Lyra's gaze was fierce as she held her hand over Solon's mouth. He looked at Xavier and Dylan for help, but neither moved to intervene.
Dylan's expression remained unreadable, though something subtle flickered in his eyes. He didn't like the sight of Lyra's hand on another man's mouth. Even though this was normal between friends and meant nothing, it still irked him.
Solon tried to speak but could only produce muffled sounds. Dylan stood and gently removed Lyra's hand from Solon's mouth. He spoke with quiet authority.
"Fine. I don't need to know more. Just brief me on this issue about the sequel."
Solon sighed with relief, then spoke up.
"Well, the book broke records. But it had one flaw—it ended with an open ending. People have been dying for a sequel. I've been asking Her Highness for it, but she refuses every time, saying it's embarrassing. Even though the first time she wrote it was to raise funds for medical equipment for our local hospital. Still, it's cruel to leave us hanging like this. Am I right to ask for a sequel, your Highness Dylan?"
"Yes, you are," Dylan replied, smirking as he glanced at Lyra, who blushed, muttering under her breath.
"...If I publish the sequel, will you agree to work with me?"
"Affirmative."
Lyra sighed, defeated. "Fine."
She stood to leave, adding, "Come to the palace before noon tomorrow. We have a lot of work to do."
"Got it, your Highness."
As Dylan turned to Solon, he whispered, "Deliver the book to me tomorrow. I'll reward you."
"Acknowledged. I'll make sure to do so."
Dylan's smile deepened as he caught up to Lyra, who seemed to be fleeing from the house. Xavier followed, but soon realized they had disappeared and began searching for them.
Meanwhile, by the ocean, Dylan caught up to Lyra as she stopped abruptly. They stood in a secluded spot under the full moon, dark clouds beginning to gather in the sky.
"I can't believe they all know about me. Is it everyone?" Lyra muttered, her face hidden in embarrassment.
Dylan nodded in response, and she asked, "How do you know about this?"
"A bar owner I met twice told me," he replied.
"So, they all knew but pretended not to? Why?" Lyra questioned, her voice tinged with confusion.
"Because they knew you didn't want them to," Dylan answered. "Do you realize now, Lyra? Everyone around you cherishes you. Including me."
Dylan's hand moved instinctively toward her, but he stopped mid-air, a war raging in his mind. He spoke before he could think.
"Can I caress you?"
The question hung in the air, sudden and raw. His eyes were cautious, and Lyra's eyes widened. She felt warmth creep up her face.
"Why… are you asking me that?" she stammered.
"I… in the morning, you flinched as if you despised me…" Dylan hesitated, his voice softer now.
Lyra shook her head quickly, her words tumbling out. "That's not it. I mean… I was merely..."
She bit her lip and mumbled under her breath, "Forget it. It's not like you even remember. You were drunk."
Dylan tilted his head, catching the soft words. "But I do remember, though."
"But I do remember, though?"
Lyra felt her breath catch in her throat. Her face burned, and her heart seemed to pound harder with each passing second.
Dylan, locking eyes with Lyra, recalled what was almost about to happen. It wouldn't be a lie to say he was on the verge of acting on his desires. Part of it was fueled by the alcohol, but not to the point of losing control. He was still in his right mind. The liquor only gave him the courage to follow through on something he had genuinely wanted. The memory made his cheeks flush, and his ears tinged with red as he quickly averted his gaze.
An awkward silence settled between them. Neither knew what to say next.
Lyra, her voice barely a whisper, mumbled a soft "yes."
Dylan, momentarily distracted by her response, then remembered the request he had made. Without thinking too much, he reached out to gently caress her hair. A few moments later, his hand moved to tenderly touch her cheek.
Lyra stood still, frozen in place, as if her body had forgotten how to move. She could feel the warmth of his touch—an overwhelming, consuming warmth.
Both of them gulped, sensing the weight of the charged air surrounding them. The tension was thick, and neither could deny it.
Though Dylan had forgotten what he was about to say, his hand continued to caress her skin until the sound of three men laughing and talking loudly nearby broke the moment.
