CHAPTER THIRTEEN – REUNION

The rain lashed against the inn, relentless and cold, echoing the pounding in Mika's chest. The storm outside seemed to mirror the tempest within. Kazuo's usual laid-back bravado had evaporated. He moved with quiet, focused urgency, securing rooms and asking the innkeeper’s daughter to summon a doctor for Shinji without wasting a single breath.

After the physician left, and after Mika politely declined Kazuo’s awkward attempt at offering her food, she locked herself away in her room. Inside, memories replayed in cruel loops: the fire, the battle, the stranger’s face that mirrored her own, speaking words she couldn't comprehend and emotions she couldn’t explain.

Meanwhile, back in the room next to hers, Kazuo returned to find Shinji propped weakly against the headboard, eyes open but unfocused. His skin was clammy, and he looked more ghost than man. Kazuo placed a tray by his side; a bowl of warm porridge and a glass of water that steamed faintly in the dim light.

“Hey, partner,” Kazuo murmured, voice low and steady. “Still breathing?”

Shinji gave a pained chuckle, his voice brittle. “Barely.”

Kazuo pulled up a chair, running a hand through his damp hair. “You remember anything?”

A slow shake of the head.

Kazuo exhaled and leaned forward, recounting everything.

***

A sharp gasp tore from Mika’s throat. Pain erupted behind her eyes, searing like lightning. She doubled over, clutching her head, visions spiralling out of control. Flashes of moonlight, two children laughing under a maple tree, a crimson sky, shattered glass.

Across the room, the stranger mirrored her. His breath caught as he staggered back, clutching his head. It was as if they both felt the same invisible thread snapping.

Kazuo stepped forward, placing himself squarely between Mika and the man. His chained sickle was already unsheathed, poised like a serpent.

“Who in the fresh hell are you?!”

The stranger grinned, slow and unsettling. The resemblance was unmistakable — his bone structure, the line of his jaw, the curve of his nose... Mika's features, twisted into something older, colder. He spoke in Ancient Aspaniac — vile insults rolling off his tongue like silk drenched in poison.

“Hey,” Kazuo barked, eyes narrowing. “You gonna insult us, at least do it in a language we can spit back.”

The stranger sneered. “Why would I lower myself to address a mongrel in his own tongue?”

Kazuo rolled his shoulders. “Oh, he talks alright. I was worried you’d only snarl. Guess you get full sentences before the beatdown.”

The stranger’s eyes slid past Kazuo to Mika. “At last, we meet again, Princess.”

“Princess?” Mika echoed, her voice cracking.

“So the humans didn’t erase everything,” he said coldly. “You really don’t remember me?”

Mika’s legs wobbled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The stranger’s expression darkened. “I am Prince Makai of the Kingdom of Margös. And you—my twin sister. The long-lost Princess…”

The air stilled.

Kazuo’s weapon lowered an inch. “You’re kidding me.”

Mika’s fingers curled inward, trying to cling to reality as the fragments danced behind her eyelids.

Makai took a slow step forward. “You lived. And yet, I was left to pick shards of our family’s throne from my spine,” His voice trembled, more grief than venom. “While you slept under starlight, I slept beside corpses. While you dreamed of freedom, I begged the gods for death that never came.”

Makai’s words struck like stones. He stopped in front of her, searching her eyes for even a spark of recognition. “You were supposed to come back for me.” His voice cracked. “You promised.”

Mika blinked, tears pricking her eyes. She whispered. “Promised?”

Makai’s tone dropped to a whisper, almost pleading. “On our Seventh Birthday... The night of the siege. We made a promise to not leave one another. Or we’ll find our ways if ever we get separated.”

He suddenly laughed then, a broken, hollow sound. “And I waited. Every dawn. Every storm. Every scream that sounded like your name.” He shouted, voice splintering. “But I didn’t forget you! I never stopped trying!” The fury in him cracked, revealing anguish beneath. “To be tortured under her — our stepmother’s hand. Burned, carved, made to kneel until my bones broke. All because I was the sole survivor of the Royal Family she couldn’t kill. Do you know how it feels to be punished for failing to bring you back that night – when you walked away?”

Makai’s chest heaved. “Do you, sister?”

Mika’s throat tightened, but no words came.

Then, in a heartbeat, rage swallowed sorrow. Makai sprang forward. His foot slammed into Kazuo’s chest, launching the larger man across the room.

