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As the sun leaned toward the horizon, casting golden rays over the city rooftops and painting the stone and grass in a calm honey hue, Reina stood at the edge of the road, watching the movement of people, the sounds of the vendors, and the roofs of buildings glowing in the last moments of the day. With a faint stillness enveloping her heart, a question struck her that she couldn't ignore, so she turned to Ron and asked without hesitation:
"Ron… where do you usually stay at night?"
Her question wasn't strange; it hung between genuine concern and a hidden childish curiosity. Ron answered in a calm voice, as if it wasn't worth much thought:
"I move around… sometimes I stay with Uncle Leo, sometimes with someone I know. But these days… most of the time, I spend it in the Wizard Tower. No one there refuses me or bothers me… as long as your uncle isn't around."
It was a spontaneous answer, but behind it lay a faint shadow of an unstable life—a life built daily with harsh flexibility, one only known to those accustomed to wandering from street to street, and doorway to half-open doorway.
Ron worked delivering messages inside the Wizard Tower; they accepted staff strangely quickly, as if seeking hands more than ages.
Reina smiled widely, a smile like dawn stealing sleep from the eyes, then said with childlike excitement:
"Ron… when my uncle comes… I'll ask him to design a whole room just for you!"
Ron chuckled softly, shoulders shaking, then said with playful sarcasm:
"Your uncle doesn't like me… I don't know why! So how would he do that?"
Reina raised her eyebrows, a teasing smile on her lips, then said with a tone carrying playful threat:
"If he doesn't… I'll tell… my dad."
Ron paused for a moment, then burst out laughing at her obvious trick, shaking her hand warmly as if they'd made a secret pact:
"Then… agreed!"
A short quiet moment passed before Ron suddenly said:
"You know? Yesterday I was angry… I don't know why. Anyway… I saw a little boy sticking his tongue out mockingly… so…"
Carina couldn't contain herself; she laughed loudly, crazily, until tears formed in her eyes, then wiped them away and said:
"If I were you, I'd have done the same… poor boy…"
Ron bristled as if she'd wrongfully accused him:
"Poor? He was annoying… he deserved it!"
Reina nodded in agreement, as if confirming the truth.
Once the laughter subsided, Reina sighed suddenly, looking at the sky turning into a wide violet canvas:
"Ron… we… we're starting to grow up… and one day we'll have gray hair…"
Ron was about to grasp the wisdom she was about to impart, but the word "gray hair" fell in his ears like a stone into a pond.
"Hey, Carina! We're not getting old fast… we're just growing up. Since when did we become old in your dictionary?"
She raised her eyebrows impatiently, then said in a commanding tone:
"Don't interrupt me…"
Then added, as if speaking a painful truth children often know better than adults:
"The important thing… is that childhood dreams and games are lost… so let's play before we become annoying!"
Ron wasn't surprised; he was used to her strange requests that threw her beyond the noble boundaries into the wide space of childhood.
"And what do you mean by annoying?" he asked, trying to follow her imagination.
Reina furrowed her brows and said:
"When we grow up we'll become busy… we'll feel shy around each other… and measure every step we take. We really are starting to grow up… so let's release our energy!"
Before Ron could respond, Reina suddenly turned, fixed him with the intensity of a hawk seizing an idea, and dashed off with all her enthusiasm. She ran across the cold grass, laughing, the wind playing with her dress.
Suddenly! She spun toward him and pulled him along with the force of a child who knows no hesitation.
Their laughter filled the space, the sound of their steps on the grass like free music, piercing the usual calm of the city. Activity… vitality… that resounding sense of freedom Reina had been deprived of for years… as if life itself decided to make up for her in this moment.
They ran and played without stopping… younger than their actual age, as if the world had shrunk into a small playground just for them.
The guard assigned to accompany her… sat on a wooden chair a little distance away, watching the scene with feigned indifference. In his hand was a small notebook, in which he was jotting something… matters… notes… perhaps a trick or a report… no one knew.
But what was certain… his eyes never left Reina and Ron, not for a moment.
Their laughter still echoed among the trees when Reina suddenly stopped, raising her hand to point at a red door at the end of the path, shining under the sunset like a secret sign only children notice.
She exclaimed with excitement almost leaping from her eyes:
"Whoever reaches it first… buys candy just for themselves!"
Ron looked at the door, then at her, a light competitive smile appearing on his face. He nodded enthusiastically, ready to run.
And as the countdown began, the two dashed off…
Reina lifted her dress slightly, trying to outrun the wind, while Ron ran lightly, slightly faster.
She stumbled on a small step, then stopped abruptly with apparent annoyance:
"Wait! That's cheating! I'm wearing a dress, and you're wearing pants!"
Ron stopped in turn, looking at her with genuine surprise:
"And what's it to me? Wear pants."
Reina sighed with muted frustration and said:
"Of course not!"
Ron replied immediately, as if seizing the chance to tease a bit:
"See?! You've become one of the annoying ones who feel shy now!"
