Cassia stepped out from behind the door in the guise of "Cassius." Kaguya was standing right outside.
She had dressed up for the occasion. A soft yellow dress—clearly bought somewhere nearby—flowed gently around her figure. Her ash-colored hair was neatly arranged, and her tail swayed nervously from side to side. When she lifted her gaze, her catlike ears twitched slightly, and a shy yet sincere smile appeared on her face.
Cassia froze.
It was uncomfortable to look at her like this.
Kaguya looked exactly like a girl in love—like someone who had finally gathered the courage to speak the feelings she had been carrying in her heart for far too long.
"Let's step outside," Kaguya said, already turning toward the tavern's exit.
"Alright," Cassius replied, following after her.
They walked in silence, one behind the other, unhurried, listening to the distant murmur of the city. The clatter of carriage wheels, the hum of merchants closing their stalls, the faint laughter drifting from taverns—all of it filled the space between them.
Each was lost in their own thoughts. Words hovered at the edge of their tongues, heavy and insistent, yet neither dared to be the first to break the fragile quiet.
About ten minutes later, Kaguya finally stopped.
She seemed to gather her courage all at once, as if stepping off a cliff she had been standing on for far too long.
"Cassius, I've thought about this for a long time. I want to follow you. I don't care if it's too dangerous."
Her voice trembled, but she did not look away.
"I love you! I love Alex and Anna! I love and respect Luvia—she's like an older sister to me."
She lifted a hand slightly, cutting off any attempt to interrupt her.
"Don't say anything. I know I'm asking too much. I'm asking you to accept my feelings and to keep taking care of our group. We've only known each other for a short time, and yet here I am confessing my love and asking to join your family. I must look foolish. Reckless."
Her ears drooped for a brief moment, then straightened again.
"But I really LOVE YOU! I love you so much that I'm ready to do anything for you."
The confession burst out of her like a dam finally giving way. There was no calculation left in her voice—only raw emotion.
Watching Kaguya pour out everything she had been holding inside, Cassia found herself speechless.
She had expected many things from this conversation.
But not this.
She understood, of course. Kaguya had fallen in love with the image she had created—the dependable, composed, protective "Cassius." The quiet strength. The unshakable reliability. The gentle fatherly warmth.
But she had never imagined Kaguya would be this resolute.
This sincere.
Forced to continue the deception, Cassia suddenly felt cornered.
She wanted to step forward. To embrace Kaguya—not as Cassius, but as herself. To hold her like a friend. To comfort her. To say that her feelings were not foolish, not shameful, not something to be embarrassed about.
But she couldn't.
The role bound her hands more tightly than any chains ever could.
For a fleeting moment, she wanted to run.
Instead, she steadied her breathing. Forced herself to stand still. Forced herself to speak.
When she finally opened her mouth, she made sure her voice was calm—steady, without the slightest tremor.
"Kaguya… I appreciate that you found the courage to tell me all of this to my face."
She paused briefly.
"But I see you as a friend. A friend I could entrust with my life. I don't feel that kind of attraction toward you. I… can't feel it."
She wanted to explain everything—to clarify, to soften the blow, to give reasons that might lessen the pain.
But the right words refused to come.
Hearing his explanation, the girl felt as though her heart were being sliced into pieces.
Tears treacherously welled in her eyes, threatening to spill, but she fought them with everything she had. She bit her lip, straightened her back, and forced herself not to break.
"Why?"
Her voice trembled.
"I admit I'm not as beautiful or as intelligent as Luvia. I'm not as strong as you. But I can be useful! Why do you keep pushing me away? Why? Why?!"
By the end of her words, she was shouting.
A few passersby slowed their steps, glancing curiously at the pair standing in the middle of the street. Whispers began to stir.
Noticing the attention, Cassius gently but firmly took Kaguya by the hand. She was trembling.
"Come with me."
He led her away from the crowded road, into a narrow alley tucked between two quiet buildings. The noise of the city dulled into a distant murmur.
"Kaguya," he said softly, trying to calm her, "you have to understand. We're people from different worlds. You have your family. We have our own problems."
He hesitated for a fraction of a second.
