"Did it… just emerge from your shadow?"
"Wh-What is that?"
Lyndoria and Lumielle exchanged wide-eyed glances, a mix of surprise and wonder in their expressions. Meanwhile, Zephyr, clearly unenthused, shot a scornful glare at the Djinn who met his gaze with a proud, almost defiant tilt of his chin.
"His name is Midnight," Daisuke stated with a confident smile. "He'll be our key to gathering sensitive information throughout our mission to bring down the Mhaledictus. With his ability to slip through and travel within shadows undetected, he can access places we can only dream of—silent, unseen, and entirely unnoticed."
"Th-That's beyond amazing!" Lyndoria gushed in a rare show of excitement. "Having a familiar with abilities like that at our disposal changes everything!"
Lumielle smiled at the thought, her heart quickening with anticipation.
"With that said," Daisuke leaned in just slightly, his voice softening to a near whisper. "Do you know where the king is right now?"
***
The king's chambers were shrouded in an oppressive stillness. Heavy curtains hung over the tall windows, banishing the light of day and leaving the room in a dim, shadowy haze. The mana crystal chandelier overhead cast a faint, cold glow, its light reflecting off gilded furniture and ornate décor that once radiated majesty but now seemed drained of life. Rich tapestries depicting ancient triumphs lined the walls, their vibrant colors muted in the gloom, while the faint scent of incense lingered in the air—a futile attempt to mask the stench of illness.
On the grand canopy bed, the king lay motionless, his figure swallowed by layers of embroidered silk and velvet. His face was a portrait of frailty: sunken cheeks, pale skin stretched thin over sharp bones, and lips tinged a sickly blue. His breaths were shallow, barely perceptible, as though life itself clung to him by a thread.
From the shadows, a pair of emerald-green eyes glimmered with quiet intensity, perched atop the bedpost. Midnight's sleek, obsidian fur blended into the darkness, his presence so subtle it might have gone unnoticed—had his gaze not gleamed with an otherworldly light. He watched, silently and keenly, as a conversation unfolded in the room.
Two men stood near the foot of the bed, their voices low but clear in the stifling quiet. One was a court official, dressed in the sharp, tailored garb of his station and exuding an air of cold authority. The other, a prominent city healer, stood visibly uncomfortable, his hands clasped tightly before him as though to steady his trembling fingers.
Along the walls, several female servants stood like lifeless statues, heads bowed, their lips pressed into a taut line. Not a whisper escaped them, not even the rustle of fabric.
"How is His Majesty's condition?" the official asked, his tone sharp and impatient as he turned his gaze from the silent maids to the healer.
The elderly man hesitated, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. "His Majesty…" He paused, avoiding the other man's piercing eyes. "He is beginning to develop a tolerance to the drug. It's… only a matter of time before he starts regaining consciousness."
The official's jaw tightened, and his shadow loomed over the floor like a dark omen. "Then increase the dosage," he ordered flatly.
The healer's face paled. "Increase the dosage? But that could—"
"Do what you're told," the official interrupted, his voice as sharp as a blade.
The healer's lips parted, but he faltered, casting a desperate glance at the motionless king. "Increasing the dosage may… it may kill him," he warned, his tone barely above a whisper. "Or at the very least, cause irreversible brain damage."
The official's expression remained unmoved, a thin, humorless smile curling his lips. "That's acceptable. By then, our plans will have already come to fruition."
The healer flinched but dared not argue. His shoulders slumped in defeat as the weight of his compliance pressed heavily on him.
The official turned to leave, pausing at the door. "Oh, and inform the bishop that the funds have already been transferred to the church. The treasurer has seen to it personally."
The healer nodded mechanically, his head dipping slightly. The official left the room, his footsteps echoing faintly in the corridor beyond until they faded into silence.
The healer stood frozen for a moment, his eyes fixed on the door. Slowly, he turned his attention to the king, his expression crumbling into one of grief and remorse. His hands trembled as he approached the bed, his gaze lingering on the man's fragile form.
"I'm so, so sorry…," he whispered, his voice heavy with guilt and despair. "Forgive me…"
***
Daisuke gasped, his pupils contracting as Midnight retracted his tail, and Daisuke, his finger, severing the brief telepathic connection they had shared through physical contact. Shaking off the lingering effect, he was immediately bombarded with questions from Lumielle and Lyndoria, both eagerly pressing him for any information he had uncovered. Taking a steady breath, Daisuke began recounting what he had learned.
