After a few minutes, Shun finally settled, his tears dried and his sobs gone as we sat on the floor beside each other taking refuge against the wall.
My body leaned against his, the warmth of his side leaving me reassured—steady in a way words no longer needed to be.
We stayed like that for a while.
No words. No expectations.
Shun’s head rested lightly against mine, his weight careful, like he was still afraid of leaning too much. I shifted just enough to make room for him, pressing my shoulder into his so he wouldn’t have to think about it.
I still felt the heat vividly on my cheeks just from a few minutes. I tried to hide from his gaze—not deliberately, but after what I had done all of a sudden.
I had kissed Shun, drowned in the heaviness of our emotions and his self deprecation. He had appeared so weak, but he had finally been true to himself.
He poured his heart out and I finally came to understood the man who I had fallen in love with, even if it was just the first step, I wanted to stay with him—be there for him from now onward.
His fingers brushed against mine, tentative at first—testing.
I didn’t move away—didn’t push him away.
After a moment, he curled his hand around my sleeve instead, not quite brave enough to take my hand outright. The smallness of the gesture made my chest ache more than anything else had that night.
“You don’t have to be careful with me,” I said softly, my words full of something that I had barely scraped the edge of tonight.
He stilled, his movements froze for a heartbeat, but he eased a second later.
“I know,” he murmured, voice calm yet soft as the edges. “I just...don’t want to break this.”
I turned my head slightly, resting my temple against his.
“You won’t,” I said. “You’re not that kind of person. And, I wouldn’t let it break.”
His thumb twitched where it pressed into the fabric, like he didn’t quite believe me—but wanted to. Like a man finally stepping out of the shadows he had been living in for so long.
We sat there, listening to each other breathe. The world outside the room felt far away, unimportant. For the first time since I’d known him, Shun wasn’t bracing himself for what came next.
He seemed relaxed—no longer the calculating hunter I’d known him as, nor the man who kept others at arm’s length.
Eventually, he spoke again. “You’re really staying.” It seemed like he was testing the words.
But, it wasn’t a question.
I smiled faintly. “I am.”
That seemed to be enough for him take a breath of relief, his body leaned more comfortably against the wall, adjusting his posture to give me more space to lean against him comfortably.
His shoulders eased, just a fraction, and he let himself rest fully against me. Not collapsing. Not clinging. Just…trusting.
And in that quiet, with nothing left to hide behind, I realized something.
I couldn’t ask him to stand here with me like this—unguarded, honest—without offering him the same.
I needed this just as much as Shun, because, I wanted our relationship to be honest—not based off lies nor trying to deceive each other.
Admitting the truth was hard, I finally realized myself, it was like trying to pass the lump stuck inside your throat which refused to move.
It was asphyxiating, but somehow in this moment I felt like I could tell him. And, the way Shun had been truthful and honest about his past, his circumstances and his grief, I wanted to do the same.
The quiet stayed with us.
Shun’s breathing had steadied, his shoulder warm against mine as we sat there on the floor. The worst of the night felt passed—but something in me wouldn’t settle.
“There’s something I’ve never told anyone,” I started quietly. “Not even Auntie Asteria.”
He didn’t move, didn’t pull away. He just listened, acknowledging me word to word as his hand firmed around mine like a quiet promise that he wouldn’t pull away from whatever I was about to tell him.
“My mother loved me,” I continued, my voice a dash of sombreness. “Completely. Unconditionally. I never doubted that. Not once. Not ever.”
I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I was very young when I lost my mother—Iris, that was her name.” I felt an ache gnawing at my chest as I spoke her name and the things I was about to reveal. “She grew weary and weak by the time I was about to be born, and despite knowing that giving birth to me would kill her, she didn’t hesitant to bring me into this world.”
I felt a quiver run through my lips, feeling a tremor running down my body as I remembered my mother’s face just from the picture I had seen of her—there weren’t many things she had left me behind besides the two most important things to me.
Her shop, and a letter revealing the truth about her, myself and my father.
“But there was always someone missing in my life.” I folded my hands in my lap. “My mother left me a letter—she had written it only months before I was born, telling me about herself—how much she loved me and just how impatient she was growing to finally meet me.” I spoke, tasting the words on my tongue carefully, they left a bittersweet taste, but I remembered the day I had found the letter accidentally in her room’s desk.
