Chapter 7
Kyrth settled into the chair beside the window.
From there, he could keep an eye on both the door and the rain-soaked courtyard.
It was the best position.
He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to think.
The prince.
The ghost.
The missing participants.
None of it fit together.
A soft rustling interrupted his thoughts.
“…Kyrth.”
He turned.
Saeroyx was half-awake, his orange hair a complete mess as he blinked sleepily toward him.
“What?”
“You.”
Saeroyx lazily lifted a hand.
“Come here.”
Kyrth frowned.
“No.”
“Come here.”
“I said no.”
Saeroyx sighed dramatically.
“You really enjoy making simple things difficult.”
“I’m keeping watch.”
“So keep watch from here.”
Kyrth didn’t move.
Saeroyx stared at him for several seconds before sitting up with obvious reluctance.
“You are impossible.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The next instant, Saeroyx climbed off the bed, walked over to the chair, and caught Kyrth by the wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing your terrible decision.”
Before Kyrth could pull away, Saeroyx gave a firm tug.
Caught off guard, Kyrth lost his balance and stumbled forward.
They both landed on the bed.
The mattress dipped beneath their combined weight.
Kyrth immediately pushed himself up on one elbow.
“Saeroyx.”
“What?”
“Move.”
“No.”
“You’ve made your point.”
“I haven’t.”
Saeroyx grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw half of it over Kyrth.
“You didn’t sleep.”
“I don’t need to.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Kyrth looked at him.
“I’ll stay awake.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll be alert if something happens.”
Saeroyx folded his arms.
“And exhausted when it actually matters.”
Kyrth fell silent.
Saeroyx smirked.
“See? Even your silence agrees with me.”
“It does not.”
“It absolutely does.”
Kyrth tried to sit up again.
Saeroyx caught the sleeve of his robe before he could leave.
“Just one hour.”
“I—”
“One hour.”
Kyrth looked down at the hand holding his sleeve.
Then at Saeroyx.
“You don’t give up easily.”
“I’ve never claimed to.”
Another moment passed.
Finally, Kyrth let out the faintest sigh.
“…One hour.”
Saeroyx smiled with clear satisfaction and released his sleeve.
“There. Was that so difficult?”
“For you?”
“No.”
“For me?”
“Probably.”
Saeroyx laughed quietly before rolling onto his side.
“Wake me if the palace catches fire.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Within moments, Saeroyx was asleep again.
Kyrth looked at him for a long while.
Then, despite himself, he lay back against the pillow.
He had intended only to close his eyes.
Just for a moment.
Outside, rain continued to fall against the palace windows, while inside the room, for the first time since entering the palace, silence felt almost peaceful.
Nearly an hour had passed before Kyrth stirred.
His breathing remained steady as consciousness slowly returned, but before he even opened his eyes, a familiar instinct awakened within him.
Someone was watching him.
Not with hostility.
Not with murderous intent.
Just… watching.
The sensation was so unwavering that it sent a faint shiver across his spine.
Keeping his breathing even, Kyrth slowly opened his eyes.
The room was washed in warm afternoon light. Thin curtains swayed gently as a soft breeze slipped through the slightly open window.
For a heartbeat, everything seemed ordinary.
Then he noticed.
He wasn’t alone.
Saeroyx lay beside him on the spacious king-sized bed, closer than Kyrth remembered. During their sleep, the distance between them had vanished. One of Saeroyx’s hands rested lightly against Kyrth’s side, not gripping him, merely there—as though even asleep he had unconsciously sought warmth.
Kyrth lifted his gaze.
Two vivid orange eyes were already waiting for him.
Saeroyx was awake.
He had been watching him.
Neither of them spoke.
The silence stretched between them, unhurried and strangely comfortable.
“You’ve been awake,” Kyrth murmured, his voice still rough from sleep.
A faint smile curved across Saeroyx’s lips.
“For a while.”
“…And you decided to stare?”
“I was observing.”
Kyrth raised an eyebrow.
“There’s a difference?”
“There is.”
Saeroyx’s smile deepened ever so slightly.
“I’ve never seen you asleep before.”
The answer was so simple that Kyrth found himself unable to reply immediately.
He had faced creatures capable of tearing apart mountains, crossed countless Star Doors, and survived battles no ordinary person could imagine.
Yet somehow…
Holding the gaze of the man lying only inches away felt unexpectedly difficult.
“You look different,” Saeroyx continued softly.
“Different?”
“Less guarded.”
The words settled gently between them.
Kyrth looked away first.
“…You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?”
