Night in Opes Castle was never completely silent. Between the natural creaking of ancient wooden beams, the whistling of the wind through the tower loop-holes, and the distant, rhythmic footsteps of the guards patrolling the courtyards below, there was always a subtle backdrop accompanying the guests' sleep.
Hayjin was asleep. It was not a deep or relaxing sleep; after the events of the dungeon and the constant nightmare of his second death in the limbo, his brain remained perpetually in a state of paranoid alert.
Suddenly, an imperceptible noise yanked him from the world of dreams.
TICK. FUSH.
It wasn't the wind. It was a sharp, metallic sound, followed immediately by a light rustle, like fabric rubbing against stone.
Hayjin snapped his eyes open. His body reacted before his mind could even formulate a rational thought: his hands shot upward, clutching his neck and forehead in a near-hysterical grip. He felt the warm skin, the cartilage of his windpipe, the flesh attached to his vertebrae.
"Damn it... my head is attached. I'm here. I'm awake," he thought, his heart hammering against his chest like a frantic drum.
He remained motionless beneath the heavy light-blue silk blanket for several seconds, breathing slowly through his nose so as not to betray his presence. His hazel eyes darted through the darkness, trying to bring the room into focus. The fireplace embers had died out, leaving only a faint reddish glow that wasn't enough to illuminate the darkest corners.
There was no one. The room appeared completely empty.
However, an unusually icy draft struck his face, stirring the white streaks in his black hair. Hayjin turned toward the right wall and froze.
The room's large window was wide open.
The thick blue curtains billowed in the night wind, swaying like massive dancing specters in the half-light. Hayjin remembered perfectly well having left the window cracked before going to bed, but not wide open. And above all, the iron latch could never have unclasped on its own from a simple gust of wind.
Soundlessly, he slid out of bed. His bare feet touched the marble floor, sending a jolt of cold up his spine. He crept forward stealthily, keeping a low posture, ready to react to any attack.
He reached the window and leaned out cautiously, peering outside.
Below him, the castle facade dropped straight down for some twenty meters to the inner courtyard. The slate roofs gleamed under the light of the full moon, but there was no sign of movement. No black cloak, no fleeing figure, no sound of footsteps on the tiles. Only the silence of the night.
"What the hell was that?" Hayjin wondered, gripping the cold stone sill. "Did I leave it open without realizing it? No, impossible. I remember pulling the lever. Did someone break in here? What if it was that cursed Cult? What if they came to check on me?"
A shiver of pure paranoia ran down his spine. The terror that the Cult of the Brand was moving its pawns inside the castle made him sick to his stomach.
Determined not to take any chances, Hayjin grabbed the two wooden sashes and shut them firmly, throwing the heavy iron latch with a sharp clack. Then he turned and walked toward the main door of the room.
He checked the lock, inserted the large brass key into the keyhole, and turned it twice.
CLACK. CLACK.
The sound of the deadbolt sliding into the stone gave him a minor semblance of security. He returned to the bed, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. He lay wide-eyed, staring at the ceiling for well over another hour, listening to every tiny creak of the castle before accumulated exhaustion finally took over once more, collapsing him into a restless sleep.
Morning arrived with the violence of a punch to the face.
Hayjin was dreaming of a flower-filled meadow slowly turning into a pool of blood when a deafening noise shook his bedroom door.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"Wake up, plebeian! The day started long ago, and you are still rotting beneath the covers like an insolent bear!"
Isabelle's sharp, ringing voice echoed through the room even before the door burst open with a sharp thud. The little maid had managed to unlock the door from the outside using the royal servants' master key.
Hayjin let out a desperate groan, grabbing the pillow and pressing it against his face to block out the sunlight beginning to filter through the glass. "Let me sleep... my head is splitting open..." he muttered, his voice thoroughly thick with sleep.
Isabelle showed not an ounce of mercy. She marched forward with purpose, her sweeping plum-purple cloak swaying with every step and the large fuchsia bows bouncing on her high golden-blonde twin ponytails. Reaching the side of the bed, she grabbed the edge of the blanket and whipped it away with a force terrifying for her stature, leaving Hayjin curled up on the mattress wearing only his undershirt and light pants.