“She left things to remember her by, but the most important was her love for me—how much she regretted not being there when I was growing up.” I paused, taking a slow breath and exhaling through my nose. “And, in that letter, I found out who my father was.”
I took another breath to steady myself, feeling the next words almost impossible to admit and say.
“My father is the King of England—Maximus Von Alexanderias. He abandoned my mother, even before I was born.”
I didn’t give the title time to breathe.
“He was never there,” I said, the bitterness on my tongue vivid. “Not before I was born. Not after. Just…gone.”
Shun turned toward me then, but he didn’t interrupt. The expression of flabbergast was palpable over this face, but he controlled himself.
“My mother never spoke ill of him,” I said softly. “She didn’t have to, I understood even without her saying anything. His absence said enough.”
I exhaled.
“All I ever received from my mother about him was his description and that he wasn’t a bad person. Just a few lines. No explanation of why he left us. No goodbye. Just enough to know that he existed…and still, he chose to walk away anyway, leaving both of us.
My fingers tightened, I felt a lump stuck inside my throat. Even after years of detestation and being harassed just from being alive, I couldn’t seem to grow comfortable by the fact that I was his daughter.
But, Shun moved, his fingers traced gently over my palm, interlocking our fingers together, grounding me in a protective layer of warmth.
A weak smile pulled at my lips, not looking directly at him.
This was so like him.
After a beat, my gazed fixed on our hands, I continued. “So I grew up believing that whatever happened between them—whatever I was born from—it was something he didn’t want to face. Something easier to leave behind.”
The words didn’t settle right with me—they never did. Because, knowing that my mother had poured her heart out for one man who had left her in the end, it ate away at me, that despite loving him till her last breath, he never gave her the love she deserved.
Shun didn’t acknowledge me through words—he wasn’t the type to and it was better for me this way, he stayed present through his attention—a squeeze of his hand, a subtle shift of his breath.
I glanced at Shun—and I paused for a brief moment. His face looked heartbroken, despite having his own problems to deal with, he felt for me, and somehow that felt like something heavy had been lifted from over my chest.
My eyes stung with tears welling on the edges, feeling my mouth quiver as the overwhelming emotions threatened to break me.
But within that storm, Shun seemed to be the safety I was looking for. He held me, not asking for anything in return, he just stayed there, listening to me.
“I don’t feel like a princess,” I said quietly. “I feel like a girl born from a mistake two people made…and only one of them stayed to take responsibility.”
I leaned back against him again, not asking—just trusting.
“I don’t despise him because of who he is,” I said. “I despise him because he left my mother alone. Because he left me without even the chance to ask why.”
The words settled between us, heavy but honest.
“This is who I am,” I finished. “Not his title. Not his blood. Just…me.”
Silence followed—not the kind that pressed down on my chest, but the kind that waited. I stared at our joined hands, my thumb brushing unconsciously over his knuckles, and before I could stop myself, the question slipped out.
“Are you…disappointed?” My voice barely held. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t think I could. “In the person I am?”
For a heartbeat, I braced myself.
Shun’s arms tightened around me instantly—no pause, no hesitation. He shifted just enough that I was fully against him, held like there was nowhere else I needed to be.
“No.”
The certainty in that single word hit harder than anything else he could have said. Like a truth I wasn’t prepared for.
I finally looked up at him. His expression was open, unguarded, his gaze steady despite the pain he carried himself.
“I love you as you are,” he said, voice low but unwavering. “And who your father is doesn’t change that. Not even a little.”
His thumb brushed over my hand, grounding, deliberate. “I fell in love with Rachael Everly. Not Rachael Alexanderias.”
Something inside me cracked.
“And whatever step you choose to take,” he continued, pulling me closer, his forehead resting briefly against mine, “I’ll be there. To help you. To stand with you. To love you.”
The last of my strength finally gave out.
I folded into his chest, a sob tearing free as everything I’d been holding back finally spilled over. My hands clenched in his clothes as I cried—not quietly, not neatly—but freely, for the first time in years.
Knowing he was there for me—without judgment, without questions—just staying, quietly holding me as I cried my heart out.
Shun didn’t move. He didn’t flinch. He just held me tighter, one hand steady at my back, the other cradling my head like it belonged there.
It wasn’t a promise spoken aloud.
It was one kept.
***
The morning light crept softly through the sliding doors and window, spilling across the tatami floor. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. The faint scent of morning air mixed with something familiar settled around me.
