The silence shrouding the eastern wing of Castle Opes was never a harbinger of peace. It was an artificial silence, thick and dense like the dawn mist rising from the northern hill's gorges, fed by the thick gray stone walls and the distant murmur of the lower corridors.
Hayjin advanced along the gallery with his back pressed against the cold masonry, every muscle in his body tense like a drawn bowstring ready to release. The stinging on his left cheek, an indelible reminder of Zhilian's punch, had faded into a dull, throbbing numbness, but his mind was anything but at peace. He had left his room with a single, clear objective: the Hall of Sages.
In his mind, he had prepared for the worst.
To reach the main entrance to the personal quarters of Arkon and the other elders of the council, one had to cross the Foyer of Red Marbles a strategic hub where royal guards in heavy armor were stationed at any time of day or night. Elite soldiers, trained to block any unauthorized entry and ready to draw their broadswords at the slightest hint of suspicion. Hayjin had spent the preceding minutes devising excuses, distractions, or alternate routes just to calculate the slimmest chance of infiltrating without raising a general alarm.
But when he rounded the final arched pillar overlooking the foyer, he froze in his tracks.
The foyer was empty.
No royal guards. No iron helmets reflecting the dim light of the wall torches. No crunch of boots or clanking of metal plates. Only dust floating slowly through the golden beams of light filtering through the upper embrasures.
Hayjin narrowed his eyes, his pupils widening slightly in disbelief. He had expected to face a sea of royal guards an impenetrable wall of steel and discipline yet there was absolutely no one.
"What the hell is going on?" he wondered, instinctively taking a step back to conceal himself behind the masonry alcove. "Where did everyone go? Guard shifts almost never change at this hour; I checked earlier..."
He listened for a dozen seconds, holding his breath. The total absence of security at one of the most sensitive points in the entire royal palace wasn't just anomalous it was dead wrong. Finding the situation deeply unsettling and eerie, a subtle chill ran down his spine.
For a moment he hesitated, suspecting a deliberate trap laid to catch him red-handed, to coax him across a forbidden threshold and expose him as a traitor or a spy.
Drawing closer to the massive double doors of the Hall of Sages, he noticed a detail that made his blood run cold: the right door was strangely ajar, open just a couple of inches enough to allow a draft of icy air to seep out from within.
Hayjin stopped a couple of meters from the threshold. The situation was too strange, too convenient to be a coincidence.
"What if it's a trap?" he told himself, his hand instinctively darting to the hilt of the dagger hidden beneath his jacket. "What if Riko or Arkon knew I'd come here? If I step foot in there and get caught, not even Zhilian can save me... they'll slit my throat on the spot."
His feet remained rooted to the floor for several seconds. The terror of walking into another death urged him to turn around and run.
Yet the desperate sense of urgency gnawing at him proved stronger than caution. The memory of dying in the previous loop, Riko's icy threat, the indecipherable shadow surrounding Arkon... he needed answers. He had to gather any clue, any document or seal that could confirm or refute his suspicions about the sage before it was too late.
The memory of Isabelle's blood on the floor and the sensation of the blade piercing his throat in the previous loop resurfaced with devastating force. He couldn't keep running. He couldn't spend the rest of his time trembling in a corner. He desperately needed information, answers anything that would allow him to break this curse.
Driven to seek information and clarity, Hayjin set fear and hesitation aside. He crept forward slowly, looking around with every single step, his feet gliding across the stone floor without making the slightest sound.
He reached out, his fingers mere millimeters from the carved wood, ready to step across the threshold.
He reached the imposing carved oak doors leading directly into Arkon's quarters. Cautiously, he extended a trembling hand toward the brass handle shaped like a griffin's head. When he touched the metal and applied light pressure, the door yielded with an imperceptible click; he found it strangely unlocked, open by a couple of inches just enough to reveal the dim darkness within.
Temptation and peril danced on a razor's edge. Hayjin swallowed hard, took a deep breath to steady his frantic heartbeat, and leaned forward.
But at the exact moment he was about to step into the hall, the unexpected struck.
A heavy, cold, firm hand suddenly clamped onto his left shoulder, grabbing him from behind.
