That morning, the sky looked almost black.
Not black because the night hadn't left yet, but black because the gray clouds gathered so thick, it seemed to swallow the sun before it had the chance to rise. The wind blew hard from the east, rattling the window and shaking the curtain of Hana's small house until it sounded like whispers.
Hana stood before her small mirror. Her uniform was neat, her tie tied perfectly beneath the collar that had faded a little with age. Her hair was tied in a low ponytail, and she patted her cheeks lightly, trying to chase away the sleep that still lingered in her eyes.
Today was the final exam.
And she had to pass.
But the wind that lashed against the front door made her glance back suspiciously. She walked to the living room and opened the window just a little.
Craaak.
"Eh...?" Hana squinted. "Why is it… so dark?"
Suddenly the wind rushed in as if it had a will of its own. The curtain flew up, and leaves scattered past the front of the house. Hana hurried to shut the window again.
"It's not just dark… it's also freezing cold..."
Hana stood at the front door, staring at the strange weather while clutching her umbrella.
But when she raised her hand to open the door—
"Don't go."
The voice came out of nowhere. Deep and flat.
Hana spun around. "Hah?!"
She froze. At the doorway of her room stood Mathien. But not her fat cat. Instead, a man with messy black hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. His body was tall and steady, clothed in long garments that looked foreign and expensive. As if he had walked straight out of a royal painting.
"Ma—Mathien?! You?! Since when?!"
"Just now," he answered flatly. He walked slowly toward Hana. His shadow fell across the cold wooden floor. "You were making too much noise. I thought something was happening."
Hana still couldn't close her mouth. "But why you, why now?"
Mathien turned his gaze toward the window, to the unmoving sky. "The wind carries a rotten stench. Dark magic is near. You must not leave."
Hana blinked. "What?"
"I said, don't go." His voice was low, but clear.
"I… today's my final exam. I can't skip it, Mathien. I—"
"I don't care about your exam." His tone didn't change.
Hana stared at him, disbelieving. "But everyone else is going to school too. I'll be fine."
"No." Mathien stepped forward. Now he stood right before her. His height forced the girl to look up. "You will not be fine if you go out now."
Hana let out a deep sigh, her eyes softening with a pleading look. "But I studied so hard. Grandma always said I had to graduate so I could work and have a future. I can't fail just because the sky is cloudy."
Mathien fell silent. His gaze dropped to Hana's pale but stubborn face.
He clenched his teeth slightly.
"If you insist on leaving," he said flatly, "I'll lock this door with magic."
Hana's jaw dropped. "You… you're serious?!"
"Try me."
And before Hana could protest, a low rumble shook the ground—like thunder whispering before it struck. The windows rattled again, and the front door made a soft click, as if locked from within.
Hana whipped her head around. "Eh—?!"
Mathien stared straight at her, as if to say: I told you so.
She sighed in frustration, her shoulders slumping, before dropping her bag to the floor. "If I fail this exam, I'm blaming you for the rest of my life."
Mathien didn't answer. He simply stepped closer and laid a hand gently on Hana's head.
"If you go out now, you could lose more than just test scores," he murmured softly.
And this time, his tone wasn't harsh, but like a cold wind brushing gently through leaves.
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Hana stood behind the small window, her eyes unblinking as they fixed on the flower field in the yard. The swirling wind tore petal after petal from the blossoms she had tended since childhood with her grandmother. Some stalks broke, some were ripped from the soil and carried away by the increasingly wild gusts.
Her lips trembled. She pressed her palm against the fogging glass. "My flowers…"
Her eyes burned. "They—they're all being torn out…"
With the sound of the storm hammering the roof, the frail house creaked softly, almost like it was groaning. The wooden beams swayed, the windows shook. In the corner, the old roof loosened, a tile slipped and crashed to the ground with a thud that made Hana flinch.
"This house…" she whispered. "It feels like it's about to fly away…"
Her body moved on its own. She stepped quickly toward the door, eyes locked on the dying field. But just as her fingers brushed the doorknob—
A hand caught hers from behind.
Warm. Firm.
Mathien.
In his human form, his usually calm face now carried a different sharpness. Piercing, yet not entirely cold. In the depths of his blue eyes, there was something else—worry. A silent plea: don't go.
"You mustn't step outside," he said quietly, but firmly. "Not now."
"But my flowers…" Hana's voice shook. "I have to—they can still be saved if I hurry…"
"Nothing can be saved from winds like these."
Hana turned to him, her eyes sharp yet wet. "They're all I have. The only thing I've cared for all these years… what my grandma planted… what she left me…"
Mathien's grip tightened. "I know. But if you step out now, you might be carried away with them."
The storm raged harder, rattling the house with a force Hana had never felt before. The sky was pitch dark, as if the storm had gathered above the village itself. Any moment now, the roof might tear away. But Mathien stood firm, anchoring her hand as if it were the only thing keeping the world steady.
"You still have me," he whispered. His words pierced straight through Hana's heart.
Hana froze. Her breaths came short. She lowered her gaze to their entwined hands. Her fingers were cold, but warm in Mathien's hold.
Outside, the flowers might already be gone.
But inside that fragile, nearly collapsing house—Hana still stood. With someone who, for the first time in her life, kept her from crumbling with everything else.
And for the first time… she let herself lean on someone.
The door rattled.
At first, Hana thought it was just the wind. But the next crash was heavier, denser. As if… something was trying to get inside.
Mathien's ears sharpened. His eyes snapped to the door that had been left unlocked, and in less than a second—
BRAK!
The wooden door slammed open, smashing against the wall. Wind stormed inside, dragging a rolling black mist that seeped like smoke. The house turned cold—not the chill of rain, but the kind that sucked the warmth straight from the air.
Mathien moved faster than thought. He yanked Hana behind him, shielding her without hesitation.
"Don't move," he whispered sharply. His voice turned cold. Commanding.
Two figures stood in the doorway. Their silhouettes framed by the nearly black sky. Their cloaks whipped in the wind, long enough to sweep the floor. One—with white hair and piercing green eyes—stepped in silently, followed by a taller man with dark, cunning eyes.
Lirian and Vael.
Mathien narrowed his gaze. "So you've finally come…"
Lirian's lips curved in a thin smile. His voice was smooth, but cut like a blade. "It's been a long time, Your Highness."
Vael sneered, eyes roaming the shabby interior with disdain. "Your home now… quite humble for a prince."
Hana froze behind Mathien. Her breath caught. She didn't know who they were, but the suffocating aura filling the room needed no explanation.
They… weren't ordinary humans.
"What do you want?" Mathien asked curtly, his body tensed, ready.
"You," Lirian answered softly. "And a little—or perhaps a great deal—of your royal blood."
"We know you're weakened," Vael added, tracing the wall with a gloved finger. "And we know… this body of yours isn't as strong as it once was."
"So you think this is the right time to strike?" Mathien mocked.
"No, we just wanted to remind you…" Lirian stepped closer. "No matter how long you hide, no matter how small your body now… your power is still ours to claim."
Their gaze shifted.
To Hana.
Only for a moment. But long enough for Mathien to stiffen, shielding her tighter. His eyes flashed. His breath quickened.
No.
They must not know.
Because if Lirian and Vael caught even the slightest hint—that this girl was the source of the magic sustaining Mathien's body—
Then the hunted would no longer be the prince.
It would be Hana.
And that was the last thing he would ever allow.
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