I blinked slowly, trying to wake fully, and froze. The sight made my heart skip: Shun was lying just beside me, his arm draped lazily across the futon—and somehow, without realizing it, my head had found its place against it. His warmth seeped through me, grounding me in a way that made my chest tighten and cheeks flush.
How had I ended up here? My thoughts tumbled over themselves trying to piece together everything from last night. The words, the tears, the confessions…everything felt raw, heavy, and yet safe. And now, waking to this, lying beside him, feeling him so close—it was…too much. My heart raced, my stomach fluttered, and I was acutely aware of every small detail: the softness of his hair, the curve of his jaw, the steady rise and fall of his chest.
I tried to shift slightly, to give him space, but my body seemed to have forgotten how to obey. Heat rose to my cheeks, my ears, my throat. I wanted to disappear, to apologize silently, yet a small, reluctant part of me marvelled at the closeness, at the quiet intimacy that had grown between us.
I screamed silently as I placed both hands on my face, feeling embarrassed at the very sight. Like I had been throw back into my early teenage years and how I believed this scene was only possible in books I used to read as a girl.
I tried to shift, to pull away subtly, but the futon and his steady warmth made it impossible without making it obvious. My heart pounded, my cheeks burned hotter by the second, and I cursed silently at the absurdity of how completely flustered I was.
Shun stirred, his eyes opening slowly. And then—he looked at me. Really looked at me. His gaze was calm, gentle, warm, and it made something inside me soften and melt. The quiet intensity of it made my breath catch, and I had to look away for a brief second, only to steal another glance.
He looked calm, handsome…and somehow, it made my chest tighten even more.
He shifted slightly, and his fingers brushed lightly against my cheek. I couldn’t help the small squeak that escaped me, my hands clenching in the futon instinctively. He leaned just a little closer, his expression softening further, and whispered, “Good morning.”
My chest swelled with something indescribable—a mix of warmth, relief, and the quiet, grounding joy of being seen and accepted just as I was. I wanted to respond, to tell him a thousand things at once, but all I could manage was a small, breathless smile, curling into him just slightly, wanting to stay in this moment as long as I could.
In the quiet morning, with sunlight spilling gently around us, the world outside seemed to fade. There was only this—this calm steady presence, this trust, and the simple profound comfort of being near him.
Just as I was about to inch closer to him—my thoughts running wildly, my attention focused on his breath and lips—my heart racing that I felt like he could hear it from this distance.
“Rachael, Shun, breakfast is ready. Wake up.” I heard Fujimoto’s voice coming from across the hallway, hearing footsteps approaching in the direction of the room.
My mind scrambled—Why now? Why did he have to say that now? Is he coming here right now?
I stole a glance at Shun, who seemed perfectly calm, almost amused, and I felt my stomach twist. My hands fidgeted in the futon, my attempts to shift unnoticed failing miserably.
After a moment of struggle, I finally rose from the futon, feeling the cold envelope around me, stealing me from the warmth of Shun and the futon. My cheeks burned, and I couldn’t stop my fingers from fidgeting at the edge of the blanket, as if I could hold onto the moment just a little longer.
But, having Fujimoto see us together in this way...I’d rather dig a hole and hide my face in it.
The sliding door creaked open, and Fujimoto’s voice called from the hallway.
“Rachael, Shun, come have breakfast. I hope you both had a good night’s sleep,” he added with a sly smile.
I buried my face deeper into the futon, wishing I could disappear. Shun, however, stretched and rose fully, shaking off the last remnants of sleep.
Fujimoto chuckled at our antics. “Get up and wash your face. I have pancakes ready.” With that, he left, leaving the room quiet except for our breathing.
I finally pushed myself up, still half-dazed. But before I could step away, Shun reached for my hand, holding it gently. My body reacted instinctively, and I slightly turned, falling against him as we settled on to the futon.
“Shun…” I murmured, flustered.
He didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled me into a soft hug. “Just more five minutes,” he murmured near my ear, voice warm.
Embarrassment flooded me, and I somehow wrenched myself free, trying to regain composure. “I didn’t know you were so clingy,” I said, cheeks burning.
Shun tilted his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “It’s because you act so cute. And if you keep being this cute, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold myself back.”
I groaned, swatting at his shoulder, but I couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips. Even with the morning light spilling into the room, with Fujimoto probably eavesdropping somewhere, it felt like a little bubble of privacy, of normalcy, that belonged just to us.
