The room fell silent, their gazes locked in an unspoken exchange. Outside, a sudden commotion erupted, swelling into a noisy disturbance. Intrigued, Nathan rose from his seat, flung open the window, and peered down. Two figures were causing quite a stir below.
A strange expression flickered across his face. He shut the window, caught between a desire to lift the mood in the room and a nagging sense of unease. He glanced at his friend's listless face, and without further hesitation, tried to calm the turmoil in his own mind.
"Still thinking about it?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern. He settled beside Lucian, eyes fixed on his friend's pale face.
Lucian, struggling to suppress his pain, forced a small smile. "Oh, it's nothing… just a slight headache."
With that, he gently urged Nathan and Aurora to go home, insisting he needed some time alone. His limbs felt heavy, his vision blurred, and his breath came in shallow gasps.
As Nathan stood from the bed, Lucian suddenly collapsed, his body going limp as his eyes fluttered shut. The drowsiness he'd been resisting had finally taken hold. A book lay open on his chest. Aurora picked it up gently. Then, with worried steps, the two left the room.
The door creaked open. As they stepped into the hallway, they turned for one last glance—Lucian lay still, unmoving.
"Hey Nathan… do you feel something strange?" Aurora's voice made him stop in his tracks.
He turned sharply, eyes wide, jaw tightening. "Hah… what do you mean by that?"
Seeing the intensity in his expression, Aurora quickly backtracked. "No, never mind," she said, averting her gaze. Nathan resumed walking, though a shadow lingered in his mind.
But Aurora couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She decided to return later that night. Quietly, she left the inn and returned to her room, waiting for darkness to fall.
When night came, Aurora pulled a silver-embellished book from her shelf—one filled with knowledge about curses. She donned a cloak to conceal her identity and set out for Lucian's inn.
A brisk night wind swept through the streets, stirring her cloak. The night felt different—heavier than before. Still, she pressed on, her steps steady and determined.
Her thoughts wandered, drawn to the eerie shape of the crescent moon. Distracted, she bumped into someone.
Aurora gasped, her face paling in fear. She bowed quickly, expecting anger.
But the man simply smiled. Something about him felt… off. Ignoring the strange encounter, she picked up her pace and left him behind.
The inn's exterior glowed with warm, golden light. Its entrance stood open, inviting. She passed through, weaving among the guests who turned to glance at her one by one.
She pulled back her hood. Her steps quickened as Lucian's door came into view. With a deep breath, she grasped the doorknob. The door creaked open.
But the room was empty. Lucian was gone.
Frozen in disbelief, Aurora searched every corner, hoping to find a clue. But nothing seemed out of place. No signs of struggle. No answers.
She quietly closed the door behind her and returned to her room, unaware that the truth was already far beyond her reach.
"How strange," she murmured to herself as she passed beneath the flickering streetlamps.
Back in her room, Aurora sat in silence. She exhaled slowly, trying to untangle the confusion clouding her mind. Her heart ached for Lucian. If a curse truly plagued him, she intended to break it.
Without realizing it, she drifted into sleep, the silver-etched book resting across her face.
Time slipped by, and dawn arrived.
Aurora stirred, her eyelids fluttering open. A stubborn drowsiness clung to her limbs. She almost fell back asleep—until she remembered her meeting with Nathan.
Panic jolted her awake. She splashed cold water on her face, threw on her cloak, and hurried out.
Morning greeted her with a soft blue sky and drifting wisps of cloud. Cool air slipped through alleyways, brushing the cheeks of early risers. Footsteps echoed as people moved with purpose—some brisk with urgency, others slow, but each one pulled by something ahead.
Nathan's inn was close to Lucian's. Aurora arrived quickly, stepped inside, and made her way to his room.
She knocked. Heavy footsteps approached from within.
The door opened. Nathan stood there, his face drawn and tired. Aurora didn't hesitate.
"Huh… I went to Faldera's inn last night, but his room was empty. Do you know where he went?"
"What?" Nathan blinked. "No—I have no idea where he went last night."
Aurora's expression tightened. "Then let's go look for him."
Nathan grabbed his cloak without hesitation. He closed the door and followed her down the hall.
They arrived at Lucian's room. One of them knocked.
No answer.
A cold feeling settled over them. They pushed the door open.
The bed was empty. Only Lucian's cloak remained, folded on the covers.
They froze—then panic set in. They rushed out into the streets, calling his name. Nathan's heart pounded. Aurora's words echoed in his mind—Lucian had seemed off lately.
They darted through crowds, bumping into people as they searched. Nathan muttered apologies as he ran.
But Lucian was nowhere to be found. Finally, exhausted, they leaned against a wall, catching their breath as the wind stung their cheeks. The sky above them stretched wide and uncaring.
Then, someone approached.
He was dressed like nobility, with long black hair and a crisply pressed shirt. He tipped his elegant hat and smiled. "Good morning. Are you two all right?"
But he wasn't a noble. Just a man—ordinary in essence, yet oddly polished.
Nathan and Aurora stared in stunned silence.
The man smiled again. "My name is Christopher Kay. It's a pleasure to meet you."
With a graceful motion, he placed his hat back on and offered them a warm smile, one that suggested he meant no harm.
"Aurora de Victoria," she replied cautiously, eyeing him from head to toe. Her brows were slightly raised, surprise lingering on her face.
"And I'm Lawrence Nathaniel," said the young man beside her, his eyes narrowing. "You… where did you come from?"
They exchanged glances, uncertain of this man's sudden appearance. He seemed too calm, too composed. No one expected a stranger like this—not today, and not like that.