Night quietly descended, with clouds veiling the sky. The stars, like secrets hidden behind a curtain, barely peeked through. When they returned to the residence, the corridor lights had already been turned on, casting a warm amber glow that stretched along the floor like gentle ripples.
Helya had changed out of her daytime clothes and sat quietly in the corner of her room, holding the communicator Cael had given her. Her fingers traced the fine metallic lines again and again. Her expression was calm, but her mind still lingered on their conversation at dusk.
Every glance from him, every word he spoke, seemed to carry a subtle warmth that quietly stirred her.
He once said he didn't like others touching her things.
It sounded like the sort of sentence a commander might say—calm, decisive—but underneath, there was a possessiveness that felt far more personal than professional.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.
She opened it to see a maid bowing politely. "Commander Cael asked me to inform you that tomorrow at 8 a.m., he wishes to accompany you to the central exhibition hall. It's the Kingdom of Technology's annual 'Heritage Day'—an event where all core laboratories and defense divisions will be presenting their innovations."
Helya nodded and offered a small smile. "Understood." When the door closed, her smile faded slightly.
The central exhibition.
It was one of the kingdom's symbolic locations—and one of the last places she wished to be seen.
But refusing would raise suspicion. Besides—she remembered the way Cael had looked at her in the forest earlier, as he handed over the communicator. That rare softness in his gaze… almost enough to forget who they each were.
Perhaps, she thought, it was time to take one more step forward.
That night, she slept dreamlessly.
The next morning, mist clung to the city's silhouette as the Kingdom of Technology woke beneath strands of golden light. Helya stood at the front steps, dressed in a neat, dark blue coat. Cael appeared from the far side of the house, wearing his silver-gray uniform, the insignia on his shoulder gleaming under the sun.
"Didn't oversleep?" he asked, his voice calm with a hint of teasing.
"I never do," she replied lightly. Their eyes met—no avoidance, no unease.
Inside the exhibition hall, crowds buzzed with quiet excitement. Cael walked beside her, guiding her through the vast halls. For every display, every new defense model or system prototype, he explained its function in a voice just loud enough for her to hear.
She followed like a proper fiancée would—graceful, composed, and attentive.
But as they turned a corner, Helya caught sight of a senior official murmuring something to Cael near a display screen. The man glanced at her briefly, and there was something sharp in his gaze—something far from welcoming.
Cael responded simply, voice low and steady. Though she couldn't hear the words, she recognized the calm authority in his posture.
He didn't waver.
They walked on.
She tilted her head toward him, her voice quiet, but edged with honesty. "Not everyone around you seems to want me here, do they?"
Cael slowed slightly. "I've never needed everyone's approval."
And for the first time, it felt like her secrets—her mission, her true identity—were momentarily left behind, locked out by those simple words.