Finally, I got up, moving toward the bathroom to wash my face, Shun following at a measured pace beside me. I stole a glance at him as he moved, the quiet strength in his posture grounding me more than I could ever admit.
I laughed, looking at his bed-hair. It was like spikes were jutting out from the back of his head.
“What?” Shun asked, confused.
I brought a hand forward, hiding my mouth. “Your hair...” I pointed in his direction. “They look like a porcupine.”
Shun touched his hair, his brows rose in acknowledgment. But then he turned to look at me again. “I guess I just had that good of a sleep last night with you by my side.” He gave me a mischievous smile. “If I could sleep that well every night with you by my side, then a little bed-hair is nothing.”
I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and assured at the same time. But, knowing Shun, he was giving his best to not worry me. He was opening up to me, unlike before.
I rose a brow, giving him a knowing look. “Is that so?” A smile replaced my previous expression. “I’ll think about it. But for now, you should focus on breakfast.”
“Alright,” he replied as he stepped forward.
Breakfast might have been waiting, but somehow, this—this shared moment, the small touches, the playful teasing—felt just as nourishing.
By the time we reached the kitchen, the morning sun was spilling through the windows, casting soft, warm light across the room. Fujimoto was already at the table, a stack of golden pancakes steaming in the centre, a small bowl of fresh fruit at his side, and a mischievous grin that made me want to disappear into a hole.
“Ah, there you are! I was beginning to think you two were hiding under the futon all morning,” he said, giving Shun a pointed look, then glancing at me with the slyest smile. “I hope that five minutes didn’t turn into an hour.”
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I quickly ducked my head, cheeks flaming. Shun, however, gave a calm shrug and took a seat beside me, his hand brushing mine under the table just slightly—a quiet reminder of last night that made my stomach flip.
Remembering how aggressive I had been. How I had kissed him; how I had shared everything with him and how one thing had led to another.
Fujimoto gestured toward the food. “Eat before it gets cold. And don’t forget, pancakes are best when shared.” He winked, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
Honestly, he didn’t have any bad intentions, but being teased by him made me focus on last night’s memories even harder.
I carefully picked up my fork, stealing glances at Shun. He was quietly pouring syrup over his pancakes, his focus seemingly mundane, but every so often our eyes met, and that little knowing look of his made me forget everything else in the room.
“You know,” Fujimoto continued, loud enough for both of us to hear, “you two look like you’ve been up to something last night. I could practically hear the walls squeak.”
I nearly choked on my bite, turning redder than before. Shun chuckled softly beside me, a quiet, low sound that made my heart tighten. “I think Fujimoto has been observing too much,” he said, his voice calm, teasing just slightly. “And I didn’t do anything to her.”
I knew Shun said one thing, but the slightest flush of his cheeks said something else.
Fujimoto wagged a finger at him playfully. “I know, you wouldn’t do anything bad to her, but you’re also not man enough to do something. If you know what I mean.” Fujimoto took a short pause, shrugging with a smirk. “You’re just like your Master. Hard shelled on the outside but soft on the inside.”
Then his gaze locked on to me. “And Rachael, you don’t have to worry, if Shun does something stupid you can come to me, I’ll straighten him out right away.”
I almost choked on my pancakes as I could only muster up an awkward smile, biting into another piece while nodding my head slowly.
“But, anyway, enough with the teasing.” Fujimoto straightened as he muttered, fixing his obi-belt and then cutting his pancakes into a small pieces. “Are you both thinking of leaving after breakfast?”
Shun straightened his back as he answered. “Yes. We unexpectedly stayed the night and I think Rachael’s aunt must be getting worried.” He turned to look at me, his gaze so soft and lingering that it reignited that warm tingling inside me. “I also need to take her back or I might get a lecture later from Madam Asteria.”
I gave him a look of accusation. “She isn’t that bad.” I spoke after I swallowed my food. “And, she knows I’m with you, so nothing bad could happen.” I put emphasis on my last words as I saw Fujimoto had a knowing look for his face; Shun seemed like he was stunned for a moment, making him look adorable.
But, the sincerity in his voice gave me butterflies. I pretended to nibble at a pancake while my chest warmed from the certainty of his presence. Breakfast itself became secondary—the quiet comfort of being with him, the soft, unspoken promise in his eyes, filled me more than any food ever could.
