The door cracked open to reveal a young servant, arms full of linens, staring directly at him.
For a split second, both of them froze.
"Who—"
The door swung open, and a startled servant froze, a stack of linens teetering in his arms. Arlon acted instantly, seizing the man's collar and pulling him into the room with one fluid motion.
Thud—
The door clicked shut just as the linens hit the floor, scattering silently across the rug. Before the servant could shout, Arlon struck the back of his neck with practiced precision. The man slumped forward, unconscious before he could even register the danger.
Ace, perched on a nearby bookshelf, let out a soft, amused hum. "Wow, subtle as always. And here I thought we were going for finesse tonight."
Arlon ignored him, kneeling to drag the unconscious servant behind the desk. He straightened, brushing off his gloved hands. His heart was steady, but irritation simmered beneath his calm exterior. This could've been cleaner.
The narrator screen pulsed softly again, its text updating as Arlon adjusted his gloves.
["The servant, now unconscious, would be no further problem. But the sound of footsteps approaching from the hallway made it clear: time was running out.]
Arlon exhaled sharply, his mind racing. No time.
He moved swiftly, tugging at the servant's uniform. It was simple enough— he only took the vest and its necktie. Within moments, he had pulled it on over his own clothes, adjusting the fit and straightening the necktie His movements were fluid but rushed, his mind focused entirely on the task.
Ace tilted his head as the scene unfolded, his sharp crimson eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, this is one way to secure an invite," he purred, his voice light and teasing.
"Quiet," Arlon snapped, shooting him a glare.
Ace only smirked, his tail flicking lazily.
"You've got a real knack for improvisation," he added, each word dripping with mockery. "Knock him out, play dress-up—what's next? A full musical number?"
Ignoring the comment, Arlon adjusted the vest tucking the satchel inside, his ears straining to catch the sound of the approaching footsteps. They were close now. He stepped away from the desk, turning to face the door just as it swung open.
The footsteps grew louder. Arlon glanced down at the unconscious servant, ensuring they were well-hidden behind the desk, before turning toward the door. The lock clicked, and it swung open.
A second servant appeared, this one older, with sharp eyes and a tray of glasses balanced expertly in his hands. He stopped short, his gaze narrowing as it landed on Arlon. "What are you doing in here?"
Arlon straightened, his expression neutral but his mind already working. Stay calm. Look useful.
"There was a rat," Arlon said smoothly, pointing toward the corner of the room. His voice carried just the right mix of irritation and embarrassment. "It ran across the floor. I thought I could deal with it before it caused any trouble."
The older servant's lip curled in mild disgust. "Rats? Filthy creatures. You'd best handle it quickly. The last thing we need is guests hearing about this."
"Yes, sir," Arlon replied, inclining his head slightly to emphasize his supposed deference. His pulse quickened as the servant's sharp gaze lingered a second too long, his mind racing with contingency plans. When the older man finally turned to leave, Arlon exhaled silently, the tension in his chest easing by a fraction.
The servant gave him one last scrutinizing look before turning on his heel and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind him.
The narrator screen flickered faintly, its text reappearing in the quiet.
["With the second servant gone, Arlon had successfully diffused the situation. But his exit needed to happen now—before another interruption derailed the mission.]
Ace leapt gracefully from the bookshelf, landing silently at Arlon's feet. "That was impressive," he said, his tone laced with mock admiration. "Though I half expected you to actually chase down an imaginary rat. Would've been a nice touch."
"Do you ever stop talking?" Arlon muttered, already moving toward the hallway.
Ace hopped onto his shoulder, settling in with a lazy stretch. "Not when you make it this fun."
Without another word, Arlon moved toward the door, his steps deliberate and silent. His mind buzzed with a sharp focus, each action carefully calculated. One mistake. That's all it takes to bring this whole thing crashing down.
The mansion's bustling hallways were alive with the quiet hum of servants moving trays and guests laughing in distant rooms. Arlon moved seamlessly among them, the borrowed uniform allowing him to blend in without drawing suspicion. He carried a tray now, using it as a prop to further sell his role.
Ace, perched casually on his shoulder, kept his voice low as they navigated the maze of corridors. His small size and nimble frame made him blend in with the shadowy edges of Arlon's disguise, an unspoken testament to how often they'd pulled stunts like this together.
"You know, for someone who hates being noticed, you're surprisingly good at slipping under the radar. Almost like you've done this before."
Arlon's lips twitched faintly—almost a smirk, but not quite. "Let's just get out of here."
His sharp gaze caught sight of a side door leading out to the gardens, tucked away in the shadows.
The narrator screen appeared again, a faint golden glow against the darkened corridor.
[—The side door provided a perfect escape route, ensuring Arlon and Ace could slip away unnoticed. But the timing had to be flawless. One misstep, and their exit would not go as planned".]
