The feast spilled into the night like a storm. Lanterns swayed in the courtyard, shadows flickered on the mansion's white walls, and the sailors sang songs Kino had never heard before. Their voices were rough, but full of life, as though the sea itself was roaring through them.
Kaiji outdid himself. He strutted from table to table, describing every dish with wild exaggerations. "This boar," he declared, slapping the roasted flank, "I wrestled from the forest with nothing but my apron!" The sailors howled with laughter, grease on their fingers and wine on their chins.
Kino smiled, but it felt strained. He sat among them, a crown of flowers placed on his head, a cup of sweet wine in his hand. Rose had insisted he drink sparingly, her hand brushing his shoulder in quiet warning. Cisco stayed at the edge of the gathering, arms crossed, watching the crew with a gardener's suspicion, as though they might trample his soil.
For Kino, the merriment was hollow. He kept glancing toward the docks, hoping, foolishly, to see another boat arrive. To see the tall figure with green hair step onto the sand, sword at his side, calm smile waiting just for him.
But the horizon was empty.
"Eighteen!" one sailor shouted, thumping Kino's back. "The age of a man!"
"Aye," another chimed, raising his cup. "Tomorrow, you'll see the city, boy. Your world's about to change."
Kino forced a smile. The city. He had dreamed of it, but now the thought felt strange, unreal. His world was this island, the sea, the mansion, his caretakers. The man. Without him, the promise of the city felt like a trick of smoke.
As the music swelled, Kino noticed movement at the far edge of the courtyard. Rose stood with two of the crew, their heads bent together, voices too low to catch. When she glanced toward him, her expression softened into her familiar, motherly warmth—but only after a pause, as if she had to put the mask back on.
Kino's chest tightened. It was the same as always. The man had spoken with her like that, too—whispered words Kino was never allowed to hear. Back then, Kino thought little of it. But tonight, the secrecy stung sharper.
"Why always Rose?" he muttered under his breath.
The night deepened. The stars wheeled above, and torches burned low. Kino leaned back in his chair, half-listening to Kaiji's latest impossible story. Then a flicker caught his eye.
North. Beyond the gardens, past the slope of the cliffs.
A light.
Kino blinked, sitting up straighter. The library. The one building he had never been allowed to enter. Its roof was black against the stars, its windows always dark. But now—now an orange glow licked from its upper windows, smoke trailing into the sky.
"Fire," Kino whispered.
No one else seemed to notice at first, the music and laughter drowning the night. Kino rose from his chair, eyes fixed. The glow brightened, flames leaping higher, devouring the forbidden building.
"Rose!" Kino called, his voice cracking. "The library!"
The crew exchanged quick glances, a ripple of tension breaking their cheer. Several of them slipped away from the tables, moving toward the northern path. Kino's heart pounded. He started forward, but Cisco caught his arm.
"Stay here," the gardener said, low and firm.
"What? No! It's burning!" Kino struggled, but Cisco's grip was iron. His eyes were hard, unreadable.
Kaiji's laughter faltered, then died. Rose appeared suddenly at Kino's side, her hand on his cheek, her voice soothing. "It's all right, my dear. Don't worry yourself."
"All right?" Kino's voice rose. "It's on fire! We have to—"
But her eyes—soft, kind, unshakable—held him frozen. "Please, Kino. Trust me."
His breath caught. All his life, Rose's words had been comfort, command, and love. But tonight, they felt like a chain.
From the corner of his eye, he saw them—sailors emerging from the dark, arms burdened with scrolls, with books bound in cracked leather, ash smeared across their clothes. They moved quickly, quietly, slipping through the courtyard toward the ship.
Kino's stomach turned.
They hadn't gone to stop the fire. They had gone to take.
"Why?" Kino whispered. His voice was lost in the crackle of flames and the shouts of feigned alarm.
The library blazed brighter, its roof collapsing inward with a roar. The glow lit the night like dawn, casting long shadows across the mansion walls. Kino stood rooted, trembling, caught between the warmth of Rose's hand and the cold dread rising in his chest.
The world he had known—the safe, sheltered world of his childhood—was unraveling in fire.
And for the first time, Kino wondered if the man with the green hair, his idol, had been part of that secret all along.