He coughed once to shake himself out of his stupor. “Anyway, I better get back too, I need to prepare for the upcoming mission.”
I chuckled lightly, looking at his cute yet awkward expression. Fujimoto shared my enthusiasm as we only shared a look and then focused on to the pancakes.
Breakfast moved along smoothly, we chimed in on certain topics here and there, enjoying the pancakes, but more so each other’s company.
By the time we were done, Shun got up from his seat and walked out of the kitchen to retrieve his belongings from his room, leaving Fujimoto and I both alone.
A few seconds passed in complete silence between us, but, they didn’t feel awkward, even this silence felt fulfilling.
Then Fujimoto spoke. “Rachael...”
“Yes?” I straightened my back—somehow his tone had firmed.
“Thank you for being there for Shun.” He said, looking down at his cup—his eyes looked too warm and too emotional at the same time. “He is a complicated kid, and even after Master adopted him, he wasn’t prone to grow attached to just anyone. He always put a wall between him and others—not because he didn’t care, but because he cares too much.”
I stayed silent, knowing not to interrupt him, listening to Fujimoto with a solemn attention.
“When he grows attached to someone, he would go to any length for them, and that could easily be his flaw and his biggest strength.” Something in his gaze seemed to pierce at my heart, because I had seen first hand just how caring Shun was. “But, after his Master’s death, that proved to the hardest time for the both of us...I couldn’t be the one to save him from all that sorrow and grief.”
“No matter what I did—what I said—Shun was slowly drowning himself in his grief and loss...” His eyes glistened, his lips quivering by the slightest. “But...” then his tone shifted, something warm blooming into it. “When he told me about you, I was really happy. No, I was so delighted—by how Shun who hadn’t appeared in my life after his Master’s passing was now trying to figure out things because he met you. Trying to build a proper relationship with someone, not just based off his guilt and blame.”
The room seem to respond to Fujimoto’s words, his words, his feelings filling the empty spaces inside the kitchen.
“Thank you, for coming into Shun’s life. For loving him...” He bowed his head as I brought both hands forward frantically.
“Please, raise your head.” I said, but Fujimoto held his bow. After a moment, I breathed, taking in the real meaning behind his words—the feelings, the care and familial love behind it.
“It’s true that I only pitied Shun at a time.” I admitted, but my next words came right after, lighter, softer. “But soon, I realized myself, just how much of a change his presence alone had brought to my mundane life. Each day became more fulfilling and joyful when I realised someone was waiting for me.” Fujimoto straightened and I looked him in his eyes, a smile forming on my face.
“And when I realised the reason why I felt this way, I knew that Shun had also impacted my life in a way I could’ve never expected.” This time, it was my turn to bow my head.
My locks covered the sides of my head like a curtain. “Thank you so much for raising him to the man he is today.” I held my bow for a few more seconds then straightened. “I promise, I won’t let anything happen to Shun as long as I live. I will protect him—love him to the best I can.”
Finally, the tears barely held on the edges of his eyes fell, as a relieved smile replaced his expression.
Fujimoto wiped the tears from his eyes, fixing the low ponytail over his shoulder.
We continued to laugh together, knowing that both of us cried tears of joy and sorrow for the same person. How one man had made such good changes in our lives.
By the time Shun returned, he already had his things packed and stored inside his dimensional artifact. We quickly helped Fujimoto clean up the plates and tidy things up and soon the time of our departure came.
We stood outside the gates, the cold wind biting through the thick fabric of my sweater as I shivered once. My hands were full of the souvenirs and dishes Fujimoto had prepared for us to take back home.
Shun stepped forward, in his hands he held the scarf I had received from him a while ago and had been wearing everyday.
He held one end of the scarf in one hand and the other looped it around my neck, coating me a layer of warmth that the fabric could never provide.
“Thanks.” I muttered, trying to hide my blush and gaze from him.
He nodded as Fujimoto gaze us a final look. “Alright. Travel safely. And when you get back, let me know.”
“Will do!” Shun replied, without another word to say, he turned and wrapped his arms around Fujimoto, pulling him into a bear hug.
Fujimoto gave a hearty smile and patted his back a couple of times as they tore free of each other and with a nod and final goodbye to me, we parted our way.
We walked through the streets again, but this time, these streets didn’t feel like a stranger. And, the one thing I liked here was how Shun smiled...he had finally gotten his smile back.
By the time we were close to the portal facility, it finally clicked. My eyes shot open as I held the bags tighter. “Shun, I’m not going back through a portal.”
