"So you're the boy."
The white-haired lady knight stood just beyond the Vonel gates like she'd been placed there on purpose—armor immaculate, posture straight, eyes calm and sharp. Her crimson gaze held mine without blinking.
Behind me, the butler cleared his throat softly. "Young Master Trey, if you are ready, I will escort you back to the guild—"
"I will escort him."
The knight's voice cut in, flat and matter-of-fact. Not hostile. Not polite. Just… decided.
The butler's eyebrows rose a fraction. "My Lady Knight," he said carefully, "I did not receive any order from the patriarch that you will be the one to escort Young Master Trey."
"I am ordering it."
The butler didn't move. He kept his tone respectful, but firmer now. "With respect, My Lady Knight, the patriarch—"
The knight reached into her cloak and produced a small metal crest.
She didn't flourish it. Didn't pose. She simply held it up.
Even from where I stood, I recognized the symbol style—clean lines, military precision. An Avalonian authority token.
The butler's posture changed instantly.
His eyes flicked to the crest, then away. His jaw tightened, then smoothed.
"…Understood," he said, bowing deeper than before.
The knight put the token away as if she'd just shown a receipt.
Then she turned, already walking.
No "follow me." No "are you able to walk." No glance back.
She just started leaving.
For a second I stood there, stunned, clutching my sweets box with my right hand while my left arm hung useless in its sling. My fancy outfit felt wrong on my skin, like it was trying to convince the world I belonged somewhere I didn't.
The butler offered my belongings—neatly arranged, as if even my mess had been organized.
I snapped back to reality. "Ah—thank you. Sorry." I took them awkwardly, shifting the sweets box to keep it from tilting.
The butler bowed with practiced grace. "Safe travels, Young Master."
"Thank you!" I blurted, too loud, then hurried after the knight. "P-please wait!"
She did not wait.
***
Catching up to her was an educational experience.
I limped. She glided.
I was injured. She was… a walking definition of "efficient."
By the time I managed to get close enough to be considered "escorted," my side was throbbing and my breathing had turned careful. The sweets box bumped against my hip every step like it was trying to betray me.
The knight finally spoke, still not looking at me.
"Why are you slow?"
Something in me snapped.
"DON'T YOU LOOK AT ALL OF THESE INJURIES?!" I shouted.
The moment the sound left my mouth, I realized what I'd done.
I had just yelled at a knight.
A knight who had argued with a Vonel butler and won.
My blood turned to ice.
"I—I'm sorry," I rushed out. "I didn't mean—my mouth just—"
She glanced at me from the corner of her eye.
A single, calm side-eye.
"I see," she said.
Then she faced forward again.
I waited for more.
Anything.
A scolding. A threat. A lecture.
Nothing came.
We walked in silence.
I shuffled along behind her, carrying my own stuff like a pack mule. The sweet smell from the box was both comfort and torture. Every time I inhaled too deeply, my cut reminded me I wasn't allowed to be happy without paying for it.
After a while, my curiosity—stubborn, reckless—finally pushed past my caution.
"My… Lady Knight," I said, trying to copy the butler's formal tone and instantly hating myself for it. "What is your name?"
No answer.
I glanced at her profile—white hair flowing behind her like a banner, armor catching the light. She didn't even blink.
I thought she'd ignored me.
Then, two full steps later, she spoke as if continuing a conversation that had never paused.
"Emelyn Alphonsinne."
I blinked.
The name hit somewhere in my memory like a pebble thrown into a pond.
Emelyn…
"Evelyn?!" I blurted out loud without thinking.
Emelyn's head turned slightly.
"So you know my older sister."
I almost tripped. "I don't?!"
"You do," she said, deadpan certainty, and turned forward again.
My brain stalled.
The only Evelyn I knew was the guild receptionist—the serious one who looked like she'd arrest you for breathing wrong.
Wait—
"She's your sister?" I asked, then immediately added, "Are you… real siblings?"
Emelyn walked another beat. Then answered.
"Yes."
Another beat.
"We are twins."
I stopped walking for half a second.
"Twin?!" I repeated, louder than I meant to.
Emelyn continued like this was normal.
Evelyn had short black hair.
Emelyn had long white hair.
They looked like opposites.
I stared at Emelyn's back, trying to force my brain to accept the idea.
Aren't twins supposed to be identical copies?
Then my mind betrayed me with a different thought:
If Evelyn had long hair and it was white, and Emelyn had short hair and it was black… they'd probably look exactly the same and I would die of confusion.
***
The silence lasted until it got heavy enough that I couldn't stand it.
Emelyn broke it first.
"How did you parry Young Master Lyan's attack?"
She said it the way someone asked, What's the weather? Calm, practical, exact nouns.
