morning, Lady Suzume!" Sulien said

with a genuine smile, finally letting his voice brighten. Across the table,

Kiyoshi scoffed and crossed his arms, glaring down at his untouched fruit.

The jealousy wasn't subtle.

"Why can't you tell me?" Kiyoshi

snapped, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. "Lord Luan always tells me

everything."

Sulien shrugged, poking at his food

with chopsticks. "Well, I'm not Lord Luan. I'm Sulien Kobayashi, and I'm trying

to survive in this strange world without blowing my cover or my head off."

Kiyoshi's eyebrow twitched.

"Fine then. Hmph."

The silence was so thick it could've

been sliced with a blade. Suzume watched them from the side, hiding a quiet smile behind her sleeve.

Sulien took a breath and decided to

poke the bear.

"How old are you, anyway, Master

Kiyoshi?"

"Twenty-three. Why?"

"Because you act like a five-year-old."

"I DO NOT!" Kiyoshi shouted, banging

the table with a chopstick, almost knocking over Suzume's teapot.

"You better watch it, you little shit.

You're this close to getting me removed from this post!"

Sulien smirked. "And if that happens,

your head would be hung on a spear before you could even cry for your mother."

That was enough to make even Kiyoshi

flinch.

The room quieted instantly.

Kiyoshi grumbled something under his

breath, too low for anyone to hear, and went back to his meal, stabbing his

rice with unnecessary force.

Later that morning…

Sulien sat cross-legged on the tatami

mat, staring at the blank parchment in front of him. The inkstone sat beside

it, and a brush rested in his hand. The air was still — too still. Every second

of quiet felt like a countdown.

"I need to inform the Qilin King. The

Phoenix Monarch… he's playing a dangerous game."

Just as he muttered this to himself,

Suzume appeared silently at the doorway, her sleeves fluttering like whispers in the wind.

"Hello, Lord Luan. Are you alright today?"

"Lady Suzume," he said, standing

briefly to bow. "I need your help. I need paper. It's urgent — for a message to

my master.

Her eyes softened. "Of course, I'll

get some right away." She turned and disappeared down the corridor.

As he waited, he tapped the brush

against the rim of the inkstone. The Phoenix King's vague warnings, his

passive-aggressive way of speaking — it all unsettled him.

He had too much to report.

Suzume returned a few minutes later

with a slight frown. "Apologies, my lord. Master Kiyoshi had the paper. He

wasn't… eager to give it up."

Sulien laughed under his breath.

He's more immature than I thought.

Suzume chuckled with him. "He asked if

your apology this morning was sincere. I told him it was."

"Well, thank you for that," Sulien

replied sincerely. "And for everything else."

She smiled, bowed, and left.

Now time to write the letter.

To Your Royal Majesty, the Qilin King,

Yesterday, I was summoned by the

Phoenix Monarch to his palace. He did not declare war directly, but I believe

he is deeply unsettled. He suspects that both you and the Chort Monarch are

preparing for war — and has begun contingency planning.

He does not wish to attack first… but

if provoked, he will not hesitate to defend his kingdom. It was also revealed

that a spy, the ideas was given by the original Lord Luan Tomoko — was embedded in Crystoia. I suspect I have unknowingly replaced that very agent.

I will continue to gather information.

But caution is needed. The Phoenix King may be hesitant, but his court is

restless.

Yours in loyalty,

Sulien Kobayashi

The ink dried slowly. He left the

scroll open, not wanting to risk a single smudge.

Knock. Knock.

"Come in."

Kiyoshi stepped in — still absurdly

perfect in appearance. Sulien resisted the urge to groan.

"Hello… Sulien."

He's using my real name again? Why?

"…What do you want?"

"I came to see if your apology was

genuine," Kiyoshi said, crossing his arms like a pouting child.

Fine. "I'm sorry for the way I talked to you this morning. There."

"Hmm, It sounds a bit forced don't you think?" Kiyoshi said with one eyebrow up.

Sulien sighed. "Sorry, Master Kiyoshi,

for how I spoke to you this morning. Please forgive me." He got up and bowed.

Kiyoshi stared. His sharp features

went soft. His mouth opened to say something, but he closed it and turned away

quickly.

"T-that's enough. You didn't have to

bow. I was over the line, too." His voice cracked slightly, and he hurried out

like a guilty schoolboy.

Sulien blinked after him. What a

weirdo.

He sealed the letter in a parchment

envelope. Waxed it shut.

Now came the hard part: finding

someone to deliver it.

No Thildesan citizen would risk

delivering outside the kingdom. Betrayal meant death. Even whispers of letters

to enemy kingdoms were punishable by execution.

Only one option remained.

"Kiyoshi."

"Yes, Young Sir?" he said, back to

sorting papers without looking up.

"I need this letter delivered to the

Qilin King."

Kiyoshi froze, one hand hovering

midair. "To… the Qilin King?"

"Yes."

Kiyoshi turned slowly, meeting

Sulien's gaze with a mix of concern and disbelief.

"…Alright," he said at last. "I know

someone. I'll make sure it gets there."

Sulien narrowed his eyes. "And how do

I know you won't read it?"

Kiyoshi rolled his eyes, snatching the

envelope with mock offense. "Sulien, please. I've carried messages more

dangerous than this. If the Qilin King found out I read one of his letters, I'd

be dead by morning."

Sulien hesitated. Then… handed it

over.

Kiyoshi gave a rare, genuine nod and

disappeared into the shadows.

*

Over to Kamaria, who had already eaten breakfast. She returned to her room, brush in hand, sitting cross-legged on the floor. The paper lay in front of her,

untouched. I must inform the Chort King of the Phoenix King's actions. If I don't… our kingdom will fall before it even realises the threat.

