Episode 2: The Man with No Past
The name Kyel echoed softly in her thoughts.
He didn't offer a family name. Didn't wear a crest. Just a simple introduction with a soft voice and a smile that didn't try to look charming.
And that, strangely, made Eva feel safer than she had in years.
They walked in silence after he helped her. He offered to carry her basket, and though pride flared in her chest, her bruised knee convinced her otherwise.
"You don't have to," she'd murmured.
"I know," he said.
She didn't know if it was kindness or distance in his tone. Maybe both.
---
The village was small—tucked between rolling hills and sleepy roads. Eva had settled into the far edge weeks ago, renting a tiny room above an old herb shop. It smelled of lavender and ash. The woman who owned it asked no questions.
Kyel worked at the mill on the riverside. A labor job. Heavy lifting, long hours, dirt under the nails. He had no family in the village. No friends either, as far as Eva had noticed.
Just… showed up one day. Like her.
That alone made her curious.
---
Later that week, she saw him again. This time near the fields, repairing a fence.
He spotted her and waved.
"Your knee better?" he asked, standing beside a wooden post, hands rough from work.
She nodded. "You remembered."
"You limped away like a one-legged goose," he said with a soft chuckle. "Hard to forget."
Eva blinked. A joke? Dry humor? It was... unexpectedly normal.
He's just a worker, she reminded herself. Nothing more. Nothing dangerous.
Still, her eyes lingered. Blue. Vivid, almost unnatural in the sunlight. A strange color for a village laborer. And his black hair was far too well-kept for someone working with lumber.
Stop it, she scolded herself. Not everyone with blue eyes and black hair is hiding a secret.
But even so, she found herself speaking again.
"I never asked... where are you from, Kyel?"
He paused. For a second, just a second, something flickered in his gaze.
"Nowhere important," he said at last. "And too far to matter."
---
Days turned into weeks.
Kyel passed by the herb shop sometimes, offering leftover bread or helping the old landlady carry firewood. He never asked questions. Never lingered long. And never talked about himself.
He doesn't look at me like the others did, Eva thought once. Not like a nobleman sizing up a prize. Not like the emperor about to pass judgment. Just… human.
One afternoon, rain fell in silver sheets outside her window.
Eva sat near the fire, sipping tea, when a knock came at the door.
She opened it.
Kyel stood there, damp but not drenched, holding a bundle of firewood.
"You didn't have any outside," he said. "Thought I'd help before it turned to storm."
She hesitated, but stepped aside.
He didn't step in.
Just placed the firewood neatly by the wall, nodded once, and turned to leave.
"Wait," she said before she realized it.
He paused.
"Do you… always do this?" she asked. "Help people without expecting anything?"
Kyel tilted his head, a quiet smile touching his lips.
"I think… some people just need help," he replied.
And then he was gone.
---
That night, Eva sat by the fire, staring into the flickering flames.
He's kind, she thought. Too kind.
And people like that don't just fall from the sky.
She didn't know it yet—but somewhere beneath Kyel's quiet nature, a secret rested like stone beneath water. Silent. Heavy. Waiting.