Then she turned toward the window and, with a dramatic flourish of her arms, threw open the thick light-blue curtains. A wave of blazing, blinding sunlight flooded the room, hitting Hayjin square in the face.
"Aah! My eyes! Close that stuff!" the boy yelled, shielding his face with his arms and rolling to the other side of the bed.
Isabelle placed her hands on her hips, looking down at him with her large, crimson-red eyes filled with rigid aristocratic severity.
"Get up immediately and compose yourself," the girl ordered, her voice brooking no argument. "Before you take a single step out of this room, I demand that you tidy up, remake that disgraceful bed, and dress with proper care. I have no intention of being seen in public with an individual who looks as though he just crawled out of a landfill."
Hayjin forced himself into a sitting position, dragging his hands over his face and rubbing eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. His black hair with its white streaks was a complete disaster, sticking out in every direction.
"What time even is it?" Hayjin protested, his voice raspy. "And more importantly, why on earth should I tidy the room? Aren't there servants in the castle to do this stuff?"
Isabelle immediately executed her signature gesture: she raised her right hand to chin level, joined her thumb and middle finger with millimetric precision, and delivered a sharp, disdainful flick of her fingers outward, as if to brush his laziness into thin air.
"The castle servants are occupied with duties far nobler than cleaning up after your crudeness," Isabelle shot back, raising her chin. "Furthermore, personal discipline is the first step toward not being a complete dead weight. Move, we have no time to lose."
Hayjin hauled himself out of bed with the grace of a sack of potatoes, his leg joints popping. He bent over to scoop up the blanket from the floor and began sloppily spreading it over the bed, huffing with every move.
"Fine, fine! I'm tidying up, happy?" he said, shooting a sideways glance at the girl. "Why all the rush though? Is Zhilian sick? Did something bad happen?"
"Princess Zhilian is resting peacefully, thank goodness," Isabelle replied, crossing her arms over her chest and displaying the prominent golden spine-shaped structure on her black dress. "The reason for this urgency concerns you. After breakfast, you will accompany me to do some shopping in the capital."
Hayjin froze with his hands still on the blanket, snapping his head toward her with an expression of sheer bewilderment.
"What?!" he exclaimed. "Accompany you shopping? In the city? But I'm a guest! Arkon said I was supposed to rest! And why me, of all people?"
Isabelle took a small step forward, her meter-and-forty stance radiating an authority that was almost comical yet unshakeable.
"The reasons are manifold, plebeian," the maid explained, counting on her tiny fingers. "First: Riko is occupied attending to Princess Wren for her etiquette and magic lessons. Second: Princess Zhilian requires rare ingredients and specific medicinal herbs that only the merchants in the capital's central market possess, and I must retrieve them in person. Third: I require someone to carry the heavy parcels and baskets, and since you are here freeloading off the castle's resources doing nothing, you are the perfect candidate for porter."
Hayjin stared at her open-mouthed, incredulous.
"A porter? Are you seriously using me as a pack mule?" the boy retorted, his usual fast talk returning despite his exhaustion. "Look, I'm a warrior, I've fought monsters you only see in your nightmares! I'm not your bag-carrier!"
Isabelle raised her hand again, executing another of her swift, disdainful finger flicks in mid-air.
"An F-Class adventurer who fainted from bile two weeks ago," the girl pointed out ruthlessly, flashing a tiny, victorious smile. "Furthermore, leaving the castle will get you some fresh air, since you keep complaining about this place's atmosphere. Pay off your hospitality debt by making yourself useful, or I shall be forced to report to Sage Arkon that you refuse to cooperate for the princess's health."
Hayjin let his arms drop to his sides in defeat. He knew that when that girl brought up Zhilian's health, no argument held weight.
"Fine, fine... I'm going to shower and I'll be right there," Hayjin grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "But if you make me carry stuff that's too heavy, I'm dropping it on the floor, just so we're clear."
"Don't even dare think it," Isabelle concluded, turning toward the door with a rustle of her purple cloak. "I give you ten minutes to dress and wash your face. I shall await you in the corridor. Do not keep me waiting."
