The wind on the rooftop had calmed, as if it, too, was listening in silence.
Helya leaned against the railing, her fingers brushing the cool metal. Lights flickered in the distance, but she never turned to look at them. In that moment, she didn't want to pretend—couldn't pretend.
Cael stood quietly beside her, saying nothing. He watched her profile, eyes deep and unreadable.
"Are you always like this?" Helya asked suddenly.
"Like what?"
"When you suspect someone… do you always bring them to your childhood rooftop and speak to them gently in the moonlight?"
Her words held a trace of teasing, but more than that, it felt like a test. Cael didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped a little closer, his voice calm.
"If I truly suspected you, I wouldn't have brought you here."
Helya let out a soft laugh, the sound tinged with something harder to define.
"You know… sometimes, it's the kindness that scares me more than the suspicion."
"Why?"
"Because the kinder someone is… the easier it is to waver."
Cael said nothing. He understood too well—the kind of wavering that went beyond emotion, that cut through loyalty, truth, even fate.
The breeze stirred again, catching a few strands of her hair and brushing them against his shoulder. He said gently, "Don't worry. I'm not asking for explanations. Tonight, it's just the two of us."
Helya turned to look at him, and for a moment, she couldn't look away. His gaze was too open, too sincere—something she had never seen in the eyes of anyone from the Magic Kingdom.
She wanted to say something. In the end, she only murmured, "Thank you."
•
Night deepened. They descended the rooftop side by side.
Back at the residence, just as Helya reached her door, a subtle ripple in the air caught her attention—a faint magical residue that didn't belong.
Her eyes narrowed. She paused briefly but continued forward with casual steps, as though nothing were wrong.
She entered her room, quietly closing the door behind her. Her voice remained steady.
"You mentioned an early tech briefing tomorrow?" she asked.
Cael nodded. "Yeah. I'll be leaving a little early."
"I'll rest early too, then," she replied.
He hesitated, as though there was more he wanted to say. But in the end, he only nodded. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight."
The door closed with a quiet click.
Helya's expression changed at once.
That magical trace—she recognized it immediately.
A transmission seal from the Magic Kingdom, used only for emergencies.
She stepped toward her bed, crouching down to lightly knock three times on a specific floorboard. A faint magical sigil shimmered to life. She pulled out a pale crystal orb and held it to her ear.
A low, urgent voice came through: "Identity risk has increased. Prepare for relocation. Await further instructions."
Helya's hand tightened around the orb. Her eyes, however, were calmer than ever—colder than the night outside.
"I'm not leaving," she whispered. "Not yet."
She turned to look out the window. The city lights gleamed against the darkness.
And she knew this was only the beginning.