Faintly, I heard the soft chirping of birds sowhere beyond my reach. The sound ca and went like a distant echo, pulling slowly out of the darkness. My eyelids felt heavy, as if sothing was pressing them shut, but little by little, I forced them open.
Light.
A pale stream of morning light poured into the room through the wide-open window and balcony doors. It spilled across the floor, stretching toward the bed where I lay, warming the cold air that lingered inside the room. The curtains swayed gently, stirred by the wind, carrying with it the faint scent of fresh air and sothing unfamiliar—sothing that didn't belong to the underground chaos I rembered.
Above , the ceiling stood still and quiet. Familiar. Unmoving.
Only then did it hit .
I was back in my room.
A sharp pain suddenly pulsed through my head, forcing to raise a hand to my temple. My breathing grew uneven as the ache spread, dull but persistent.
"Michelle…"
Her na slipped from my lips almost instinctively.
In an instant, my eyes snapped open wider. My body reacted before my mind could fully catch up. I pushed myself up from the bed, panic clawing at my chest, my heart pounding louder with each passing second.
But before I could even steady myself—
"XANDERS!"
Farrel's voice thundered through the room.
The sudden shout made flinch. A sharp throb struck my head again, worse than before.
"You're finally awake!" he exclaid, rushing toward .
Before I could react, he wrapped his arms tightly around .
I tensed, caught off guard. I tried to push him away, but his grip only tightened, one hand patting my shoulder repeatedly as if to make sure I was really there.
"I was really worried about you," he said, his voice lowering slightly, though still filled with tension. "You were unconscious for so long."
After a mont, he finally loosened his hold and stepped back.
I inhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.
"How long… was I out?" I asked, my voice hoarse and weaker than I expected.
My gaze drifted toward the balcony again. The light outside seed too calm—too peaceful compared to the last thing I rembered.
"Almost a month," Farrel answered.
Just like that.
Casually.
I turned my head toward him, my eyes widening in disbelief.
"A… month?" I repeated.
He nodded without hesitation. His expression didn't change. No trace of a joke.
"Your waking up is nothing short of a miracle," he added.
My mind struggled to process it.
A month?
It felt impossible.
"Michelle…" I said again, more urgently this ti. "How is she?"
The mory of her weakened state flashed through my mind—her body trembling, her breath unstable, the poison slowly spreading through her veins.
"She's fine now," Farrel replied.
"After you collapsed, we took her straight to the palace. They treated her imdiately. Luckily, it wasn't too late."
A long breath escaped , almost involuntarily.
Relief.
At least… she was safe.
"But then… why was I unconscious for so long?" I asked, frowning as I tried to make sense of it.
Farrel stepped closer, crossing his arms.
"That's the strange part," he said. "You weren't poisoned. There were no signs of physical exhaustion either. The healers couldn't find anything wrong with you. No illness. No internal damage. Nothing."
I lowered my gaze.
Trying to rember.
But there was nothing.
No dream.
No mory.
Only darkness.
An endless, suffocating void that seed to stretch forever. I rembered walking—no, drifting—in that darkness, searching for sothing. Light, maybe. A way out.
But there was none.
I had tried to call out.
Scread.
Again and again.
But no one answered.
"Take to Michelle," I said suddenly, my voice firr now.
Farrel shook his head imdiately.
"Let the healer check you first," he insisted. "We need to make sure you're actually fine."
I exhaled slowly, too tired to argue.
He left the room without waiting for my response.
The healer arrived not long after.
His hands were steady, his movents careful as he examined . He checked my pulse, my breathing, even my eyes. The silence in the room stretched as he worked, only broken by the soft rustle of cloth and the distant sound of training outside.
In the end, he stepped back.
"So?" Farrel asked.
"Yes, Sir. Lord Xanders is in good condition," the healer said. "There are no signs of poison or injury—internal or external."
Even he sounded uncertain.
I raised my hand, dismissing him.
"So… can I see her now?" I asked again.
Farrel hesitated for a brief mont before sighing.
"I'll bring her here."
When he left, I turned back toward the balcony.
The sound of tal clashing echoed clearly now.
Swords.
Training.
The rhythm was sharp, controlled. Familiar.
Yet strangely… it felt distant.
Like sothing I should recognize—but didn't.
Footsteps approached again.
The door opened.
Farrel returned—this ti with Michelle.
She walked in slowly, pulling a chair closer before sitting down.
"You're awake?" she asked.
I nodded.
"So… what's the plan?" I asked.
Farrel frowned.
"Plan?"
"What are you planning without ?" I repeated.
He looked genuinely confused.
I shifted my gaze to Michelle.
"Have you t soone nad Agis?" I asked.
Farrel frowned again.
"Agis… I think I've heard George ntion that na before."
I exhaled quietly.
"He's a spy," I said. "And he's holding a child hostage."
Michelle glanced toward Farrel.
"Why are you looking at him?" I asked.
"I understand," I muttered.
"Can you leave us for a mont?" I said.
Farrel rolled his eyes but walked out anyway.
Silence filled the room.
"How are you?" I asked.
Michelle stood up slightly, turning away as if avoiding my gaze.
"I'm fine now," she said.
"What about you?" she asked in return.
"I'm fine," I replied, though my voice lacked certainty.
"I've been investigating," she continued.
"He's already left the Elf clan. But he's still sowhere nearby. I'm sure of it."
I nodded.
"Did you find his sister?"
She shook her head.
"No. But I found traces."
"His… or his sister's?" I asked. She rolled her eyes.
"His sister. Do you think an adult would leave obvious traces like that?"
Her tone sharpened.
"Are you suspecting of betraying you?" she added.
I stayed silent. She sighed.
"If that's what you think, then fine."
I tried to stand. My body felt weaker than I expected.
She imdiately moved to support .
"Once I recover, I'll go after him again," I said.
She nodded. Then she guided toward the balcony.
The wind hit my face as soon as we stepped closer.
Colder.
Sharper. Sothing had changed.
"Is there sothing I don't know?" I asked quietly.
"What did you say?" she asked. I shook my head.
"Nothing."
I stared ahead—
watching the soldiers train under the open sky.
But sothing inside …
still felt wrong.
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