She scanned the space. Her futon, the low table, every drawer. Where did

I put the ink pot last night?

It was gone.

Frustrated, she stood up, flipping through her belongings, checking under blankets and cushions. Her heart thudded. She hadn't touched it since last night. Unless…

She stepped out, barefoot, wandering the hallway in search of a maid.

Then—she froze.

Faint whispers. Low voices. Too low to hear unless you were standing exactly where she stood, just outside a sliding door.

She leaned in, pressing her ear against the paper-thin wall.

"We have to find out what the King told her."

"She won't listen. I tried to get her to talk this morning."

Kamaria's breath caught.

That voice—Mr. Ayame. Who's voice is that with him?

"She's only here because the Chort King asked us to keep her. Otherwise, she's just a lowly little shadowbinder. A girl like that deserves nothing. We can throw her

out whenever we like."

Her blood turned to ice.

"And that boy. Luan. If she gets too close to him, we'll lose everything. If the two

of them ever unite… it's over for us."

"Got it, dear," came a second voice—sharp, feminine. Mrs. Ayame.

Kamaria backed away, hand over her mouth. Her chest rose and fell in trembling motions. They never cared. Not once. I was never a girl to care for. Just a tool. She ran—barefoot and silent—back to her room.

Ripping open her satchel, she snatched up the letter she'd written the night before. No time to write a new one. She shoved it into an envelope, jotted down Sulien's address, and sprinted through the corridors. Her hands trembled.

Out the villa. Down the cobbled path. And there—by sheer fate—stood a postman.

"You deliver to villas in Thildesa?" she blurted out.

He turned with a smile. "Ah yes, my lady. 

"Then please—this one please." She

handed it over, nearly shoving it into his hands.

"I'll see it delivered myself."

"Thank you."

She turned and walked back slowly. The

weight of the truth — that she'd been played, used, discarded — sat heavy in

her chest.

As she entered the villa, a voice met

her at the door.

"Ah, Mizori, there you are. Where did

you run off to, dear?" Mr. Ayame.

Kamaria said nothing.

"Mizori?"

Still silent.

"You going to speak, girl?"

Nothing.

"Kamaria Suzuki."

She flinched. That voice. That tone.

Her name used like a threat.

Mrs. Ayame stood at the end of the

hallway, one hand raised. A pink-blue magical glow pulsed from her palm,

glowing brighter with every breath. Her face was sharp, terrifying. She's A

MAGE?

Kamaria dropped to her knees in

terror. "P-Please don't hurt me—!"

Mrs. Ayame stepped forward, grabbed

her by the face. "Tell me," she hissed. "What did the King say?"

"I-I don't know what—"

Her glowing palm hovered inches from

Kamaria's eyes.

"Do not play dumb. What. Did. The

Phoenix King. Tell. You."

"Fine! I'll tell you!" Kamaria sobbed.

"Just… please…"

Mrs. Ayame pushed her away and spat at

her. "Get up. My husband wants to hear it too."

Kamaria wiped her cheek. The betrayal

stung more than the spit. They were never kind. Just pretending. She followed

her like a prisoner.

Inside the room, Mr. Ayame was seated

as usual — calm, polite, composed. It was all a mask. And she saw right through it now.

He smiled. "Let's hear it then."

Kamaria lowered her head. She sat. Her

hands trembled in her lap. But her voice? Calm. Measured.

"I don't know why you're making such a

fuss about the Phoenix King," she said, looking directly into his eyes. "He

doesn't want war. He said he's sending a spy to Keidonia. That's it."

He stared at her. Long and hard. Then

leaned back, stroking his chin.

"She's telling the truth," he finally

said.

"Are you sure you're not lying?

Integrity would be a great quality for your people." Mrs. Ayame hissed. She

couldn't even bring the name of her people out from her mouth without being

disgusted.

"It's fine. You may go now."

Kamaria bowed and left, holding her

breath until she was out of sight. Only then did she let the panic show in her

eyes.

They're watching me. Every move. Every

word. I need to end this mission. Fast.

Back in her room, she searched

again—until finally spotting a passing maid.

"Excuse me!" she called. "Do you have

ink?"

"What is it, girl?" the maid snapped.

Kamaria paused. Why does everyone hate me now?

"I… I just need ink. Please."

The maid grunted and walked off.

Minutes later, she returned and tossed the ink pot at her.

"Here."

Kamaria caught it. Barely.

"Thank you." But the maid was already

gone.

She set down the ink, unrolled fresh

parchment, and wrote quickly.

To the Chort Monarch,

The Phoenix King summoned me

yesterday. He questioned my identity but ultimately revealed some key

information. He plans to send a spy to Keidonia. He claims he doesn't want war,

but if you or the Qilin King strike first, he will retaliate.

Also… Mr. and Mrs. Ayame are using me.

They do not see me as an ally. Only a pawn. I know that this isn't your problem.

I will report more when I can.

Yours in loyalty,

Kamaria Suzuki.

She set the letter aside to dry, eyes darting to the door every few seconds.

Once it dried, she tucked it into a

new envelope, ran back out — and found a postman. Just by luck

"Excuse me, Do you send outside of

Thildesa?" he asked, amused.

"Yes, I do. I'm actually going out of

Thildesa today as well for a boy.

Could that be for Sulien?

"Please deliver this outside Thildesa.

It's urgent."

He nodded. "Two urgent letters in one

morning? Seems like trouble's brewing."

Kamaria didn't answer. She bowed and

returned to the villa.

As she vanished from sight, the

postman turned the letter over in his hands. "Hmm to the Chort Monarch…"

Kamaria sat by the entrance, she was overthinking. I need to finish this mission and get out of here before I get used even more. But how long am I here for?