As they stepped back into the light of the alley, the warm hum of the city returned to them—bright, chaotic, alive.
The girl twirled once, her dark gown catching the breeze, and smiled up at the sky as though she could already feel destiny shifting.
Then she paused.
"Ah~ I forgot to pay that fortune teller," she said with a playful sigh, glancing toward Sumi.
Sumi didn't even look surprised.
"I knew you would," she replied, already pulling her cloak tighter. "That's why I paid him."
The girl chuckled. "You always clean up after me."
"It's a full-time job," Sumi muttered. "And a thankless one."
The blindfolded girl hummed again, walking ahead as if she hadn't heard. "He said he's already close…"
Sumi glanced sideways at her. "And?"
She smiled, calm and mysterious. "Then I better look my best when we meet."
And with that, they disappeared back into the crowd—One girl dreaming of a storm.And the other silently praying it wouldn't break her.
—
By the time they returned to the manor's outer gates, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting golden lines across the stone walls.
And there—parked boldly at the entrance—stood a well-decorated crimson carriage.
The blindfolded girl tilted her head.
"Oh? Who's this?" she asked, her voice full of mischief. "Do we have a guest… or wait—don't tell me—it's my husband?"
Sumi sighed so deeply it could've wilted flowers.
"My lady," she said flatly, "it's the bug."
"The bug?" she echoed, amused.
Sumi nodded. "Young Master Ren. He shows up at least once a week to declare his undying love. The entire city knows about it. They've practically made a drinking game out of his failures."
"W-Wait, what?" the girl sputtered. "Everyone knows—and I don't?"
"Well," Sumi said casually, "your father told the staff to keep it quiet. Thought he wasn't a suitable match. And since you never asked…"
The girl pouted. "Humph. Typical. Father's always making decisions without asking me."
She crossed her arms dramatically.
"Is he planning to marry me off to some stiff, unromantic warlord just because it benefits the clan? Ugh, I bet he is."
Sumi raised a brow. "You say that like it's not exactly what you're expecting."
"Still! A girl has dreams, you know." She turned toward the carriage, a smile creeping across her lips. "But look at this guy! Coming all this way just to get rejected again and again? That's either incredibly stupid... or incredibly romantic."
Sumi scoffed. "Or both."
She ignored Sumi's warning and sighed wistfully. "Honestly, that kind of devotion… is almost charming."
"As they stepped through the manor's front archway, the guards bowed in silence. One stepped forward, gesturing politely for them to follow…"
Sumi whispered, "My lady, something's wrong. There's too much noise back there…"
Then they turned the final corner.
Virelia stopped cold.
The sparring ring unfolded before her like a staged memory—the clash of blades, the stillness of Kael, the breathless silence of watching eyes.
And there—in the center of the ring—stood Amon.
Effortless. Untouched.
Ren's sword lay on the ground.
Virelia and Sumi stood frozen as the duel ended, Kael announcing the victor.
Amon.
Ren was walking away—humiliated—when he saw them.
Her.
He stopped.
And then—before Kael or Amon noticed—he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
"Lady Virelia!" he shouted, running toward her.
She blinked, startled. "Who…?"
Before she could react, he grabbed her hand.
Her body stiffened. So did Sumi's.
"What are you—?!"
"Come with me," he whispered, too fast, too close. His breath hot and frantic. "Now. Before your father finds out. He's going to marry you off to that monster—before you even get a say."
His hand trembled—but not with fear.
With obsession.
Sumi stepped forward in a blur.
Her palm cracked across Ren's face—so loud it echoed through the courtyard.
The whole world seemed to pause.
Even Amon turned his head.
Kael's voice came next—low and shaking with fury.
"You son of a bitch."
Everyone turned.
Kael's boots thundered across the stone. He seized Ren by the collar and slammed him against the courtyard wall.
"You dare put your filthy hands on my daughter—in my house?!"
Ren gasped, trying to speak, but Kael's grip tightened.
"Tell me why I shouldn't cut off your hand where you stand."
But then Kael froze.
Not out of mercy.
Out of reality.
Because no matter how furious he was…
Ren was the son of a noble house.
The Crimson Edge Clan.
Kael snarled under his breath, shoved him back, and barked at the guards, "Throw him out."
They didn't hesitate.
Two men grabbed Ren and dragged him toward the gates.
Amon stood still. Watching. Like he wasn't even part of the world. Like he'd seen it all before.
Ren struggled. Shouted.
But no one listened.
Until—just before they threw him onto the street—he roared:
"She is mine! My wife! If you won't give her to me—I'll take her with the blood of your soldiers and your city!"
The gates slammed shut behind him.
Silence returned.
Inside, Kael's rage simmered beneath his breath.
But Amon?
He stood still.
Eyes locked on the girl with the blindfold.
And Virelia… for the first time… stepped forward.
Though she couldn't see him, her voice cut through the air with a strange softness.
"You're quiet," she said.
Amon tilted his head.
"And you're blind."
She smiled faintly.
Amon said nothing.
But his thoughts stirred.
Her horns are different.
He hadn't noticed them at first—not through the flow of her hair or the elegant way she moved. But now, up close, beneath the velvet blindfold and the soft glow of the courtyard lights…
He saw them.
Not the stubby, barely formed crowns that Ren flaunted, nor the battle-worn curve of Kael's war-born blood.
No.
Hers were long. Subtle at the base, but branching back like onyx thorns carved by divine hands. Ancient. Refined.
Not like the others.
That realization struck him with more weight than he let show.
"That's why I never looked at theirs," he thought.
Because none of them mattered.
His crimson gaze narrowed—almost imperceptibly—as he stared at the blindfolded girl in front of him.
But her…
She's not ordinary.
Not in blood.
Not in bone.
And maybe… not in fate.
They were not equal in height—she barely reached his shoulder.
Then she tilted her head slightly.
"…Are you my husband?"
The silence that followed wasn't awkward.
It was a blade. Waiting to be drawn.
Amon's crimson eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.
He didn't answer.
Not yet.