Instantly, Dylan pulled his hand away.
The night grew longer as the moonlight bathed their faces, while the sounds of the three men reached their ears.
"That prince, the one who came with the envoy, I heard he's getting married to Lady Karen!"
"What? Her? It makes sense to marry one of the princesses, but why her?"
"For all we know, it's because he fell in love with Lady Karen's beauty."
"I have to say, despite her personality, she sure is attractive."
"You know what? I heard it's because the Princess rejected his proposal!"
"Where did you hear that?"
"You're mistaken. One of my cousins works for Lady Karen. She told me that Lady Karen herself said the Prince rejected the Princess to marry her."
"That's some legitimate drama."
"Anyway, I can't wait for the royal function to be held."
"It's been ages."
"Although, who is that bastard Prince to reject our dear innocent princess?"
"Serves him right. He'll soon find out what kind of hell he's getting into."
The three men burst into laughter as they walked away.
Lyra and Dylan exchanged looks, then, unable to hold back, both began laughing.
"They don't even know I'm right here," Lyra giggled.
But then, she suddenly stopped, her expression shifting. She turned sharply to Dylan, asking, "Are you getting married to Karen?"
The once-bright moonlight was now obscured by clouds, and the lights around them grew dim. A rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance.
"No," Dylan answered reflexively.
"Then it seems Aunt Medea wishes for you to wed her."
"Who cares? I don't want that to happen. In fact, I rejected them personally."
"Rejected them?"
At Lyra's surprised question, Dylan explained his conversation with Karen, Nabal, and Medea.
"So, you rejected it..." Lyra hummed thoughtfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Dylan raised an eyebrow.
"What are you grinning about?"
"Nothing," she replied, still smiling. "I just thought it's such a pity since Karen is quite a beauty."
"So?" Dylan shrugged, indifferent.
"I just thought you cared about looks, especially since you always refer to yourself as handsome."
Lyra's comment made Dylan's face flush with embarrassment. He winced at the memory of his letters where he had shamelessly praised his own beauty.
Now that he thought about it, it seemed childish. He had written those to gain Lyra's attention and praise, but it felt cringeworthy now.
Even though he found it embarrassing, he replied, "Well, I care about my looks. Not about others."
"What's with that logic?"
"It means she doesn't fit into my standards of beauty."
Lyra laughed softly. "Then allow me to ask you—what exactly is your definition of beauty?"
Dylan's face turned deep red as his gaze lingered on her. The intensity of his stare made Lyra feel shy, her breath hitching.
"What?" she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
As time passed, raindrops began to fall, slow at first.
"Stop looking at me like that," Lyra stammered. "It's starting to rain. We need to—"
Before she could finish, Dylan blurted out, "You."
It was a simple word, but as he spoke it, Lyra realized what he meant. Without needing further explanation, she understood that he was calling her his definition of beauty. Before she could fully grasp the weight of his words, the rain began to pour down in torrents. In mere seconds, they were drenched, water streaming down their faces. Yet, despite the cold rain, the warmth she felt from Dylan seemed to intensify, leaving her flushed with emotion.
Tsk.
As the rain began to pour heavily, the people around them hurried to find shelter, running for their homes or nearby buildings. Dylan placed his hand protectively over Lyra, scanning the area for any place to take cover. That's when he noticed the bar, a place he'd visited on his first trip to the city.
Without a second thought, he grabbed Lyra's hand and said, "Let's go."
Together, they sprinted toward the bar. Although a "Closed" sign hung on the door, Dylan ignored it and tried the handle. To their luck, the door was slightly ajar.
It wasn't until they stepped inside that Dylan realized how tightly he was holding Lyra's hand. He quickly released it.
The bar owner noticed them and said, "We're closed for today."
His expression changed when he recognized Dylan. His face lit up, and he exclaimed, "It's you! Welcome! Let me get you some towels, you're drenched."
Then, his gaze shifted to Lyra. "Madam Belle?"
"You know me?" Lyra asked, surprised.
"Of course! Please, have a seat. Here, use these to dry off. If you need a change of clothes, don't hesitate to ask, though I can't guarantee they'll be worthy of you."
