Two days had passed since Sirius's horse raced down the moonsilver express road—that rare silvery-white metal so scarce in this world—on the journey back to the royal capital of Gratius. The prince's face from the night before was still burned into his mind. Those azure eyes. The despair reflected in them, and yet—that light seeking something still. And then—the sensation of someone else's emotion flowing into his own heart. (What is this feeling?) Sirius dismounted and stopped on a hill overlooking the capital's walls. The triple-layered white ramparts gleamed silver in the red moonlight. Beyond them stood the five-tiered White Wax Palace—the royal residence and the administrative heart of the nation. Where the prince should be. The pattern on his left hand glowed faintly. A curse. One that Isabella had activated eight years ago—the "Soul Bond Covenant." This forbidden curse forcibly linked two souls and made them share emotions. It was supposed to be a ritual strengthening the bond between mother and child, but Queen Isabella had twisted it and cast it upon Sirius. The son of the woman he should despise. And yet his heart flowed into Sirius's own. "Damn it." Sirius clicked his tongue. He pressed his right hand to his forehead. What was this complexity? His head understood it—the prince bore his mother's sins. But his heart—what was his heart supposed to do? Entry into the capital was easier than usual. He merely raised the bronze insignia wound around his left arm—the badge of the Boundary Knights—and the wall guards saluted. The Boundary Knights were a special order tasked with maintaining security in the kingdom's frontier regions and investigating anomalies. As one of their number, Sirius commanded both fear and respect from many. "Welcome home, Sir Sirius of the Boundary Knights." Sirius nodded and urged his horse forward. Hektetsu Street thrummed with its usual chaos. This thoroughfare cut through the capital's commercial district from south to north, alive with the signs of weapon shops, the glow of taverns, the calls of merchants. The market was crowded from morning, and the stalls sold rare medicinal herbs from the Ashlands. The Ashlands were the desolate territories that had fallen to ruin after the collapse of the ancient civilization; materials harvested there were precious. A bundle cost three silver rings—half a month's wages for a soldier. Bernarde should have already arrived in the capital last night. Sirius imagined him commanding the Iron Dawn Fortress. That stern face, lost in thought about something. (That man must know something too.) Sirius stopped his horse before Calbano's Workshop. He opened the door to the weapon shop. A faint bell chimed—karan. "Welcome." Master Gaspar Calbano looked up. A man past fifty, with burn scars on both arms—marks from working moonsilver. Just looking at those arms told you how skilled a craftsman he was. "Sirius. It's been a while." Gaspar smiled. That smile belonged more to an artisan than a merchant. "You're still using that Daybreak Sword of yours? It's still discolored that dark red, isn't it?" "Yes." Sirius's answer was brief. Noctiel—that was the name of his blade. No one understood the reason for its discoloration. Eight years ago, when he'd received Isabella's magic directly, the blade had taken on that dark red hue and never changed. Yet its sharpness hadn't diminished. If anything, it seemed to harbor some different power. What that power was remained unclear even to Sirius himself. "I need reinforcement on my moonsilver armor. I picked up more damage on this patrol." "Understood. The usual way?" "Yes." Gaspar took the armor. At that moment, someone emerged from the back. "My apologies for the wait." Alessandro. Sirius's entire body went rigid. The prince wore a white tunic beneath a purple cloak, and at his right ear hung a memento of his mother—an earring set with a blue jewel. But what caught the eye most was his complexion. Deathly pale. No different from when Sirius had seen him in the audience chamber of the capital. He hadn't been sleeping. "Your Highness." Sirius saluted. But the motion came a fraction slower than usual. "Master Gaspar is crafting protective gear for you." Alessandro spoke quietly. "This journey will be the two of us. I thought that if something happens, I too need at least minimal equipment. So I don't burden you too heavily." Something pulsed violently deep in Sirius's chest. What flowed through the soul bond was—the prince's pure will. Not relying solely on Sirius to protect him, but wanting to become capable of doing something himself. A desperate wish. And at the same time, self-reproach. The anxiety that he might be useless. And—a desperate effort to understand Sirius. "Your Highness." Sirius chose his words carefully. "Combat may occur during the journey. When it does, you should—" "I understand." Alessandro cut off Sirius's words. In those azure eyes burned a strong will. "I don't want to be a burden. I want to reduce your burden, even a little. That's why I want to learn how to fight. I want to be useful, even if only slightly." Sirius heard those words and found he could say nothing. He'd wanted to refuse. To say coldly that