She addressed him with full title.
I didn't know why that felt weirder than it should.
"I… didn't know either," I admitted. "The patriarch told me. He said it was… Flow."
Emelyn's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Impossible," she said.
I frowned. "He literally told me."
She stopped walking for the first time.
Not abruptly. Just… she decided movement could wait.
"The patriarch?" she repeated.
Her blink lasted a touch longer than normal.
It was the closest thing to shock I'd seen from her.
"Yes," I said quickly. "Lord Alcatraz. He told me in the hall."
Emelyn stared ahead, processing.
"Interesting," she murmured.
A beat.
"Interesting."
Then she resumed walking as if nothing had happened.
A few steps later, she asked, "How old are you?"
"Ten," I answered.
She didn't look at me.
"Impossible," she said again, same tone as before, like the world had violated a known rule.
I sighed, half laughing, and the motion pulled at my side. Pain stabbed through my bandages and reminded me to stop being dramatic.
I slowed my breathing and tried a different question.
"Why did you insist on escorting me?" I asked.
Emelyn didn't answer immediately.
Then, without turning, she said, "I want to make sure of something."
I waited.
No more words came.
"Okay…" I muttered. "Do you go to the guild often?"
A beat.
"Yes."
"To meet Evelyn?"
A beat.
"Yes."
I stared at the side of her face.
Why was it so hard to talk to these siblings?
Then I noticed it again—her badge, the sword emblem, the way the crest sat like it belonged there.
"Are you a Vonel family knight?" I asked. "Or Avalonia's?"
Emelyn glanced at me.
"Avalonia."
Then, before I could stack another question on top of that, she added, "I am a Gladius knight."
"Gladius?" I repeated. "What's the difference?"
Emelyn paused.
She stared forward, then turned her eyes to me—crimson, steady, too direct.
"It's different."
I blinked. "Huh?"
I frowned. "Different how?"
Emelyn didn't change expression.
I stared at her.
Then, because my pain and exhaustion had finally made me reckless again, I pushed.
"…You don't know the difference?" I asked.
Emelyn stopped walking.
She turned her head slowly, like a machine aligning.
Her polite voice became too polite.
"I know the difference," she said.
A beat.
"The difference is that it's different."
I made a noise that was not dignified. "Huh??"
My brain searched for meaning and found none.
I leaned into it. "You don't know, huh?"
Emelyn flinched.
Just barely—shoulder tightening, blink too long.
Then she walked faster.
Not a sprint.
Just… an efficient decision that my injured body did not appreciate.
"Wait—!" I hissed, limping after her. "That's not an answer!"
"It is," she said, and somehow that made it worse.
***
We walked like that for a while—Emelyn in front, me struggling behind, silence growing awkward.
Then the guild building finally came into view.
My shoulders loosened instinctively, like my body recognized safety before my mind did.
"We finally arrived," I said, relief spilling out. "Thanks for escorting me, my lady knight."
I copied the butler's pose as best I could—stiff, formal, awkward.
It probably looked like a wounded bird trying to bow.
Emelyn watched me for two beats.
Then she said, perfectly straight-faced, "That was… an imitation."
I froze. "Was it bad?"
"It was adequate," she said.
A beat.
"Given your condition."
I exhaled and started walking faster, eager to get inside and explain everything before Vira fainted or Nerissa yelled at me or the guild master personally threw me into a broom closet for disappearing.
"Now if you excuse me—" I began, moving to pass her.
Then Emelyn said one word.
"Myrina."
My feet stopped.
My blood went cold.
I turned around slowly.
Emelyn was looking at me directly now. Her expression hadn't changed, but her eyes felt… heavier.
"Are you really Myrina's younger brother?" she asked.
"Yes," I answered without hesitation.
The word came out like it had been waiting in my chest all day.
I stepped closer. "Do you know her?"
Emelyn's gaze held mine.
"Yes," she said.
A beat.
"She was my best friend."
My stomach dropped.
She continued, voice calm, like she was stating a fact that should have been obvious.
"Myrina. Evelyn. Me. We were childhood friends."
My throat tightened.
"She became a knight because of Myrina?" I asked, confused by my own words.
Emelyn shook her head once.
"I became a knight because of Myrina," she corrected.
"She was the loudest one," Emelyn added, and for a moment—just a moment—something softened in her eyes. A tiny tell. A memory passing through.
"She pulled us forward," she said. "Evelyn and I came to this city to follow her."
My mouth went dry. "Where were you before? I never heard any of this. Myrina never—"
Emelyn's gaze drifted past me, toward the street beyond the guild.
"We came from an orphanage," she said. "In Bevesville village."
I blinked. "Bevesville? I've never heard—"
"The village no longer exists," Emelyn said.