Lyra smiled, "It's fine, thank you for your kindness."
Dylan, who had been stealing glances at her, couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked. But his thoughts were interrupted when the bar owner pulled him aside for a private word.
"Sir, if I may, I know you're from Helios, but can you clarify your exact status? How are you with… the princess?"
The word "princess" was almost a whisper. Dylan turned his gaze from Lyra to the bar owner.
"I'm the second Prince of Helios," Dylan replied.
"What!"
The bar owner's exclamation was so loud that Lyra couldn't help but look over. Dylan, trying to ease the tension, patted the bar owner's back.
"Relax. I'm just Dylan to you. No need for formalities."
"Understood. Let me bring you a change of clothes."
"Thank you," Dylan said with a smile. He glanced back at Lyra, only to find her staring at him. She quickly looked away, blushing deeply. Dylan felt his ears flush with heat.
The bar owner soon returned with a set of clothes, guiding them to a back room where they could change. Afterward, he invited them to a meal and brought them drinks.
Lyra looked at Dylan, concerned, and asked, "Are you sure you can drink?"
"I have a high alcohol tolerance. What about you?"
"I'm not terrible with it, but I don't particularly enjoy drinking."
"Oh! Then I apologize for the assumption. I'll bring you something else."
The bar owner quickly offered, but Lyra shook her head. "It's fine. I don't mind drinking this way."
They continued talking as the bar owner served them drinks, and at one point, Dylan asked, "By the way, we've been talking a lot, but what's your name?"
Merson chuckled and replied, "I'm Merson."
Dylan nodded, intrigued. "Merson, what's your story? You always tell me stories of others, but what's yours?"
Merson's smile faded slightly. "I don't have much of a story. My wife left me four years ago. I have a five-year-old daughter who lives with her in Gaia."
"Do you see your daughter?" Lyra asked softly.
Merson shook his head. "I send letters to my ex-wife to check if they're alright or if they need anything. She always replies that they're fine, that's it. I don't think my daughter even remembers me."
Dylan's sharp insight hit the mark. "So, you opened this bar in hopes that one day you could see them again?"
Merson nodded. "Yes, that's why."
Dylan paused, then asked, "Why did you and your wife separate, if you don't mind me asking?"
Merson's eyes darkened slightly. "Marriage is hard. We realized how different we were. I respect her, even care for her, but sometimes you just can't make it work. She's from Gaia, so she went back there, and I stayed here."
"What did you do before this?"
"I was a weapon craftsman."
"Weapons? What kind?"
"All kinds. Some unique pieces. I made everything from wood to iron, and even still work on things as a hobby."
Dylan placed his sword on the table, his curiosity piqued. "Can you tell me about this sword?"
Merson's eyes widened in recognition. "Ah! I made that one. I got a special order from your father, the King. He wanted a sword that reflected your name. 'Dylan' means 'son of the sea,' and Helios represents the sun. This sword is forged from a rare stone called Elin, found deep in the hidden valley of Ammon. We melted the stones under the sun near the volcano of Elidi."
Dylan was stunned. "I had no idea."
Merson smiled proudly. "It's the only one of its kind. Your name is inscribed on it. If you look at the holder's top, you'll find my signature."
Dylan examined the sword and noticed a lotus flower engraving. "Your signature?"
Merson nodded. "It's how I mark my creations. I'm glad you take such care of it."
Dylan smiled. "Thank you for making something so beautiful."
As the evening wore on, Merson spoke of his past, and Dylan and Lyra grew closer in their understanding of each other. When Merson mentioned that Lyra had fallen asleep at the table, Dylan looked over and saw her slumped with her arms crossed, clearly exhausted.
"We should leave," Dylan said softly. "The rain's stopped."
Merson, still thoughtful, said, "I'll get your clothes. They're still damp, but I'll pack them up for you."
"It's fine. We'll wear what we've got for now."
Dylan smiled his thanks, then turned to Lyra. "Lyra."
He gently brushed a strand of hair from her face as he whispered, "Lyra, it's time to wake up."