“Kazuo!” Mika screamed.

Makai’s hand clamped around her throat. In one motion, she was against the wall, her toes barely brushing the floor. “You abandoned me!”

Mika kicked and scratched, her pulse roaring.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that night?!” His voice cracked under the weight of memory.

A gunshot rang out. The bullet nicked Makai’s cheek, searing his hair. He turned, stunned.

Shinji stood in the doorway, eyes sharp but glassy. His arm trembled, pistol smoking.

“That,” he rasped, “was on purpose.” And he collapsed, unmoved.

Makai turned back, blood trickling down his cheek. Fury burned bright — but grief flickered behind it, fragile and raw.

Kazuo was back on his feet, chest heaving, eyes glowing vermillion.

“Touch her again,” he growled, “and I’ll send your fancy royal teeth down your throat.”

For a heartbeat, Makai froze. His breathing ragged, torn between wrath and despair. His gaze lingered on Mika.

“Even now,” he murmured, voice breaking, “You hide behind them... Coward!” Then, with a bitter snarl, he vanished into a vortex of emerald flame.

Only smoke and silence remained.

***

The table between them was littered with empty bowls and a half-burnt candle. Kazuo lit another cigarette. Shinji sat up, pale but alert.

“I suspected,” he said, voice soft. “There were signs. But nothing confirmed.”

Kazuo’s voice cracked. “And you didn’t tell her?!”

“I couldn’t,” Shinji replied. “If I was wrong, it would break her.”

Kazuo scoffed. “And if you’re right, and she finds out like this?!”

“It’s not about right or wrong. It’s about when,” Shinji leaned back, gazing at the ceiling. “After we seal the portal, she can choose—stay, or return. Her will. Not mine.”

Kazuo watched him, then looked at the door.

“She’s stronger than she knows,” Kazuo murmured. “But she’s still bleeding inside.”

Shinji nodded slowly. “Exactly why I’m waiting. One truth at a time.”

The candle’s flame flickered.

“For now,” Shinji whispered, more to himself than anyone else, “we keep the storm at bay.”

Outside, the rain continued to pour until dawn.

***

Morning arrived cloaked in a heavy, awkward silence, thick as the mist clinging to the windows of the inn. The sun struggled to pierce through the overcast skies, painting the town in a muted palette of grey and gold.

Despite everything that had happened, Mika mustered a smile — a pale, practised thing — as she entered the common room where her companions waited. The dark circles beneath her eyes betrayed the truth: she hadn’t slept a wink.

"Good morning," she chirped, the cheer in her tone a little too forced. "Did you both sleep well? Perhaps breakfast is in order?"

Kazuo, ever the incorrigible flirt, flashed a grin. "Well, good morning, sunshine! Waking up to your beautiful face is a sight for sore eyes. Did you wake up early for me, or just for breakfast?" He winked exaggeratedly, earning a sharp glare from Shinji.

Despite the tension that still simmered beneath the surface, Mika chuckled softly. Kazuo’s antics were ridiculous, but they served a purpose. They filled the silence. Gave her something other than her thoughts to focus on.

"Breakfast sounds lovely," she said, and as if on cue, her stomach growled in agreement.

But nothing could have prepared her for what awaited in the dining room.

An extravagant feast was laid out before them like a banquet fit for a noble estate. Towering stacks of golden pancakes glistened with syrup. Scrambled eggs fluffed like clouds nestled beside crispy sausages and thick slabs of smoked bacon. Bowls of steaming porridge sat next to baskets overflowing with buttery croissants, steamed buns, and plump raspberry muffins. Every inch of the table was filled with warm, fragrant offerings—an overwhelming sight after the battles and chaos of the previous days.

"What are you waiting for?" Kazuo declared proudly, arms spread wide. "Dig in! There’s plenty more where that came from. I may have ordered enough for a battalion, but hey, better too much than too little!"

Mika’s eyes widened. Her stomach rumbled again, betraying her hesitation. But when she glanced at Shinji, she saw the storm cloud above his head had only grown darker.

Kazuo, oblivious to the growing tension, waved his butter knife toward the scowling man. "Don't worry about the bill, sweetheart. Eat like royalty—on the White Wolf Clan’s dime!"

Before another word could leave his mouth, Shinji sprang forward.

