Davian stood frozen at the threshold, the air in the chamber heavy with silence, broken only by the faint, uneven rhythm of breathing. The figure on the bed lay pale and still, their chest rising and falling with a fragile effort that sent a pang through his heart.

His legs moved almost of their own accord, slow and hesitant, carrying him across the room. The white curtains veiling the bedside brushed against his shoulder as he reached out, fingers trembling, and gently swept them aside.

The sight of Ocean Ryujin lying so weak nearly stole his breath. His face was pale as snow, the only color a faint flush blooming across his cheeks like ripe apples. Even in sickness he looked breathtaking—like a sleeping prince, awaiting the kiss of true love.

"Master...?" Davian whispered, his voice breaking as though the word itself might shatter the stillness. He hovered for a moment, then lowered himself, gingerly placing his hand over Ocean’s snowy white one. The coldness startled him, and his grip unconsciously tightened, as if afraid Ocean might slip away if he let go.

Memories flickered through his mind—Ocean standing tall against overwhelming odds, Ocean’s calm voice cutting through storms of chaos, Ocean’s hand guiding him forward when he had been lost. Never frail, never faltering, never like this.

His lips pressed into a thin line, fighting the sting in his chest.

He sank to his knees at the bedside, unable to stand any longer, and bowed his head close. "Just what happened, Master?" he whispered hoarsely, the words almost a plea. His eyes burned as he stared at that motionless form.

For the first time in a long time, Davian realized he wasn’t just envious of Ocean’s strength—he was terrified of what it meant to see it gone.

Outside the chamber, the air was thick with unease. Both Kai and Sol stood at a distance from the heavy doors, leaning against the cold stone wall, their breaths shallow with worry.

"It was impossible to keep him from figuring it out," Sol muttered, arms folded, his tone more resigned than frustrated.

Kai’s fingers fidgeted at his sleeve as he lowered his voice. "Even my disguise was useless? I really tried my best, Sol..."

"You must have," Sol said evenly, glancing at him, "but the moment you entered the room disguised as Ocean, you could have fooled the whole world—but not a Dragon. And an aura user who has seen Ocean’s Dragon’s Presence."

Kai’s eyes widened, his voice catching. "S-Seen Master’s Dragon’s Presence?"

Sol turned his gaze back toward the closed door, his expression unreadable. "Davian is one of the few who can recognize Ocean even in a sea of strangers, as long as Ocean’s mana lingers."

Kai swallowed hard, his thoughts racing. "Th-Then... doesn’t that mean he could figure out that Master is actually Miss Aurelius if they stood face-to-face? But if that’s true then—"

Sol cut him off, his voice calm but firm. "Ocean has already prepared for that. Davian doesn’t know the secret of Ocean and Reina. That’s why Ocean carries a device that cloaks his mana when he stands before him as Reina. Davian sees only what Ocean wants him to see."

Kai let out a shaky breath of relief, but his nerves didn’t ease. "When you said we should let Davian see Master, I—I really thought you’d expose everything. I thought Master’s secret was over."

Sol shook his head slowly. "It was pointless to keep deceiving him. Better to let him think he has been brought into the plan than to watch him tear it apart on his own. But," his eyes flickered with sharpness, "Davian must not know about Ocean’s true body."

Kai’s gaze dropped, his voice trembling. "That’s why you put the earstud back on Master... to mask it again."

"Yes." Sol’s tone was final, though there was a flicker of unease behind his eyes.

Kai bit his lip, the thought gnawing at him. "But... isn’t it dangerous? Leaving Master alone with him? What if Davian removes the earstud?"

The silence stretched. Sol’s jaw tightened as he pressed his lips together, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the door that separated them from the two inside.

Back in the room, Davian’s fingers curled around Ocean’s cold, clammy hand. The skin beneath his touch felt almost fragile, and the faint heat of a fever burned against the icy chill of that pallor. Ocean’s face was flushed, his brow damp with sweat, and his Dragon’s Presence trembled in the air—wild, uneven, like the ragged breathing of a beast cornered and broken.

Davian’s throat tightened.

"Who did this, Master? You’re not the kind of person to fall like this..." His voice was barely audible over the sound of Ocean’s strained breaths, each inhale a weight dragging at Davian’s chest.

"Master... wake up, please..." His words quivered, desperate, as he pressed his forehead against Ocean’s knuckles.

His mind drifted back to the boy he once was—alone, terrified—when his parents had disappeared. It had been Ocean who came to him then, offering a hand that pulled him out of the void. ’I’m your strength. I’ll give you the world.’ That was what Ocean had promised. That was the Ocean Ryujin Davian knew—unyielding, untouchable. Not this... not this frail figure fighting unseen battles.

Tears blurred his vision.

"When my parents vanished, you came to me and said those words... and I believed you. So why—how—can you be the one lying here like this?" His voice cracked, the grief in him breaking free.

His grip tightened, trembling with the intensity of his plea.

"If you’re tired... if you don’t want this anymore, then drop it all. Just come with me. We’ll go back to Frosthail. You don’t have to be this person the world demands from you. You can... you can live however you want. Start your business, gather people, adopt children—hell, just lounge around all day if that’s what you want. Anything’s fine... as long as you’re alive, as long as you’re awake, Master."

But Ocean lay silent, lost somewhere beyond his reach.