An icy shiver shot down his spine, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Adrenaline surged through his veins. Convinced he had been ambushed from behind by an assassin or a guard ready to behead him, Hayjin's body reacted out of pure survival instinct, with a monstrous speed fueled by terror.
Hayjin's reaction was pure, uncontrollable combat muscle memory. A violent jolt shook his spine as blood hammered at his temples from the sudden rush of adrenaline. Caught off guard from behind, he spun on his heel beyond any conscious control, shifted all his body weight onto his back leg, and launched a vicious right hook at the figure who had touched him.
WHAM!
The fist struck the intruder square in the face with a heavy, devastating impact. The force of the blow ripped through the air of the foyer. The figure let out a brief grunt of pain and fell backward, crashing heavily onto the marble floor with a dull thud of heavy robes and boots.
Hayjin instantly dropped into a fighting stance, his fist still clenched and trembling, breathing heavily, ready to draw the dagger from his belt.
But as soon as his eyes focused on the person lying on the ground holding a hand to their bleeding nose, his heart literally skipped a beat.
The dark blue robe embroidered with silver thread, the long gray hair slightly disheveled, the finely crafted spectacles lying a meter away on the stone.
Only then did he realize he had just knocked out Sage Arkon.
"Oh, fuck..." Hayjin hissed, his voice dying in his throat. Anger and adrenaline evaporated in a millisecond, replaced by total, overwhelming panic.
"S-Sage Arkon?!" Hayjin gasped, dropping his hands immediately and taking two steps forward, utterly horrified by what he had just done.
"Shit! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I beg your forgiveness, I... I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to punch you! I thought... I thought it was an attack!"
Horror swept away every trace of adrenaline, replacing it with pure, chilling panic. Hayjin stood petrified, his eyes wide in near-grotesque shock as the gravity of his actions crashed down upon him. He had just physically assaulted one of the highest authorities of the realm a man revered as near-sacred by the entire court of Opes.
"O-oh, shit..." Hayjin wheezed, clutching his hair with both hands as he took two steps back, his face drained of color.
He rushed to the ground, kneeling beside the old man and impulsively trying to help him up, only to yank his hands back as if afraid of burning himself.
"Shit! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I humbly beg your forgiveness, I... I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to punch you! I thought... well..."
"Forgive me! Please, excuse me! I am immensely sorry, Sage Arkon!" Hayjin exclaimed, his voice lashed with panic and guilt, words tumbling out of his mouth at an uncontrollable speed. "I... I didn't mean to! It was a reflex I was scared to death and didn't think! Please, I beg your forgiveness, forgive me!"
Arkon, still sitting on the hard floor, let out a short, wheezing sigh. He wiped a drop of blood from his upper lip with the back of his hand, then calmly retrieved his fallen spectacles and adjusted them carefully over the bridge of his nose.
Despite the devastating punch that would have knocked out a regular soldier, the old man displayed not the slightest hint of anger. His clear, deep eyes gazed at the boy with an almost disconcerting serenity.
Hayjin instinctively leaned down to offer a hand and help him up, trembling from head to toe at the thought of the consequences of having just laid out one of the highest authorities in the realm.
Arkon, with a calculated and aristocratic slowness, accepted Hayjin's grip and pulled himself up, smoothing down his heavy velvet robe with his free hand. He lightly touched his struck cheek, letting out a small, pained breath, yet no trace of anger or resentment surfaced on his face.
"Ah... my, what extraordinary strength you possess in those arms, young Hayjin..." Arkon said in a surprisingly calm, almost amused tone as he gently touched the tender spot.
"Do not worry, my boy... please, calm yourself," Arkon said in his usual deep, warm, and gentle voice, though slightly raspy from the blow he had taken. He leaned against the wall, straightening up slowly with a graceful gesture and adjusting the folds of his heavy sage robes. "In truth... it is I who should apologize to you. It was a grave oversight on my part to approach from behind and touch you without warning. In these dark times, with the tension hanging over the castle, I ought to have known that a young warrior like yourself would react on instinct to defend himself."