The revelation proved to be more than the princess could bear, more than she had ever anticipated. Years of suppressing her emotions, years of wearing a mask of strength to reassure her people and shield herself from her enemies, shattered in an instant. Tears welled up in her eyes as her composed façade crumbled, and she broke down, her sobs echoing through the room.
Lyndoria bit her lip and clutched her chest with a pained expression, at a loss for how to console her. Midnight bowed his head solemnly, while Zephyr whined sympathetically, his eyes filled with quiet understanding.
Without a moment's hesitation, Daisuke gently placed his hand on Lumielle's head with a warm smile. "It's alright," he whispered, his voice low and soothing. "We'll have Midnight administer elixirs to your father regularly to keep his health stable. In the meantime, we need to act quickly to resolve this whole situation."
Lumielle's breath hitched, her jade-green eyes searching his as he held her gaze. His unwavering confidence seemed to reach deep into her, calming her nerves. His infectious smile grew, filled with an unspoken promise. "I won't let your father die. And I won't let your kingdom fall." His voice softened even more, the weight of his words sinking in. "Just trust me... like you did when we fought the Lich together."
The princess sniffled, tears welling in her eyes as she nodded, his words filling her heart with hope she hadn't realized she'd lost.
As Daisuke's hand gently stroked the princess's head, Lyndoria's brow furrowed. She considered reprimanding him for the way he petted her, finding it rude and demeaning. But when she caught sight of the rare, peaceful smile blooming on the princess's face, she hesitated, swallowing back her words.
"H-Hn!" Lumielle nodded again, clumsily clearing her tears like a helpless child.
It pained Lyndoria to witness the woman she admired and practically worshipped as a goddess reduced to such a fragile, vulnerable state. It was a stark reminder that, like everyone else, the royal family were only human. And unlike herself, Daisuke seemed acutely aware of this.
He saw past the walls the princess had so carefully built around herself, recognizing the unspoken weight she carried. With effortless ease, he offered her the comfort and solace she so desperately needed in that moment—something Lyndoria, despite her loyalty and devotion, could not provide.
Haxks Starfrost, she thought with a frown. The mere thought of him still irked her, but for the moment, she supposed she would refrain from smothering him with a cushion while he slept.
"Midnight," Daisuke called, slipping his sole Sparkling Elixir into the Djinn's shadow. "Administer this to the king when you get the chance. Afterward," he said, his eyes hardening. "I need you to uncover everything you can about this church."
"…It's probably the Zepharion church," Lumielle murmured, her voice heavy with concern.
"Zepharion?" Daisuke repeated curiously.
"It's a relatively new religion that crept into the city around the same time the Mhaledictus arrived," Lyndoria explained, her lips curling with distaste at the mention of the organization's name. "We've always suspected they had ulterior motives. Looks like we might have been right."
"Alright, here's the plan," Daisuke began, his eyes scanning the group with sharp focus. "I've got a lead from a guild quest I accepted earlier—there might be something significant there. While I investigate, Midnight, I need you to dig into the Zepharion church. Lynn, head to the apothecary and stock up on as many Omni-Remedy elixirs as you can for the king."
Lyndoria seethed, grinding her teeth. "Who gave you permission to call me that, huh?"
Daisuke flinched slightly, offering a nervous laugh. "Right, right, my mistake. "Lumielle, now that you're mostly aware of the resources at our disposal, I want you to start thinking about how we're going to approach and deal with the aristocrats."
"It's Princess Lumielle!" Lyndoria corrected with a snarl, her claws flexing menacingly. "You forget yourself, Haxks Starfrost!"
"Have you forgotten? It's Sophia Everwinter now," Daisuke countered boldly, flashing a daring grin.
Zephyr shook his head patronizingly at the heated exchange, his chin tilted haughtily, his posture graceful and dignified as if he were above such petty squabble. Midnight cast a dreary, unimpressed glance at the hypocrite.
"Now, now, everyone," Lumielle interjected with a strained smile. "Time is of the essence, so let's all focus on our respective tasks."
""Right!""