he couldn't teach the enemy's son. But—the emotions flowing through the soul bond wouldn't allow it. There was no lie in those eyes. Purely, genuinely, he wanted to protect Sirius. To be of use to him. That singular desire alone occupied Alessandro's heart. "...I'll think about it." That was all Sirius could say. Gaspar produced a light breastplate. Moonsilver, but its weight was minimized. The prince carefully accepted it and asked Gaspar to show him how to fasten it. Then the door opened. "You're back." Bernarde Zels appeared. Silver-gray short hair, a red glove on his right hand only—the acting commander of the Boundary Knights, meaning the highest authority overseeing the kingdom's frontier regions. Sirius's former superior, a man harboring deep secrets in his heart. He observed the exchange between Sirius and Alessandro in silence. In those gray eyes was reflected something complex and multifaceted. "You two are as always." Bernarde murmured. There was an odd implication in those words. Evening came. The Red Bottle Tavern. Sirius sat across from Bernarde. Dark ale drawn from a barrel filled two glasses. The Red Bottle was the most prestigious tavern on Hektetsu Street, a place where the capital's influential figures conducted secret negotiations. Alessandro had returned to the inn to prepare for tomorrow. "What is it?" Sirius murmured. "Your eyes are hiding something. Is it about the Regency Council—the assembly of councilors governing the nation in place of the royal family? Or is it about this curse?" Bernarde drank. The movement of his throat conveyed a weariness that contradicted his usual stern expression. "...Do you want to know?" "Tell me." Sirius's voice was low. A command. Bernarde fell silent for a moment. His eyes seemed to gaze into a distant past. "It was during the Ashfall Rebellion. As you know, that uprising—" "My mother tried to use my brother as a shield." Sirius spoke. "Queen Isabella tried to force concessions by taking the prince hostage. When that failed, she activated the curse with her last strength." "That's correct." Bernarde set down his glass. "But there is something you don't know. Why Isabella became queen. What she intended to do after becoming queen." Sirius watched him in silence. "Isabella was originally supposed to—" Bernarde's words stopped mid-sentence. At that moment, something crossed his face. Regret? Anguish? Sirius couldn't tell. "...That will be revealed during this journey. When you two draw near to the Otherworld's Heart—the core existence where magical power concentrates, a separate world's nexus—" "What are you hiding?" Sirius's voice was sharp. "Does the Regency Council know something? About the curse? About Isabella? What are you concealing?" Bernarde met Sirius's gaze directly. What reflected there was complex conflict. "I have no intention of abandoning you two." Bernarde said. "Believe that much, at least." "I don't trust you." Sirius replied. "But it's also true that we must continue this journey. Whatever your true intentions, we move forward." Bernarde nodded quietly. That night, Sirius went alone to the outskirts of the capital. Beyond the walls, on a hill. There stood a white stone grave marker. "Boundary Knight Leonhardt Fischer Fallen in the Ashfall Rebellion" Sirius read those words quietly. Words he'd read many times before. Yet each time he read them, something stirred in his chest. He knelt before the grave. From his chest, he withdrew a silver ring. A keepsake of his closest friend. "Leon." Sirius whispered. "I don't understand anymore. What's right and what's wrong. The prince you wanted to protect—he suffers every day, bearing his mother's sins. But that suffering flows into my heart." The red moonlight illuminated the gravestone. "It's a curse. That queen's final cruelty binds us together. That's why I feel the prince's heart. Emotions I never wanted to feel." Sirius's hand clenched. "But—he's kind. Pure. Different from his mother. When you died, when you said 'protect the prince,' did you mean that boy? Or—" The words stopped. There was something he couldn't continue, something lodged in Sirius's heart. "What am I doing?" Sirius stood. "Protecting the enemy's son. Every time his feelings flow into me, my heart is thrown into chaos. Is this what a curse is?" Sirius gripped the silver ring again. "Leon. What do you think? Am I walking the right path?" There was no answer. Only the red moon hung in the sky, illuminating Sirius silently. "—In any case, I'll finish this journey." Sirius murmured. "After that. What to do then, how to be. I'll think about it then. For now—just focus on reaching the Otherworld's Heart. Breaking the curse. That alone." Sirius stood and turned his back toward the capital. The red moon continued to float in the sky, illuminating this desolate world. Tomorrow, the journey would begin. With the prince and Bernarde. Toward Luvenard, the Silent Forest—the ancient forest spoken of in old tales, now a forbidden realm no one entered. Toward the Otherworld's Heart that lay beyond. In Sirius's chest, complex emotions swirled without ceasing. Hatred and sympathy. Duty and doubt. And something unnamed was quietly beginning to take root.