Rhaegar looked steadily at his father.

"Father, the merits of the Thorne family were won upon the battlefield—paid for with blood and life. They were not earned through currying favor with the Empress, nor by clinging to the Tanmin family."

Before the final word had fully fallen, Xarion’s hand struck.

A sharp crack rang through the hall.

Rhaegar did not evade it.

He merely turned his head with the force of the blow, then raised a hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his lips. When he looked back, his gaze was calm—unyielding.

"Have you finished, Father?"

Xarion trembled with fury.

"You—do you even comprehend what you are saying?"

"I do," Rhaegar replied. "Those girls were abducted and sold. Some were no more than fourteen or fifteen. They have fathers, mothers—families who await them still. They are waiting for justice."

Xarion stared at him, eyes colder than snow. "And what of the Thorne family?" he demanded. "Who will give us justice?"

For a brief moment, Rhaegar could not reply.

Then he spoke, his voice quiet but resolute. "Father, the justice of the Thorne family does not require us to barter away our conscience."

With that, he turned and walked out. Behind him, Xarion hurled a teacup to the ground. It shattered with a resounding crash––but the shattering of his own pride remained unheard.

***

That night, Rhaegar made his way to the old residence.

Caelith was seated within, bent over her embroidery. At the sound of the door, she lifted her head—and froze at the sight of him.

"What happened to your lip?"

He did not answer.

Setting aside her embroidery frame, she rose and came toward him. Reaching out, she touched lightly at the corner of his mouth.

He drew in a soft breath.

"...Does it hurt?" she murmured.

He gave a faint, involuntary hiss.

"You argued with your father again, didn’t you?"

He looked at her, still silent.

She sighed, turning to fetch the medicine chest.

He caught her wrist gently. "Do not trouble yourself. It is nothing."

She looked at him, her expression calm and steady.

"Rhaegar."

"Yes?"

"Has that case... led you to someone dangerous?"

He fell silent for the briefest moment. "How did you know?"

"Your complexion betrays you," Caelith said softly. "Whenever your face darkens so, it means trouble follows."

He did not say anything else.

She lifted her hands and gently cupped his face.

Through the narrow lattice of the window, moonlight filtered in, falling upon her features. Her eyes, luminous and tender, rested upon him with quiet concern—clear as still water, soft as spring light.

"No matter whom your investigation leads to," she said, her voice low and earnest, "you must take care."

He looked at her again, a storm of emotions raging behind his dark eyes.

"You would not persuade me to stop?"

Caelith offered him a faint smile. "Would such persuasion avail anything?"

She paused, her gaze deepening. "Only return to me alive—that will suffice."

A shadow of warmth passed through his eyes at last. "...You have my word."

***

In recent days, Nareen had been assisting at the embroidery workshop.

Lady Lian had set her to sorting through old account books, saying that the year’s end was approaching and the ledgers must be reconciled. Having little else to occupy her, Nareen sat with the volumes, turning through them one by one.

When she reached the accounts from three years prior, she suddenly paused.

There was a shipment—recorded as having been sent beyond the city walls—yet the quantities did not align.

She flipped back and forth through the entries, her brow slowly knitting.

That same consignment appeared month after month, yet each time the recorded amount differed—sometimes greater, sometimes less—with no discernible pattern.

Clutching the ledger, she went in search of Lucas.

"My dear friend, have a look at this."

Lucas took the book and examined it. As his eyes moved across the entries, his expression changed.

"These goods... were they delivered by Evren Viremont?"

"Yes. The very same Evren Viremont who was arrested."

Lucas fell into a long silence.

Nareen watched him, unease stirring within her.

"Lucas... those girls who were abducted... could they be connected to these shipments?"

He lifted his head sharply. "Do not speak such reckless words in here!"

Nareen pursed her lips, her expression tinged with stubborn certainty. "I am not a fool. Evren Viremont was arrested for trafficking in people. The goods he delivered do not match the accounts—there must be something amiss."

Lucas said nothing.

Seeing his silence, and the shadow that had settled upon his face, a flicker of unease rose within her once more. "Lucas... you will not come to harm, will you?"

He shook his head. "There is no cause for worry. Do not concern yourself with this matter—I shall see to it."

With that, he turned and departed at once.

***

That evening, Caelith went in search of him as well. The matter of Evren Viremont weighed upon her mind; unrest had begun to ripple through the workshop, and several embroiderers had already sought leave on various pretexts.

As she reached the rear courtyard, the murmur of voices drifted toward her.

She halted at once, withdrawing into the shadows.

It was Lady Lian.

"...Lucas, those matters have nothing to do with you. Do not involve yourself."

Lucas’ voice followed, firm yet troubled. "But those goods passed through the workshop. How can I simply ignore it? People are already way too suspicious!"

Lady Lian sighed. "Lucas... there are things better left unknown."

"But those girls—"

"Their affairs fall under the jurisdiction of the authorities," she interrupted. "You are but a merchant—what business have you entangling yourself in such matters?"

Silence fell once more.

Then Lucas spoke again, his voice lowered, heavy with suspicion.

"Godmother... do you know something I don’t?"

Lady Lian did not answer.

Hidden in the darkness, Caelith felt her heart quicken, each beat loud within her chest.

After a moment, Lady Lian’s voice rose once more—low, measured, and edged with something far more serious than before...

"Lucas, heed your godmother’s counsel," Lady Lian said at last, her voice low and grave. "Do not pursue this matter any further. If you continue, it will bring no good to anyone."

Footsteps followed—measured, retreating.

Lady Lian departed.

Caelith slipped quietly away as well, careful not to draw Lucas’ notice.