A few more days remained until the listed few would depart on the expedition—a desperate bid to find the lost city of gold and swell the empire's dwindling coffers. The air in the palace had grown thick with anticipation, servants whispering in corridors, map rooms lit late into the night.
Kaiser had called for a meeting.
All the listed individuals gathered in the war room—a long, rectangular chamber with vaulted ceilings and a massive oak table at its center. Maps were pinned to the walls, their edges curling from the heat of the braziers. The Emperor sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable. Ayumu sat to his left, her hands folded in her lap.
Kaiser stood at the front, his red eyes sweeping across the assembled group before settling on Ayumu.
"Lady Ayumu," he began, his voice low and measured, "it is best that you provide us with as much information as possible—so that we may miss nothing."
Ayumu rose from her seat.
She wore her usual clothing: white robes that flowed like water around her frame, with a short white veil that draped over her face. She moved to the large map spread across the table, her slim fingers tracing the inked lines as she spoke.
"There may be a chance," she said, "that some of the gold is scattered around the forest."
From across the table, Drobar leaned back in his chair, thick arms crossed over his broad chest. "So what—we're supposed to go treasure hunting around? Like children on a festival hunt?"
Kaiser's red eyes narrowed to slits.
"I suggest," he said, each word dripping with cold civility, "you let the royal advisor speak first, Sir Drobar."
Drobar's face reddened. He half-rose from his seat, his chair scraping against the stone floor. "Why, you insolent piece of—"
Cough.
The sound was soft but deliberate.
The Emperor, Visil, had not moved from his chair. He had not raised his voice. He had simply cleared his throat—a quiet, pointed reminder that he was in attendance.
Drobar froze.
His mouth hung open for a moment longer. Then, slowly, he lowered himself back into his chair, adjusting the collar of his tunic as if it had suddenly become too tight.
"Uhhh… continue, Madam—Lady—uh, Royal Advisor."
Kaiser rolled his eyes.
The fate of this expedition, he thought grimly, with someone like him along… this is not going to be easy.
Ayumu, however, remained unruffled. Her voice was calm as she continued, pointing to a specific location on the map—a higher altitude, marked with a small drawing of a cave entrance.
"It is said that the king protected his treasure in this cave before the great flood happened." She tapped the spot with her fingertip. "I did not manage to go inside last time. But it would be the most likely place to hide things."
Rhea, standing near the wall with her arms folded, perked up. "So we find a cave, hope there's gold in it, and go back. Easy."
Ayumu shook her head gently.
"The journey there is not easy." Her voice grew more serious, her gaze sweeping across the room to ensure everyone was listening. "You need to travel by boat for about three days to save time. It is known that treacherous monsters lurk in the waters near the shore of this place."
She moved her finger along the map, tracing the route.
"Once you reach land, it will take another four days to reach the cave. And in between…" She paused. "This place has very unusual weather. That is why people do not go near it."
Kaiser leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "What do you mean by unusual?"
"Usually, there are four seasons in a year." Ayumu looked up at him. "But here, the seasons change every few days."
Drobar barked a laugh. "That's ridiculous!"
Ayumu continued as if he hadn't spoken. "There could be a snowstorm one day, a heat wave the next, and then rain within a week of travelling. The regions change so drastically… as if…"
She trailed off, her eyes distant.
Kaiser finished her thought. "As if something is guarding it."
Ayumu nodded slowly.
A sudden movement from the corner of the room.
A man shot up from his seat—lithe, excitable, with faint glowing tattoos curling across his cheeks and up toward his temples. A Charoite Magis named Fifi.
"That means the gold is there!" he burst out, his voice cracking with excitement. "I'm sure of it! No way something like this is normal!"
Kaiser's red eyes fixed on him, cold and unblinking. "This is not a game, Sir Fifi."
From across the table, Drobar suddenly chuckled—a low, rumbling sound. He hadn't even been looking at Fifi. But the name had registered, and apparently, he found it amusing.
Fifi's head snapped toward him, the tattoos on his face seeming to glow brighter. "Got something to say, muscle brain?"
Drobar's grin widened. "What did you call me, you little fifi - fairy?"
Chairs scraped. Bodies tensed. The air between the two men crackled with impending violence.
Rhea stepped forward, planting her hands on the table with a loud smack.
"We are in the presence of the Emperor!" Her voice rang through the room, sharp as a whip. "Mind your manners! You behave like children." She threw her arms up in exasperation. "Is this why I am the only woman here? To be a mother to all of you?"
Drobar's aggression melted instantly. He straightened his tunic, smoothed his hair, and offered Rhea a grin that was equal parts charming and insufferable.
"Well," he said, lowering his voice to what he clearly thought was a suave murmur, "for you, my lady, I shall be on my best behaviour."
He blew her a kiss.
Rhea's entire body shuddered—a visible ripple of revulsion that started at her shoulders and traveled down to her toes. Her face twisted into an expression of pure horror.
"Ugh—stop—"
But it was too late. Chaos had already erupted. Drobar was leaning across the table making kissy faces. Fifi was shouting about being taken seriously. Rhea was threatening to hex them both.