Arlon adjusted his pace as he approached the door. A pair of servants passed by, their attention fixed on their tasks. Arlon waited for a beat, then slipped through the door as quietly as a shadow. Ace remained perched on his shoulder, his sharp crimson eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced ease.
The cool night air greeted them, carrying the faint scent of blooming flowers. The grandeur of the mansion loomed behind them, its golden light spilling across the darkened gardens. Arlon didn't pause, his movements precise as he led them toward the perimeter wall.
Ace stretched lazily on his shoulder, his tail flicking with satisfaction. "You know, I think I'm starting to enjoy these little outings. High stakes, fancy clothes, and you pulling off stunts like you're in a stage play."
Arlon gave him a sidelong glance. "I'd prefer fewer complications."
"But where's the fun in that?" Ace grinned, his fangs glinting faintly in the moonlight.
They reached the wall, scaling it with practiced ease. Once on the other side, the city of Falcon stretched before them, its streets bathed in soft lamplight. Arlon exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.
The narrator screen flickered one last time.
[—With the evidence secured and their escape clean, Arlon and Ace vanished into the city. The mansion's guests remained oblivious, their laughter and music a distant echo in the night."]
"No alarms, no screaming nobles, no one chasing us with pitchforks," Ace mused, his tone light. "I'd call that a success."
Arlon adjusted the satchel beneath his stolen uniform, his gaze fixed ahead as they disappeared into the shadows. "It's not over yet."
Ace chuckled softly, his tail curling with satisfaction. "You know, you're a lot more fun when you're not trying so hard to be serious."
Arlon didn't respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement danced in his eyes as they vanished into the night.
The nobles thought themselves untouchable. They thought their schemes were hidden, their power absolute. But they forgot one thing—no shadow is impenetrable. And no secret stays buried forever.
———
The stone walls of the castle stretched endlessly ahead, their cold surface catching the pale light of early morning. Arlon's boots struck the floor with a steady rhythm, the faint echo bouncing off the silence. On his shoulder, Ace's tail flicked lazily, the black cat's crimson eyes scanning his weary companion.
"Hey," Ace began, his tone casual but laced with a pointed edge, "you've been awake for over 24 hours now."
Arlon didn't look at him. "I'm fine," he replied curtly, his voice flat. "Just tired."
"That's the recoil," Ace continued, ignoring the dismissal. His voice lowered. "From the Sky Soul."
Arlon's steps slowed, his brow furrowing. "The Sky Soul?" He thought back to the last time he'd used it. "I've used it before. I was fine after the Moon Mage."
Ace snorted. "That was different. You were still new to it—too weak to channel its full strength. Now? It's tearing at you from the inside."
Arlon said nothing, his lips tightening into a thin line. He felt the weight of Ace's gaze, but before he could respond, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
He stopped. There, half-hidden behind a pillar, was a small figure. He approached cautiously, his sharp gaze softening as he recognized the boy. "Eric?"
The child flinched but didn't run. Instead, he stepped hesitantly into the light, his gray, wolf-like ears twitching nervously. "M-Master Arlon…" he whispered, clutching at the hem of Arlon's coat.
"What's wrong?" Arlon asked, crouching slightly to meet the boy's wide eyes.
Eric opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the sound of footsteps filled the hall. Arlon glanced up and saw the twins approaching.
The twins came into view, their matching blonde hair catching the soft morning light. They looked just like their mother, but there was a fragility to them that set them apart—nervous postures, hesitant steps. Irish, her natural cheer muted by unease, gave a small, uncertain wave.
"G-good morning, Lord Arlon…" she said, her voice faltering.
Irien, the more composed of the two, dipped her head slightly in greeting. "Good morning," she said, though her tone was restrained, stiff.
Arlon straightened, his sharp gaze flicking between them. He caught the way Irish fidgeted with her hands and the way Irien's shoulders stiffened, as though she was forcing herself to stay calm. Despite their outward composure, it was clear they were nervous about approaching him.
"Good morning, Irish. Irien," Arlon said finally, his voice neutral but not unkind.
For a moment, a strange thought crossed his mind. They looked so alike—so perfectly identical. He suddenly realized that if they hadn't spoken, he wouldn't have been able to tell who was who. The thought made him feel… distant, as if they were strangers despite sharing the same blood.
Beside him, Eric's small frame tensed. He gripped Arlon's coat tighter and angled himself slightly behind his leg, his wide, lupine eyes darting nervously between the twins. The boy's wolf-like ears twitched with every subtle movement they made.
Irish noticed and took a step forward, her nervous smile widening in an effort to appear more friendly. "We were… we were hoping to play with Eric," she said softly, though her voice wavered.
Irien nodded, her tone steadier but no less tentative. "Yes. We thought it might… help him feel more comfortable here."
