A light rain soaked the training yard as the sun set. Small puddles reflected the torches the guards had begun to light, transforming the palace stones into an inverted sea of stars. Ren stood on the porch of the servants' barracks, staring up at the gray sky as he waited for the water to subside. He had just returned from the kitchen, carrying two cups of hot chocolate—one for himself, the other for whoever it was.
His hurried steps splashed behind him. Ren turned to find Alicia, the Knight Princess, trotting through the side gate. Her blond hair was plastered to her face, her training armor half off, and her breathing shallow, as if she had just run a long distance. When she saw Ren, she stopped, hesitating for a moment before approaching.
"Hiro is still in the strategy room?" Ren asked softly, offering one of the cups.
Alicia took it, both hands scooping up the warmth. Sweet steam penetrated the cold air, making her cheeks flush. "Yes. He and the generals are dissecting tomorrow's attack route. It seems… it won't be finished until after midnight." Her smile was thin, struggling to hide her disappointment. "Of course, a hero's job is important."
Ren didn't answer right away. He leaned forward, holding out a clean cloth. "Your hair is wet. You might catch a cold."
Alicia paused for a moment, then wiped her cheeks with the cloth. Her fingers lingered unconsciously on her temples, as if reluctant to let go. "Thank you." Her breath fanned softly over the rim of the cup before she took a sip.
They stood side by side, accompanied by the sound of raindrops hitting the thatched roof. The silence was not awkward, but warm—the small cup in Alicia's hand was an excuse to keep their distance close.
"Am I stupid?" she whispered suddenly. "Complaining about attention in the middle of a war."
Ren tilted his head, watching the torchlight reflect in Alicia's blue eyes. "No. Heroes are still human. The heart needs its own protective sword, too."
Alicia looked down, her fingers tapping on the clay walls of the cup. "Sometimes I forget what it's like to speak without a shield. Hiro is always right—always strong." She smiled dryly. "But when I talked about my nightmares, about the nights I woke up in a cold sweat… all he said was, 'Stay strong, Princess. We have to keep going.'"
Ren resisted the temptation to clench his fists—fake or real anger, he could barely tell. He patted the thin wooden railing, then turned his head. "Keep going doesn't mean you're alone." He took a half-step closer. "If Princess wants, I can be a terrible listener… but at least I'm here."
Alicia chuckled—a fragile yet beautiful sound. "You're not a terrible listener. You remember my ointment, remember my wounds, even the color of my favorite horse." She looked up; raindrops fell on her eyelashes, making them sparkle. "Why is that?"
"My memory is bad for important things," Ren joked. "So I fill my head with little things to make them seem useful."
Alicia held her breath, weighing the words. Then she exhaled slowly, so close that Ren could taste the warmth of chocolate on her breath. "Want… to come to the old armory? There's an abandoned armor repair tent. At least it's dry there."
Ren nodded, and they walked across the courtyard, turning behind a pile of metal crates. The old armory was no bigger than a warehouse, but it was big enough for two people to stand without touching—or just enough if they wanted to lean on each other.
Alicia lit a hanging lantern, the yellow light hugging the dull stone walls. The sound of the rain was muffled, replaced by the scent of metallic grease and the wet leather of armor. Ren grabbed a wool blanket rolled up in the corner and shook it out. Alicia sat on a low stool, staring at the slick nails in her iron boots.
She spoke without looking at Ren. "My father taught me the difference between a great sword and a common sword." Her fingers traced the hilt of her practice sword. "But no one taught me the difference between loneliness and weakness."
Ren knelt down, carefully pulling off Alicia's metal gloves. Her fingers looked like war wounds—hard calluses, old cuts. Beneath the steel sheen, the pale skin tensed at his touch. "Loneliness isn't a weakness," Ren said. "It's just a sign that you've been taking care of someone else for too long."
Alicia bit her lip, looking down so that her wet hair covered her face. "You… talk like you've known me for years."
"Sometimes all it takes is one rain shower together," Ren replied, smiling thinly.