A quiet laugh escaped Saeroyx, low and warm enough to make the room feel smaller.
Without thinking, Kyrth reached up to brush a loose strand of black hair away from his face.
Saeroyx’s eyes followed the movement.
Every small gesture.
Every shift in expression.
It was as though he was trying to memorize them.
“You really are staring.”
“I told you.”
Saeroyx’s voice dropped to little more than a whisper.
“I’m observing.”
Their eyes met again.
For a fleeting second, neither looked away.
The afternoon sunlight painted golden lines across the bed, surrounding them in a quiet warmth that made time itself seem to slow.
Then Saeroyx reached out.
Not boldly.
Not possessively.
Just enough to tuck a stray lock of black hair behind Kyrth’s ear.
His fingertips barely brushed warm skin before retreating.
The touch lasted only an instant.
It lingered far longer in Kyrth’s thoughts.
“…”
“…”
Kyrth blinked once before clearing his throat.
“If we stay here any longer,” he said, carefully returning to his usual composed tone, “everyone will assume we’ve disappeared.”
Saeroyx chuckled.
“That would certainly start interesting rumors.”
Kyrth stood from the bed, pretending not to notice the faint warmth lingering on the side of his face where Saeroyx’s fingers had touched.
“Come on.”
He offered a hand without thinking.
Saeroyx looked at it for a moment before placing his own into Kyrth’s.
Saeroyx rose with easy grace, and Kyrth stepped back as soon as he was upright.
A perfectly ordinary moment.
Yet the brief closeness lingered in the air longer than it should have.
Neither of them commented on it.
Some things, Kyrth realized, became louder when left unspoken.
The two left their chamber together.
Outside, the palace was far livelier than it had been that morning it was already day 3 since they arrived in the palace but there is no bride they found.
Servants hurried through the polished corridors carrying bolts of embroidered fabric, trays of jewels, fresh flowers, and stacks of documents. Knights stood at every intersection in ceremonial armor while maids whispered excitedly as they passed.
Preparations for the royal wedding had transformed the palace into a world of constant movement.
As Kyrth and Saeroyx walked side by side, many servants lowered their heads respectfully. Some offered curious glances toward the foreign guests before quickly looking away.
“They’re nervous,” Kyrth observed.
Saeroyx glanced around.
“Not because of the wedding.”
“No.”
“They’re watching us.”
Before Kyrth could answer, an elderly man in elegant robes approached with measured steps. His silver hair was neatly tied behind his head, and despite his age, his posture remained perfectly straight.
He bowed deeply.
“Your Highness. Lord Kyrth.”
“I trust your rest was pleasant.”
Kyrth inclined his head politely.
“It was. You are…?”
“I am Cedran, the Chief Steward of the Royal Palace.”
His calm smile never faltered.
“His Majesty regrets that he cannot accompany you this afternoon. Matters concerning the wedding have occupied the Royal Council since dawn.”
“The Royal Council?” Kyrth asked.
Cedran nodded.
“The marriage of the Crown Prince is not merely a celebration.”
“It determines the balance of influence among the Twelve Noble Houses.”
“The smallest decision made during these eight days will echo throughout the kingdom.”
Saeroyx exchanged a brief glance with Kyrth.
“So even a wedding is treated as politics.”
Cedran smiled knowingly.
“In a royal palace, Your Highness…”
“…everything is politics.”
He gestured toward a nearby balcony overlooking the capital.
“If it pleases you, I have been instructed to give our honored guests a tour of the palace before tonight’s banquet.”
The two followed him through corridors lined with towering marble pillars and enormous stained-glass windows depicting the history of the kingdom.
They passed the Hall of Monarchs, where the statues of every previous ruler stood in solemn silence.
Then came the Hall of Oaths.
Cedran paused before twelve banners hanging from the vaulted ceiling.
Each bore a different crest.
“The Twelve Noble Houses.”
“Every one of them supports the throne…”
“…and every one of them competes for greater influence.”
Kyrth studied the banners carefully.
“I only count eleven.”
Cedran’s expression froze for the briefest moment.
His smile returned almost instantly.
“The twelfth banner was removed many years ago.”
“By the King’s order.”
Neither Kyrth nor Saeroyx asked another question.
Yet both silently noticed the way several nearby guards stiffened at the mention of the missing house.
Whatever had happened…
The palace had not forgotten it.
After thanking Cedran for his hospitality, Kyrth politely declined the guided tour.
“We’d rather see the capital with our own eyes,” he said.
“The finest way to understand a kingdom is to watch how its people live.”
