Two days later, Ocean sat in a carriage bearing the Ryujin family crest. He rarely used carriages unless for official business—his wings and the teleportation device were far more convenient—but today was different. He was not traveling alone.
Beside him sat a young woman in a maid’s uniform. Her long brown hair was tied neatly into a high ponytail, her pink eyes lowered to the floor. Pale and tense, her hands clutched tightly at the fabric of her navy-blue skirt, betraying the storm inside her.
Ocean said nothing, his gloved fingers resting calmly on the royal summons in his hand. Two days prior, he had sent a request for an audience with the King; the reply had co swiftly in the form of a summons.
Through his informants, Ocean had already learned that the King’s health had begun to fail during his absence in Denril. Few knew of it openly, but whispers had reached noble circles, and it was now clear that factions were quietly forming. Esrtia, though weakened by the loss of several key figures, still stood behind Carlos. anwhile, Eric had gathered strong montum—his warti achievents, coupled with the support of Marquis Fairisle, made his faction formidable.
The balance of power was shifting, and the scent of foul play was unmistakable. Ocean had read enough histories in his past life to recognize the pattern: a monarch rarely fell ill without cause. More often than not, the illness was a carefully crafted one, born of poison slipped into als or dicine disguised as aid.
Outside, the streets stirred with life. Passersby turned to watch as the carriage rolled by, murmuring among themselves. Children cheered and waved, their laughter chasing after the wheels. The carriage itself was modest, not ostentatious, yet the crest emblazoned upon it drew every eye. The Ryujin family was fad and shrouded in mystery, its head—Ocean Ryujin—and his Oasis spoken of throughout the kingdom, though few had ever t the man himself.
"D-Do you really think it’ll be all right?" the maid asked, her voice unsteady, almost swallowed by the rumble of the wheels. Ocean lifted his gaze, eting her rosy eyes that shimred with uncertainty.
"Yes," he said evenly, his tone carrying a calm that steadied storms. "It’ll be fine. Don’t worry, Rosie."
Her fingers unclenched for only a mont before tightening again.
The carriage slowed as they neared the palace gates. The guards stepped forward, stern eyes falling upon the crest displayed on the carriage door. At once their posture shifted—they bowed respectfully, then moved aside to let the Ryujin carriage pass without question.
Rosie’s breath hitched as the towering palace walls lood closer, and the shadow of the gates swallowed them whole.
As the royal palace lood nearer, Rosie’s heartbeat quickened until it pounded in her ears like a war drum.
"Don’t be too scared, it isn’t your first ti here," Ocean murmured, his voice steady, as if he could hear the frantic rhythm of her heart.
"Bu-But..." she faltered, her rosy eyes dropping to her clenched fists.
"You said you would be strong and see this through," Ocean reminded her gently, yet firmly. "Don’t go back on your word now."
Her knuckles whitened over the fabric of her skirt. She looked so tightly wound, so fragile, that it seed a single careless touch might shatter her resolve.
"Inhale deeply, once," Ocean instructed, and she obeyed, gulping in air like it might steady her soul.
"Hold it."
She held, one second... two... three...
"Now release it—slowly." His calm voice guided her through the storm.
She let out a trembling breath, then repeated the process under his watch until her shoulders eased just a fraction. By the ti the carriage slowed to a halt, her breaths had steadied—though her nerves still frayed at the edges.
"Rember," Ocean said as he stepped down from the carriage, his gloved hand extended toward her, "you are here with , as my person. Anything that cos your way will reach first."
She inhaled once more, gathering the courage she had left, before placing her hand in his. The warmth of his grip steadied her as he helped her down. His fingers gave hers a reassuring squeeze before he gestured toward the palace gates.
"Let’s go," he said simply.
Before them, the royal palace towered high and grim, its gilded spires cutting into the sky, its gates yawning wide like the maw of so great beast waiting to swallow her whole. Rosie swallowed hard, but she did not falter.
At the entrance, Chamberlain William Duphrey received them with a practiced bow, leading the way inside. Flanking them was Captain Alex Wales of the Ryujin knights, his heavy steps a quiet reassurance at Rosie’s back. With Ocean walking steadily ahead, his presence shielding her like a wall, she forced herself to keep moving forward.
Ocean walked ahead with Rosie and Captain Alex following in quiet step. Rosie’s head remained bowed, her fingers knotting in her skirt, and Alex, glancing at her from ti to ti, easily caught the frayed edge of her nerves.
