Police sirens wailed through the night, growing louder until flashing lights painted Kro's house in violent red and blue. Within seconds, squad cars pulled up outside, officers spilling out and taking positions around the property.
Inside, Kro stayed exactly where she was.
Still.
Curled in Ukraine's arms.
If she moved too soon, if she stood too quickly, if she let even one wrong expression cross her face, everything would fall apart. So she went limp and silent, forcing herself into the safest role she could think of.
Unconscious.
Behind them, the wounded intruder stared in horror.
Kro's back was turned toward him, so for a second he thought he was hallucinating from the pain. But no matter how hard he blinked, the sight stayed the same.
The gunshot wound was closing.
Slowly.
Silently.
Without a single drop of blood.
His eyes widened so far they almost hurt. He wanted to scream. Wanted to shout that something impossible was happening right in front of him. But his body was too broken, too exhausted, and all that came out of him was a weak, stunned wheeze.
The front door burst open.
Police officers stormed in and surrounded the living room at once.
Ukraine looked up, panic-stricken.
"Here! Please help her! She's been shot!"
That was Kro's moment.
Her only clean escape.
She pushed herself upright at once, acting startled instead of wounded.
"What do you mean, shot? He missed."
The room fell into a strange kind of silence.
The intruder looked like he had just seen the dead rise.
Ukraine looked no better.
Neither of them understood what they were seeing. They had both watched the bullet hit her.
Yet Kro was standing there without a wound, without blood, without even the weakness a gunshot should have caused.
It was like reality had suddenly changed its rules.
Kro didn't give either man time to speak.
"Thank you for coming, officers," she said evenly. "Three men broke into my house. Two of them are unconscious upstairs in my room, and the third one is him."
She pointed calmly toward the man on the floor.
The police captain nodded.
"Understood. We still need to check that you're alright. One officer will escort you to the ambulance for examination."
"No need," Kro said. "I feel fine."
"Then let us escort you outside."
An officer stepped forward, wrapped a towel over her shoulders, and led her out.
The others headed upstairs to retrieve the two unconscious intruders.
Ukraine remained standing in the middle of the ruined living room, unable to reconcile what he had just seen. The confusion sat in him like smoke.
Then he noticed something on the floor.
A bullet.
Lying exactly where Kro had fallen.
He bent, picked it up, and stared.
"What the…"
Then he rushed outside.
He found Kro speaking with a female officer.
"It's not safe for you to stay here tonight," the officer was saying. "Do you have somewhere to go?"
"I'll stay at a hotel—"
"She'll stay with me," Ukraine cut in.
Every face turned toward him.
Kro, however, ignored him and went back to the officer.
"As I was saying, I'll stay at a hotel until my house is cleaned up. I'm sure everything will be fixed by tomorrow afternoon."
Ukraine stepped closer.
"It's expensive. Just stay at my house. If that makes you uncomfortable, I'll stay somewhere else for the weekend."
"I can handle a two-day stay at a hotel,"
"Why are you so stubborn? Just let me help you for once-"
"I don't need help from you, and I never will," Kro replied. "Thank you for your concern."
Then she looked back at the officer, who could already feel the tension between the two of them. It wasn't in any way negative, just frustrating.
"May I go get a few things from my room?"
"After you give your statement," the officer said. "It won't take long."
"Alright. I'll cooperate."
She had to keep her distance from Ukraine now more than ever.
Avoiding him was no longer preference.
It was survival.
...
Later
Ukraine drove home with both hands tight on the wheel.
It was nearly midnight, but he knew Misaki would still be awake. There was no chance she'd sleep before hearing what happened. As soon as the car's display connected to his phone, he tapped her number.
She answered immediately.
"Hey! How did it go?"
Ukraine let out a breath.
"You said your father sent men to beat the shit out of her?"
"Yes!"
"It was the opposite. She beat the shit out of them."
Misaki almost cried from relief.
"Oh my God. I was going insane. So she's okay? She didn't get hurt?"
Ukraine glanced at the road ahead.
You have no idea, he thought.
"No," he said aloud. "Not a scratch."
"Thank God. Is she with you now?"
"Uh… no."
There was a beat of disbelief. "What?"
"She wanted to stay at a hotel."
"And you let her?" Misaki exclaimed. "Come on, Ukraine. Are you sure they won't follow her there? You should've kept her near you until she felt safe. Wrong move."
"I tried," he said, frustration rising again. "I told her to stay at my place. I was even willing to go stay somewhere else for the weekend, but she still said no."
"You could have insisted."
"There was a police officer standing right there," he said. "If I kept pushing, I'd look like a creep trying to get my boss to sleep at my house."
Misaki sighed. "You had good intentions."
"Let's leave it there," Ukraine said. "The important thing is that she's safe. That should be enough for tonight."
She softened.
"Alright. You're right. Thank you for listening to me and for protecting our boss. Breakfast and lunch are on me next week."
That earned a tired smile from him.
"Can't wait. Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The call ended.
But as he drove through the dark, Ukraine remained unconvinced that he had done the right thing.
...
Hotel
Kro stepped out of the steaming shower feeling cleaner, lighter, almost revived.
She had paid for the most exclusive suite in the hotel—a room with space, silence, and a view. For someone else, it would have felt luxurious. For Kro, it only felt temporary.
