Snowflake did not slow his pace until the palace corridors finally opened into familiar territory.
Only when Prince Leon's chamber came into view did he stop running. His small chest rose and fell rapidly as he slipped inside, leaping onto the cushion near the window. He curled his white tail tightly around himself, as if trying to shield his racing heart.
Princess Lyra…
She had almost realized the truth.
Snowflake buried his face into his tail, forcing himself to breathe slowly. She hadn't been hostile. If anything, she had been gentle—warm, kind, and sincere.
And that was exactly what made her dangerous.
A faint blue glow shimmered before his eyes.
[System Notification]
[Holy Resonance Detected]
[Source: Princess Lyra Glacierborn]
[Compatibility: High]
[Warning: Prolonged Exposure May Trigger Forced Transformation]
Snowflake's ears flattened.
"Forced…?" he thought.
So if I stay near her for too long…
A chill ran through his small body.
Just then, the door opened.
Prince Leon entered the chamber.
Snowflake froze instantly.
Leon's sharp gaze swept across the room before settling briefly on the fox. For a fleeting moment, something unreadable crossed his expression—an instinctive concern he didn't voice.
"You're back already," Leon said quietly.
Snowflake tilted his head, pretending innocence.
Leon stepped closer.
"…You shouldn't wander too far," he murmured, resting a gentle hand on Snowflake's head. "This palace has too many eyes."
Without meaning to, Snowflake relaxed beneath his touch.
Whenever Leon was near, the tight pressure in his chest eased. Even the system warnings seemed to fade into the background.
Leon straightened.
"I have council meetings today," he said. "Stay here."
He paused at the doorway, as if sensing something unspoken.
"…And if Lyra comes looking for you," he added calmly, "don't go alone."
Snowflake's eyes widened.
He noticed…
Without another word, Leon left.
Snowflake stared at the closed door, his tail slowly swaying.
So even the prince is aware…
Elsewhere in the palace—
Princess Lyra stood by the same sunlit window, gazing at the corridor where the little fox had vanished. Her fingers pressed lightly against her chest, where a warm, unfamiliar feeling still lingered.
"That wasn't my imagination," she whispered.
A soft glow bloomed in her palm—holy light responding on its own.
"He's hiding something," she said gently.
"And I want to protect it."
Far away, Snowflake curled up on his cushion, eyes half-closed.
Too many people were beginning to notice him.
And soon…
Hiding as a fox might no longer be enough.