Chairs screeched. Dishes clattered.

Kazuo choked out a strangled noise as Shinji lunged across the table, one hand gripping his collar while the other wrapped tightly around his throat.

"You insufferable oaf!" Shinji roared. "My finances are not your personal piggy bank! You'll pay for this entire monstrosity yourself!"

"Ack! Shinji! My throat—can't... breathe!"

Nearby diners gasped, several scrambling to their feet as the wait staff hesitated awkwardly.

Mika, red-faced and mortified, jumped up. "I’m so sorry! Please — this isn’t — everything’s fine!" she said hastily, waving off the concerned patrons.

Eventually, after much muttered grumbling and a few bruised egos, the two men settled back down, the battle for breakfast concluded. Mika silently swore that their next meal would be much simpler.

After paying the hefty bill — Shinji made sure Kazuo reimbursed him every coin — they decided to divide tasks and gather supplies for their departure.

"I’ll grab some medical stuff," Kazuo offered with a wink. "Try not to miss me too much."

Shinji rolled his eyes. "We won’t. Now go."

He turned to Mika. "There’s a bakery down by the junction. I heard it’s worth a stop. Shall we?"

They hadn’t walked far when a hooded figure rounded the corner and collided straight into Mika.

She stumbled back and fell to the ground with a surprised yelp.

Shinji’s instincts kicked in. His hand flew to his weapon as he barked, "Watch where you’re going!"

The man staggered to his feet, his hood falling back.

Time froze.

Mika’s breath hitched. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Guy?" she whispered.

In an instant, the man’s face broke into a familiar smile, weathered with worry and the lines of time. He pulled her into a fierce embrace, holding her like something long-lost and finally found.

"Mika," he said, his voice thick. "You have no idea how long I’ve been looking for you."

She buried her face in his chest, the scent of leather and woodsmoke wrapping around her like a blanket of memory. For a long moment, she allowed herself the comfort.

From behind, Shinji watched the reunion in silence, his expression unreadable. He recognized the man —Guy Heartlets, Luyas’ esteemed Captain. The prodigy.

Without a word, Shinji turned away, slipping into the crowd. He made his way to the supply shop, needing solitude.

Inside, the bell chimed gently as he entered. And, as expected, there was Kazuo, already mid-flirt with the blushing cashier. Shinji sighed. Some things never changed.

***

Outside, Mika blinked as reality caught up to her. "I should find Shinji," she murmured. "We were heading to the bakery together."

Guy tilted his head. "Maybe he went ahead. Where exactly were you going?"

"To the bakery," she said again. Her voice wavered. "Can I go look for him? It won’t take long."

His gaze flicked to the medicine store, a muscle twitching in his jaw. "Actually, I saw a man who looked just like him heading into the drug store across the street. Long coat, plum-coloured eyes. It must’ve been him."

Mika hesitated. A spark of suspicion lit inside her—small, but unmistakable.

"You saw him? Through the window?"

Guy nodded. "Yes. I’m sure of it. Why don’t we sit at that café nearby? It’s just next to the drug store. He’ll see you from there when he comes out."

Still unsure, Mika nodded. "Alright."

The café was warm and quiet. They picked a table by the window. Mika made sure she could see the street clearly.

"So persuasive," Guy teased. "All these seats, and you pick the one with the best view of the exit."

She blushed. "I just... I didn’t want to seem rude. Shinji might be looking for me too."

A waitress arrived, taking their orders. As they settled into their drinks, Guy watched her sip her tea. There was something graceful in the way she held the cup. Something unchanged.

"How have you been, Mika?"

She took a breath. "Honestly? Still processing everything. Even this… seeing you… it’s a lot."

He nodded. "I understand."

She tilted her head. "And you?"

"Exhausted," he admitted. "I’ve been travelling for months. Non-stop. And when I heard what happened…"

Mika reached for his hand, which Guy immediately tightened. "You must have been shocked when you heard I was exiled."

"I was devastated. I tried to speak to Father, but I couldn’t change his mind. I failed you. I failed all of us."

A pang of guilt pierced her. After a while, she said, "You should rest. There’s a good inn here. Stay the night."

Guy hesitated. "Mika... since going back isn’t an option... what do you say we run away together?"