At the head of the table, Visil pressed his fingers to his temples and closed his eyes.
What a headache.
He watched the bickering unfold before him—Drobar and Fifi at each other's throats, Rhea playing exasperated peacekeeper, Ayumu standing quietly by the map with a look of patient resignation, and Kaiser observing it all with an expression of pure, detached disdain, as if he were watching insects fight inside a jar.
Visil sighed deeply.
How can these people possibly work together?
There had to be someone else. Someone to keep them in check. Because Kaiser certainly wasn't going to do it. He was the type who simply didn't care—unless something directly affected him, he would let them tear each other apart.
Seeing the Emperor like this again—pressing his temples, Ayumu decided to try her luck again.
She leaned slightly toward him, lowering her voice to a whisper that barely stirred the air between them.
"Your Majesty, if I am able to be a guide, I have experience—"
"NO."
Visil's rejection came without hesitation, sharp and absolute, like a door slamming shut.
"I will not repeat it again, Ayumu."
Under the thin fabric of her veil, it couldn't be seen much. But the slight downturn of her lips, the subtle push of her lower jaw forward—she was pouting.
Across the table, Kaiser's red eyes flicked toward Ayumu.
He said nothing.
His face remained impassive, carved from the same cold stone that had earned him his reputation. But behind that mask, his thoughts churned.
If Ayumu were to come along, she would be of great help. Her knowledge of the terrain. Her instincts as a white magis. Her calm presence in the face of danger. All of it would be invaluable.
But with what had just happened—the attack, her injury, her near death—he also agreed with Visil's decision. It was for her safety.
And yet.
Deep down, in a place he did not care to examine too closely, Kaiser wanted Ayumu to come along. An excuse to spend time with her on this expedition, day after day, night after night, through forests and caves and treacherous shores.
For days now, he realized with a jolt that did not show on his face, my thoughts have been on Ayumu.
To the point where he could not focus on his usual work. Reports went unread. Strategies went unformed. His mind kept drifting back to her—the way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she was trembling and crying in his arms on that day.
It was something he had never experienced before. Not as a cold-hearted black magis. Not as a man who had walked through blood and shadow without once looking back.
It had only been about two months since Ayumu had reappeared in the palace and she was all that Kaiser could think about.
A voice cut through his reverie—distant at first, then sharper.
"Ser… Kaiser…"
Nothing.
"Lord Kaiser!"
He snapped back to reality.
The war room swam into focus around him. The Emperor's eyebrow raised slightly.
Kaiser straightened, his posture impeccable. "Pardon. What?"
Visil studied him for a moment, something unreadable flickering across his imperial features. "That is rare for you. To be dazed."
From across the table, Drobar leaned back in his chair with a wide, mocking grin. "Perhaps the pretty boy needs to rest early today."
Kaiser turned his red gaze toward Drobar. His glare said everything: Your attempt to provoke me is pathetic Drobar.
Drobar's grin faltered, just slightly.
The meeting continued.
They talked of routes and supplies, of monsters and weather patterns, of contingency plans and escape routes. The candle burned low. The braziers dimmed. The night deepened outside the war room windows.
Not until the moon had climbed high above the palace spires did Visil finally dismiss them.
One by one, they filed out of the room.
Drobar left first, stretching his massive arms above his head with a loud yawn. Rhea followed shortly after, rubbing her tired eyes. Fifi practically skipped out, still muttering excitedly about lost cities. Kaiser lingered near the doorway, his movements unhurried.
Ayumu, however, did not follow the others.
Instead of heading toward the main corridor that led to her quarters, she turned down a different path—one that opened into a quieter wing of the palace. A place lit not by torches, but by the cold, silver light of the moon pouring through high arched windows.
She was heading to the small garden nestled between the office buildings. A hidden pocket of green, rarely visited at this hour.
The stone corridor was cool beneath her soft slippers. The night air, drifting in through open arches, carried the scent of night-blooming flowers. She walked slowly, her white robes trailing behind her like a ghost.
And behind her, footsteps.
She did not turn. Instead, she smiled as she knows who those footsteps belonged to.
"Are you also heading to see the garden, Lord Kaiser?"
Behind her, the footsteps stopped.
Kaiser stood in the moonlit corridor, caught mid-stride. For a fraction of a second, something that might have been embarrassment flickered across his sharp features.
Then he chuckled—a low, soft sound, almost unfamiliar coming from his throat.
"Forgive me for stalking you, my lady," he said, resuming his walk to fall into step beside her. "It is only concern for your safety."
Ayumu reached up with both hands and pushed her veil back, letting it rest on her shoulders.
Her face was bathed in moonlight.
Such pale skin—almost luminous under the silver glow, her features soft and delicate, her white long hair spilling like silk down her back. Her eyes caught the light and held it, warm and gentle.
Breathtaking.
Kaiser suddenly forgot to breathe. For a man who had faced down monsters and assassins without flinching, he found himself utterly undone by a girl standing in a moonlit hallway.
Then she giggled.
"I will be fine in the palace, Lord Kaiser."