He wrapped a blanket around Alicia's shoulders, letting the wool cling to the cold armor. Alicia leaned in, as if seeking fire. Ren sat down beside her, shoulders touching. At such a close distance, she could smell the soft scent of sweat mixed with baby soap—the scent of a real person, not a knight on a stage.
Alicia took a deep breath, as if to speak—but her voice was choked. Ren, slowly, lowered his face until it was level with hers. "May I?" he asked, fingers brushing the tips of her blonde hair that still dripped with water. Alicia nodded slowly. Ren brushed a soft strand behind her ear, his thumb brushing the damp skin beneath her jawline. Alicia closed her eyes, her cheeks heating under the slight touch.
Raindrops dripped from the roof onto Alicia's knees, making her shudder. Ren placed the mug of cocoa—now half cold—into her hands. "Drink. It'll help." Alicia's lips touched the copper rim, but her hands were shaking; he held the base of the mug, steadying her. As the sweet liquid flowed, Alicia swallowed slowly, and as the mug went down, her cheeks grew redder—not sure if it was the heat of the drink or the other heat in her chest.
"I…" Alicia whispered, "sometimes… I wish someone would look at me as Alicia, not the Knight Princess." Her blue eyes stared at him, the lanterns gleaming in them. "When I'm with you… I feel that way."
Ren held his breath, bending his head closer. The rain outside roared harder, drowning out all other noise, leaving only their heartbeats growing louder. Ren's fingers were still in Alicia's hair, lowering to the nape of her neck, pressing gently. Alicia let out a very soft moan—a muffled sound, but one that shook Ren's chest.
Ren pulled his hand away, making room. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I—"
Alicia held his hand back, iron-gloved fingers gripping Ren's wrist. "Don't apologize… I'm the one who doesn't have the courage yet." Her lips trembled, words choked. "I don't want to betray Hiro, but… I'm afraid my heart will betray me."
Ren looked down at the seam of his gauntlet and the pale skin beneath it. "The heart cannot be betrayed," he whispered. "It only points the way you hide."
Alicia stared at him, hurt, then—with newfound courage—touched his cheek with the tip of her cold glove. "If I'm wrong…" her voice cracked, "…will you stay here?"
Ren closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cold steel and the warmth of the skin beneath penetrate his pores. "Yes. Because I don't fight for a title. I fight… for what beats here." He pressed her hand—still in its metal sheath—to his chest. It was beating fast; Alicia felt the vibrations in her palm.
She pulled her hand away, looked at him meaningfully, then stood. "I have to get back before Hiro notices." Her steps faltered, but before the door opened, she turned, holding her breath. "Tomorrow…you'll be in the training yard, right?"
Ren nodded.
Alicia let out a sigh of relief, then ran off into the rain, wool blanket still around her shoulders. Ren stood in the doorway, watching her back disappear around the corner. The rain dampened his hair, but his chest burned, as if the spark in the small warehouse had ignited a flame that could not be extinguished.
It was late at night when Ren returned to his room. On the table, a notebook was open. He had written:
Alicia—the lonely confession phase. The touch of hair and nape was accepted. The breaking point: feeling understood as a woman, not a knight.
The ink was still wet when Ren closed the book and looked at the window. Far away in the knight's tower, the torches were dying out one by one. But one window remained lit—the princess's room. Ren imagined Alicia staring at the roof, hugging a wool blanket scented with rain and chocolate, letting her thoughts swing between loyalty and desire.
He smiled faintly. The tangled threads in the Princess Knight's heart were beginning to unravel… and the end was now tied to him.
In her bed, Alicia closed her eyes, clutching the wool blanket tightly. The scent of cocoa and Ren's soap clung to the fibers, filling her lungs. In her sleepy fantasy, she felt Ren's fingers brushing her hair again, his thumb pressing gently against the nape of her neck. Unconsciously, she moved her lips, as if to pick up a kiss that didn't happen.
In his strategy room, Hiro was still faithfully staring at the war map, unaware that the night rain had stolen a part of his heart.
And in another corner of the palace, Ren opened the window, letting the cold wind hit his face—a wind that brought the shadow of flowing blonde hair and a sweet question:
"Am I brave enough to go back?"