Kala's head spun, as if the world was dancing without inviting her. A crushing weight pressed against her chest, followed by her vision blurring. Just as Raken's hand touched the crown of her head, darkness dragged her down into its depths. The last thing her ears could catch was Raken's voice calling her name. But like every nerve that had gone numb, her lips were powerless to respond. In the end, Kala surrendered, letting her consciousness fade as she fell into stillness.
"Raken, what did you do to this child?" Hein leaned in, reaching to check Kala's pulse.
"What could I possibly do to her?" Raken brushed Hein's hand away, signaling him to move aside.
"You shook her head too hard."
"Seriously? I didn't even use a fraction of my strength." Raken lightly kicked Hein's leg that was blocking his way. He then lifted Kala into his arms, carrying her to the room and laying her down gently—as if she were the most fragile glass in the world, one that could shatter at any moment.
"Do whatever you want, but please leave."
Hein, who had just reached the doorway, immediately turned around and left the room. He gave up on entering and checking on Kala. Raken didn't want to be disturbed, and Hein understood that.
Standing beside Kala, Raken quietly observed her features. So inseparable had they been that he hadn't realized she had grown into an adult. The fingers once wrapped in baby fat were now slender and delicate. Her nose was small, her lashes long, her cheeks sharp, her lips full. Who would have thought that the once spoiled young lady now had to fight against the world? Skin as pale as milk should not be marred with wounds. Those brown orbs, now tightly shut, shouldn't shed too many tears.
"Should I make the entire universe bow before you?"
A soft exhale escaped him.
After standing there for quite some time without doing anything, Raken finally sat at the edge of the bed. His hand reached for Kala's forehead. The warmth there was unusual, far beyond the normal temperature he was used to.
Even in her unconscious state, Kala frowned. Raken didn't stay idle—his thumb moved to smooth out the crease between her brows.
"What are you dreaming about, Kala?"
He wanted to stay longer, but he needed to find a way to treat her. It was clear that her fever was caused by shock and exhaustion.
"Hein, where are the medicinal researchers?"
"For heaven's sake, can't you knock first?" Hein flinched in surprise when he found Raken already standing behind him.
"The door wasn't locked."
"I was changing!"
Not far from the resting area stood several similar buildings. After a short walk, Hein and Raken arrived at a cube-shaped structure—not too large. Inside, various glass containers filled with colorful liquids were displayed. One corner was packed with plants. Shelves lined with books filled the space—anyone could tell this was a research facility.
"There's no one here. Are they working or slacking off?"
"Not here." Hein walked toward the only door in the room. The metal door opened as soon as he touched it.
"Go in."
Raken followed. As soon as they entered, the metal door shut behind them. A faint mechanical hum filled the air as the floor beneath them began to vibrate. A lift—similar to those in the human world. Raken could feel his body descending. It felt long, far too long for someone eager to return to Kala.
Eventually, everything stopped, followed by the door opening. Three pairs of eyes greeted them—surprised, curious, and indifferent. Grix stepped forward with a wide smile.
"What brings you here, Sir and Madam? This place is rather messy."
Seeing their superior bow, the other two followed suit.
"I've never seen those two before, Grix. Where are they from?" Hein gestured toward the two young men.
"Clan Nores. I can smell the burnt scent from his body," Raken answered before Grix could speak. His gaze fixed on the young man with brick-red hair.
Grix smiled. "That's right, Sir. Kion from Clan Nores. His abilities are exceptional, so I recruited him."
He turned, extending a hand toward the young man with faint purplish hair. The purple was barely visible but still lingered. "Helit from Clan Plorin. As we all know, Clan Plorin always produces talented individuals in potion-making. But Madam, Helit here is truly a genius. Combining Kion's and Helit's abilities makes them a valuable asset to this kingdom." The pride in Grix's eyes was unmistakable.
"They're very young. How old are you?"
"I'm 21, Madam," Helit replied, bowing respectfully with one hand placed over his chest.
"I'm 20, Madam." Kion did the same.
"Insane young talents."
Raken strode past them, turning his attention to the shelves filled with potions and medicines. The deeper he went, the more the space expanded. The last time he remembered visiting this place was when his father went to the border. Had it really been that long? There used to be no underground space—everything was on the surface.
Grix and his students were slightly taken aback by how freely Raken explored without acknowledging them. Hein found it mildly amusing watching their confusion over the seemingly mannerless man.
"He's the Prince of Noctyr."
"What!?" They all widened their eyes in unison, glancing between Hein and Raken, who was busy inspecting the medicines.
Shock overtook Grix. Helit and Kion exchanged glances, as if silently asking—is he the lost prince?
"We need medicine to reduce a high fever."
"Ah—of course, Madam." Grix nudged Helit and Kion to hurry.
As they worked, Raken suddenly spoke, "You could scorch the Trigod scales instead of melting them. The substances are too diluted that way—it takes too long to heal mana-related wounds."
Helit immediately turned and approached Raken, who was sniffing several concoctions.
"How did you—ah, I mean, Your Highness—know just from smelling it?" Helit's eyes sparkled like fireworks.
"My nose is a bit sensitive."
"Thank you, Your Highness. Kion and I tried many methods, but it never occurred to us to scorch the scales. You're right—it takes too long to heal mana injuries that way." Helit bowed deeply, feeling honored to receive such insight.
"Instead of making it a liquid, wouldn't it be more efficient as a paste? Like an ointment, so it can be applied directly without making a mess."
Kion's excitement grew. "I'll do it, Your Highness!"
Raken nodded in approval. Grix approached him, offering a small vial the size of a pinky, filled with blue liquid. Raken took it.
Grix bowed deeply. "Forgive me, Your Highness, for not recognizing you."
"I prefer not to be recognized."
Grix laughed, filling the room with warmth. "My father would probably hug you immediately. No one in this kingdom knows your face. Only your strength and rumors of your looks have spread."
"Only Guso knows my face. Instead of hugging me, I'm more convinced he'd hit my head with a broom handle."
Grix laughed again. His father had once worked in the royal palace, more familiar with royalty than the outside world.
"You should give her 2–3 drops of traxiol mixed with half a glass of water. The coolness from the blue stones of Qixol waters can reduce high body temperature. The sweetness from the trasil flower will stimulate the body to detox the pain. I hope she recovers soon, Your Highness."
Raken nodded. "Thank you, Grix."
Raken left, followed by Hein. They had spent too much time here already. Kala would be alone if they stayed any longer. So Raken quickened his pace.
When they returned to the resting place, both Raken and Hein were startled to find the room in disarray. In that moment, Raken had only one thought—Kala's room. His steps grew longer, his mind restless.
Hein stayed behind, inhaling the scent of the room deeply.
"Someone was here," Hein muttered softly, watching Raken's figure disappear from sight.
The moment Raken stepped into Kala's room, a killing aura burst from him. His sharp gaze locked onto what stood near Kala's body.
"Step away from her!"