"I don't want to drag you into them. Live, Kaguya. Go to the Neutral Continent. You'll find your happiness there. I promise—we'll remain friends forever. But you can't follow us."
"You're worried about Aika and Chris?" she shot back immediately, her voice cracking as she suppressed her sobs. "I already spoke to them. They support me. Please, tell me about your problems! I'm sure we can find a solution together. I don't want to leave you!"
"I can't."
"Why?"
He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
"Because you're too weak."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
"Don't misunderstand me," he continued quickly. "I'm not judging you. I'm not looking down on you. But the fact remains—my problems would destroy you. They would destroy your family. I can't even tell you about them without putting you in danger."
He tried to keep his tone measured, reasonable.
But it was as if his words were passing straight through her.
They didn't reach her heart at all.
The girl could no longer hold back her tears.
They rolled down one after another, leaving silver trails across her delicate face. Her ash-colored ears drooped helplessly, and her shoulders trembled despite her desperate attempts to steady them.
She turned away, hiding her face behind her palms. She didn't want the man she had fallen in love with—the man to whom she had just confessed—to see her like this.
The city seemed to freeze around her. Every passing glance felt like silent judgment. Her knees shook, and it felt as though the ground itself were slipping from beneath her feet. The world had shattered into fragments, like a broken mirror reflecting nothing but distortion.
Gathering the last of her strength, Kaguya spun around abruptly and ran.
Tears streamed endlessly, blurring everything before her. She didn't know where she was going—only that she needed to get away. Away from his voice. Away from her own name on his lips.
Fragments of their conversation echoed inside her head:
"I love you."
"You're just a friend to me."
"I want to follow you."
"You can't."
"I'm not as beautiful or as smart as Luvia. Not as strong as you…"
"Yes. You're too weak."
Each word pierced her memory like a needle.
It was her first love—and she had been rejected.
Anyone could understand her pain.
Kaguya felt utterly worthless. As though she had no right to stand in their world, no right to dream of walking beside them.
The emptiness inside her expanded, vast and hollow, while a biting cold seeped into every cell of her body.
It was unbearably bitter.
Unbearably lonely.
As if the entire world had suddenly become a place where she did not belong.
She ran and cried—until there was no strength left, and no tears.
She understood that tomorrow everything would end. She would part from them forever. She would never again see the man who had stolen her heart. Never again speak to Alex, trying to cheer him up. Never again hear Luvia's calm advice. Never again argue with that irritating girl, Anna.
Everything would become memory.
Cassia stood where Kaguya had left her, watching her retreating figure, but she did not follow.
She believed she had no right.
Behind the masculine mask she wore, her expression was complicated—guilt, regret, remorse twisting together in silence. She knew she had just shattered someone's heart.
She blamed herself for dragging it out too long. Blamed herself for failing to find gentler words. But regardless of how it had happened, the truth had been spoken.
And along with the sharp sting of guilt, she felt something else—a faint, almost imperceptible relief.
She had finally told the bitter truth. She had not allowed the young girl to sink even deeper into feelings she should never have been allowed to nurture.
Cassia followed the fleeing silhouette with her eyes, then let out a quiet breath.
"Protect her until departure…" she murmured, barely louder than a whisper.
"But milady ordered us to accompany you," came a soft yet insistent voice from behind her.
"I am not asking. I am commanding you as your superior," Cassia replied coldly, without turning around.
"This will be reported."
"As you wish."
The voice vanished, dissolving into the noise of the street.
Cassia remained alone—and for the first time that day, she felt how heavy it was to breathe.
She exhaled sharply, fists clenched, and headed toward the city docks.
Her mood was foul. She almost wished to stumble upon some fool just to vent her frustration. But fate, it seemed, was not inclined to indulge her—her path to the harbor passed without a single excuse for a quarrel.
The port of Stormdale lived in its usual frenzy.
It was the height of the day. Sunlight shimmered across the water, turning the bay's surface into a sheet of molten silver. The air was thick with the scent of salt and fish.
The docks teemed with people. Sailors unloaded crates and barrels with practiced efficiency. Merchants darted from ship to ship, hoping to secure something rare or profitable. Guards stood at their posts, keeping a watchful eye on the bustle.
