"I know it may seem odd to have a personal maid," Cindy said quickly, her words tumbling over each other, "well—not really odd, considering you’re a prince!"

Florian blinked, trying to keep up.

’What is this...?’ he thought.

"I may only be nineteen," Cindy continued brightly, rocking slightly on her heels, "but I’m wise beyond my years! You can count on me for your four days here. I’ll be extra capable just for you, Your Highness!"

Her energy filled the room.

Too much of it.

Florian felt a dull ache bloom at his temples.

’Oh. My head is definitely hurting,’ he thought, watching as Cindy bounced lightly from one foot to the other, her enthusiasm almost dizzying. ’She’s like a more confident and amped up version of Cashew.’

On any other day, he would have welcomed it.

He would have found her excitement refreshing, comforting even. It should have made him feel better knowing that at least one person in this manor seemed genuinely happy.

But today—

Today, the cold lingered in his bones, and his thoughts refused to quiet. The long journey, the tension, the fear coiled tightly in his chest.

It made him tired.

It made him irritable.

"Ah, Cindy... right?" Florian asked gently.

"Yes, Your Highness!" she replied at once, smiling so wide it almost hurt to look at.

Florian took a slow breath. "I’m feeling a bit under the weather," he said softly. "Most likely due to the... well, the cold."

"Oh!" Cindy’s eyes widened in alarm. "Do you need anything, Your Highness? Heat packs? More blankets? Tea?"

Florian nodded without hesitation. "Yes. All of that," he said honestly. "I think I might need all of it, please. Anything that might help with the cold, and my headache."

Cindy straightened immediately, determination replacing her earlier bounce. "Right away, Your Highness!"

She turned and hurried toward the door, nearly tripping over her own excitement.

Florian watched her go, then let out a quiet sigh as the room finally settled into silence.

’I need to think,’ he told himself. ’And I need her out of the room for now.’

Because as kind as Cindy seemed—

’If she’s assigned to me,’ Florian thought, ’I feel like there’s a chance she’s also watching me.’

And right now, he needed space.

Cindy nodded eagerly, already halfway to the door. "Please wait here, Your Highness," she said brightly. "I’ll be back as soon as I can."

"I’ll be right here," Florian replied, forcing a small smile that felt heavier than it should have.

The door closed behind her.

The moment it did, the smile slipped away.

Florian let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he was holding and dropped back onto the bed, the mattress yielding beneath him.

It was softer than he expected. Too soft. The cold clung stubbornly to his body, seeping through his clothes, settling deep into his bones like it had claimed him.

’I didn’t realize I was this tired,’ he thought. ’God... all I did was sit in a carriage. How am I this exhausted?’

His stomach twisted faintly.

Hungry.

Cold.

And suddenly very aware of how long it had been since he’d slept without his mind racing.

That realization alone made unease curl in his chest.

’I can’t afford to get sick now,’ he told himself, even as his limbs grew heavier, responding less and less to his will.

He kicked off his shoes with a weak motion and pulled the blankets over himself. The fabric was cool at first, but slowly, mercifully, it began to warm. The room was silent.

Normally, silence bothered him. It gave his thoughts too much room to breathe.

But right now, it felt... calming.

Too calming.

’Just a short nap,’ he reasoned. ’I’ll wake up before Cindy gets back.’

His eyes fluttered shut despite every warning bell in his head.

As sleep crept in, his thoughts drifted. Uninvited. Familiar.

Heinz.

The sound of his voice when he’d spoken softly. The warmth of his hand against Florian’s cheek. The kiss he still hadn’t allowed himself to unpack.

’Why am I thinking about him now?’ Florian wondered faintly, already too tired to push the thought away.

Images blurred together as his mind softened, edges dulling.

’I’m sure he’s fine,’ he thought, the concern fading into something gentler. Something almost comforting.

’He always is.’

...

...

Meanwhile....

"Lord Lucius, thank goodness."

A knight rushed toward him, armor clanking unevenly, breath ragged. Sweat soaked through his collar, and even before the man spoke another word, Lucius could already see it.

Fear.

Worry.

Guilt.

They bled off him like smoke.

"You’re... Oscar, right?" Lucius asked, steady despite the tightening in his chest.

Oscar nodded quickly. "Y-Yes, sir."

"Tell me what happened," Lucius said. "Slowly."

"We were doing our rounds," Oscar began, hands shaking. "We passed by His Majesty’s office and—"

BOOM.

The explosion tore through the corridor.

The ground shuddered. Heat and pressure slammed into Lucius, rattling the walls and sending dust cascading from the ceiling. His eyes widened as instinct kicked in.

’An attack?’

’Inside the palace?’

"Is everything—are we in danger?" Lucius demanded as he started toward the office. "Is His Majesty—"

Oscar grabbed his arm.

"D-Don’t," Oscar begged, fingers digging in. "Please, Lord Lucius."

Lucius stopped short, eyes snapping back to him. "Let go of me. Why are you stopping me?"

Oscar’s grip tightened instead.

"You don’t... you don’t understand His Majesty," he sobbed. "He’s not in danger. He—he was calling for Prince Florian. We thought something was wrong. We heard things breaking, shouting, and we went in and—"

Tears streamed freely down Oscar’s face now.

Lucius felt his stomach drop.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. "Get to the point."

"When we went in," Oscar choked out, "two of them went first. Luke and Arvin."

Lucius saw it then.

Guilt.

Crushing and unbearable.

"They... they didn’t even have time," Oscar cried. "His Majesty didn’t see them. Or maybe he did, I don’t know. But they were just—"

Oscar broke.

"O-Obliterated."

Lucius went still.

’What...?’

"He wasn’t attacking us," Oscar whispered, voice cracking. "He was screaming. He was calling for Prince Florian. Over and over. The magic just... burst out of him."

"Florian. Florian... Florian..."

Lucius froze.

That voice.

Cold. Hollow. Wrong.

He lifted his gaze.

At the far end of the corridor stood King Heinz.

His eyes were dark, unfocused, as if the world around him barely registered. Mana rolled off his body in violent waves, warping the air, cracking the stone beneath his feet.

Frost crept along the walls, veins of magic pulsing like something alive.

’What happened?’ Lucius realized. ’He was okay moments ago...his highness hasn’t even been gone a day.’

"Y-Your Majesty,"