"It perished exactly ten years ago."
Ten years.
My skin prickled.
"There were only four survivors," Emelyn continued. "Myrina. Evelyn. Me."
She paused.
"And a baby."
My breath caught.
For a second my brain refused to connect what it had just heard.
Ten years ago.
A baby.
Four survivors.
Myrina.
Evelyn.
Emelyn.
And—
I stared at Emelyn's face, searching for something I didn't understand.
She didn't explain further.
She didn't need to.
The implication hovered like a knife above my head.
"We were saved by Vonel knights," Emelyn said.
The name hit me like a punch.
Vonel.
The family whose seal now sat on my heart.
Emelyn's voice stayed calm, but her next words were soft enough to be a warning instead of an accusation.
"Be careful of the Vonel family."
Cold sweat ran down my back.
"W-why?" I asked.
Emelyn blinked once, slow.
"Myrina is the only one who knows the true cause of Bevesville's destruction," she said. "Evelyn and I were already being evacuated when it happened."
Her gaze sharpened, just a fraction.
"Myrina was the one who tried to alert the village," she said. "She failed."
My chest tightened.
I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but fear tangled my tongue.
Emelyn continued anyway, stopping before she crossed a line.
"One thing doesn't add up," she said. "Why was a Vonel knight at an unknown village at night when the disaster happened?"
My heart stung.
A sudden heat flared over my chest—right over the brand.
Not the killing burn.
A warning.
A sharp, hot reminder that doubt itself had a price.
I sucked in a breath and steadied myself, forcing the thought away before it could grow into something dangerous.
Emelyn's eyes flicked to me.
"You felt it," she observed.
I didn't answer.
Emelyn looked away, adjusting her sleeve once—tiny motion, like she needed something to do with her hands.
"They always said it was a monster attack," she said quietly. "No one knows for sure."
"Except Myrina."
I swallowed hard.
My sister.
The one I was chasing through the Abyss.
The one who carried secrets heavier than I'd ever imagined.
Emelyn held my gaze again.
"Myrina would be fine," she said.
Her voice didn't turn warm.
But it turned certain.
"I am sure of it."
I blinked fast, fighting something stupid behind my eyes.
"She didn't come back," Emelyn added, "because this place is more dangerous to her."
Then she did something unexpected.
She softened the edge of her bluntness with a small follow-up—like she remembered humans needed that sometimes.
"It will be fine," she said.
A beat.
"Because I will intervene if it is not."
I didn't know what to say to that.
Emelyn turned away, already stepping back toward the direction of the Vonel estate.
I watched her go, white hair swaying, armor catching sunlight, and realized something with a strange clarity.
The reason she'd taken me from the butler wasn't to control me.
It was to warn me.
To tell me Myrina mattered to someone else too.
To tell me the world wasn't clean like Vonel sheets.
It was layered. Hidden. Dangerous.
I stood there for a moment, sweets box heavy in my right hand, bandages tight, sling cutting into my shoulder.
Relief and fear twisted together inside me.
Myrina might still be alive.
But the ground under me had shifted.
And I didn't know what I was standing on anymore.
Then I turned and walked into the guild.
***
The moment I entered, I felt it.
Panic.
Not normal guild chaos. Not loud laughter or quests being posted.
Real panic—voices raised, people moving fast, eyes searching.
My stomach dropped.
Then a familiar shout cut through everything.
"Pup!! You back!!"
I barely had time to turn before I was surrounded.
Barrek's big arms pulled me in with zero regard for my injuries until Ruth slapped him hard on the shoulder.
"Idiot!" she hissed. "He's bandaged!"
Barrek jolted back like he'd been burned. "S-sorry, Pup! Where were you?! What happened to you?!"
Trevor stared at my sling like he was trying to decide whether to punch someone or cry.
Joren's eyes were sharp, scanning my bruises, my outfit, the sweets box like it was evidence from a crime scene.
"Tell us," Joren said low. "Now."
Then I saw Vira.
She was behind them, eyes red, tears already spilling the moment she saw me.
"Trey…" she choked.
And then she broke.
"I thought I lost you," she cried, voice shaking. "I thought I'm in trouble again… I thought—"
She covered her face with her hands like she couldn't stop the fear from pouring out.
Something in my chest loosened.
This—this mess, this noise, this panic, this warmth—
It felt like home.
It felt like where I belonged.
I swallowed, throat tight, and tried to speak.
"I'm here," I managed, voice rough. "I'm… back."
Barrek's group closed in again—careful this time. Ruth hovering like a guard dog. Trevor breathing too hard. Joren watching everything.
Vira's tears kept falling.
And for the first time since the arena, I let myself breathe like I wasn't alone.