Cedran bowed.
“As you wish. An escort will follow from a distance should you require assistance.”
The two descended the palace steps and crossed the broad courtyard. Beyond the towering gates, the royal capital stretched beneath a clear afternoon sky. Streets buzzed with merchants preparing decorations for the upcoming wedding, children chased one another through the plazas, and musicians rehearsed festive melodies in the market squares.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
They simply observed.
“The city is too calm,” Saeroyx finally said.
Kyrth glanced at him.
“You noticed it too.”
“The people are celebrating.”
“But they don’t look afraid.”
Kyrth nodded thoughtfully.
“If what we had discovered was true, the Crown Prince murdered his own wife.”
“A king who allows such a prince to remain the Prince should terrify his people.”
Saeroyx folded his arms.
“Yet no one behaves as though they’re living under a monster.”
They continued walking until the palace walls stood behind them.
After several moments, Kyrth spoke again.
“Something else has been bothering me.”
“What?”
“If she truly was the prince’s wife…”
He looked back toward the palace rising above the city.
“…shouldn’t there be a royal mausoleum?”
Saeroyx slowed his steps.
“You’re right.”
“Every royal family preserves the graves of its bloodline.”
“And if she became the Second Prince’s wife through marriage…”
“…she should have received a royal burial.”
Kyrth’s eyes narrowed.
“Since arriving here, we’ve seen statues of former kings, memorial halls, and ancestral banners.”
“But not a single monument.”
“Not a single grave.”
“Not even a chapel where the royal dead are honored.”
Saeroyx looked toward the distant palace towers.
“So either this kingdom has an unusual burial custom…”
“…or someone doesn’t want visitors asking where the former Princess rests.”
The two exchanged a silent glance.
Neither believed in coincidences.
Without another word, they changed direction.
Rather than wandering through the market, they began walking toward the oldest district surrounding the palace.
If a royal graveyard existed…
Someone in the capital would know where to find it.
As they entered one of the older districts of the capital, a familiar voice called out.
“Kyrth.”
Both men turned.
A pair from another team approached through the crowd, their expressions unusually grave.
“It seems we weren’t the only ones investigating,” Saeroyx said.
The two groups exchanged polite greetings before moving into the shade of a quiet courtyard.
“What have you discovered?” Kyrth asked.
“We’ll trade information,” one of them replied. “What you know for what we know.”
Kyrth nodded.
“Agreed.”
After briefly exchanging everything they had uncovered about the missing royal graveyard and the strange silence surrounding the Second Prince’s supposed late wife, the other team remained silent for a long moment.
Finally, one of them spoke.
“We found someone.”
“Who?”
“A woman who once served inside the Second Prince’s residence.”
“She no longer lives in the palace.”
“She spends nearly every day mourning at a small shrine on the edge of the capital.”
Saeroyx frowned.
“For whom?”
“She wouldn’t tell us.”
“But she kept repeating the same sentence.”
The man lowered his voice.
“She deserved better.”
A heavy silence settled over the group.
“That’s not all,” the second investigator said quietly.
“The servant secretly led us to an abandoned residence once used by the Second Prince.”
“The place should have been empty.”
“…Instead, we found an entire room.”
Kyrth’s expression sharpened.
“What kind of room?”
“A studio.”
“The walls were covered with paintings.”
He paused, as though choosing his next words carefully.
“Every painting depicted the same young woman.”
“The first portraits showed her smiling.”
“Then came another.”
“A bruise beneath one eye.”
“The next…”
“Her wrists were wrapped in bandages.”
“Then cuts.”
“Then burns.”
“Then bruises covering her arms.”
“Every painting showed new injuries.”
“As though someone had recorded her suffering day after day.”
Saeroyx’s eyes narrowed.
“Who painted them?”
“We don’t know.”
“There wasn’t a single signature.”
“The final painting…”
The investigator hesitated.
“…was unfinished.”
“The woman was lying on the floor.”
“There was blood beneath her.”
“And whoever painted it never came back to finish.”
No one spoke.
Even the noise of the marketplace seemed distant.
Kyrth finally broke the silence.
“Those weren’t paintings made for art.”
“They were evidence.”
“Or a confession.”
Saeroyx looked toward the palace standing high above the city.
“If that woman was truly the Second Prince’s wife…”
“…someone wanted her suffering to be remembered.”
“And someone else wanted every trace of her to disappear.”
Without another word, both teams understood they were no longer investigating a simple royal scandal.
They had stepped into a secret the palace had buried for years.
