The Weight of Knowing

And she sang:

"Where roots grow deep and shadows cling,There once was crowned the Forest King.

He spoke in leaves, he ruled in hush,His throne was moss, his court the brush."

"But truth, they say, is never still—It bends, it breaks, it learns to kill.

And in his grove, beneath the skies,The truth he loved became his lie."

"So bloomed the Lotus, turned in shame, Its petals dark, its stem untamed.

It drank the light and bloomed anew—Inverted, wild, and far from view."

"Now those who walk with noble breath,Forget the roots. Forget the death.

But in the hush, if you still seek…The Forest King is not yet weak."

The last note hung in the air — trembling, soft — and then faded.

Rei stood frozen a few steps away, breath caught in his throat.

"...What was that?" he asked quietly.

She looked at him, calm and unreadable. "Oh, this?" Her voice was soft. "It's nothing more than an old folksong."

He blinked. "Folksong…? It sounded enchanting."

She offered a faint smile but didn't elaborate.

Rei scratched the back of his head, awkward now under her gaze. "I—uh, I didn't mean to sneak up on you or anything. Just… heard the song and…"

He hesitated.

"You sing nice," he added lamely.

She giggled — light and sudden, like wind brushing windchimes. "What are you doing here, then?"

"Oh. Me? Uh…" Rei shifted, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'm, uh… a merchant. Or I was. Still am, technically. But recently I got assigned to this new position under the Crown. Some kind of, uh… intel-gatherer."

He saw her eyebrow lift slightly.

"Wait—it's not as weird as it sounds!" he blurted, waving a hand. "I'm not like a spy or anything! It just has a cool name, alright? All I do is… deliver stuff. Like scrolls. Maps. Sometimes fruit."

Her smile widened, clearly amused. "So you're a delivery boy with a dramatic title?"

Rei laughed. "Exactly. Honestly, I'm only dangerous if you're allergic to peaches."

The woman let out another soft laugh, but her eyes never lost that smoky stillness.

And Rei, despite himself, didn't look away.

Then she stepped down from the edge of the well.

"Well then, noble courier," she said, brushing her braid behind her shoulder. "It's time I go."

Rei hesitated. "Wait—what's your name?"

She turned slightly,her gray eyes are meeting his.

"That's a secret," she said.

And with that, she walked off — barefoot, calm, harp still in hand.

Rei stood there for a long moment, watching her disappear into the morning light.

Her steps were silent, unhurried — almost like she belonged more to the wind than the world. The way her braid shifted across her back. The way her gray eyes had looked at him, calm and unreadable.

A flutter stirred in his chest.

Huh.

She was… beautiful.

in a way that lingered. Like a song you didn't know you'd been missing until you heard it.

He stared after her until even her silhouette vanished behind the bend.

Still, he didn't move.

His eyes stayed fixed on the empty path, as if hoping she might reappear — just once more. The breeze tucked at his sleeve and ran through his hair. Somewhere nearby, a bell chimed.

But Rei remained there, unmoving, caught in a quiet he didn't quite understand.

His thoughts had drifted with her — still trailing behind her steps, still wrapped around that soft, strange song.

Then he snapped back to reality.

"…Damn it," he panicked at last, running a hand through his hair. "I should've pushed. How am I supposed to find her again?"

He exhaled and finally turned away.

"This is probably karma," he grumbled. "For laughing at Kazuo's flirting failures."

The morning faded into afternoon. Then dusk.

While Rei’s thoughts lingered on a girl’s smile, elsewhere in the palace another mind was far from rest.

As night fell over the palace—

The chamber was dim, lit only by the flicker of low-hung lamps. Scrolls and books lay scattered across the central table, some stacked, others abandoned mid-reading as if dismissed for failing to provide answers. One heavy volume sat open in the center:

Bloodlines.

King Cedric stood beside it, one hand on the table’s edge, the other held behind his back. He didn’t move when the door creaked.

Lady Elyria stepped inside, her silver hair catching the lamp-light. Her eyes moved over the disarray. She had seen war rooms look more orderly.

“I didn’t expect you to still be up,” she said quietly.

Cedric’s gaze stayed fixed on the book.

Her eyes fell to the title. “…Bloodlines?” Her voice was careful. “Why are you reading that?”

He gave no reply. He turned the page slowly, deliberately, as though she hadn’t spoken at all.

She glanced at the notes scattered nearby — scribbled margins, crossed-out diagrams, noble blood trees intersected by peasant lines. Records. Anomalies. Unions.

“Father… this chaos.” Her voice pressed lower. “It’s unlike you.”

Still nothing.

“Is this about Kazuo?”

That made him stop.

His head lifted, his eyes meeting hers at last. The weight in his voice struck colder than the silence.

“How many times have I told you not to concern yourself with that boy?”

The words cut like frost.

He shut the book with slow finality.

“GET OUT.”

Elyria flinched — almost stepped back. But she held her ground.

This isn’t like him, she thought. He was always composed. Controlled. Strict, yes — but not unraveling. Not like this. And ever since Kazuo appeared… it’s been eating at him.

That’s why I can’t back down.

“Let me help,” she said firmly. “If this truly concerns the future of our kingdom — if he poses a threat — then I should be part of it.”

The silence stretched.

Cedric studied her for a long moment. Then he turned away, his footsteps measured as he crossed to the tall window. Moonlight touched the white of his sleeve as he clasped his hands behind his back, gazing out across the courtyard.

“Why should I?” His voice was calm, even. “What benefit is there in letting you meddle in something that does not concern you?”

Elyria’s fists tightened at her sides. She steadied her voice.

“…Because I found him.”

Cedric did not turn.

“I saw him on that rooftop in the Lower Crescent… and I couldn’t look away. Since then — just like you — I’ve been obsessed. This won’t go away. So if you want me to stay out of it… then let me satisfy this hunger for understanding. Let me be part of the answer.”

Her throat caught, but she forced the words through.

“We’re in the same boat, Father. You just don’t want to admit it.”

At that, Cedric turned. His gaze fell on her, sharp, yet something had shifted.

He moved back to the table and set his hand on the closed book, fingers pressed firm against its cover.

“What I want to understand… are his eyes.”

Elyria drew a breath. Her reply was quiet, but steady. “I know.”

She hesitated, then let the truth fall heavier than she meant.

“From the moment I saw him… I’ve been trying to understand. A black eye and a green one…”

Her hands curled at her sides.

Cedric’s stare lingered on her longer than usual. Then, at last, he exhaled — a faint, almost inaudible sigh.

“…You’re just like your mother.”

Elyria blinked. He hadn’t spoken of her in years.

“Very well then,” he said. “I will allow you to help me — in the matter of his eyes. For the sake of our kingdom.”

He turned once more to the window. Moonlight poured across the courtyard, pale and distant, catching the curve of his golden wings.

For a long moment, Cedric gazed upward at the moon over Yurelda.

Elyria… I am not afraid of this man. I am not afraid of his magic.

His hands tightened behind his back.

What frightens me are his eyes. And what terrifies me most… is the thought of understanding them. Of knowing what they truly represent.