The silence from within the bathroom finally broke, and this time, Len's voice lacked its former stubbornness. "I'm sorry... I won't say anything like that ever again," his words emerged in a slow cadence, almost like a whispered surrender.
The tension stretched across Astria's face melted away like a cold drop of dew. The harshness in her eyes was replaced by a gentle radiance. Softening her voice to a near-caress, she asked, "Really? Can I truly believe that you won't be so rude ever again?"
The sound of a long breath being drawn came from inside, followed by a reply: "Yes... I won't do such mischief anymore." After a moment's pause, Len continued, "Can you... can you bring me my clothes now?"
A triumphant yet sweet smile blossomed on Astria's lips. "Fine, and why not?" she said with a lilt in her step.
There was a new lightness in her movement. She moved away from the door toward the massive, intricately carved wardrobe in the corner of the room. Her hands turned the cold handles, and she pulled out folds of silken garments.
Cradling the clothes in her arms, she returned to the bathroom door. A peculiar spark danced in her eyes. "Len... look, I've brought your clothes," she called out cheerfully.
Just then, the panel of the closed door groaned slightly. It didn't swing wide; instead, a narrow crevice appeared, and from it, Len's pale hand slowly extended. Astria, still smiling, handed the garments to the outstretched hand. Len gripped the clothes swiftly, pulled his hand back in the blink of an eye, and slammed the door shut once more.
Astria stood frozen for a second. Suddenly, an image from yesterday flashed in her mind—the exact same scene, the same game of hide-and-seek. A low laugh escaped her throat. "I truly didn't think you would surrender and apologize so easily," she said, looking toward the door.
Inside, the rustle of fabric could be heard. Len was changing into his clothes, but the innocence was no longer on his face. His brow was furrowed, and a faint trace of resentment and bitterness swam in his eyes, as if this compromise had been made not by choice, but on the chessboard of necessity. Outside, Astria remained anchored to that very door, waiting for his return.
The rustle of fabric inside the bathroom finally ceased. Then, a soft 'click' of the latch turning echoed, and the door slowly receded. Len took his first cautious step outward. His damp hair clung to his forehead, and fresh droplets of water were still trickling down from his temples toward his neck.
The silken garments fit his frame perfectly, but the expression on his face remained unsettled. As he fully entered the chamber, his gaze collided directly with Astria's, who was still leaning against the side of the door. There was a peculiar glint in Len's golden eyes—perhaps the bitterness of surrender, or the hint of a new plan.
Astria traced him from head to toe with her eyes, her smile widening further. "The clothes suit you well, Len," she remarked in a lightly teasing tone.
Len offered no direct reply. He simply lowered his gaze and, without a word, began walking toward the carpet in the center of the room. There was a silence in the way he moved that prickled at Astria. He was wringing his damp fingers together, as if trying to suppress the words rising within him.
Astria pushed herself off the wall and followed him toward the center of the chamber. "Why so quiet now? Did all that bravery of yours wash away with the bathwater?" she tried to provoke him again.
Len stopped abruptly and turned to look at Astria. The feigned innocence had returned to his face, but the depth in his eyes suggested something else entirely. "I am not quiet," he said in a low but steady voice. "It's just... I don't want to see those 'horns' anymore."
The moment those words left Len's lips, the air in the chamber seemed to freeze for a split second. The softness that had just touched Astria's face transformed into a jolting bitterness. She narrowed her eyes, took a sharp step forward, and hardened her voice.
"Len!" she exclaimed, her tone bordering on a roar. "Just now... a mere moment ago, what was the promise you made from behind that latch? Did you not say that you would never be rude again?"
Her voice was so heavy that the chandeliers in the corners of the room gave a faint, crystalline shudder. Astria planted her hands on her hips, her piercing gaze searching for a crack in Len's composure.
Not a single trace of fear appeared on Len's face. With an air of utter nonchalance, he shrugged both his shoulders and turned his palms outward, as if stating the most obvious fact in the world.
"I said exactly that," Len replied with a calm that was almost unsettling. "I said I wouldn't do any more 'mischief'... and I am keeping my word."
He locked his golden gaze with Astria's smoldering eyes and added softly, "But speaking the truth isn't mischief, Astria. I only described what I actually see."
Astria drew a long, ragged breath, her fists clenching at her sides. She was caught in a whirlwind of conflict—unsure whether to laugh at the child's sheer audacity or to punish him for such a clever, logical trap.
Astria's lips were already parted to deliver a retort, a fresh wave of reprimand brewing in her eyes. But before a single syllable could escape, a look of such profound softness washed over Len's face that it instantly absorbed the rising tension in the room.
"I... I am very hungry," Len said with a tenderness that made Astria's impending lecture die in her throat.
Astria remained frozen, staring at him. She couldn't fathom how the boy who was just delivering sharp logic had suddenly transformed into someone so seemingly helpless. But Len gave her no time to recover. Before she could even blink, he vanished from her line of sight with startling agility.
An instant later, he was standing at the main threshold of the chamber. "Fine then, I'm heading downstairs," he called out from there, slipping out of the room without looking back.
As he stepped into the cool light of the corridor, his eyes keenly scanned the guard stationed at the door. The guard was watching him when Len leaned in closer and whispered, "Your Queen is in a very foul mood today... you'd better watch your step."
With that, a mischievous smirk flickered across Len's lips, and he disappeared into the winding turns of the hallway with brisk steps. Behind him, the guard stood rooted to the spot.
He looked back and forth between the retreating figure of Len and the heavy chamber door, behind which a 'storm' was waiting to subside. He wasn't sure whether to laugh at the warning or to fear for his own safety.