Arkon offered him a small, benevolent smile, tilting his head slightly in a gesture of profound courtesy.
He then took a short step to the side and inspected the boy carefully.
"However..." the Sage continued, keeping his calm, penetrating gaze fixed on the boy, "may I ask what brings you near the Hall of Sages? It is nearly dinnertime, and as you well know, the Royal quarters and the main dining hall are on the opposite side of the castle. This specific wing of the palace is strictly private and reserved exclusively for members of the Council of Sages. Knights are not permitted to wander here without an explicit invitation."
The old man concluded with a soft yet unmistakable tone, politely asking him to leave and return to his quarters.
Hayjin felt his toes curl inside his boots. His mind raced at a thousand miles an hour to conjure a plausible excuse that wouldn't betray his true intent.
"I... well, you see..." Hayjin stammered, rubbing the back of his neck with feigned awkwardness. "I took a wrong turn. This castle is massive and there are too many identical corridors... I was trying to head back to my room to freshen up before dinner, but I forgot the way and ended up here by mistake. I apologize again, I'll leave right away. I'm so sorry for disturbing you and... for the punch."
Hayjin turned quickly toward the foyer exit, wanting nothing more than to vanish before the situation deteriorated further.
But Arkon's voice called him back.
"Hayjin. Wait a moment."
The boy froze in his tracks, his shoulders stiffening before he slowly turned back toward the old sage.
Arkon took a couple of steps toward him. His expression had turned remarkably serious, stripped of all royal formality. His gaze inquisitive yet paternal fixed on him with disarming sincerity.
"Tell me something... are you feeling alright?" Arkon asked, an unexpected and palpable concern in his voice. "I have been observing you since this morning, Hayjin. You seem restless, anxious, and deeply troubled about something. And I am not merely referring to this minor incident. Is something wrong, my boy?"
Hayjin was caught off guard. Arkon seemed genuinely worried about his mental and emotional state, devoid of any visible ulterior motive or creeping threat. For a second, Hayjin wavered: was it truly possible that this man was innocent? Were his paranoias taking over everything?
Arkon's demeanor felt so genuinely calm and devoid of hidden motives that it almost shook Hayjin's suspicions. Yet the trauma of previous loops prevented him from dropping his guard. As genuinely concerned as the old man appeared, Hayjin knew that the most dangerous monsters often wore the most comforting faces.
"I'm fine, Sage Arkon," Hayjin replied, striving to keep his voice as neutral and steady as possible. "It's just fatigue catching up to me after recent events. Nothing to worry about."
Arkon smiled faintly, shaking his head understandingly.
"If that weight becomes too heavy to carry alone... know that my door is always open," the elder said, pointing to the hall entrance. "If you ever need to unload your thoughts or seek unbiased counsel, you may come speak with me in the Hall of Sages at any time. There is no issue at all, Hayjin. No judgment, only a listening ear."
"I understand you completely... the ordeal in the dungeon left deep scars on all of you," the Sage said empathetically. "However, should there be anything at all... any doubt, problem, or fear... know that my door remains open to you. We can sit down in the Hall of Sages and talk with all the time in the world. There is no problem at all; I will gladly listen."
The offer was tempting, but the boy couldn't afford to yield. Hayjin didn't fully trust him; the fear of walking into a trap or exposing compromising details was still far too strong.
Distrusting the invitation which struck him as a potential plot to isolate him Hayjin immediately shook his head and declined.
"Thank you very much for the offer, Sage Arkon... but truly, there's no need," Hayjin declined stiffly, taking a step back. "I'd rather go get some rest."
Arkon observed him in silence for a few moments, then let out a faint, resigned sigh.
"I understand," the old man said with immense gentleness. "But remember one thing, young knight... if you ever feel out of place in this castle, if this place oppresses you or you feel this is not your path, you are free to leave whenever you wish. No one will hold you here by force; you may depart without any issue."
Those words struck a raw nerve in Hayjin's chest. Leave? Leaving the castle meant condemning Zhilian, Isabelle, and Wren to an atrocious fate when the loop inevitably shattered or when the killer struck again.