He snapped back to himself, drawing in a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
They reached the garden—a small, circular courtyard with a single ancient tree at its center, its branches spreading wide like protective arms. Stone benches curved around its trunk. Flowers, pale and nocturnal, bloomed in clusters at their feet. The moonlight turned everything silver and blue.
Ayumu walked to one of the benches and sat down, arranging her robes around her. Then she looked up at Kaiser.
Her expression had softened. The playfulness was gone, replaced by something quieter. More thoughtful.
"Something seems to bothering you, my lady," Kaiser said quietly.
Ayumu patted the space on the bench beside her.
"Please sit, Lord Kaiser."
He hesitated for just a moment—then crossed the small distance and stood before the bench, looking down at her. "You're not scared of me, my lady?"
"Why would i be scared of the kind man that saved my life" she smiled and then gesturing to the seat next to her on the long bench. "Please. My neck is starting to hurt, looking up at your tall figure, Lord Kaiser."
She giggled at her own joke.
Kaiser was stupefied.
Not by the joke. By the word that echoed in his mind from moments earlier.
Kind. She had called him kind.
Never in his life had he been referred to as that. Not as a dark magis. Not as a man who had built his reputation on ruthlessness and efficiency. It was more accurate to say he had never been kind to others. He had never needed to be. Kindness was a weakness. Kindness was a liability.
But with Ayumu…
He sat down next to her.
Of course, he left a gap between them—a careful distance, respectful and measured. Enough that she would feel comfortable.
"Lord Kaiser," Ayumu began, folding her hands in her lap. "As I am unable to go on the expedition, I want you to know something about that place."
Kaiser turned to look at her, his red eyes serious, attentive.
"As I explained," Ayumu continued, "there is a legend that when the king died, he contracted something to look after his treasures. A being that has a soul."
Kaiser inclined his head slightly. "There is no creature that I cannot handle, Lady Ayumu. I do not think you need to worry."
"That is not it, Lord Kaiser." Her voice was gentle but firm. "When I was there, I could feel the presence of that being. It was looking around. It is not maleficent. Nor is it evil." She paused, searching for the right words. "But it is not good, either. I am just unsure of what it is and its intentions. So I hope you will be careful of this, Lord Kaiser."
Kaiser listened.
His instinct—his training, his very nature—told him that if it was a monster, he could simply defeat it. Cut it down. Burn it to ash. But as Ayumu spoke, he realized that her concern was not about defeating an enemy.
It was about understanding something before acting.
How very white magis of her, he thought. And yet, he found himself respecting it.
"I understand, Lady Ayumu." He nodded slowly. "I will take extra care."
Ayumu smiled at him and Kaiser felt something shift in his chest.
Ahem.
The sound came from the garden entrance—deliberate, pointed, and unmistakably imperial.
Visil stood beneath the stone archway, his arms crossed, his expression caught somewhere between suspicion and exasperation.
"So," he said dryly, "this is where my sister is."
He stepped into the garden, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. His eyes moved from Ayumu to Kaiser, and the space between them, and then back again.
"Lord Kaiser," Visil said, his tone deceptively light, "do you have any ill intentions toward my sister?"
Kaiser rose from the bench in one smooth motion. His face settled back into its usual mask—serious, unreadable, perfectly controlled.
"None whatsoever, Your Majesty."
Visil narrowed his eyes. He studied Kaiser for a long moment—the kind of stare that had made nobles confess to crimes they hadn't committed.
"Hmm."
He turned to Ayumu.
"Ayumu. I need to talk to you."
Ayumu rose from the bench as well, smoothing her robes. "Yes, Your Majesty."
She glanced back at Kaiser, her expression soft. "Then, Lord Kaiser, I wish you goodnight."
Kaiser gave a single, shallow nod without saying anything else.
His red eyes followed her as she walked toward the Emperor. And as she passed Visil, the Emperor shot Kaiser a look over her shoulder—a clear, unmistakable warning. A face that said, without words: Stay away from my sister.
Kaiser did not react. His expression remained carved from stone.
But his gaze remained on Ayumu until she disappeared around the corner with her brother.
The garden fell silent.
The moonlight did not change. The flowers did not stop blooming. But the air seemed heavier now, charged with something unspoken.
Behind Kaiser, black smoke began to seep from the shadows—coiling, twisting, taking shape.
An ancient voice emerged from the darkness.
"Master."
Kaiser did not turn. "Azhdar."
The wyvern's form solidified from the seeping black smoke, scales gleaming like oil on water, red eyes identical to Kaiser's own glowing in the darkness. Azhdar's voice was old and with a raspy growl.
"Why do you not simply claim her for yourself?"
Kaiser's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "Not of your concern, Azhdar." He continued "I have known her for only a month or more."
Azhdar made a sound—something between a chuckle and a rumble. "The feeling you bear has been longing for much longer than you remember."
Kaiser finally turned, his red eyes meeting the wyvern's red gaze. "What do you mean?"
But Azhdar did not answer.
The black smoke began to dissolve, curling back into the shadows from which it had come. The wyvern's form faded—first the scales, then the eyes, then the ancient presence that had filled the garden.
And then it was gone.
Leaving Kaiser alone in the moonlight feeling frustrated.