The prince moved with quiet elegance, his steps unhurried, A length of white silk was wrapped gently over his eyes, concealing his sight but not his sense of presence. His fingers brushed through the jasmine bushes, careful and precise. He plucked a single bloom, brought it close to his face, and breathed in its soft, sweet scent. A faint smile played on his lips.
With delicate motion, he tossed the flower into the tray Zuzu carried, now nearly brimming with white blossoms.
Zuzu exhaled a long, tired sigh, shifting the basket against his hip. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye and muttered, "Your Highness, why not just pick them randomly? At this rate, If you keep examining every single one. Night will fall before you've even filled a second basket."
The prince didn't turn back. "Zuzu, don't rush," he said softly. "I'm picking the good ones."
Zuzu watched as he examined another bloom with the same meticulous care, then dropped it gently into the tray.
"I still don't understand," Zuzu mumbled as he stepped over a patch of sunlight-dappled moss. "Why do you go through all this trouble, collecting and threading each jasmine by hand just to decorate a statue in the garden? Isn't the rose in its hand enough?"
The prince paused for a moment, hand still hovering near the next flower. A breeze stirred the silence, rustling through the jasmine vines like a whisper.
"Jasmines," he said softly, "have a scent that lingers… like something forgotten but never lost." His fingers brushed another bloom. "A fragrance even time chooses not to erase."
Zuzu blinked, momentarily caught off guard, "But Your Highness, aren't roses your favorite?"
The prince smiled faintly, fingers letting go of another jasmine blossom as it dropped into the basket. "Of course they are," he murmured with a quiet ease. Then, just as he turned away, his voice drifted back—soft as the breeze that stirred the petals.
"…But perhaps the statue's favorite was always jasmines."
Zuzu blinked, puzzled at first. Then turning back to where they had walked from.
Behind them stretched an endless field of jasmine bushes, the blooms pale as snow, their fragrance sweet and light in the golden dusk. The last rays of the setting sun spilled across the petals, dyeing the world in hues of soft amber and ivory. The wind passed gently, making the blossoms sway like they were nodding in agreement.
Zuzu said nothing more and quietly followed his highness.
——
Under the soft glow of a hanging lantern, Ryoma knelt quietly in front of Xue, who sat still as stone. Their eyes were locked, Ryoma's intense gaze studying every line of the boy's expression as if deciphering a riddle only he could see. The murmur of passing passengers and the distant clang of bells faded around them, swallowed by the weight of Ryoma's focused silence.
Xue, oddly calm, blinked once. Ryoma didn't move.
Farther down the deck, Astra and Shion stood behind a stack of crates, trying unsuccessfully to remain inconspicuous.
Astra leaned in, whispering, "What is he doing with Xue? He's just… staring at the poor kid. Since forever! If he keeps this up, Xue might not sleep tonight."
Shion squinted toward them. "I find it weirder that Ryoma is the one doing that. I mean, from the beginning, I felt something off about that boy. And whenever I tried to check, either Kaen or Ryoma would stop me. And now look at him."
Astra shot him a look. "Something off? What are you saying, he's a ghost? A demon?" Shion turned to her, completely serious. "Who knows? Maybe he is."
Before Astra could reply, a polite throat-clearing came from behind them. They turned in unison to see Kaen standing there, arms crossed, brow raised.
"It's nothing like that," Kaen said flatly. "He's just trying to figure out where Xue is from. Who his parents are."
Astra and Shion exchanged a glance, then turned to peek around the crates again.
"…Then why is he staring and not asking?" Shion muttered, genuinely baffled.Kaen sighed. "Because it's Ryoma. He probably thinks eye contact is a conversation."
Kaen sighed. "Because it's Ryoma. He probably thinks eye contact is a conversation."
Astra nodded solemnly, arms crossed, watching the silent duel of stares. But before she could comment again, Kaen abruptly hooked his arms around both her and Shion's shoulders.
"You two. Come with me," he said casually. "We're counting stars tonight."
"Hey—wait, what?" Astra squawked, trying to wriggle free.
Shion dug his heels in. "I don't want to count them—"
But Kaen had already started walking, dragging the two protesting on either side like rebellious kittens.
Their voices faded as the three disappeared down the deck.
Meanwhile, Ryoma remained kneeling before Xue.
Gently, he reached out and took the boy's small palm into his own. His fingers tapped lightly, deliberately—reading more than just lines. Xue flinched, eyes widening, but Ryoma's grip was firm and careful. After a moment, the boy stopped struggling and simply watched him.
"Xue… Xiao," Ryoma murmured. "So, you belong to that bloodline?"
Xue tilted his head slightly, blinking, saying nothing as usual.
Ryoma let out a soft, incredulous chuckle. "I always thought no one survived that time…" he said, almost to himself. His eyes traced the faint shimmer of light in Xue's hand. "But some did, didn't they?"
Then, his voice dropped lower, as if the truth wasn't meant for the world to hear. "Still… it turns out to be only one in the end."
A pause.
"…No. Not one. There's still… one more."