At the mention of his name, Eric flinched. He pressed himself closer to Arlon, clutching at his coat as though it were a shield. His small claws scraped against the fabric, his face half-hidden behind Arlon's leg.
Arlon glanced down at the boy, then back at the twins. Their expressions were hopeful, though there was a faint tension behind their smiles. It wasn't hard to see that they wanted this moment to go well—perhaps even needed it.
But Eric clearly didn't share their enthusiasm. His grip on Arlon's coat tightened further, and he tugged on it lightly, as if begging for protection.
Arlon placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, his touch firm but reassuring. "Eric's a little shy," he said carefully, glancing back at the twins. "He's not ready to play with you just yet."
Irish's face fell slightly, though she tried to hide it with another smile. "Oh… I see," she said, her voice soft.
Irien gave a small nod of understanding, though her blue eyes flickered with something unreadable—disappointment, perhaps, or frustration.
Arlon watched them for a moment, something stirring uneasily in his chest. The twins had always been kept at a distance. Illness, duty, circumstance—there had always been something keeping him from truly knowing them. And now, here they were, trying to bridge that gap, only to be met with hesitation and rejection.
He looked down at Eric, the boy's small fingers still clutching at his coat. The fear in his wide eyes was palpable, but so was the silent plea for guidance.
Arlon sighed quietly, crouching down so he was at Eric's level. "Eric," he said softly, his tone gentle but firm. "You don't need to be afraid. The twins won't hurt you. They just want to play with you. They'll be careful, I promise."
Eric hesitated, his ears twitching as he glanced nervously at the twins. They were watching him closely, their expressions softer now, less intimidating. But the boy's fear didn't fade.
Instead, he looked up at Arlon, his voice barely above a whisper. "Master Arlon… can you play with us too?"
"..!?"
The question caught Arlon off guard. He froze, his expression unreadable as he stared down at the boy.
Behind him, he felt the twins' gazes shift toward him. He glanced up and saw it—hope. Quiet, fragile hope, mirrored in their identical blue eyes. For a moment, Arlon felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.
Play? I don't have time for this… But he looks so scared. And the twins—why are they looking at me like that?
He hesitated, glancing back at Eric. The boy was still looking up at him with those wide, pleading eyes, his grip on Arlon's coat tightening as if the answer meant everything to him.
Arlon sighed, the sound heavy with resignation. "I… I guess I can play for a little while," he said quietly, the words feeling strange as they left his mouth.
Eric's face brightened instantly, his earlier fear all but forgotten. "Really?" he asked, his voice tinged with surprise and excitement.
Behind him, Irish's face lit up as well. "You'll play with us?" she asked, her tone more cheerful now, her earlier nervousness fading.
Even Irien allowed herself a small, relieved smile.
Before Arlon could say anything else, a familiar voice chimed in from his shoulder.
"Well, well," Ace said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Looks like you're stuck now, huh?"
Arlon cast the cat a sidelong glare. "Not helping," he muttered under his breath.
Ace only chuckled, his crimson eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I think I'm helping plenty."
Eric tugged on Arlon's hand, pulling him gently toward the twins. "Come on, Master Arlon!" the boy said, his earlier hesitation now replaced with excitement.
Arlon allowed himself to be led, though his steps were slow and reluctant. As he approached the twins, he caught the way they exchanged a quick, hopeful glance.
For the first time in what felt like years, Arlon felt something unfamiliar stirring within him. It wasn't quite warm, but it was close.
"All right," he said gruffly, his tone making it clear he wasn't entirely comfortable. "But don't expect me to be any good at this."
Irish giggled, her nervous energy finally melting away. "We'll see about that!"
Irien nodded, her smile soft but genuine. "Thank you, Lord Arlon."
As they made their way down the hall together, Ace perched on Arlon's shoulder with a satisfied smirk. "This should be entertaining," he murmured to himself.
This feels ridiculous. I've faced worse, but somehow… this is harder. What do I even do with them?
Arlon sighed, but there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
For the first time in a long while, the silence of the castle felt just a little less heavy.
The castle's open garden stretched wide before them, framed by stone arches and kissed by the soft glow of the morning sun. A gentle breeze whispered through the neatly trimmed hedges and flowerbeds, carrying the faint scent of lavender and roses.
Eric hesitated at the entrance, his small claws gripping the hem of his tunic. Irish, ever the more enthusiastic of the twins, turned back and gave him an encouraging smile.
"Come on, Eric! It's really nice here!" she said, motioning him forward.
Irien, standing a little behind her, added in her usual calm tone, "We can show you all the best spots. You'll like it."
Eric glanced back at Arlon, his lupine ears twitching nervously. When Arlon gave a small nod of reassurance, Eric took a tentative step forward, then another, until he was walking alongside the twins.
Arlon followed a few paces behind, his hands in his coat pockets as he watched them. The sunlight felt warmer here, gentler than the cold stone halls of the castle, but Arlon barely noticed. His eyes were on the three figures ahead of him.
