Late at night. The wind of Starfall Cliff drifted lazily through the valley, treading as softly as a traveler loath to disturb a dream.
Outside the cavern, the drawbridge swayed ever so slightly. The night was as dense as spilled ink, with starlight scattered sparingly across it—faint glimmers forgotten at the edge of the firmament, distant yet stubbornly persistent.
Rhine sat alone at the very edge of the cave entrance.
The spectral blue starlight bathed him, stretching his silhouette into a cold, hard outline against the stone. He had lowered the bridge moments ago and had not moved since. He simply stared up at the night sky, his gaze so profound it seemed he was trying to pierce through the stars themselves in search of a hidden answer.
"What's on your mind?"
A soft voice fell quietly into the stillness.
Rhine's shoulders stiffened. He turned his head sharply.
Lunethia stood at the mouth of the cave. She was clad in a thin nightgown, her silver hair slightly tousled as if she had only just roused from sleep. The night breeze brushed past, tugging gently at her tresses and the hem of her gown. Her eyes mirrored the starlight—and within them, they mirrored him.
"Oh, it's just you, Princess—er."
Before the word could fully leave his lips, he was cut off by a flicker of displeasure in her eyes.
Rhine cleared his throat and averted his gaze, his tone stiff as he corrected himself. "...Thea."
Only then did Lunethia approach, taking a seat beside him. Her gown rustled softly against the jagged rock. She tilted her head, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips. "So, what's this? Sneaking out in the middle of the night to watch the stars all by yourself?"
"Sneaking out?" Rhine scoffed. "What about you? Sneaking out to watch me watch the stars?"
"I wasn't sneaking," she replied, lifting her chin with mock seriousness. "I simply heard the door creak and came out to check on things."
"And why exactly did you come out?"
Lunethia blinked, her tone light and teasing. "To make sure a certain someone wasn't sleepwalking so severely that he accidentally walked right off the cliff."
Rhine let out a helpless sigh, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm fine. I just... wanted to look at the view."
"Is that so?" Lunethia's laugh was soft but direct. "If you were truly fine, you'd have started snapping at me by now."
Rhine fell silent.
The wind surged up from beneath the cliff, rushing between them with the low, rhythmic breathing of the mountain forest. Lunethia tilted her head back toward the vast sea of stars, her voice becoming very thin.
"You know, you can talk to me." She paused, stealing a sideways glance at him. "I'm actually quite good at helping people solve their troubles."
Rhine spared her a look, an eyebrow arching in skepticism. "And where exactly did you get this 'experience'?" His tone carried its usual prickly edge of disbelief. "You don't even have any friends, do you?"
"Oh, you clearly don't understand," she smiled, a hint of playful pride in her voice. "I have plenty of friends. Why, there was one time the Squirrel family's children got into a fight, and I was the one who mediated the peace."
Rhine was silent for a beat. "...I'm not a small animal," he muttered.
"It doesn't matter," she turned to face him, her eyes tender and sincere. "You could give it a try. Speak your troubles aloud... perhaps I truly can help."
The wind brushed past once more. Silence lingered between them for several long breaths.
Rhine finally spoke, his voice so low it seemed half-swallowed by the night.
"I... I dreamed of the moment my Father was taken."
The playful glint in Lunethia's eyes vanished instantly. She didn't offer a quip or a joke; instead, she reached out and rested a hand on his back. The gesture was light, yet carried not a hint of hesitation.
"You mean... when he was taken by that Crimson Witch?"
Rhine nodded, his gaze still anchored to the distant horizon. "Watching everything Gerald has done for the restoration all these years... and yet—" He paused, the words sticking in his throat. "Perhaps, in the end, I will fail him."
"Why would you say that?"
The night wind swept over the cliff's edge, disheveling his hair. Rhine took a deep breath, as if suppressing a surge of emotion, and his voice turned low and frigid.
"Because from the very beginning, my goal was never 'restoration'." He clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white. "I only want revenge."
"I have only one objective—to kill that Witch. Even if I have to trade everything I own for a single opening, I won't hesitate."
The air seemed to solidify. Lunethia watched him, yet there was no fear in her eyes—only a profound, searching sincerity.
"Then... do you still remember what she looks like?"