Shun gave me a cheeky smirk. “Oh princess, this time I will surely carry you.”
I raised both brows, hopped on one foot and crashed against his side. “Alright, I’ll take you up on your offer, my knight.” Giving him a wide smile.
***
Amamiya Shun
The late afternoon sun bled through the dusty front windows of Azure Blooms, staining the wooden floors in gold. The place smelled like lavender stems, fresh soil—something soft, something warm. I sat near the window where a set of table and chairs were placed—and I was sitting here as usual.
Some documents were placed in front of me—orders that had been given out a few days ago to hunters who would be leading the charge on the front lines of the dungeon subjugation.
I read through the details, and just like I had thought, the worst had happened. The dungeon gate’s capacity was growing exponentially. Even Gabriel had warned me about it, and I knew the moment Gabriel had involved himself in this matter something serious was going on—because I trusted my quack-head mentor’s judgment more than anyone else’s.
My mind dwelled on the dangerous mission ahead of me. This gate had the potential to evolve into a
My face wore a frown as I thought of the worst case scenario. ‘A dungeon break of that scale could easily destroy the entire city. That’s why people feared the appearance of
That’s why we needed to make a decision now.
Under these dark thoughts, my gaze, unbeknownst to me veered in her direction.
I looked at Rachael, fully focused on her current craft, watching her fuss with a stubborn arrangement of white gardenias.
All of a sudden, a smile replaced my frown. The shift was immediate and somehow, it also left me bewildered in a way. But, it was true, Rachael had brought a big change in my life...and, I wanted to spend more time with her before the dungeon subjugation.
She didn’t notice me staring. She rarely did unless I made it obvious. When she worked with flowers, it was like the rest of the world blurred and softened around her edges.
She was fully immersed and that made her look even more beautiful.
“Don’t even think about saying it,” she muttered without looking up, her voice clearly pointed in my direction.
I blinked. “Saying what?” I set the document down as I looked at her with a confused face.
“That I’m using too much ribbon.” She shot me a sideways glare. “Because I’m not.” Her head turned slightly, her brows risen playfully.
“I wasn’t going to say anything.” I leaned back, hands raised. I gave the ribbons a look and from an outsider’s perspective she might have been using a little too much ribbon. Or maybe I was wrong.
Well, she was the expert.
“You were thinking about it.” She shot an accusatory glance at me and I straightened, a thin smile blooming on my face.
“Well. Now I am.”
Her lips almost twitched. Almost. But then she blew out a breath and returned to fussing with the bouquet, shoulders a little hunched. She’d been carrying something heavy these last few days—heavier than usual.
After we had returned to London a few days ago, Rachael seemed visibly enthusiastic...everything seemed normal to me, but for reason, smiling with her, talking to her or even just staying by her side felt different.
It left me wanting more.
Was I always this clingy? I felt warmth climb up my neck to my cheeks but I hid it well.
But, it was just a feeling from my end. Rachael did seem distressed. The kind of heavy you pretend to ignore because turning around to face it would make you swallow glass.
I think she had started to act like this when I talked to her about my mission ahead.
She had been worried, because, even a civilian knew how dangerous it was to be a hunter and to enter a gate.
Rachael didn’t exactly show it on her face, but, I liked that she cared so much. She didn’t retort, or try to stop me even when I told her everything.
I was just about to tease her again when the bell over the shop’s front door chimed.
Madam Asteria stepped inside right next moment, a bag slung across her shoulder.
She moved with her usual practiced grace—back straight, chin high, posture of someone who knew who to carry their weight properly. But her eyes…her eyes were not right.
There was something heavy and burdensome. That was the first I’d seen her like that.
Asteria was a woman who had always stood unshaken. I had seen her deadpan through screaming customers, furious suppliers, and even on days when the shop was filled to the brim, and Rachael’s occasional breakdowns when she couldn’t get the flowers in the right designs. Nothing rattled her.
She was as calm as a rock.
But right now, the woman looked like she’d swallowed a hurricane.
“Madam Asteria?” I sat up straighter. “You okay?”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze was locked on Rachael. Rachael seemed concerned looking at her aunt like that. Something was troubling Asteria.
“Rachael,” she said, voice gentle, softer than I had ever heard from her. “I…I need to speak with you.”