Irish bent down to point out a bed of bright yellow marigolds, her hands gesturing excitedly as she explained something to Eric. The boy listened intently, his posture still cautious but a little less rigid than before. Irien stood nearby, nodding occasionally and adding her own quieter comments.
Arlon's thoughts were subdued, but they stirred as he observed them.
"Eric seems calmer now. That's good. The twins… they're trying. It's awkward, but at least they're trying."
As they reached the center of the garden, where a large stone fountain bubbled softly, Irish turned to Eric with a bright grin. "This is my favorite part! The fountain is magic—watch this!" She clapped her hands together, and the faint glow of enchantment shimmered across the water's surface, making the fountain's streams dance in intricate patterns.
Eric gasped softly, his eyes widening with amazement. For the first time, a small, hesitant smile tugged at his lips.
Irien stepped closer to the boy, her tone gentle. "You can try it too, if you want. Just clap your hands."
Eric glanced back at Arlon, as if asking for permission. Arlon tilted his head slightly and said, "Go ahead."
With a deep breath, Eric clapped his hands, mimicking Irish's earlier motion. The fountain responded with a new pattern, the water weaving into shapes that looked like delicate spirals.
Irish laughed, clapping her hands again in excitement. "See? You're really good at it!"
Eric's smile grew just a little wider. He didn't say anything, but his tail swished faintly behind him—a sign of his growing comfort.
Arlon paused a few steps behind them, leaning slightly against one of the garden's stone arches. He crossed his arms,watching in silence.
Ace stretched lazily on his shoulder, his crimson eyes fixed on the scene before them. "Hey," the cat said with a smirk, his voice low enough that only Arlon could hear, "you look like an old man watching his grandkids."
Arlon gave Ace a flat look but didn't respond. Instead, his gaze shifted back to the three children. The twins were now showing Eric the small koi pond near the fountain, their voices carrying faintly over the garden. Eric stayed close to them, his movements still cautious but more engaged.
"They're warming up to each other," Arlon thought, his expression unreadable. "Good. Maybe this will work after all."
Ace flicked his tail, clearly unimpressed by Arlon's silence. "You could join them, you know. Standing there brooding isn't as impressive as you think it is."
Arlon sighed, pushing off the arch. "I'm here, aren't I? That's enough."
Ace chuckled. "Barely."
As Arlon approached, Irish turned to him with a bright smile. "Lord Arlon, come see the koi pond! There's this one fish with golden scales—it's my favorite!"
Eric glanced up at him as well, his golden eyes wide with hope.
Arlon hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. The twins moved aside to give him room, though they still seemed slightly wary. Arlon knelt beside the pond, his sharp eyes scanning the water until he spotted the fish Irish had mentioned. Its golden scales shimmered in the sunlight as it swam gracefully through the clear water.
Irish crouched next to him, her enthusiasm contagious. "Isn't it beautiful? Irien and I named it Aurora."
Arlon raised an eyebrow. "Aurora?"
Irien, standing behind them, explained, "Because it shines like the northern lights."
Northern lights? So they exist here too… I've never seen them myself. But the twins… they must've read about them.
Arlon gave a small hum of acknowledgment. He didn't say much, but his presence seemed to ease the lingering tension.
Eric crouched beside him, mimicking his posture. He pointed at a smaller fish with black-and-white patterns. "What about that one?" he asked softly, his voice barely audible.
Irish tilted her head, considering. "We haven't named that one yet. What do you think we should call it?"
Eric hesitated, glancing nervously at Arlon before murmuring, "Shadow."
Irish grinned. "Shadow? That's perfect!"
Irien nodded in agreement. "It suits it."
Arlon glanced down at the boy, who was now looking at the pond with a faint, thoughtful smile. For a moment, Arlon felt a quiet warmth settle in his chest—subtle, but undeniable.
Ace's voice broke the silence again, this time softer, less teasing. "See? Not so bad, is it?"
Arlon didn't reply. Instead, he stayed where he was, watching as the children talked and laughed together.
As the twins crouched beside the pond, pointing out more fish to Eric, Irish suddenly turned her head toward Arlon. Her gaze caught on the sleek black figure perched on his shoulder, and her blue eyes lit up with curiosity.
"Lord Arlon," she began, tilting her head, "is that… a cat?"
Irien glanced over as well, her calm demeanor giving way to mild surprise. "I didn't realize you had a pet," she said, her voice soft but inquisitive.
Arlon shifted slightly, glancing at Ace, who was perched rigidly on his shoulder. For once, the cat's usual confidence seemed to falter. His crimson eyes widened just a fraction, darting toward the twins like he'd been caught in a trap.
"..."
For a moment, both Arlon and Ace froze, their expressions eerily similar—startled, uncertain, and entirely unprepared.