The wind hadn't stopped.
In the Kingdom of Technology, the wind never truly rested. It slipped through steel and glass, stealing noise and leaving only silence in its place.
Helya stood at the window, her gaze fixed on the dim track of lights in the distance. She was still in her dark attire—clothes meant for silent movement. Her fingertips retained the residual warmth of magic, though her heartbeat had long returned to calm.
She remembered how her body moved in that split-second—how she spun, how her blade caught the incoming spell just in time. Her mind hadn't ordered it. Her instincts had.
She also remembered Cael's expression in that moment—how his eyes shifted from composed to startled, then to something she couldn't quite read.
Now, he was just a wall away.
She had moved into this apartment two days ago. The transition had been quiet, efficient—his guards transported her belongings swiftly. The space was modest, not extravagant like the palace, but more livable. The walls were bare, free of surveillance. Even the air felt warmer here.
He said it was for her safety.
She hadn't refused.
Since the night of the attempted assassination, Cael hadn't mentioned the attack again. Instead, he had tightened security, repositioned patrol routes, and posted silent watchers at the building's blind spots. And she—she had remained quiet, offering no further explanation.
Helya exhaled lightly, drawing a symbol on the windowsill with her fingertip—a faint trail of shadow magic.
She wasn't sure what move she was supposed to make next.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts—not a formal knock, but rhythmic and gentle. Cael.
"Come in." She dismissed the rune and straightened her posture.
Cael stepped in, still in his dark officer's uniform, the insignia on his collar gleaming under the room's ambient light.
"It's windy tonight," he said with a level tone, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of something else. "Are you alright?"
She looked at him with a faint smirk. "I'm fine. After all, I saved your life, didn't I?"
He paused, as if considering her words, then moved toward the window to stand beside her.
The city beyond was quiet, a sleeping giant of light and wire.
"You asked me the other day why I was there," she said, voice calm. "Truth is… I just couldn't sleep. The room was too stuffy. I needed some air. The winds in the Magic Kingdom aren't as sharp as here—this cold keeps you awake."
Cael didn't reply right away. His AI had told him her magic signature that night was unusually high—but he didn't press.
He looked out the window, thoughtful. Or perhaps conflicted.
"I should thank you," he said finally. "Whether you were just passing by… or came for me."
She turned to him, a teasing glint in her eye. "Would you feel more touched if I said I came for you?"
Cael gave a quiet chuckle, deep and reserved. "No. But I'd be more confused."
For a moment, the air grew still. Helya didn't know why, but she suddenly recalled what that agent—the one who rose from the earth—had told her:
"The closer you are to the truth, the greater the danger."
She looked at the man beside her—Cael. His status, his nation, the web of politics behind him… they were all danger.
But right now, the most dangerous thing was this:
He was beginning to trust her.
The wind remained silent, the glass reflecting their faint silhouettes—blurred, and close.
And elsewhere, deep in the capital's hidden rooms, a secret conversation was taking place.
"She must not be exposed," said the envoy from the Magic Kingdom.
"He suspected. But not anymore," replied a technology official. "The staged assassination was enough."
"Good. Let him keep her close… She must remain by his side—until the end."
The game had already begun.
And the next move? It was already falling into place.