The scent of cinnamon and warm bread hung heavy in the air as Mika stirred the lukewarm tea in her chipped ceramic cup. The bakery, once a haven of tranquillity with its soft amber lighting and the occasional clatter of dishes, now felt like a theatre echoing with tension.

Guy sat opposite her, his brow furrowed, lips pressed tightly as if holding back a thousand thoughts. The cup in his hand trembled slightly before he set it down with a hollow clink. His grip on Mika’s hand had tightened unconsciously—a silent plea, an anchor he didn't want to let go.

"Truthfully," he began, his voice heavy with emotion, "I find the rumours about your journey to the Red Line with the White Wolf Clan unsettling."

Mika’s eyebrow arched, and she let out a breathy scoff, a flicker of challenge igniting in her eyes. "Unsettling? Isn't that a bit dramatic, Guy?"

His clear blue gaze never wavered. "There’s nothing more important to me than your safety. That’s why I believe there’s a safer place for you—one where politics, danger, and ancient vendettas can’t reach."

A silence grew between them, taut as a drawn bowstring.

"...And where might that be?" Mika finally asked, her voice low but firm.

"The City of Eden," Guy said, his tone shifting with earnestness. "It’s a neutral stronghold on the East Coast, ruled by Lord Eden Bowyn X. He's eccentric, yes — always has been — but under his leadership, even exiled nobles and disgraced warriors find sanctuary. Mika, I couldn’t save you from being exile," Guy whispered, his voice fraying. "But I can save you now. Let me fix this."

Mika had heard whispers about Lord Eden during her time in Luyas. A man shrouded in mystery, both revered and mocked, yet those who spoke of him never doubted his power. And more importantly, Commandant Grants, a man she deeply admired, had once referred to Eden as his dearest confidant.

"I appreciate your concern, Guy," Mika replied, gentling her tone. "But I’ve made my decision. I chose this path. And I chose them."

Guy blinked. "Them?"

"Yes. Them," she said. " Shinji and Kazuo have risked their lives for me. They’re my companions now."

Guy’s expression shifted. "The man you were with earlier... the one with plum-coloured eyes. That’s Lord Shinji Karou of the White Wolf, isn’t it?"

Mika nodded hesitatingly. “Why?"

Guy’s fingers twitched imperceptibly at Shinji’s name. His jaw tightened as if biting back a curse. But when Mika turned to him, his face was calm — a mask polished by years of courtly decorum.

"Just… a name from the past," Guy murmured, his eyes turning distant. Then, more sharply, he asked, "Mika, do you really find it appropriate to be travelling with two men? Unmarried, no less?"

The air turned brittle.

Mika’s hands, once trained to pour tea with demure precision, now trembled with the fury of a storm. The cup cracked under her palm, a shard drawing blood. She didn’t flinch.

"Improper? Really, Guy?" Her voice carried steel. "Just because I walked away from the Heartlets legacy when I’d left Luyas, choosing my own future — doesn’t make me a harlot. If that’s what you thought of me, then perhaps we should never have met!

Guy’s face paled. "That’s not what I—" His eyes suddenly shimmered, and a raw, strangled sound escaped him. "The White Wolf Clan… they killed my mother."

Before the silence could crush them, the bakery’s door swung open.

"Sorry to interrupt," Kazuo strode in, a bag of fruit in one hand and that familiar lopsided grin on his freckled face. "There you are, Mika. We’ve been hunting for you like a couple of lost puppies."

Mika stood quickly, grateful. "Thanks, Kazuo. Shinji’s at the fruit stall, right?"

"Right as rain," Kazuo said with a smile. "Shall we?"

Mika gave Guy one final glance, her expression unreadable, before she headed to the exit.

Guy wasn’t ready to let her go. He stood, reaching forward and was stopped cold by a firm hand gripping his shoulder.

"Easy there, big guy," Kazuo murmured. His eyes glowing faintly despite the friendly smile. "You might want to cool that temper before you chase someone who just walked away from a fire."

"Who are you to interfere with our business?" Guy snapped.

For a flicker of a moment, Kazuo’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. He knew too well what it was like to lose people to pride. Instead, he chuckled.

"Name’s Kazuo. And let me get this straight, I’m not here to be her knight ⎯ I am her protector. And because my patient is running thin from yesterday’s encounter, why don’t we have a man-to-man talk somewhere, hmm?”

Guy scowled, before he looked away and exhaled softly.