Narrator: LOUVNA
I woke with the first threads of dawn and looked around the grand room they had allotted me in the manor.
Everything here reminded me of my chambers in the royal palace of SPIYA… yet this time I didn't feel like the prisoner I was used to being.
I remember… I had a beautiful childhood despite everything.
My father… the gentle king who used to carry me on his shoulders despite the heavy crown.
He would whisper in my ear: "You are my little princess, and you are stronger than any crown."
My mother… who passed away early, her image still etched in my heart.
She used to leave me small notes tucked inside storybooks, telling me to be brave.
But the palace was like a forest—full of eyes that watched.
The servants who smiled at my face while their eyes held wickedness.
I felt like I was living in a golden cage: every move monitored, every word recorded.
I remember the day I found a snake in my bed.
I was only seven. The maids feigned shock, but I saw a devilish smile on one of them.
It was MONA… my guardian angel. She saved me.
She uncovered the plot. Since that day, she has never left my side.
"Mona…" I murmured as I sat on the edge of the bed.
Mona entered as if she had been waiting for my call.
"Good morning, Your Highness. Did you sleep well?"
"Don't call me that as the others do," I answer weakly. "You know I hate those titles."
She sat beside me and took my hand. "I know, but I worry for you. This time the danger is real."
I looked out over the beautiful garden.
"You know, that night on the bridge… when MOHITO pushed himself to save me, I felt safe for the first time in years.
Like when my mother used to hold me."
Mona squeezed my hand. "MOHITO is different, that's true.
But remember—everyone in this world has secrets."
I rose and moved toward the window.
The sun rose over the city, but my heart remained submerged in the shadows of the past.
"Do you know the worst thing about being a princess?"
I asked Mona without turning.
"You never know who a true friend is, and who hides behind a mask of loyalty."
Mona stood behind me
. "But you are not alone now. You have people who genuinely care for you."
I closed my eyes and remembered MOHITO's rare smile.
Maybe this time it will be different.
Maybe this time, someone will protect me not because I am a princess, but simply because I am LOUVNA.
I left the room with Mona.
The manor was quiet, as if everyone had gone out.
But as we neared the inner courtyard, a tangle of overlapping sounds filled the air—not ordinary voices but pulses of life and energy.
We hurried to the courtyard, and what I saw made my eyes widen in astonishment.
The courtyard was the stage for an incredible scene.
ZARIOUH, all energy, trained with his daggers at astonishing speed, moving like lightning while AYOUB and TAHARA struggled to keep pace.
"Faster, AYOUB! You move like a tortoise!" ZARIOUH shouted, laughing.
In another corner, MIZIANI stood silent, watching everyone with his sharp eyes, while MESNAS and ZAKI sparred in a training bout.
"Is that all you've got?" MESNAS taunted as he easily dodged ZAKI's blow.
"Don't be hasty, I'll show you what I can do!" ZAKI replied with a challenging smile.
On a bench beneath a tree, SOLIMON sat with SAMA, explaining something with calm gestures;
SAMA listened attentively, her eyes bright with curiosity.
Nearby, OBASO was showing a new weapon to GHAZLANE and MAYNO.
"This upgraded nano-armor will give better protection," he said proudly.
In the background, on an upper balcony, SHOUTNA watched everyone with his piercing gaze.
ADEL stood beside him, and the two of them seemed to be in a serious discussion.
Their movements were not the movements of ordinary people.
I'd spent my life around guards, but what I saw now was different—even MONA, who had trained from childhood, looked astonished.
A smile rose on my face. These were not merely a band of fighters; they were a family. Each had a distinct personality and strengths, and together they formed a whole.
I opened the door, and a fresh morning breeze swept in, bringing their laughter and whispers.
For a moment, I forgot I was a princess, forgot the dangers that shadowed me, and wondered: could I become part of this world? Could I have a place among them?
SOLIMON was the first to notice me and stepped forward.
"Looks like sleep didn't stop you from waking early."