At last, Chamberlain William stopped before the heavy double doors and knocked, announcing Ocean’s arrival. A muffled voice answered from within, and the chamberlain pushed them open.
He bowed low as Ocean entered, and the Marquis returned the courtesy with a nod and a faint smile before stepping inside. Rosie and Alex trailed behind him.
Seated in an armchair was Roger, his fra noticeably thinner, his skin pale and drawn since Ocean had last seen him. One hand pressed against his temple, the other loosely holding a cup of tea.
Ocean, Rosie, and Alex lowered themselves to one knee before him. Roger’s gaze lingered on Ocean for a long mont before he gave a small wave of his fingers.
"Rise. Please, have a seat, Marquis."
Ocean inclined his head, sitting where he was directed while Rosie and Alex remained standing behind him. The steady thrum of Rosie’s heartbeat reached his ears—loud, uneven, betraying the fear she tried so hard to smother.
"How is everything in your territory, Marquis? I heard there was... a fire." Roger’s voice was faint, worn, though his eyes remained sharp.
"It happened in my absence," Ocean replied smoothly, "but my people and my heir took care of it well."
At once, Roger’s focus sharpened. "So, you are not going to hide your heir anymore?"
Ocean’s lips curved into a smile. "I was only protecting him until now. But yes, I believe it is ti he is introduced to the world. That is why I requested this audience with Your Majesty."
Reaching into his jacket, Ocean withdrew an envelope sealed with the Ryujin crest. Roger accepted it, studying the seal before setting it aside.
"I had ant to ask you about several things myself—that is why I summoned you," Roger said, only to wince and press harder against his temple.
"Are you unwell, Your Majesty?" Ocean asked, his tone laced with polite concern.
"Headaches... they’ve been troubling . This tea eases them sowhat." He gestured weakly to the cup in his hand.
"May I see the tea?" Ocean asked. At once, the maid standing near Roger flinched, almost imperceptibly—but Ocean did not miss it.
"Serve the Marquis as well," Roger said without looking up. The maid poured obediently, though her movents betrayed a stiffness under Ocean’s unrelenting gaze.
anwhile, Roger broke the seal on the envelope and unfolded the letter, scanning its contents.
"You’ve invited the entire royal family?" he asked after a pause.
"Yes," Ocean answered, lifting the cup of tea and inhaling its aroma before letting a smile ghost across his lips. "It would an much if my heir were blessed by the presence of Your Majesties on such an important day."
Roger humd lowly, then winced again, sipping his tea. Ocean, however, set his cup back on the table untouched. He knew what it was. Not poison—not quite—but sothing far more insidious. The blend dulled the mind, numbed the limbs, and if consud long enough, it reduced a man to a hollow shell: brain-fogged, half-paralyzed, incapable of thought or command. A quiet, cruel way to dispose of a king.
"Who gifted this tea to you, Your Majesty?" Ocean asked.
Roger blinked, his brow furrowing. "How do you know it was gifted?"
Ocean’s smile deepened. "No one drinks sothing this... exquisite willingly."
Roger’s frown deepened. "What are you implying?"
But Ocean did not answer. Instead, he crossed one leg over the other, placing the untouched cup on the table with deliberate calm.
"I will explain in a mont. But first, there is sothing else. It is about your request... regarding a certain individual."
At those words, Roger’s jaw tightened. He waved his hand impatiently, and the attendants, including the nervous maid, filed out—leaving only Rosie and Captain Alex behind Ocean.
Roger’s eyes narrowed at them. "And these two?"
"They must stay," Ocean said evenly. "Especially her. You will want to see her."
"Enough riddles, Marquis," Roger snapped, his headache making his tone harsher. "Speak plainly."
Ocean rose from his seat and stepped to Rosie’s side. She stiffened as his hand extended toward her, but when he whispered, "It’s ti," she swallowed hard and nodded. Her trembling fingers found his, and he guided her forward.
Roger’s eyes followed them, puzzled—until Ocean’s hand brushed against Rosie’s ear. A faint glow spread over her figure, weaving around her like liquid light. The glow thickened, shimred—then subsided.
When it did, Roger’s teacup slipped from his grasp, shattering against the floor. His eyes widened so far it seed they might spill from their sockets.
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