Kaizlan woke late that morning.
Sunlight slipped through the cracks in the curtains,
and silence filled the room—
broken only by the faint song of a small bird outside the window,
as if trying to remind him the day had not yet begun.
He rose slowly.
His body didn't feel tired—
but something inside him did, heavier than any ache.
He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the stone floor,
thinking of nothing in particular.
His mind replayed scenes from the banquet:
the voices, the faces, the words spoken—
and those left unsaid.
Everything had seemed ordinary…
yet he hadn't felt as though he belonged there.
**
A short while later, a servant entered carrying a breakfast tray.
He set it down in silence, bowed without a word, and withdrew.
Kaizlan ate a little bread and eggs,
then rose and opened the window.
The air was cold, but clean.
The city smelled different that morning—less crowded,
yet somehow more mysterious.
He closed his eyes for a moment
and breathed deeply.
**
When he returned to the table, he noticed a folded sheet of paper placed beside his cup.
It wasn't banquet stationery, nor any kind of official document.
He unfolded it.
It was brief, written in a fine, precise hand:
Sometimes, what we see is only the first layer.
Don't believe all that is spoken,
and don't ignore what is left unsaid.
Do not wake an enemy who has yet to think of you.
There was no name, no seal.
It didn't look like it had come from anyone in the palace staff.
He read it again.
And again.
He stood there for a full minute,
as if waiting to hear a sound or catch a sign…
but nothing came.
**
He stepped out into the inner courtyard,
where Fallon sat on the stone bench, quietly cleaning his sword.
Kaizlan asked,
"Has anyone been in my room this morning besides the servant?"
Fallon looked up briefly, then replied,
"No one. Why?"
– "It's nothing… I just found something on my table I didn't put there."
– "A letter?"
– "A word. Nothing more."
Fallon didn't press further,
and Kaizlan didn't wish to explain.
**
That night,
the paper remained folded in his desk drawer.
He told no one.
And he couldn't decide whether to be worried…
or to laugh at himself.
But for the first time,
he felt there was someone who saw him—
without knowing who he was.
And more than that…
someone had taken notice of him
before he had even realized where he stood.