Davian pressed his head to Ocean’s side, his grip never loosening. His other hand dug into the sheets, knuckles straining white as though pain could keep him grounded, could keep him from breaking apart. His chest heaved with a soundless sob, the weight of helplessness clawing at him.

The doors creaked open. Davian didn’t move. Two sets of footsteps approached slowly, measured, and his voice slipped out before either could speak.

"I know..."

He lifted his head. His cheeks were streaked red, his eyes glassy with tears that clung to his lashes. His nose burned, his expression raw.

"I know you did this to keep everyone else from worrying about Master. But... I..." His words fractured, caught on the sobs he was trying to hold back.

Sol’s gaze softened, though his voice remained steady.

"It’s fine. But since you’re here, make sure you keep this a secret from the others."

Davian blinked at him, his expression twisting.

"So I’m part of the plan now?"

Sol exchanged a glance with Kai. The weight of something unspoken passed between them before Sol finally sighed.

"If you’re going to cry over it, you might as well stay by his side."

Davian quickly scrubbed at his cheeks, embarrassed heat rushing up his face. "I-I’m not crying just to be by his side..."

Sol studied him with narrowed eyes, his stare sharp, as if he could cut through the layers of Davian’s denial. After a long pause, he turned away and looked at Kai.

"Kai, you should head out now and keep the act."

Kai hesitated, his gaze lingering once more on Ocean’s pale face. His jaw tightened, but he gave a nod and left, the door clicking softly shut behind him, leaving Davian and Sol in the hush of the chamber.

Sol climbed onto the bed, settling beside Ocean with a heaviness that mirrored the atmosphere of the room. He leaned back against the headrest, his hand brushing briefly against Ocean’s hair as though steadying himself.

Davian, meanwhile, busied himself with the basin on the bedside table. He wrung out a cloth, the water dripping faintly in the silence, and laid the cool fabric carefully across Ocean’s fevered brow. His voice was low but urgent.

"His fever hasn’t gone down yet."

Sol exhaled, shoulders sagging against the headrest.

"It’s been fluctuating."

Davian frowned, eyes scanning Ocean’s still form. A thought suddenly struck him, and his gaze sharpened.

"Why isn’t he sweating?" He muttered, almost to himself, before his hand instinctively reached for the collar of Ocean’s shirt.

Before he could pull it open, Sol’s hand clamped firmly over his wrist.

"It’s fine. Don’t."

Davian froze, brows knitting in protest. "He—he needs to sweat it out, Sol, or his fever will only—"

"Trust me." Sol’s tone cut through, firm and unwavering. His eyes locked with Davian’s, the weight of experience behind them. "When it comes to Dragons, I know best."

Davian hesitated, then slowly pulled his hand back, frustration simmering beneath his obedience. He busied himself with changing the damp cloth instead, his movements stiff, careful.

A long silence stretched before Davian asked, barely above a whisper, "When will he wake up?"

Sol’s answer came after a pause, quiet, almost evasive.

"Depends."

Davian’s head snapped up. "On what?"

Sol’s gaze lingered on Ocean’s face, the way the faint lines of strain seemed etched deeper even in sleep. His voice was calm, but there was a heaviness to it.

"On when his mind is completely healed."

Davian blinked, startled. "Wh-what’s wrong with him, anyways? H-how could he fall sick so suddenly?"

Sol’s eyes softened, a flicker of sympathy breaking through his stoic mask. He let out a slow sigh.

"He’s been carrying something far too heavy, all alone. Yesterday... the cracks finally appeared in his impenetrable armor."

His gaze fell back to Ocean, a mixture of sadness and admiration shadowing his features.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Davian’s hand lingered in Ocean’s hair, the damp strands clinging to his fingers as if reluctant to let go. His chest tightened at the frailty before him, a stark contrast to the indomitable figure who had once stood unshaken in the face of storms.

"But he doesn’t need to do it alone," Davian murmured, his voice trembling with restrained emotion. "He has all of us with him."

Sol’s eyes flicked to him, sharp under the dim glow of the lantern. His jaw tightened, the muscle working as though chewing down words he wasn’t sure should be spoken.

"Well," Sol said finally, his voice heavy with a bitterness Davian rarely heard from him, "even if he does have all of us, the burden is still on his shoulders. And it keeps on increasing..."

Davian’s brows furrowed. He looked back at Ocean, at the faint rise and fall of his chest, then back to Sol.

"Just why..." he whispered, almost to himself.

Why did Ocean keep choosing to bear it all? Why tie himself to goals so large they bled him dry? He could have lived quietly—unbothered by crowns, thrones, and the ceaseless games of nobility. Yet he had stepped into the heart of it all, into battles that weren’t even his to fight.

"Why would he even want this?" Davian muttered, his voice sharpening with frustration. "Why involve himself in the royal family’s mess? And if one kingdom wasn’t enough—four of them! It’s madness!" His hand tightened unconsciously around Ocean’s limp fingers.

His voice dropped, softer now, wounded.

"Master... is the kind that seems to attract larger-than-life problems."

Sol’s gaze darkened at that. He leaned forward slightly, his words deliberate, as though weighing each one before letting it fall.

"I wouldn’t say he attracts them himself." His tone was low, steady, almost chilling. "Sometimes, you never know who’s the puppet... and who’s the one pulling the strings."

Davian stiffened. His violet eyes sharpened as he turned toward Sol.

"What do you mean?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

Sol held Davian’s gaze, his own eyes unreadable, like the still surface of a deep well.