It was fast.
Too fast.
So fast that the air itself seemed to lag behind the movement.
One heartbeat, Cassian stood tall—broad, armored in pride and muscle. The next, his body folded like a felled oak.
Without anyone noticing, Noa had already closed the distance and struck.
The impact did not echo loudly. It did not explode with dramatic shockwaves. It was just a single punch—simple, almost casual.
And yet Cassian fell.
King Roswell's pupils constricted.
As a warrior himself, he should have seen it. Even if he could not react, he should have perceived the motion—the shift in weight, the tightening of muscle, the intent behind the eyes.
He saw nothing.
No footsteps.
No killing intent.
No buildup.
Just result.
Around him, the hall froze in the kind of silence that only follows disbelief. Knights blinked. Nobles stiffened. Even the torches along the walls flickered uncertainly, as if questioning what they had witnessed.
Everyone looked the same—
Except.
Vionette.
Roswell saw it.
Behind the hand she had lifted to her lips in feigned shock, beneath that porcelain mask of royalty—
A smile.
Not wide.
Not loud.
But curved.
Malicious.
Like a white serpent coiled beneath silk.
In that instant, Roswell understood the unease that had been gnawing at him since her arrival.
The white snake was right in front of me.
He had doubted her earlier claim that she had come merely for amusement. He had doubted it, yet he believed it—because the Vionette he remembered was composed, restrained, politically sharp but not… this.
This was different.
This was calculation wrapped in elegance.
And—
That man.
Roswell's gaze shifted to Noa.
That was just a normal punch.
No aura. No technique. No visible reinforcement.
Yet it had carried enough force to knock out an Aura user in a single blow.
tsk.
Fear crept down his spine like cold water poured beneath armor.
Annoyance followed it.
The sword and the pen working together…
He exhaled slowly.
This is dangerous.
Steel and strategy.
Strength and calculation.
"Lord Casian?!"
"Cassian!"
The garden erupted.
Cassian's knights and Alena rushed forward. One caught his massive body before it could collapse entirely, straining under the prince's weight. Two others tried shaking him awake. The rest drew their swords and pointed them toward Noa, forming a defensive wall.
Steel sang from scabbards.
Not out of loyalty.
But survival.
Their movements were sharp, disciplined—but their eyes betrayed them.
They were not protecting a leader.
They were protecting their own necks.
If Cassian died here, their futures would die with him.
"Don't worry, don't worry~" Noa waved the same hand that had just folded a prince like laundry. "I didn't kill him. Just knocked him out."
His tone was light. Almost helpful.
Why didn't he kill Cassian?
Because he was a prince?
No.
It was because—
***
A Few Hours Earlier
The road had been quiet then.
Dusk bled gold across the horizon as Noa and Vionette walked side by side. Leaves whispered in the wind like conspirators.
"Why?" Noa had asked, watching her.
Vionette quickened her steps, dress fluttering like a pale banner. She passed him, then turned, walking backward with a finger placed across her lips.
"It's a secret~"
Her smile was playful. Too playful.
"…"
Noa closed the distance again.
She turned forward, voice softening.
"You just have to say 'It's getting late' when someone of high power gets close to where we are."
"Uh-huh?"
At the time, it made no sense.
And that was precisely why he didn't press further.
Mysteries were more interesting when solved naturally.
"If someone tries to hurt me," she added lightly, "please don't kill him."
"They're that useful?"
"Mmm-hmm."
She nodded like a satisfied cat.
He didn't understand.
But he remembered.
***
Present
"You—! Who do you think you are?!" Alena's voice cracked like brittle glass.
Perhaps her pride was hurt.
Perhaps seeing her fiancé collapse so easily wounded something deeper.
Noa had already turned to walk toward Vionette—but her voice pulled him back.
He slowly faced her again.
His eyes narrowed.
A smile — sharp and humorless — curved his lips.
"What? Who the fuck do you think you are then?"
"I am duk—"
"Oh shut up. 'I'm this, I'm that.' Titles don't stop bleeding. You're just a walking corpse."
The words fell heavy.
To Noa, that was simple truth.
He could kill her in less than ten seconds.
She was like a mosquito—allowed to sip blood only because it hadn't yet become annoying enough.
If every knight here gathered and fought him to the death—
Yes.
They could kill him.
Eventually.
But—
"Don't worry, no one will interfere if you don't go overboard."
Those had been Vionette's words.
He trusted her.
More than anyone.
Because her life was tied to his.
Because she believed in his power more than he did.
Because they were partners.
On Cassian's side, that trust did not exist.
"What, die for this muscle-head?" — was likely what their hearts whispered.
It wasn't because Cassian was arrogant — everyone could be arrogant.
It wasn't because he stirred conflict — that could be repaired.
It was because they had never known faith.
They had served strength.
They had served status.
They had served a crown.
But they had never served faith.
Hope is born from faith.
Faith requires something worth believing in.
That was the difference between Cassian and Vionette.
Even now, by proving her earlier words correct, she was giving Noa faith.
Faith to believe in her.
Faith that their moves were deliberate.