She stood beside the bed and stretched carefully.
Pain tugged near her back.
The gunshot wound had sealed itself, but the impact still lingered in her muscles like an angry bruise.
"Ouch," she muttered. "That son of a bitch."
Then, dryly:
"I almost wish I were that easy to kill."
She dropped onto the bed and lay flat on her back, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep did not come.
Too many thoughts were crowding her mind.
The clairvoyant.
Ukraine's silence.
The bullet.
The way he had looked at her after she stood up whole.
Kro sat upright suddenly.
"It's strange," she whispered. "First he wasn't bothered by the clairvoyant's words. Then he saw me get shot and still wanted me to stay at his house."
She frowned.
"What exactly is your deal, Ukraine?"
A colder thought followed immediately.
She stiffened.
"I'm such an idiot."
She pressed a hand to her forehead.
"I can't keep making mistakes like this. If I don't move quickly, he'll figure out what I really am…"
Her voice thinned.
"And then I'll have to kill such a sweet boy."
She lay back down again, eyes open in the dark.
She needed a plan.
Fast.
A sharp, careful plan that would protect her before Ukraine's curiosity turned into certainty.
Because once someone truly knew what she was—
they never stayed safe for long.
...
Azaradan
Afternoon sunlight stretched across the training field, turning steel and dust into gold.
Buk had disguised himself as a commoner and slipped out of the palace before evening. He couldn't wait for nightfall to see Kro again. That was the simple truth of it. He wanted more of her—more than the hours the king had formally granted him.
So he had come to watch her where she belonged most naturally.
The field.
It was open training day, when soldiers practiced before the public and anyone could come watch. The stands were already crowded, full of shouting villagers, proud families, eager children, and old men arguing loudly over which warrior held a sword best.
Kenna arrived with a basket full of food balanced carefully in her hands.
She had two reasons to come.
One was her sister.
The other was Poqo.
And she carried enough lunch to justify both.
The field was nearly full, but she found a seat beside a stranger who seemed just as excited as she was.
Whenever Kro stepped forward to demonstrate something, the stranger shouted so loudly that Kenna had to laugh. And whenever Poqo showed off his strength or skill, Kenna whistled with enough enthusiasm to startle those around her.
They were both ridiculous.
They were both delighted.
And neither of them cared.
When training ended, Kenna took her basket and hurried toward Kro, only to notice with surprise that the loud stranger was heading the same way.
She was still puzzling over that when Kro saw her and pulled her into a bright, warm hug.
They had barely seen each other since Kro began splitting her days and nights between the army and the crown prince. The hug lasted only a moment before Kro noticed the stranger standing behind Kenna, grinning as though he had already won something.
She knew immediately.
Buk.
Even in disguise, she knew him too well now not to.
Kro let go of Kenna.
"I brought food," Kenna said happily. "Do you want to have lunch with me?"
"What about me?" Poqo asked as he joined them.
"Me too," Buk added quickly. "I'm starving."
Kenna turned, startled.
She had not even realized the stranger had followed her all the way there.
"I'm sorry," she said. "Who are you?"
"I'm the c—"
"He's Atta," Kro cut in smoothly. "A man I rescued a few days ago."
Buk blinked once.
Then accepted it.
If pretending to be Atta got him invited to Kro's afternoon, he would have answered to any name she gave him.
Kenna smiled.
"If he's your friend, then he's welcome. Poqo too."
The way she looked at Poqo when she said it made Kro roll her eyes.
"Lovebirds," she muttered. "Fine. Let's go."
The four of them made their way to a nearby hill where the grass was soft and the wind gentle enough for a perfect picnic.
As they sat, Kro looked between Kenna and Poqo.
"So," she said, "when are you two going to stop meeting in secret? You can't do this forever."
Poqo answered first, confidence lighting his face.
"Soon."
Kro narrowed her eyes.
"What does that mean? Are you getting married?"
"Yes," Kenna and Poqo answered together.
Then they laughed, full of joy and nerves and relief.
Kro stared at them, then broke into a smile of pure happiness.
"You should've told me sooner."
Kenna sighed, "I wanted to. But you started working double shifts."
Then, with sisterly irritation surfacing again, she added, "Speaking of that—how is the crown prince treating you? He'd better be making this worth it after stealing your only rest."
Buk sat still.
Kro tried to signal Kenna with her eyes.
Please stop.
Kenna did not understand.
"You can't even come home now," she went on. "The only time I get to see you is during open training. Honestly, some royal children are such a pain. We have families too. Does he think you never get tired?"
Kro's warning glance sharpened.
Poqo noticed it at once.
Because unlike Kenna, he recognized the prince.
"I heard he didn't even want guards before," Kenna continued, oblivious. "So why the sudden change? I really hate him for wha—"
Poqo gently shoved a grape into her mouth.
"You haven't touched a single fruit since we got here," he said quickly. "Eat."
The awkwardness hung in the air for a second.
Kro looked at Buk at once, checking whether he was offended.
He was already looking at her.
Kenna's complaints hadn't bothered him in the slightest.
He was sitting on a hill with Kro, sharing her sunlight, her laughter, her ordinary afternoon.
That alone felt like victory.
***