Astra let out a soft yawn, her eyes drifting to Xue, now asleep in her arms, his small hands curled into her robe. She smiled faintly and whispered, "let's keep it aside… I've been wondering. How does Xue end up in your room every single morning?"
Shion tilted his head lazily. "Could be that he likes me more. Or…" He gave her a pointed look. "Maybe he can't sleep when you're the one trembling in your dreams."
Astra scoffed. "It definitely isn't the first reason." She handed Xue over to him without hesitation. "In the second case, he should sleep with you from now on. Might even calm him better than I do." She turned on her heel and began walking.
"Wait—what?!" Shion cursed under his breath, struggling to balance Xue's suddenly heavy weight. "I took a separate room for a reason! I want to be alone in my room!"
She waved her sleeve and walked away without looking back. "Enjoy the company."
Shion groaned, glancing at the boy now nestled against his chest. "This isn't fair…I've had enough kicks in the ribs." He sat down slowly, muttering under his breath, "I told Ryoma not to leave him with me. He could've kept this kid in his room and not dumped him into my bed at midnight. Even I was shocked to see him beside me the first time… Thought I accidentally kidnapped him in my sleep."
Xue stirred, mumbling something incoherent before curling in closer.
"…I should've locked the door properly," Shion muttered.
—————
Palace of the Eastern Wing
Hall of Reflection
The chamber was dim, lit only by the flickering lights lining the stone walls. Steam still lingered in the air—faint remnants of a recent hot bath. Sixth Prince Raizen Zemu stood shirtless before the towering mirror at the heart of the room, running a fine comb through his damp, ink-black hair. Water trickled slowly down his back, disappearing beneath the silk of his loose robe. The silence was broken only by the soft drag of bristles and the occasional crackle of flame. It should have been an ordinary moment. But as he drew the comb once more through his hair, something shifted.
His reflection's lips twitched.
Not his own. Zemu blinked. The movement had been subtle—barely perceptible. He leaned in slightly, gaze sharpening. Then another shift: the reflection straightened before he did, shoulders squared, spine rigid, and unfamiliar tension in its eyes.
He froze.
The mirror began to ripple faintly, and then the reflections shattered into images. Fragmented versions of himself emerged like echoes layered upon echoes, moving independently.
One raised a blade against a kneeling child, his eyes devoid of remorse. Another poured a pale liquid into the Emperor's wine. A third smirked, hands drenched in blood, sleeves soaked to the elbow. And one… one stood in the shadows over a mass of lifeless bodies—his blade still warm, expression unreadable.
Zemu staggered back. The comb slipped from his fingers, clattering against the floor. "What… the hell is this…" he muttered, chest heaving.
The mirror pulsed. Shadows crept like ink across its cracked edges, warping the flickering light.
"Stop…" Zemu's voice rose, cracking. But the visions didn't fade. They multiplied. Each twisted reflection. laughing, fighting, killing choosing wrong again and again.
And then—
One vision emerged clearer than the rest. He stood behind Zemei, sword in hand. She turned eyes wide. And he drove the blade through her back.
"STOP!"
With a cry, he lunged forward and punched the glass. The mirror shattered, shards spraying across the polished floor as his voice echoed violently off the stone walls.
Footsteps thundered in seconds later. Two guards burst in, alarmed.
"Your Highness!"
Their eyes widened as they took in the splintered mirror, the blood dripping from Zemu's knuckles, and his wild, unfocused stare. One of them turned and sprinted down the corridor, likely to summon aid, while the other cautiously stepped forward.
"Your highness… are you hurt?"
Zemu didn't answer. His breath came fast, erratic, and his eyes were locked on the broken shards at his feet, where only fragments of his face now remained. Faces that still grinned, bled, and lied in pieces on the floor.
A long, tense beat passed.
Then, slowly, he inhaled deep and steady. Forcing control back into his lungs. He turned sharply to the remaining guard, voice low but firm.
"Summon Master Shaoyan. I need to see him. Immediately."
The guard blinked. "Your Highness… you've only just returned from the Eastern Marsh. There's still time before—"
"Do what I said." Zemu's tone left no room for argument.
The guard stiffened, then bowed deeply. "Yes, Your Highness." He turned and left at once, boots echoing down the stone corridor.
Zemu stood there in the silence that followed, lanternlight dancing over the broken glass. He dragged a hand through his damp hair, jaw clenched.
"…The Mirror Beast's curse," he muttered. "It wasn't fully broken." His fingers curled into a fist again, still slick with blood.
"I need to tell Master… before it unravels more."
———
Ryoma sat on the wooden porch, its dark lacquered planks warm beneath him. A book rested in his hand, open, its pages fluttering slightly in the morning breeze. But his eyes barely moved across the text.
His focus was elsewhere.
Just ahead of him, three voices tangled in rising volume.
"I'm telling you, Seirou," Seiya snapped, waving a finger, "that gold ring was on the shelf last night. This morning? Gone. And you were the only one who was in the room that time!"
"I was looking for my sash, not your ugly ring!" Seirou shot back, arms flailing. "Why would I even want it? It's cursed-looking, who wears skulls on their jewelry anyway?!"
Shion stood between them, shoulders tense, expression blank. "Can I just say—while you two are at it—my keychain has gone missing again. That's the third time this week."
Neither of them listened.
Kaen sat nearby under the shade, biting into a crisp apple with a sigh. He chewed lazily and muttered, "These two idiots… I swear, they sleep with grudges in their mouths and wake up with accusations in their throats every morning."
"You forgot," Ryoma said without looking up, flipping a page with calm disdain, "there are three idiots total."
Kaen snorted. "True."
Ryoma finally glanced up, scanning the courtyard. "Where's she?"
"She's still packing," Kaen replied, flicking his thumb toward the hallway. "We were supposed to leave at sunrise. Now it's nearly mid-morning. At this rate, we'll be lucky to reach the gates before Evening."
Ryoma closed the book with a soft thud, brows lowering slightly. "Kaen," he said, voice quieter, "do we really need to go all the way into the Inner Sector?"
Kaen's chewing slowed. His gaze drifted back to the arguing trio, then toward the sun climbing higher into the smoky sky.
"…Yeah," he murmured. "I think this time, we do."