Faith that hope and strategy could coexist.
"You're the ones who attacked first, right?" Noa turned to Roswell, gaze steady. "If you can attack, we can too. Isn't that right, Your Majesty?"
Silence stretched.
Roswell understood.
If this escalated further, Eryndor's reputation would crack like porcelain dropped on marble.
And—
Even if I say no… that white snake has already prepared for that outcome.
He inhaled, straightening.
"Of course," he declared, voice firm with royal authority. "I will judge what happened here as the owner of this land."
Authority settled over him like a mantle.
"It was partly my mistake for not preventing this beforehand. Because we cannot blame anyone but ourselves, I ask all of you present to forget what happened today and retreat."
He could not blame Crimvane.
They defended.
He could not blame Aurelyth.
They fell.
The setup was too perfect.
So he chose survival.
"B-but… look at Cassi—"
"We have no objections!" Noa cut in cheerfully, ignoring Alena. He glanced at Vionette with a faint sneer. "Isn't that right?"
"Yes, that's right~"
She answered sweetly.
Two minds.
One direction.
Alena stared at them, fury blazing in her eyes.
The knights lifted Cassian and withdrew, boots echoing hollowly down the corridor.
"Well, see ya!" Noa waved.
"So long," Vionette added politely.
They left as if departing a banquet, escorted by Cornelius.
Behind them, tension lingered like smoke.
…
The night air was cool.
They walked through the castle garden, moonlight spilling silver across trimmed hedges and marble paths.
Crickets hummed. A fountain whispered.
"I got the guts," Noa said after a while, glancing sideways at her, "but it's still not filling up."
Vionette closed one eye and gave him a teasing side look.
"Mmmm?"
"Explanation please!" he hissed—not loudly, but dramatically enough to earn a passing bird's judgment.
She sighed, tilting her head toward the sky.
Stars scattered like spilled diamonds across black velvet.
"No one can make information out of nothing," she said gently. "It's understandable."
"So what was the plan?"
"A few years ago," she began, voice softening, "after Crimvane got crushed… Aurelyth also got crushed. For different reasons—but crushed nonetheless."
The memory flickered behind her eyes.
"Now the two kingdoms stand equal. Weak. Balanced."
"Coincidence?" Noa asked.
She smiled faintly.
"Who knows?"
She continued walking.
"If war begins, Aurelyth is the most likely target for us. And I'm certain they think the same about us."
"Why?"
"Crimvane's land is the richest in the northern region. In ancient times, it was said to be blessed by the gods."
Noa nodded slowly.
"So if they conquer it, they rise in power?"
"Yes."
"With just food?"
She shook her head.
"It's not just food. Though Crimvane is called cursed now after my father's fall… conquering it would grant religious legitimacy."
Power.
Narrative.
Symbol.
In a world like theirs, belief itself was currency.
"And us?" Noa asked.
"They have ores," she replied. "Rich veins. Military industry. If we seize Aurelyth, we gain economic leverage and strengthen our army."
She stopped briefly, letting the thought settle.
"And Eryndor?"
Her eyes gleamed.
"Trade flows from Aurelyth to Eryndor, then to Crimvane. Eryndor prides itself on neutrality and economy. They do not want enemies."
Noa's eyes widened.
"So if we take Aurelyth… we surround Eryndor."
"Yes."
"Economically strangled. Militarily outmatched."
"Politically divided," she finished.
"Exactly."
She continued walking.
"Aurelyth already considers invading us. If we push them slightly, they will act."
"And then?"
"Eryndor must choose."
They reached the castle gates.
The four guards stood rigid, posture so stiff it bordered on comedic.
"That's her right?" one whispered.
"I think."
"Quit babbling and stand straight!"
"…"
Vionette approached cheerfully.
"Yo! How you guys doing?"
The guards nearly snapped their spines saluting.
"We're honored, Your Majesty!"
"Please have safe travels!"
They opened the gates.
As Noa and Vionette stepped through—
"Your Majesty… Princess Vionette."
They turned.
The low-tempered guard from earlier bowed deeply, fist to chest.
"I apologize for before. If I ever get to repay this favor… I will be joyed."
It was genuine.
To Vionette, it had been a minor gesture.
To him, it was salvation.
His family's lives rested on mistakes no larger than a misplaced word.
He had known cold royals.
He knew the difference.
"Ah… okay," she said lightly. "Make sure to repay it. Bye."
They walked into the night.
The guards believed a lie.
And even if they heard the truth—
They would choose not to see it.
…
As they descended the stone path beyond the gates, Noa asked,
"So what happens if Aurelyth pushes first?"
Vionette's voice cooled.
"If they do, Eryndor—the only route between us—must choose a side."
She paused.
"Either they stand with us… or they fall with Aurelyth."
The night wind lifted her hair.
Her expression shifted—just slightly.
A shadow of anger.
A memory not yet spoken.
"The latter would be harder," she admitted calmly. "But I don't mind."
The stars above glittered like distant witnesses.
The board had been set.
The pieces had moved.
And somewhere, unseen—
War had already begun.