Morning arrived with a quiet, golden indifference. Soft light filtered through the tall palace windows, spilling across polished floors while servants moved with the hushed, rhythmic steps of a world returned to order.
But for Princess Iyo, there was no order.
She stepped out of her chambers already dressed, her eyes sharper than the early hour allowed. When a maid approached with a bow to announce breakfast, Iyo didn't even let her finish the sentence.
"Where is she?"
The maid blinked, caught off guard. "The guest, Your Highness? She was moved to the east wing. She should still be resting—"
"Prepare something light," Iyo interrupted, already walking. "I'll take it myself."
"Your Highness, we can—"
"I said I'll take it." It wasn't a shout, but it was the kind of firm, royal finality that left no room for protest.
The east wing was a world of its own—distant and quiet. Sunlight slipped through open curtains, falling gently across a room that felt far too large for one person. Yuna sat on the edge of the bed, perfectly still. Bandages wrapped her arms and shoulders like a second, unwanted skin.
A soft knock broke the silence.
"Come in," Yuna said.
The door opened, but Princess Iyo didn't enter immediately. She stood in the frame, holding a tray, watching Yuna as if to confirm she hadn't vanished into thin air overnight. Finally, she stepped inside.
"…You're awake."
"Good morning," Yuna replied, her tone as level as ever.
Iyo set the tray down with a softness that bordered on reverence. "You should still be resting. You shouldn't push yourself."
"I'm fine," Yuna said, though her gaze moved to Iyo's face. "You didn't sleep much."
Iyo froze. "I did." The lie was too quick, too clean. Yuna didn't push it; she just watched. Iyo exhaled, defeated by the silence. "…I brought you something. Simple. Warm."
As Yuna reached for the tray, Iyo moved instinctively to steady it. Their hands brushed—a brief, electric spark of contact. Both paused, then continued as if the air hadn't just thickened.
"Will you stay today?" Iyo asked, her voice carrying a new kind of intention.
"If Uncle Andrew stays."
Iyo allowed herself a small, knowing smile. "Then he'll stay."
"Okay," Yuna breathed, a hint of amusement touching her voice.
Silence settled over them, but it wasn't the heavy, suffocating kind. It was comfortable. Iyo sat nearby—not too close, not too far—and for the first time that morning, the restless thrum in her chest finally stilled.
The palace gardens were breathing. A soft wind moved through rows of flowers, scattering gold across stone paths. For once, there was no urgency, no blood, and no fear. Just time.
Iyo walked beside Yuna—not leading, just beside. "Do you like it? I come here when things get loud… or when I don't want to be a princess."
"You're still one," Yuna noted.
"Unfortunately," Iyo sighed, earning a ghost of a smile from Yuna.
Iyo reached down and plucked a small flower, turning it between her fingers. "Do you ever wish for something like this? A quiet life?"
"I already have one," Yuna said. "With my family."
Iyo's fingers stilled. "Right."
Without thinking, Iyo reached out and tucked the flower gently into Yuna's hair. "…There."
Yuna didn't pull away. She just blinked. "Thank you."
Iyo's hand lingered a second too long before she pulled back, her cheeks warming. "…It suits you."
Within the palace halls, the peace was shorter-lived. Andrew stood with his party before King Joseph Straus. The King was composed, but his mind was clearly elsewhere—until a guard approached with a letter.
Joseph took the letter, his brow furrowing at the simple, ordinary seal. He read it once. Then again.
His posture didn't just straighten; it locked. He stood suddenly, the scrape of his chair echoing like a gunshot.
"Your Majesty…?" Andrew asked, sensing the shift.
"…So soon…" the King whispered. He looked up, and for the first time, there was no calculation in his eyes—only a raw, unnerving certainty. "She's here."
"Bring our guest in," the King ordered. "With the utmost respect."
The doors to the royal hall opened slowly. There was no grand announcement, no heralds, and no names. Just a presence.
She stepped in—calm, unhurried, as if the world adjusted its pace to match her own. Dark hair, unreadable eyes, and a simple outfit that somehow felt more imposing than a suit of armor. Beside her, a small figure skipped along—Eunha, looking around with a playful curiosity that felt entirely out of place in a throne room.
Andrew's breath hitched. "…Madam Da-li…"
At the center of the hall, the King did the unthinkable. He stepped forward and lowered himself to one knee. He took her hand and pressed it to his forehead—an act of recognition that transcended formality.
"…It has been a while," Da-li said, her voice as smooth and unchanging as deep water. "It's been a while, Joseph."
"Words cannot describe how honored I am to meet you again, Drac—"
"It's Madam Da-li," she corrected. It wasn't a suggestion.
"…Yes. Lady Da-li."
Andrew stepped forward, his head spinning. "You two… know each other?"
Da-li tilted her head. "I know him. From before he was a king. Seems like yesterday… you were that stubborn young prince who cried over losing a duel against a girl."
The hall froze. The King didn't deny it. He didn't even look embarrassed; he looked resigned. Andrew looked like he'd just seen history collapse.
"You haven't changed," the King noted.
Da-li didn't answer. Instead, her gaze moved to Andrew, sharpening. "You've been gone for over a week. It shouldn't have taken this long to come back."
"The situation changed," Andrew said, straightening his back. "The Slasher evolved into an Executioner. We took serious damage. We survived… because of her."
Da-li measured him with her eyes. "Executioner, you say? A-grade heroes. With my daughter. And you couldn't take down a single S+ demon." She paused, her eyes like flint. "Now tell me—whom should I be more disappointed in? You all… or my baby girl?"
Silence dropped like a guillotine.
"Neither," Andrew said, his jaw tight. "If anyone deserves blame, it's me. I was the leader. But we're alive because of Yuna."
Da-li exhaled a faint, almost unnoticeable breath. "…Hmm." It wasn't approval, but it wasn't a death sentence either. She looked down at the skipping figure beside her. "Sweetie. Go with uncle. And bring your sister here."
Eunha grinned. "Okay, Mama!" She walked straight to Andrew. "Uncle, let's go get Aneki."
Andrew followed her out, half-nervous, half-resigned. As the doors closed, Da-li turned back to the King.
"What about a quick chat in the meantime?"
The King didn't hesitate. "Of course. Please… this way."
Elsewhere in the palace, Eunha moved ahead of Andrew with a carefree purpose.
"…I wonder how Aneki will react…" she hummed playfully.
Andrew glanced at her. "…You don't seem worried."
Eunha looked back, her smile bright and terrifyingly calm. "…Should I be?"
Andrew didn't answer. For some reason, that felt like the most ominous question he'd heard all day.