After the conversation about money concluded, the atmosphere at our table gradually thawed. Reinhart ordered tea, Eleanora requested a slice of chocolate cake from Madame Lorna, and for a little while we were simply four people sitting together enjoying the afternoon.
Reinhart told a story about the market he had visited that morning, about a spice merchant who had tried to sell him counterfeit cinnamon, and how Eleanora had caught it immediately just from the smell. Eleanora added calmly that her husband had nearly purchased three full bags before she pulled him away by the arm.
I let out a small laugh. Veralyn did not laugh, but the corner of her lips rose ever so slightly.
The moment felt strange. A king, a queen, a commoner, and the crown prince's former fiancee. Sitting together at a restaurant table, chatting about fake cinnamon.
This world was sometimes more absurd than any game.
But all good things always had their limits.
Reinhart glanced toward the window and noticed that the sun had already begun to lean westward. The golden light of late afternoon was starting to color the garden behind the restaurant.
"It seems we should be heading back," he said, rising from his chair. "If we stay too long, the guards will start panicking trying to find us."
Eleanora stood beside him, tidying her loose hair. She turned toward Veralyn, and for a moment her gaze softened in a way that only a mother's could.
"Veralyn," she said gently. "Take good care of yourself. And do not be too hard on yourself."
Veralyn stood and bowed respectfully. "Thank you, Lady Eleanora."
Reinhart nodded in my direction. "Sir Ray, thank you for your time. And..." he glanced briefly at Veralyn, then looked back at me, "take care of her."
Those two words were spoken lightly, yet I could feel the weight behind them. Not a command from a king. But a request from a father who knew that his son had made a mistake he could not fix on his own.
"Of course," I replied.
Reinhart smiled faintly, then walked toward the side door alongside Eleanora. Before stepping out entirely, Eleanora turned once more and gave a small wave in our direction. Then the two of them disappeared into the garden, once again becoming an ordinary merchant couple out for an afternoon stroll.
The door closed.
Silence filled our table once more.
I sat back down and sipped the last of my tea. Across from me, Veralyn remained standing for a few seconds before finally taking her seat again. Her eyes lingered on the door that had just closed, as though she were still processing what had just happened.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
Veralyn did not answer right away. Her fingers touched the rim of her now-cold teacup.
"I never imagined," she said quietly, "that the two of them would apologize in person like that."
"They are not the type of king and queen who hide behind their throne," I replied.
"That is not what I meant."
I waited.
Veralyn raised her face and looked at me. For a moment, her cold mask was not there. What remained was simply the expression of a woman trying to comprehend something that did not fit into any category in her mind.
"What I did not expect," she continued, "was that you know the king and queen personally."
I scratched my cheek.
"Well, it is a small world," I answered lightly.
"That is not what I meant either."
Veralyn placed her hands on the table. Her posture was still upright, but there was something different in her eyes. Not suspicion. Not a demand for answers. But something closer to an admiration she was holding back.
"You are a commoner," she said. "No noble blood. No great family name. Yet the king addresses you with respect. The queen smiles when she sees you. And last night, you produced gold coins without hesitation to save someone who was not even anyone to you."
She paused for a moment.
"I spent my entire life trying to prove that I was worthy," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. "Studying without end. Training until my body could no longer move. All to earn recognition that never came. Yet you..." she looked at me directly, "you received all of that without ever having to prove anything to anyone."
The sentence hung in the air.
I fell silent.
Not because I had no answer. But because the real answer was far too complicated to speak aloud. That none of this was because I was remarkable. That all of this began with knowledge that was not mine, from a world that was not my place, and from ideas I had stolen from people who would never know their work was being used in another world.
But of course, I could not say that.
"I was simply lucky," I said at last.
Veralyn stared at me for several seconds. I could see that she did not believe my answer. But as always, she did not press further. She simply let out a quiet breath, then turned her gaze toward the window.
"Someone like you," she murmured, more to herself than to me, "calls all of that luck."
I did not reply. I let the sentence float between us.
...
We left the restaurant when the sun had already half-sunk behind the rooftops of the capital. The streets that had been busy earlier were now beginning to thin out. Merchants were closing their stalls, and the mana stone lamps along the road were lighting up one by one, illuminating the sidewalks with a soft bluish glow.
We walked side by side along the main street. The shopping bags were still in my hands, and Veralyn walked beside me with steps that were calmer than when we had first arrived in the city that afternoon. Something between us felt slightly different after the meeting with the king and queen. Not a major change. Just a silence that felt more comfortable. A distance that felt slightly closer.
The afternoon light reflected off her silver hair, giving it a warm shimmer that contrasted with her usually cold expression. Every now and then her eyes would drift to observe the shops that were closing, or children running along the side of the road, or a merchant hauling the last of his goods. Small things she probably never noticed when she was still busy proving herself at the academy.
"It is getting late," I said. "We should head home before dark."
Veralyn nodded.
I led us toward the carriage stop located near the southern gate of the city. Several carriages were still available, pulled by horses that looked tired after a full day of work. I chose the one that appeared most decent and paid the driver.
As we climbed inside, Veralyn sat on the side facing the window. I sat across from her, placing the shopping bags on the carriage floor between us.
The carriage began to move. Its wooden wheels creaked softly over the stone road, and the scenery of the capital gradually gave way to trees and fields on the outskirts of the city.
Veralyn gazed out the window. The remaining afternoon sunlight illuminated half of her face, while the other half was covered in shadow. For the first time today, she looked truly at peace. Not a forced calm. Not a mask. But the peace of a woman who, perhaps just for one day, had allowed herself to enjoy something without feeling guilty.
Her eyes gradually grew heavy.
A few minutes later, her head tilted slightly to the side, leaning against the wall of the carriage. Her breathing was steady and slow.
She had fallen asleep.
I looked at her for a moment, then turned my gaze to the window on my side. The trees moved slowly outside, lit by the fading twilight.
Today had been long. Too long, perhaps. But seeing Veralyn finally able to sleep peacefully without having to think about anything, I felt that every second of it had been worth it.
The carriage continued along the road toward the forest where my house stood. I let the gentle rumble of wooden wheels and the evening breeze be the only sounds that filled the space between us.
And without realizing it, I closed my eyes as well.