Reina lifted her chin with stubborn childishness:
"I'm not shy… I just don't want to."
Ron smiled nonchalantly:
"Same thing. You don't want to wear pants because you're shy… and that's it."
Reina didn't reply, but pressed her lips together, signaling that no explanation would make him understand.
Then she said firmly:
"Do what you want… we'll race again."
Reina lifted the hem of her dress above her ankles lightly, allowing movement, nothing more, and took a ready stance.
And so they ran again…
This time faster, laughter louder, the air freer.
But Ron reached the door a few seconds before her…
raising his arms victoriously, as usual.
After a few minutes, he returned carrying the candy that was supposed to be his reward alone. He handed it to her with a smile.
Reina raised her hands to refuse:
"No… the rule of the game. It's yours alone… I won't take any."
But before she could finish, Ron did something that unsettled her a little.
He lifted her mask briefly—just long enough that no one noticed—then placed the candy directly into her hand, not her mouth, in a teasing tone:
"Take it… and be quiet."
There was no harshness in his words, only the playful rapport they'd had since childhood. He replaced the mask immediately to hide her features, then stepped back, as if it wasn't worth discussing.
Reina looked at the candy in her hand…
then at him…
then slowly adjusted the mask, trying to hide the faint blush caused by the moment, nothing more.
And when it was time to leave, Reina reached out to shake Ron's hand with a warm smile, then put a small bag of candy in his hand:
"Take it… every morning."
Ron nodded, but his gaze suddenly shifted when it fell on the guard Robinson. His usually playful eyes turned heavy black… as if seeing behind the man's leather more than what was visible.
He stepped closer and whispered in a low voice filled with strange worry:
"Is this your guard, Reina?"
Reina nodded with naïve reassurance: "Yes… he's loyal. He's been in our palace for years… works diligently and kindly."
But Ron didn't seem convinced. His face tightened, and he said in a cold tone, as if coming from shadows rather than his heart:
"Sometimes… betrayal comes from the closest people to us.
And sometimes… the guard needs someone to guard him.
Trust no one… and watch yourself."
Reina trembled slightly, stepping back with the guard, looking at him with a mix of doubt and fear.
Ron… kept watching from afar, stepping in sync with them, like a shadow that doesn't want to be noticed… and doesn't want Reina to slip from his sight.
As Reina reached the palace door, with Robinson walking quietly behind her, she felt the place was off. The palace was silent… the grand hall still, corridors empty, the air heavy as if it were hiding its breath.
She remembered that old moment… when she returned from her trip to Japan, anxiety crushing her, then—without warning—the same thing happened.
A violent push hit her from behind.
She only saw the ground rushing closer, a hard impact that threw the world off balance. It wasn't just the pain that shocked her… but memories exploding in her mind at once: the same fall, the same fear, the same hand that once pushed her… when she was falsely accused of causing her family's death.
But this time…
The threat was in front of her, maskless.
Robinson.
The guard the family had trusted for years, who she had seen as a symbol of loyalty… now stood over her, looking at her with eyes carrying only deep darkness.
He knelt slowly, holding something black… a strange spherical object, dark as night, from which thin threads dangled, moving as if alive. The motion of his hand on those threads was enough to send chills through Reina's body.
He leaned close to her ear and whispered, a voice soft like poison:
"Princess… you got too excited. What you're doing to try to stop Lady Elena… won't work. The end is known."
He came even closer… and she felt the coldness of his breath on her cheek.
"You… are a small puppet… in my hands. And the curse you carry… can destroy you in an instant. Just like your mother's was destroyed."
Reina's heart trembled. The words sank in like heavy stones. Her head throbbed with pain, but the fear was stronger.
She wanted to scream… to call for help… to say something—anything.
But her body wouldn't obey. Fear had seized her strings and held her still.
Robinson reached for her hair, pulling her harshly backward, tilting her head slightly so he could look her in the eyes directly. There was no trace of the kindness she once knew on his face.
"Even if they catch me… even if they punish me… it won't change anything. You will unravel bit by bit under black magic. That's a promise."
He raised the black object, waving it between his fingers.
"Do you remember? I told you… you are just a cute puppet. And this is how we move you."
He moved the threads quickly. Reina didn't see what happened inside the sphere, but its effect was clear: a violent shudder ran through her entire body, as if the pain spread without a clear source. It wasn't normal pain… it was strange, heavy, pressing on the depths of her soul, as if something hidden was dragging her away.
She didn't doubt for a moment:
Black magic… her curse… Elena.
All were threads in the same web.
And Robinson… was just the executor.
Then…
Silence.
A sudden stillness, as if someone dropped a heavy curtain over the place.
She could no longer see Robinson. She could only hear her heartbeat. The world became a blur.
And suddenly—
shouts erupted from every corner of the palace:
"Princess!!"
"Hurry! Bring the doctor!"
"Quick! Quick!"