Rhine fell silent for a beat. His hand tightened slowly, his voice dropping to a cold murmur. "The memories have blurred over time. But her eyes—they were like hell itself. And that mana..." He looked up, his gaze sharpening in the darkness. "I will never forget it."
Lunethia lowered her head, seemingly lost in thought. After a long moment, she spoke softly.
"Don't worry." Her voice was thin, yet it carried an almost irrational certainty. "When we find the true Queen—my real mother—she will help you. I know it."
She looked up, her eyes shimmering with a soft light. "In my memories, she was always gentle, always smiling... and she loved me dearly. I believe she will understand you."
Rhine let out a short, hollow laugh. It was a shallow sound, tinged with both helplessness and the biting chill of reality.
"You make it sound far too simple." He turned his head, staring into the vast, dark void of the night. "To them, we are nothing more than the dregs of a fallen nation. If the Kingdom of Lunaris doesn't hunt us to extinction, it's already considered an act of mercy."
He paused, his tone dropping even further. "Let alone... helping us rebuild."
The wind brushed past once more.
"Even if our plans are flawless—" he whispered, "in the end, I might not even survive." He hesitated, casting his gaze toward the bottomless night sky. His voice was so faint it was nearly carried away by the breeze. "And besides... even if I defeat the Witch and truly rebuild the Great Solaria Empire..."
He gave a small, joyless smile. "Would I truly be a fit Emperor?"
The night remained silent.
"Right now, even a tiny village relies on Karl's management. Aside from fighting and losing my temper... what else can I actually do?"
Having said his piece, he didn't look at her again. It was as if admitting these truths aloud was a burden too wretched to bear.
Lunethia did not offer an immediate rebuttal.
She simply watched him—observing this young man who usually burned as fierce and flamboyant as a wildfire. Now, he was like the fading warmth beneath the embers after the flames had spent themselves.
Then, she smiled. It was a soft, delicate expression, like a petal drifting into an open palm.
"The fact that you even think this way... that already makes you quite incredible."
Rhine stiffened slightly, caught off guard. Lunethia tilted her head, as if reaching for a distant memory, her tone shifting into a conspiratorial whisper.
"I'll tell you a secret." She spoke with utmost gravity. "Deep within the Royal Capital... there is actually a Mouse King."
"He often seems dazed and confused, constantly fretting over whether he's a 'good' sovereign or not." She paused, her eyes curving into gentle crescents. "And yet—he is everyone's favorite King."
Rhine remained silent for a beat, then rolled his eyes and turned to face her. "Are you implying that I'm like a mouse?"
Lunethia blinked, a mischievous glint in her eyes that mirrored the moonlight. "Perhaps?"
She let the silence hang for a second before adding softly, "But that Mouse King is very kind. He takes wonderful care of his subjects. And—" She looked at him, her gaze dancing with a playful yet sincere intensity. "He doesn't lose his temper at the drop of a hat."
Rhine stared at her. The retort he had ready died in his throat.
The wind surged up from the depths of the cliff. Moonlight draped over her shoulders like a veil of silver gossamer. Her hair swayed gently in the night breeze, and starlight flowed through her eyes, quiet and luminous.
In that fleeting moment, he found he couldn't look away.
Rhine jerked his head back toward the distant sea of stars, his ears burning with a faint, sudden heat. "...Hmph." He let out a low grumble, his tone still stubbornly defiant. "Comparing a future Emperor to a mouse... that's lèse-majesté, you know."
"Don't you dare look down on the Mouse King!" Lunethia protested immediately, her tone ringing with righteous indignation. "He has an entire nation of mice to look after!"
She began to count them off with earnest deliberation:
"They have to scavenge for food, divide their territories, and protect everyone from being snatched by cats or hawks—" She looked up then, her eyes clear and resolute. "A King who can achieve all that is already quite magnificent, don't you think?"
Rhine let out a soft, teasing huff. "You've truly made a friend of it? In a Royal Palace, surely there are people paid to 'clear out' the vermin?"
"The kitchen maids did set traps," Lunethia nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration as she recalled the past. "But later, after I spoke with the Little Mouse King, he made sure none of them ever went near the kitchens again."
She spoke of it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, a simple matter of fact.
"I started leaving my leftover bread and fruit outside the window, and they would fetch it from there."