Once left alone, Hayjin headed toward the table where he had laid his clothes the night before.
He began dressing with mechanical motions, memorized by heart now: he put on the white short-sleeved shirt, neatly adjusting the collar, and over it placed the matte black vest, tightening the two long brown leather straps across his chest until the silver buckle clicked into place.
He fastened the thin bolo tie under his collar, positioning the round metallic pendant right in the center, and slipped into the dark red shorts. Finally, he bent down to fasten his heavy, blocky gray iron greaves, tightening the articulated plates around his shins.
As he was putting on his two beaded bracers and adjusting his earrings, his eyes inevitably fell upon the room's window.
He slowly approached the wooden frame, reaching out a hand to touch the heavy iron latch he had locked the night before. The lever was still perfectly positioned in its slot.
Hayjin stroked his chin, his mind racing back to chase the shadows of the night.
"What the hell happened last night?" he wondered, a deep sense of unease settling into his stomach. "Was I too tired and had a hallucination? Or did someone actually break in here while I slept? If it was an assassin, why didn't they strike? And if it wasn't an assassin... what were they looking for?"
The memory of the cult leader and his threatening words regarding the "chain" binding him to them made him clench his fists. The thought of being watched constantly, even within the protected walls of Opes Castle, amplified his paranoia exponentially. He felt like a caged rat, surrounded by marble walls and hostile glares.
"Hayjin! Time is up!" Isabelle's piercing voice reverberated from the outer corridor, accompanied by two sharp knocks on the door.
Hayjin shook himself from his gloomy thoughts, shaking his head to dispel the ghosts of the night. He cast one last glance at the closed window, straightened his bolo tie against his chest, and headed for the exit. The day in the capital of Opes was about to begin, and he had a very strong feeling that rest was still a far-off mirage.
Crossing the threshold of the private dining room, the unmistakable scent of freshly baked bread, melted butter, and berries greeted Hayjin like a blessing. After the agitated night and the traumatic wake-up call inflicted by Isabelle, the boy's stomach let out a low rumble, entirely indifferent to palace etiquette.
Standing a short distance from the table, rigid as a marble column, was Riko.
Wren's personal maid didn't waste a second: the moment Hayjin's figure appeared alongside Isabelle, she pinned her gray eyes on him, glaring with yet another venomous look, laden with a disapproval so thick it could be cut with a knife.
Hayjin didn't flinch. In fact, with his usual brazenness used as a shield whenever he felt judged he offered a tired, amused smirk, slightly lifting one corner of his mouth. A tiny gesture, a silent understanding that meant: "Yeah, I'm still alive and I'm still here, get over it." Riko pressed her lips into a thin line, averting her eyes with a testy jerk of her chin.
Seated at the table, however, the atmosphere was entirely different. Zhilian and Wren were eating breakfast, surrounded by crystal cake stands filled with jams and golden pastries.
"Good morning, everyone!" Hayjin called out, raising a hand in greeting and leaving Riko's hostility behind.
The moment they heard his voice, both sisters raised their heads. Their faces lit up instantly, greeting him in an overwhelmingly happy and warm manner.
"Hayjin! Good morning!" Wren chirped, waving a fork with a slice of caramelized apple impaled on it.
"Good morning, Hayjin," Zhilian said. For the first time in weeks, the princess's voice was not a broken whisper, but retained a shade of its usual clarity.
Immediately after greeting him, however, Wren snapped her head toward her older sister, locking her with a comically aggressive glare. She narrowed her golden eyes, puffed out her cheeks, and pulled a face of pure childish jealousy as if reminding her that Hayjin had come here primarily to act as a knight for both of them, and that she shouldn't monopolize all his attention before turning back to her plate and resuming eating with unexpected fervor, pretending nothing had happened.
Hayjin had to choke back a cough to avoid laughing in the child's face, while even Zhilian shook her head, amused by that display of sisterly jealousy.
Ignoring the little princess's silent skirmishes, Hayjin took a couple of steps toward the head of the table, approaching Zhilian's chair. The girl wore a soft housegown of sky-blue silk, and though her skin retained an underlying paleness, the color in her cheeks was decidedly healthier than the previous evening.