Cassia walked slowly along the pier, her gaze sliding over the restless crowd.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a sailor deftly slipping something into a sentry's hand. The guard pretended not to notice and waved the inspection through.
A faint smirk curved her lips.
"Suitable company," she muttered to herself.
Those were precisely the sort she was looking for—men whose conscience yielded easily to profit.
The vessel needed to be large enough to cross the ocean and reach the continent of Nightingale. Preferably captained by someone with connections… and a reputation less than spotless.
After walking along the noisy docks, Cassia stopped before a stone building that rose directly above the water. It stood on thick pylons and seemed to hover over the sea's surface.
Inside the spacious hall, numerous captains had gathered, waiting for potential employers—some dozing, some arguing over routes, others simply drinking.
Above each of them hung a shelf bearing a bottle. Inside each bottle floated a miniature of their vessel.
They were no toys, but real ships sealed within glass through the Empire's highest magic.
After unloading their cargo, the ships were "sealed" into bottles to prevent the harbor from becoming overcrowded. Only the gods knew how many resources had been poured into developing such a system. Now, this marvel had become the calling card of Stormdale.
Cassia moved between the rows, her gaze gliding from one bottle to the next. She was evaluating not so much the ships as their owners.
She judged books by their covers—but with her experience, a single glance was enough to understand what someone was worth.
Her eyes settled on a bold-looking man lounging with one leg crossed over the other.
He appeared to be around forty. He wore a mustache that did not quite connect to his beard, and thick stubble shaped like an anchor. His shirt was open halfway down his chest, exposing sun-darkened skin. A saber hung at his waist. His entire posture proclaimed that he had steered his ship through more than one storm.
Above him stood a bottle containing a three-masted schooner.
It looked sturdy.
Cassia stopped.
"I wish to hire a ship for a voyage across the ocean. Destination — the continent of Velnor. With my family," Cassia said in an even, confident tone, deliberately naming a false direction.
"Ahahaha! You've chosen the right man, sir. I am Captain of the Violet, Simbad." — Sinbad gave a short bow, slightly mocking, as though testing who stood before him. "And how should I address you, Mister…?"
"Cassius," she replied after a brief pause. "But you may call me Mister Ashford. So? Will you take the job or not?"
"I will, of course," Simbad grunted, scratching his chin. "But you understand—captains here are like gods. They do not work without offerings. We'll need something substantial."
Cassia did not blink.
"We depart tomorrow at dawn. Ten gold lyres for the entire journey. Three in advance, two upon departure, the rest on arrival." She tossed a leather pouch onto the table. The coins clinked loudly enough that several heads in the hall turned.
"And one more thing," she added quietly. "I value anonymity. I do not want anyone disturbing me or my family. No inspections. No inquiries. Forget them. Questions?"
Simbad smirked, weighing the pouch in his palm.
"Generous, Mister Ashford. For that price, we'd deliver you to the Devil himself and back," he narrowed his eyes. "But since we're speaking of Velnor… not afraid of witches? You know they're quite sensitive to foreigners."
"There will be no problems on Velnor," Cassia answered with a faintly playful smile.
Simbad chuckled, interpreting it as the confidence of a simple aristocrat.
"Then consider yourself with a ship, Mister Ashford. Tomorrow at dawn — third pier. Don't be late. The sea doesn't like to wait."
Cassia gave a short nod and turned away, not bothering with a farewell.
As she reached the exit, she caught from the corner of her eye the captain following her with an interested, greedy gaze.
He looked at her the way men look at expensive cargo — or treasure worth the risk. Simbad's fingers idly tapped the pouch of gold, and a self-satisfied grin slid across his lips.
Pirate. And not even trying to hide it.
Cassia allowed herself the faintest smile.
But men like him were exactly what she needed. He asked no unnecessary questions. He did not attempt to understand who she was or why she required an entire vessel.
He would not gossip about her commission — not because he respected client secrecy, but because he himself had an interest in silence. The fewer rumors, the fewer witnesses when he decided to play his own game.
Well then.
For now, their interests aligned.