The night breeze brushed past, and her voice softened accordingly, sounding like a private fairy tale meant only for her own ears.
"The Little Mouse King even taught me which things were unsafe to eat, and where the poisonous mushrooms grew... sometimes, he'd even help me chase away the little biting insects."
Rhine shook his head, a trace of helpless amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You make it sound like some ancient myth."
He paused, his tone regaining its habitual coolness. "At the end of the day, they're just beasts that sleep once their bellies are full."
"You truly don't understand them at all."
Lunethia countered him instantly. Her voice wasn't raised, yet it carried an extraordinary firmness. She tilted her head slightly, gazing at the distant night sky as if tracing the outlines of silhouettes she knew by heart.
"The birds tell me when the rain is coming."
"The squirrels leave nuts by my hand whenever I'm feeling sad."
"And the dogs... they nuzzle their heads against me when I cry."
She spoke lightly, naturally. There wasn't a hint of artifice or a shred of exaggeration in her words. It was as if she weren't merely recalling memories, but describing a world she had once truly, tangibly possessed.
Rhine fell silent for a long beat. He gazed at her, and then, quite suddenly, let out a soft, weary sigh.
"Times like these... I actually find myself envying you," he murmured, his tone layered with a complexity even he couldn't fully untangle. "So pure... and so simple."
Lunethia knit her brows, her cheeks puffing out in a slight, indignant pout. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Rhine shook his head, as if suppressing a sudden surge of emotion. "Have you ever truly considered—" His voice dropped an octave, becoming dangerously low. "Our plan to expose the 'Pretender' during the Winter Moon Festival... that act, in its very essence, is a formal declaration of war against the current Kingdom of Lunaris."
The air between them tightened instantly.
"If the Queen is indeed a fake, then there's nothing more to be said. But what if—" He paused, the gravity of the thought hanging in the air. "What if she is the real one?"
Lunethia stiffened. The light in her eyes gradually dimmed, and her voice became so faint it was nearly lost to the wind. "Are you saying... a true mother would actually want to kill her own daughter?"
Rhine did not answer immediately. He looked up at the night sky, starlight reflecting in his eyes, yet the gaze remained utterly devoid of warmth.
"I don't know." The wind whistled past the cliff's edge. He hesitated, his tone shifting—becoming calmer, and inherently more cruel. "But to 'replace a Queen' without a single soul noticing... such a feat is, by all accounts, nearly impossible."
"The odds are that low...?" Lunethia asked in a hushed whisper. "Then why do you—why do Karl and the others—still believe we can use this to strip away her mask?"
Rhine let out a sharp, cold huff. "I'm not going to lie to you." He turned his head to look her in the eye, his gaze direct and sobering. "What we are truly exploiting has never been the question of 'truth' or 'falsehood' itself."
"It is the fact—that a Queen is trying to kill her Princess."
His voice was flat, as if he were merely reciting the steps of a pre-calculated endgame. "As long as you, the 'Princess,' speak those words yourself, it will be enough to sow the seeds of doubt. And once doubt takes root, the very foundation of the Kingdom's power will begin to crack."
"As for what happens after..." He looked away. "Whether she is real or a pretender won't matter anymore."
The night breeze swept past, and the air between them turned bone-chillingly cold.
Lunethia offered a small, brittle smile, the curve of her lips tinged with bitterness.
"I see..." She lowered her eyes, her voice trailing off as if she were about to say more.
"But—this isn't your fight."
Rhine cut her off abruptly. His voice was low and clipped, leaving no room for her to continue. "If you don't wish to take part, you can stay right here. Our plan can proceed without you."
He paused, his tone shifting into a space of cold, detached rationality. "All we truly need is Hunter's dagger and a single token to prove your identity. That will suffice."
Lunethia looked at him, a flicker of emotion stirring in her gaze. "But if—"
"If the Queen is real," Rhine interrupted her again. This time, he didn't look away. He stared directly at her, his voice reaching a level of frigid cruelty. "Then the final outcome is highly likely this: we will have to kill her with our own hands. And you will have to watch it happen."
The air seemed to freeze in that heartbeat. Lunethia didn't respond immediately. She simply watched Rhine, her gaze unnervingly quiet. After a long moment, she suddenly broke into a faint smile.
She raised her hand, her fingertip brushing feather-light against his lips.