"I have no intention of leaving," Hayjin replied through grit teeth. "I want to stay here to remain by Princess Zhilian and little Wren's side. It's just... I don't feel entirely comfortable in this place, that's all."
"Whenever you wish, my door will be open to you," Arkon concluded with a final, warm nod. "Go on now, my boy. Dinner will be served soon."
Hayjin turned sharply and hurried away down the foyer corridor.
Inside, a blind, deeply irritated frustration boiled. He had failed miserably: he hadn't managed to enter the hall, hadn't found a single clue, and the sole outcome was punching one of the realm's leaders and landing squarely under his magnifying glass.
What Hayjin didn't know was that the entire exchange had not gone unnoticed.
Hidden in the shadows of the upper balcony overlooking the Foyer of Red Marbles, Zhilian had observed the whole scene from afar. The princess had stood motionless behind the stone balustrade, silently witnessing the punch, the argument, and Hayjin's retreat.
Zhilian, still visibly troubled by Hayjin's strange behavior following their heated confrontation in his room, had trailed him at a distance to see what he was up to.
As soon as the boy disappeared around the corner of the southern corridor, Zhilian descended the grand marble staircase with firm, quiet steps, deciding to speak directly with Sage Arkon.
The old man was finishing picking up a scroll that had slipped from his sleeve when he heard the princess's footsteps. He turned, greeting her with a low bow.
"Princess Zhilian. I did not expect you in these parts at this hour."
Zhilian cut straight to the point, her voice devoid of formal pleasantries, her arms crossed over her chest.
"What were you and Hayjin talking about, Arkon? I saw you stopped to argue," the princess asked, her light eyes fixed on the elder.
Arkon offered a faint, indulgent smile, gently touching his cheek where the skin was beginning to redden.
"I found him wandering near the Hall of Sages, in a restricted area. He appeared lost, so I politely ushered him away to prevent him from breaking castle rules."
The elder paused briefly, his tone growing darker and more reflective.
"I must admit, however, that he struck me as deeply unusual... as though he were constantly anxious about something. A profound, almost visceral anxiety. As if he were being hunted."
Zhilian said nothing, but she was visibly worried. Her brow furrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line. Her eyes drifted toward the corridor where Hayjin had just vanished. Arkon's words only confirmed her worst fears: the boy was crumbling under the weight of a secret he stubbornly refused to share with her.
Arkon watched her for a few moments, catching the shade of pain in the young ruler's eyes.
"And what of you, princess?" Arkon asked in an openly caring tone. "How are you faring? Have you recovered somewhat over these past few days following the events in the dungeon?"
Zhilian uncrossed her arms, letting out a soft sigh.
"I feel better now, Sage Arkon," the princess answered sincerely. "Physically, I've practically regained my strength... My body's wounds have healed... yet I cannot help but admit I am deeply worried about Hayjin. I've never seen him like this. He isn't himself. He refuses to tell me anything and rejects all help."
Arkon nodded slowly. "I share the very same concern, princess," the Sage said. "He is a boy with a noble heart, but deeply tormented. My advice, princess, is not to give up. Try speaking with him again. Stay close to him... just as he did for you when you needed support most. Sometimes, people like Hayjin simply need to know there is a safe harbor waiting when the storm rages too fiercely. He needs to feel he isn't alone."
A small, almost imperceptible smile touched Zhilian's lips. Those words warmed her heart, reminding her why she cared so deeply for her personal knight.
"I will," Zhilian said in a low voice. "Thank you, Arkon."
Arkon offered her an approving nod, visibly pleased by the young princess's maturity.
"You do yourself credit, my princess," Arkon commended solemnly. "When you are queen, you will often face similar challenges, but on a far grander scale. You must learn to read the souls of men, foresee internal conflicts, and resolve tensions before they inflict irreparable harm upon the realm. Consider this a test of political and personal maturity. Remember that this will be the key to becoming a great ruler."
Arkon stepped aside, gesturing toward the main hall.
"Now go prepare for dinner, princess. Night is about to fall."
Zhilian departed, moving with quick yet silent steps. She did not head toward the dining hall, choosing instead to follow Hayjin, who in the meantime had taken the side exit and headed outside the castle.