The voices bounced around her, growing closer and clearer… like knocking on her closed consciousness. Many hands reached toward her, many shadows leaned over… but she couldn't distinguish the faces.
All she could do… was hear, in fragments of awareness, someone shouting:
"The guard… where's the guard?!"
…
Then everything drowned in white silence.
"Ah… Lord Theobald, there's no real reason for concern… the young lady is fine."
The voice was calm, reassuring, carrying the weight of experience and long acquaintance. It was familiar even before its owner appeared from behind the silk curtain.
"It's difficult to determine the cause precisely," the man continued in a low voice, "but she—most likely—had a magical panic attack. Meaning… the curse spiked briefly."
He paused, then added in an even lower voice: "Or… the person who placed it on her… did so deliberately."
Theobald turned sharply, but before he could speak, the man stepped closer to the bed. It was Jeffrey… the head of the Wizard Tower himself.
A man the family had always respected, with a white heart and a tongue that only spoke reassurance, rarely leaving his tower for personal matters—but this time he came himself, instead of sending one of his curse specialists.
"Thank you, Jeffrey… you've lifted a huge weight off my chest."
Theobald said, a tone mixing relief with lingering worry. "The important thing… the pain isn't ongoing, right?"
Jeffrey nodded, showing traces of a long night.
"Yes, the magical surge was sudden… but not continuous. The values I measured confirm that her body returned to normal. So there's no need for excessive worry… and I'm really glad the princess is fine."
He then leaned slightly toward Reina, whose breaths were still uneven, and gave a small reassuring smile before standing.
"If you need anything… you know where to find me."
With these words, he left the room, leaving behind a strange calm flowing through its walls.
Theobald stood by the bed, watching Reina's pale face.
Carla was there too… approaching softly, hands clasped in front of her chest, her maternal face trembling with concern.
"Did… did she trip and hit her head?…"
A question escaped her in a low voice, as if afraid to anger the surrounding silence.
Theobald didn't answer immediately. He looked at Reina's hair, at the small pink mark left by the pillow under her cheek, then exhaled deeply. He broke the silence with a step toward the door, saying:
"I must inform my assistant… we will investigate this more thoroughly. Stay by Reina, don't leave her alone."
Carla immediately nodded, bowing slightly in respect.
She remained standing by the bed, observing Reina's features in heavy silence… while Theobald left the room with determined steps, marking the start of a new phase of suspicion and investigation.
Reina slowly opened her blurred eyes, first seeing the ceiling… then the features gradually becoming clearer.
Carla was sitting near her on a chair, hands clasped on her lap, her maternal face trembling with worry.
"Reina…? Are you awake? Can you hear me, my little one?"
She leaned toward her eagerly, not hiding the slight tremble in her voice.
Reina nodded with difficulty, raising her hand to rub her eyes, then tried to sit up slowly.
Carla quickly grasped her shoulders immediately:
"Take it easy… your head…"
Reina raised her hand to touch around her head, feeling bandages wrapped around her skull, weighing it down.
"Ugh…" her voice came weakly, as if the words themselves were heavy.
Carla hugged her gently, as if trying to protect her from anything that might hurt her.
"Forgive us, my little one… you've been through so much."
She stepped back after a moment, rising toward the door and saying:
"Stay here… I'll bring you some warm food."
But as soon as she left and the door closed behind her, Reina moved—against instructions—clinging to the edge of the bed, then stood with difficulty.
Her body shook, her steps unsteady, yet driven by a strength she did not know the source of.
She climbed the stairs with effort to the second floor… her mind aching from the headache, but her heart pushing stubbornly.
And as she approached Elena's room… she saw the door half-open.
She stopped.
The air grew heavier.
She stepped lightly, holding onto the wall to steady herself, then leaned to listen.
Elena's voice was clear… cold, sarcastic, as if speaking of trivial matters with no weight.
"That boy… was wary of me. Some wretched children have annoying instincts."
She laughed quietly, not resembling real laughter, then continued with scorn:
"Some people need children… and pretty corpses. Why not send the bandits to finish him off?"
Reina's hand trembled.
She gasped silently.
It felt as if the ground was trying to pull away from beneath her feet.
Then came Robinson's voice—the voice that became a burning coal in her soul:
"Of course… and that's what I did. I don't know if they reached him or not."
Reina froze.
Her breath quickened.
Her heart pounded against her chest like it wanted to escape.
"Did they reach him…?
To whom…?
Ron?!"
She didn't think further.
Her hand clung to the door, trembling, then she suddenly turned and ran… running and running, almost stumbling down the stairs, seeing only the darkness devouring her and the fear igniting in her chest.
If something bad happened to an innocent person…
To the boy who stood with her, protected her, laughed with her…
If he got hurt because she was the cause…
She would never forgive herself.
She wouldn't even be able to look in the mirror.
All she would have left… was the surrender she had always resisted.
If she lost Ron again… she would lose all her hopes.