The touch was soft and fleeting, yet it caused Rhine to seize up instantly, his entire body going rigid.
"Let me finish, alright?" Her voice was a mere whisper, yet it carried an irresistible authority.
Rhine stood dazed. Lunethia withdrew her hand, but her gaze remained fixed on him—clear, steady, and unyielding.
"Even if that is the case, I must face it. If she is a pretender, then I must find my true mother." She took a shallow, steadying breath. "And if she is real..." Her voice faltered for a fraction of a second, but she did not retreat. "Then I need to know, more than anything—why she wants me dead."
The night breeze swept past, lifting her silver tresses.
"Once I know the reason... perhaps a single, honest conversation is all it takes to resolve everything."
Rhine knit his brows in disbelief. "...An honest conversation?"
Lunethia didn't look at him. She lifted her head toward the boundless night sky, her voice as soft as if she were confiding in the stars themselves. "Yes. Any heart-to-heart spoken with true sincerity will eventually be heard."
She gave a small, gentle laugh. "Just like that time with Mr. Squirrel and Lady Woodpecker."
Rhine rolled his eyes, his tone a mixture of helplessness and skepticism. "Things are never that simple."
Lunethia didn't argue. She simply closed her eyes slowly and pressed her palms together, offering a quiet prayer to the thin sliver of the moon hanging in the heavens.
"At the very least—I choose to believe," she whispered, her voice tender yet iron-willed. "May the Moon Goddess watch over us... and let this story have a beautiful ending."
Suddenly, she let out a small, muffled sneeze.
"A-choo!"
"You..." Rhine blurted out, startled. He quickly averted his gaze, his voice taking on a stiff, almost gruff edge. "Just... move closer. Don't go catching a cold."
"Mm."
Lunethia gave a soft, compliant hum. A faint rosy hue dusted her cheeks as she shuffled a few inches nearer.
Their distance closed almost imperceptibly. The warmth emanating from Rhine wasn't scorching like a wildfire; instead, it felt like the first rays of morning sunlight—quietly seeping through the frost, nudging the night chill aside bit by bit.
A tiny smile played at the corners of Lunethia's lips.
Always worrying about others, she thought silently to herself, yet always acting so cold. How incredibly dishonest.
Slowly, with a gentle deliberation, she let her head come to rest against his shoulder.
Rhine's entire body went rigid.
The soft silken strands of her hair brushed against the side of his neck. It was a minuscule sensation, yet it caused his breath to hitch for a fleeting, frantic second. He didn't move. He sat there, frozen like a statue, while his heart began to drum against his ribs with uncontrollable speed.
A foreign tremor of emotion radiated from where her weight met his shoulder, spreading stealthily through his veins. He looked away instinctively, his brow furrowed as if he were locked in combat with some invisible foe.
"Blushing at a time like this... how pathetic," he muttered under his breath, his tone laced with a frantic confusion he didn't even recognize.
In his world—a world of blood, steel, and vengeance—this kind of emotion was never supposed to exist.
He opened his mouth, searching for something—anything—to say to mask his turmoil. "Listen... Thea, after you settle things with the Pretender Queen—"
The words died in his throat.
He turned his head slightly and saw it. She had already drifted off to sleep.
Her breathing was light and rhythmic; her eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly like the wings of a resting butterfly. She leaned against him with total, unguarded peace, her expression so soft it seemed even her dreams were filled with warmth.
Rhine stared at her, dazed.
"...You've got to be kidding me."
Whatever retort or lecture he had planned dissolved before it could reach his lips. In the end, all that remained was a sigh, so faint it was nearly a ghost of a sound.
He didn't move again.
He simply let her lean on him, allowing the deepening night to stretch their shadows across the stone until they overlapped, becoming one.
The wind surged up from the depths of the cliff, carrying a low, rhythmic resonance from the valley below—like the lingering notes of an ancient harp plucked by a phantom hand.
Rhine tilted his head back, his gaze lost in the boundless sea of stars.
As time drifted by, unnoticed and unmeasured, the sharpness in his eyes gradually softened. The tangled knots of his past and the crushing weight in his heart seemed, at this very moment, to be quietly carried away by the night breeze.
He didn't give voice to his thoughts. Instead, he simply let a single realization settle in his mind:
...Perhaps, this isn't so bad after all.