"How can anyone sleep with all this noise?" I replied, smiling.
"This is our life," he said as he approached. "Noise, chaos—but we're together."
SAMA greeted me and MONA. We watched the courtyard where training continued with vitality.
The scene was impressive, yet something was missing.
"Where's MOHITO?" I asked with curiosity, trying to hide my interest.
"He usually doesn't join training," SOLIMON said, glancing at a second-floor window with a subtle nod.
"He's probably still in his room."
Then he turned to MONA: "Why don't you join GHAZLANE? It'll benefit your training."
"Really?" MONA answered enthusiastically, but then looked at me hesitantly.
"Why don't you do it?" I encouraged her with a smile.
SAMA and SOLIMON left to join them, leaving me alone before the long corridor.
I looked at the window SOLIMON had indicated and felt curiosity pull me toward MOHITO's private world.
I had never been this close to him before and knew little of his true life.
I walked to his door with faltering steps, knocked lightly—no answer.
After a pause, I opened it slowly to peek inside.
The room was dim and nearly empty, as if no one truly lived there.
In a corner, MOHITO lay on a simple bed placed straight on the floor, as if comfort were an afterthought.
I approached him cautiously, mesmerized by the peace of his sleeping features.
His calm breathing made him look like a child, far from the warrior I'd seen the night before.
I lifted my hand to touch his tangled black hair, but a sudden chill ran over me, as if the room had cooled twofold.
I felt a heavy gaze bore into my back, as if someone watched from behind.
I spun around, but all I saw was the black sword propped in the corner of the room, like a vigilant sentinel that never slept.
Its shadow covered the entire wall.
It was as if it returned my stare, treating me like a lesser creature—part fear, part cold.
I reached toward the sword, but a voice behind me made me jump.
"Don't touch it," MOHITO said, his voice trembling and strange.
I turned to him, startled. "I… I'm sorry if I woke you."
"You don't need to apologize." He spoke to me, but his eyes remained fixed on the sword, as if addressing it and not me. "You didn't wake me."
He rose slowly and moved toward the sword with deliberate motions, lifting it as if it were sacred—an inseparable part of himself—and set it on the lone table.
"Have you eaten breakfast?" MOHITO asked without taking his eyes off the blade.
"Not yet," I answered, awkwardly.
"All right, let's go to the kitchen." He stepped toward me, but his gaze was still watching the sword over his shoulder.
"Okay," I whispered and followed him out.
Before we left, MOHITO glanced back into the room, as if checking nothing had followed.
I felt an unusual tension in him.
"How is your hand?" I tried to break the strain.
"It's fine," he answered with his customary clipped words.
All I could think of then was that black sword.
After a long hesitation, I asked: Why keep the sword in your room? Wouldn't it be better in the training hall?
He answered as we walked down the corridor: "It must be near."
I didn't fully grasp what he meant. I continued beside him:
"But… doesn't it bother you to sleep beside it?"
He paused, his eyes drifting somewhere far away.
"Better than it bothering me from afar." He spoke as if of a person, not merely a weapon. There was a story behind that sentence—one I had yet to learn.
We reached the kitchen, and I set out the food.
"What do you like for breakfast?"
"It doesn't matter," he said quietly, though his eyes followed my movements.
I teased lightly: "That's not an answer. I like honey pancakes."
He sat at the table, trying to be ordinary. "Toast."
"Just that? No cheese or butter?" I asked, offering him bread, trying to break the ice.
"No," he said softly, staring at the bread as if seeing something other than a simple slice.
"Do you cook?" I asked jokingly.
"Sometimes." His short answer said a lot.
"What do you usually make?" I pressed, wanting to know more about his world.
He shrugged slowly. "Anything simple."
I laughed at the plainness of his replies. "Why make every conversation feel like an interrogation?"
He looked at me for a moment, puzzled. "I'm not good at talking."
"But you're good at listening. That's enough." I placed my hand on my chin and smiled, trying to reassure him.