"How are you feeling this morning?" Hayjin asked her, his tone spontaneously turning softer and more genuine. "You were exhausted last night. Did the night go a little better? Did the usual nightmares leave you in peace or keep bugging you?"
Zhilian offered him a light smile, tilting her head slightly against the chair's cushioned back.
"Fortunately, I am starting to feel better, Hayjin," the princess replied, and in her golden eyes there was no longer that glassy shadow that had terrified him in the medical room. "I slept a few hours straight without waking up with a start. I feel my strength slowly returning. The credit goes to you as well... your presence here last night helped more than you think."
At those words, Hayjin felt a wave of pure relief wash away much of the fatigue he carried from the night. He was genuinely and enormously happy for her. The weight of guilt for not having been able to protect her completely in the dungeon finally seemed to lighten.
"I'm really happy to hear that, Zhilian," the boy said, giving her a real smile, stripped of any mask. "See? So my punchable face is good for something after all! Maybe it even scares away your bad dreams."
Zhilian chuckled softly, pointing to the empty chair beside her. "You're always such an idiot. Anyway, you look starving. Please sit down and have breakfast with us, there's plenty of food this morning."
Hayjin didn't need to be told twice. The aroma of toasted bread was literally torturing him. "Gladly! I accept with pleasure! I'm passing out from hunger pains, I swear I could..."
He didn't even have time to rest his fingers on the back of the chair.
FUSH.
A plum-purple glow suddenly enveloped Hayjin's body. Before he could even comprehend what was happening, an invisible yet irresistible force grabbed him by his silver necklace and the straps of his black vest, hauling him straight up into the air half a meter off the ground.
"Aah! What the hell?!" Hayjin yelled, flailing his heavy gray iron greaves in empty air as he desperately tried to regain his balance mid-air.
Behind him, Isabelle held her right hand raised. The tiny maid, with her meter-and-forty of pure stubbornness, kept her thumb and middle finger pressed together in her signature gesture, emanating a magical aura that suspended the boy as if he were a balloon tied to a string.
"I told you we had no time to waste on useless banquets, plebeian!" Isabelle decreed, her sharp voice brooking no argument. "The capital market fills up quickly, and we must retrieve those ingredients before the finest merchants sell out their stock! Grab something on the fly and move it!"
"But my breakfast!" Hayjin protested, floating horizontally above the table like a dangling sausage.
As he was slowly dragged backward by Isabelle's spatial magic, Hayjin reached out desperately toward the central tray. With surprising agility for someone levitating mid-air, he managed to quickly snag four slices of bread, a jar of honey, and a block of butter, clutching it all to his chest as if salvaging an invaluable treasure.
"Hands off the food at least!" the boy grumbled, beginning to blindly smear butter onto the bread as he floated toward the door, looking completely ridiculous in his suspended posture.
Zhilian and Wren remained slack-jawed for a second, before the little girl burst into roaring laughter, utterly amused by the scene.
Isabelle, completely indifferent to the boy levitating in her wake like a training dummy, paused a moment before crossing the room's threshold. She turned toward the two princesses and Riko, offering a small, flawless formal bow. A blissfully happy smile of exquisite politeness appeared on her face.
"I wish Your Highness Zhilian and little Princess Wren a splendid and serene day," Isabelle said, her voice sweet and crystal-clear as a silver bell. "We shall return with the finest ingredients before the afternoon. Do take care of yourselves."
"Have a wonderful day as well, Isabelle! Give Hayjin a nice tour!" Zhilian responded, waving to her with a radiant smile.
"Bye Isabelle! Bring Hayjin back in one piece!" Wren shouted after her, waving both arms. Even Riko slightly inclined her head in a formal, flawless greeting toward her fellow maid.
Everyone greeted her with that very same courtesy and cheer, completely ignoring the fact that a meter above Isabelle's head, Hayjin was floating face down, busily chewing on his first slice of bread and honey while being inexorably dragged out of the royal palace toward the main entrance gate.
"See you later!" Hayjin managed to yell before the massive sandalwood doors closed behind them, officially kicking off that bizarre and unpredictable day in the capital of Opes.