Guest House, Vernara
The guest house was a low wooden structure nestled beside a moonlit stream, surrounded by glowing reeds and soft chimes that rang with the wind. The floor creaked faintly with every step, and the paper walls let the chill in.
A single flame danced in the center lantern, casting long shadows on their faces as they settled in for the night.
Khael sat by the window, arms folded, his gaze distant. The room felt quiet—but not peaceful. There was too much tension. Too much left unsaid.
He glanced at Ceyla, who sat on the tatami mat sharpening one of her blades, the sound rhythmic and sharp.
"You are… not really a temper person," Khael said.
Ceyla paused, looking up with a blank face.
"What?" she said flatly.
"Do I look like that to you, huh!?" she snapped a second later, frowning.
Before Khael could speak, Juno, lying on his side with a hand propping up his head, muttered:
