Night fell in Lux Palace with an odd silence, as if not even the wind dared to blow. Inside the servants' dormitory, all the lights were out. But in the corner of the small room lit only by moonlight, Ren was still awake—eyes half-open, reflecting the silver light from outside the window.
His hands moved slowly, lifting the blanket, his steps slow as he stepped on the cold stone floor. Every movement he had practiced for months; he knew where the wooden planks would creak, where the shadows would fall, even when the guards would change positions.
It was not the first time he had wandered at night. But tonight, he did not bring a magic book, or scout out the training room. No. His goal was… more personal. More intimate.
More strategic.
His steps took him to the quiet corridor of the east wing of the palace, where the principal women of the kingdom lived. He slipped between the pillars, blending into the shadows, until he stopped in front of the first door.
Alicia's room.
The small window was half open. Through the gap, Ren peered—not to violate, but to understand. Strategy is not built on data alone; it is shaped by the weakness of the heart.
Inside the room, the candlelight had long since died out. Alicia was asleep on a large bed, a thin blanket covering her body from feet to stomach, while the upper part was only wrapped in a light sleeveless nightgown. Her left arm was raised above her head, her blond hair spread on the pillow like golden threads.
Her face was calm—but not peaceful. There were fine wrinkles on her forehead, and her lips were slightly parted as if she was talking in a dream. Ren watched every movement of her chest rising and falling, slow and regular… like the waves of the sea that held a storm beneath it.
Beside the bed, hung the sword Lumenheart. But right now, even the holy sword could not protect her from one thing: longing.
Ren did not enter. He only stood there long enough to memorize every detail: the way Alicia's blanket slipped to her thighs, the way her hair stuck to her cheeks because of sweat, and the sound of her barely audible moans—maybe a nightmare, or maybe… a dream about someone other than Hiro.
He left the window without a trace. Only his breathing felt heavier.
The next corridor led to the tower where Selene lived. The witch's room was protected by a light seal, but Ren knew how to break the seal "without harm." He rubbed the crystal carvings, chanted an illusion spell to blend in with the protective waves, and… the door opened slightly.
He didn't enter, just peeked through the crack in the glass door.
Selene lay on a couch in the middle of the meditation room, her silver hair flowing down to the floor. Her body was wrapped in a thick robe, but her legs were partially exposed—pale silver skin gleaming in the still soft glow of the crystal.
What was interesting wasn't her body—it was her expression.
Selene slept holding a scroll of paper. There was an ink mark on her forehead. Her eyes moved quickly behind her eyelids—she was dreaming. Maybe about a spell, maybe about the past… or maybe, about the sound of someone's soft breath that had once touched her cheek.
Ren put his finger on the glass, not touching, just pointing. At the end, Selene squirmed slightly, her lips moving as if saying something.
One word. Two syllables.
"Ren."
Ren smiled thinly. He had enough. He didn't need more tonight. What he had planted… had grown in his dreams.
He moved further, down the inner hall to the chapel. Maria's room was quieter than the others, more sacred. But the silence was inviting.
The door was unlocked. Ren opened it slowly and saw Maria sleeping in plain white nightwear, crookedly hugging a rosary. On the mini altar table, there was a piece of unsealed letter, full of scribbles. Ren recognized the writing—hurried letters, and in one of the sentences read:
"…I know I shouldn't feel this… but God, why do I keep remembering the look in his eyes?"
He didn't touch the letter. He just stared at Maria from a distance. The girl's tiny feet stretched out of the blanket. Her toes tensed every time her body rolled slowly—a sign of a restless dream.
Ren knew what the dream was about.
He had planted the seeds a few nights ago.
And now, Maria was delirious softly. Her lips moved, calling out the holy name. But her breath trembled like someone expecting a hug… not forgiveness.
Ren stepped back, closing the door silently.
Finally, he headed to the back garden. Eiryn's room was in a small hut near the forest, where spirits were usually summoned. There was no glass door, only a half-closed round window. He climbed up a little, pressing his eyes to the gap.
Eiryn slept on a bed of dry leaves warmed by spirit magic. She was naked… but her body was partially covered by leaves that floated slowly like a forest blanket. Her sleeping position was curled up, her hands touching her lower abdomen as if embracing an unfinished desire.
Her face was peaceful. But her lips moved as if reciting a spell. Ren couldn't hear clearly, but once—just once—he saw a small leaf floating in the air, forming letters:
R. E. N.
He didn't move, didn't breathe. At that moment, his whole body felt like it was part of the forest. He was a spirit watching from the darkness.
Ren returned to his room before the guard clock turned. He closed the door slowly, locked it, then lit a small candle. On the table, his notes were open. Tonight, there was no written plan. Only one paragraph he scribbled in red ink:
Four hearts. Four feelings. Four bodies that began to writhe even though their eyes were closed.
I don't need to touch them... because now I have gone much deeper.
To the most fragile place: their dreams.
Ren extinguished the candle, lying down.
But his eyes remained open, staring at the ceiling.
The image of Alicia sighing, Selene whispering, Maria hugging the rosary while writhing, and Eiryn hugging herself amidst the leaves... all of them lived in his eyelids.
He was not alone tonight.
He slept surrounded by the fantasies he had built. Not just as a spectator... but as the main character in each of their dreams.
And at the same time, in a separate room, Hiro was awake longer than usual. His eyes stared out the window towards the tower of the heroines. Everything seemed calm. Too calm.
And suddenly, as if driven by instinct, he muttered:
"Since when… did they all start distancing themselves from me?"
His hands clenched on the table. And in his chest, something arose that he had never felt before.
Suspicion.