He rose to fill a glass of water. "Juice?"
"Apple, please. Do you know this is the first time we've eaten together?"
He set the glass before me, his fingers brushing mine for a moment.
"Yes." The word carried the memory of our failed meetings.
"I hope it's not the last."It was almost a wish
MOHITO fell silent as if fighting something inside. "Maybe."
"At least 'maybe' is better than 'no'," I said, smiling and clutching that small hope.
MOHITO stood as he finished. "Thanks for the meal."
"You barely ate!" I scolded, trying to hold the moment longer—a moment when we seemed, briefly, like ordinary students.
"I'm full," he replied without looking back, but his voice was kinder than usual.
I blurted out, uncharacteristically loud: "Can we—" then, shyly, "can we eat together again?"
He stopped at the door, looking down as if thinking, then glanced at me.
I froze when I saw his expression.
A warmth filled my body. It wasn't the cold look I knew but that of a man trying to find his way out of darkness.
"Maybe," he said with a tired smile that was sincere. He, too, seemed to wish it but was afraid.
Then he left the kitchen, leaving behind a silence rich with meaning. He looked like someone who wanted to return to something but knew he must leave.
Maybe I was overthinking.
Perhaps we were just a young man and woman sharing breakfast, living a normal life—at least that's what I wanted to believe in that moment, ignoring the black sword that stood like a mute witness to another world, waiting in shadow to awake again.
Then I realized… we are no longer ordinary students.
***************************
Narrator: MOHITO
I stepped into the courtyard to breathe the cold morning air, trying to clear my lungs of the nightmares that chased me through the night.
The image of the Devil Monkey would not leave me, as if etched behind my eyelids.
Each time my mind dozed, it returned—closer, clearer.
And not only that… he had been very close to LOUVNA. Close enough to choke my chest.
What does he know about me? About my past? About those dark parts I tried to bury—parts that seem to claw back whenever I approach the light?
I knew the answers were not inside these walls that everyone called safe.
The mission neared, time ran thin, and if I didn't find him before it began… LOUVNA would face a danger I could not bear.
For the first time in a long while… I was no longer running to save myself. I ran to protect her.
The others' voices filled the courtyard with their familiar noise.
Training was their way to escape reality, even if only for hours.
"You seem distracted," MASIN said, YASIN standing beside him as always—calm, yet seeing everything.
"You're back," I said without lifting my eyes from the horizon.
"Yes, we finished scanning the conference perimeter," MASIN replied with the steady tone of a hunter vigilant for danger.
SHOUTNA approached in silence, MAYNO behind him. "How was it?"
"We identified the critical points requiring extra security," MASIN said; YASIN nodded.
"Hand me the report. We'll go to intelligence now," SHOUTNA said, then turned to me: "How's your wound?"
"Fine," I answered curtly.
But my injury was not what gnawed at me.
Something else ate at my chest—the moment on the bridge, that masked gaze, the way he retreated as if melting into shadow, and that malign certainty that struck my heart: he knows me. He knows how I think… how I move… even how I look.
My phone rang. A message from an unknown sender. I opened it. One line under an address:
"I am waiting for you."
I didn't need to think. I knew well who wrote it.
I hurried to my room, my footsteps echoing loudly on the marble floor.
MORASAMI lay on the corner as if waiting for me. Even in its silence, it seemed to breathe.
"At last… You returned to me," the voice whispered in my head, and I could not tell anymore—did it come from the sword? Or from within me?
I gripped it, and my hands trembled. I drew the blade from its sheath, and the veins of the metal glowed a faint red in rhythm with my pulse.
"Come on…" the voice urged. "Let us take more."
I sheathed it quickly, but its weight felt different—heavier, deeper, closer to the soul of a demonic thing clinging to my shoulder.
I slipped out the back door quietly, unnoticed, and headed for the address.
The road was nearly empty; the breeze smelled of old rain… and something else.
The scent of blood—spilled yet not.
With every step toward that address… I moved closer to my fate.