The prince sat in a grand chamber adorned with weaponry—an armory where every blade, bow, and axe had its place. The walls were lined with swords, exotic spears, intricately designed daggers, and shields from long past. Amidst it all, he casually traced the edge of a small knife, his fingers gliding along the blade as if in thought.
He turned to Daita, who was lounging by the window, lazily tossing grapes into the air and catching them with ease.
"You want a sharp one?" the prince asked, his voice tinged with amusement.
Daita, still absentmindedly playing with the fruit, nodded solemnly, not looking up.
The prince sighed, placing the knife down on the nearby table and getting to his feet. He began walking through the armory, passing by weapons of varying sizes and forms—each one a testament to the skills of the blacksmiths and the legends of their makers.
"You could have gone to one of the heads of weapons or a military general," the prince continued, his voice slightly edged with frustration. "Why always come to me?"
Daita finally turned, standing up and walking toward the prince. "Because," he said with a smirk, "among everyone in this palace, only you love to collect weapons. And not just any weapons—those rare and powerful ones that others wouldn't dare seek."
"Besides," Daita added, his eyes scanning the weapon before him, "You've always given me the best ones. The ones that complement my powers. Wasn't My spear your first gift to me?"
"Ah, yes, the spear. I remember it well."
The prince chuckled softly, pulling a magnificent sword from a nearby stand. The weapon gleamed in the light, its hilt finely crafted with gold inlays and dark gemstones embedded along the guard. He held it out to Daita and his face dropped into a frown.
The prince chuckled softly, reaching for a magnificent sword resting on an ornate stand. The weapon gleamed in the light, its hilt finely crafted with gold inlays and dark gemstones embedded along the guard. With a casual flick of his wrist, he held it out to Daita.
But Daita's face fell into a flat frown.
"What?" the prince asked, "Why aren't you taking it?"
Daita crossed his arms clearly unimpressed. "I don't like swords," he muttered. "I asked for a small, sharp blade—not this heavy ceremonial thing."
The prince smirked, his voice teasing. "It's not a sword."
"Huh?"
With a quiet click, the prince twisted the hilt and slid open the sheath—revealing a slim, razor-sharp blade nestled inside the hollowed interior. A small knife, concealed within the guise of a sword.
Daita blinked, his eyes narrowing as he stepped forward. His expression softened, recognizing the craftsmanship. "You always know how to surprise me," Daita muttered, nodding approvingly. "This will do."
As Daita reached out to take the blade, he tugged gently—once, then twice—but the prince didn't let go.
"Akira," Daita muttered, frowning in confusion, "let go already—"
But when he looked up, he froze.
The prince's usual playfulness had vanished. Though his face remained hidden behind his ivory mask, Daita could sense the shift—something cold and tense had taken its place. The air around him felt heavier, and his stillness was no longer calm, it was unsettling.
"…Akira?" Daita said again, this time more cautiously.
He stepped forward, reaching to touch his friend's arm. But before he could, the prince abruptly let go of the blade. It slipped from his fingers, clattering against the floor with a cold, ringing echo that filled the hall. Before Daita could react, Akira had already turned on his heel and was striding toward the doors his movements sharp, purposeful, his breathing uneven and shallow.
"Wait—where are you going?" Daita called, following.
"Outside the walls," the prince replied, voice clipped.
Daita stopped in his tracks, disbelief flashing across his face. "Outside? Again? Are you insane? His Majesty isn't even in the palace right now—if you sneak out at this hour, he'll have your head. And this time, I can't make up an excuse for you."
But Akira didn't slow, he continued forward.
Cursing under his breath, Daita rushed ahead and planted himself in front of the doors, blocking the way. "No. You're not going anywhere like this."
The prince halted just a step away, his hands clenched at his sides. A long, quiet moment passed before he finally spoke.
"I'll be back," he said quietly. "Two days. That's all I need."
"Two days?" Daita repeated, incredulous. "That's not a stroll through the garden, Akira. That's a disappearance. Where are you going?"
The prince paused at the threshold, inhaling deeply as if steadying something volatile inside him. His voice came low, barely audible.
"Daita… I'll be—"
"No."
Daita stepped forward, his tone sharp with resolve. "I'm not letting you go. And if you really have to go, then I'll be the one coming with you."
Akira turned slightly, his mask catching the light, but his voice was firm. "You can't come with me."
"Then you're not going at all," Daita snapped. "Just tell me where you're trying to go in the first place."
The prince exhaled hard, frustration flickering in his posture. He dragged a hand down his face and fell silent for a moment—then finally,
"I need you to do something."
Daita's eyes narrowed, but he gave a small nod. "Name it."
Akira turned, just enough for Daita to glimpse his expression beneath the edge of the mask haunted, heavy.
"If something… strange happens to me," he said, his voice low and brittle, "don't follow. Don't try to fix it. Just go underground and burn whatever is hidden beneath the black room. Don't read it. Don't open it. Just burn it."
Daita blinked, stunned. "What…? What are you talking about?" He stared at him in disbelief. "You're serious? You want me to go to the Forbidden Vault—just to burn whatever's inside?" His voice rose slightly. "And what do you mean if something happens to you?"
The prince didn't respond right away. His fingers curled slightly, Then, quietly, he said,
"I don't know either… But if I ever start acting strange, truly strange. You must not confront me. Don't try to fix me. Just run away.
Daita took a step forward, jaw clenched. "I won't."
"I won't run. And you can't possibly get more strange than you already are, Akira. So there's no need to run from you."
The prince sighed, shaking his head. "You don't understand the danger—"
"Danger?" Daita cut him off. "Maybe. But I'm not leaving you. Not now, not ever. You don't get to ask that of me."
The prince went still for a moment then turned his head away, shoulders tense with something unspoken.
Daita stepped forward, his voice firm but quiet. "And even if something bad happens to you… then I'll stop it before it can cover you fully."
The prince stood frozen, his back to Daita. A long silence stretched between them, Then, so faintly it was barely audible, he whispered to himself,
"…What if I become the very thing you're meant to stop?"