She groaned but didn't stir. Dylan chuckled and looked at the empty drinks on the table. He realized that when Lyra drank, she tended to fall asleep. His voice softened as he whispered again, "Princess. Lyra."
Still no response.
With a smile, Dylan scooped her into his arms, feeling her breath against his neck. His ears burned with a rush of heat, but he ignored it as he took the bag from Merson.
"Thank you so much for your hospitality," Dylan said, nodding to the bar owner.
"No, thank you for spending time here and enjoying the meal," Merson replied. "I'm grateful."
Before they left, Dylan looked back and added, "Your daughter knows you exist. I'm sure one day, she'll come visit. But you should go see them first. They'd appreciate it."
Merson nodded thoughtfully. "I'll think about it. Take care."
"Goodbye," Dylan said, stepping out into the cool night air, Lyra still asleep in his arms.
As Dylan made his way back to the palace, he wasn't entirely sure of the exact path but relied on his instincts and the landmarks he had observed earlier. As they neared the palace, they bumped into an anxious Xavier.
"Your Highness!" Xavier called out, but Dylan motioned for him to lower his voice.
"Shh."
Xavier looked at Dylan carrying Lyra and asked, "I was looking all over for you guys in the rain. Where did you go?"
Dylan whispered back, "We were with Merson at his bar."
"Merson?"
"The same bar owner from that day."
"Oh!"
Xavier asked, "How are we going to get past the guards?"
"Delilah is waiting for the Princess. Apparently, the guards on duty tonight are her friends, and they'll let us in."
As Xavier spoke, Delilah anxiously approached them. Upon seeing Dylan carrying Lyra, she asked, "Did her Highness drink?"
"How did you know?"
"She can never sleep in public. It makes her anxious, even if she is with someone she knows. But when she's drunk, she falls asleep."
"Is that so? Then let's go. I'll carry her to her room."
"Thank you. Please follow me then."
"Your Highness, I will go to my room now," Xavier added, to which Dylan nodded.
Dylan followed Delilah as she escorted them through the palace. During the walk, a mischievous smile crept onto Dylan's face as he said, "How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?"
At his words, Lyra tightened her arms around his neck and joked, "Are you trying to strangle me?"
Dylan stopped walking as Lyra slowly opened her eyes. Her face turned scarlet, and she felt flushed, unsure if it was from the alcohol or the closeness to Dylan. Her lips were nearly brushing his neck, and she could smell his scent. Embarrassed, she loosened her grip, and Dylan knelt down for her to get off. She quickly put some distance between them.
Rubbing her eyes, Lyra averted her gaze. "I wasn't pretending."
"You've been awake since we left Merson's bar."
"No, I was awake when we ran into Xavier."
Lyra quickly retorted, and Dylan smirked. "So, you were awake."
Clearing her throat, Lyra explained, "I couldn't find the right moment to wake up."
"Is that so?" Dylan's smile made her cheeks turn even redder, and she mumbled, "Thank you so much for carrying me here."
"Don't I get anything more than a thank you?"
"Huh? What?" Lyra's eyes widened as she stared at Dylan, who smiled slyly.
"Nevermind. Here you go. Your clothes."
"Thank you. Also, sorry for the cut."
Dylan winced. "Oh, this... it stings... I think it's bleeding again."
Lyra, concerned, instinctively reached out. "Huh, show me... does it hurt a lot?"
Before she could check, Dylan grabbed her hand and smiled. "Are you worried? About me?"
Blushing, Lyra pouted. "Stop teasing me."
Dylan grinned, thinking, How cute! "I'm delighted that you're worried about me."
Flustered, Lyra retorted, "What are you talking about? Let go. It's getting late, and I need to sleep."
Dylan bowed slightly and placed a kiss on the back of her hand. "Then I hope you experience sweet dreams, my princess. Good night."
He turned and left as Lyra stared at her hand, then at his retreating figure. Her instincts had never been wrong before, and right now, they told her that Dylan liked her. But doubt lingered. She had never been in a situation like this, having feelings for someone. Despite telling herself this wasn't the case, deep down, a part of her desperately wished it were true.