Rachael paused what she was doing. Slowly. Carefully. She laid the scissors in her hand down, turning her full attention in her direction.
As if the wrong move might break something inside her.
“Okay…” she murmured, wiping her hands on her apron. “Is something wrong?”
Asteria hesitated, shaking her head.
And that—that hesitation—made the room go silent. Only the three of us were present in the shop.
“It is…about something very important.” Her voice trembled at the end, barely noticeable but there—as if a mountain weighed down on her at this moment. “Something private. Something your mother left behind.”
Mother.
The word hit the air like a dropped glass.
Rachael froze. Her gaze stupefied...barely held back from trembling.
And slowly, she turned to look at me. There was something raw in her eyes. Fear? Hope? No—worse. The mix of both.
Asteria glanced at me as well. A silent question. A plea.
She didn’t want me here.
But before I could stand up—
“He stays.”
Rachael’s voice didn’t shake. It was quiet, but sharp enough to cut stone.
“He stays, Auntie Asteria.” Her voice firmed, her shoulders trembling with each word.
Asteria blinked, surprised. “Rachael…this is a private matter—"
“He stays,” she repeated, taking steady steps away from the counter, closer until she stood beside me. “If you’re going to tell me something about my mother, or…my father, then Shun stays. He knows. I already told him everything.” There was a small pause, then she spoke again. “I want him to stay.”
Asteria looked between us, surprised by her words—how she had mentioned even her father, and somehow the surprise in her eyes didn’t feel wrong—and I swear I saw something like relief flicker in her eyes.
Was Asteria connected to her father? I thought. Because, Rachael had mentioned her father just now and Asteria didn’t seem shaken about it... perhaps she knew something that not even Rachael knew.
“…Very well,” she whispered.
Before she continued, she took a step backward and turned the sign to ‘Closed’, then she entered and shut the door behind her.
Rachael crossed her arms, defensiveness rising like a shield. “So? What is it? What did she leave behind? Another letter?”
“A letter?” Asteria seemed to be oblivious of what Rachael had just mentioned.
“Yes, I found a letter in mother’s room when I was little. When we were rearranging the house, and she left me with certain truths—even who my father was.”
Asteria swallowed. “I understand. So, you’ve known for a long time about what happened between Iris and His Majesty.”
Rachael nodded her head, her expression turning fragile, I held her hand, and her grip on my fingers immediately tightened.
I stood there, useless in a way I hated. Every word felt like it carved something out of her, and I couldn’t tell whether reaching out to her would steady her—or shatter what little control she had left. I’d fought monsters, faced death without flinching, yet this...this was a battlefield I didn’t know how to survive.
“I’m sorry for not telling you anything until now. But, I assure you, I didn’t know Iris had left a separate letter for you. I didn’t touch Iris’s room even years after her death.” Asteria took a breath, her sorrow perfectly visible over her face.
She took a step closer to us, her hands clutching her bag in an attempt to ground herself.
“Dear, what I want to tell you is something bigger. Something she entrusted to me before she passed. Something I have kept hidden until the time was right.”
Rachael snorted. “The time was right? You mean when?”
She took a step back, sarcasm cracking through her voice. Her expression seemed accusatory—somehow, she didn’t seem surprised by Asteria knowing the truth. Maybe Rachael had known, but she never told her.
She sounded angry—but it wasn’t rage. It was fear. The kind that hides behind sharp words because breaking would hurt more. I’d seen that look before, in mirrors, in people who were already drowning.
“When I got bullied for no reason? When Penelope shoved her ‘discovery’ in my face? When she came to this shop all of a sudden and harassed me.”
Asteria inhaled sharply, her eyes widened in disbelief. “I…did not know about Penelope. I—” She stuttered on her words. “I didn’t know she had come here.”
Rachael stiffened at her words, her hand free from mine went to hold her other.
“Because, I never told you. I didn’t want you to worry. I thought thinks would go back to the same if I endured.”
Rachael’s shoulders shook, her demeanour became timid, as if remembering about this harassment she had faced from her step-sister had left a wound on her.
“I figured you were somehow connected to all of this. Mother didn’t state it explicitly in her letter, but she did tell me about you.” Rachael hissed. “And you hid things instead.”
I stood up, gently touching Rachael’s wrist. “Hey. Breathe.”
She didn’t shake me off.
Asteria’s face twisted—guilt, pain, conflict palpably visible. “Rachael—darling, your mother asked me to wait until you were ready. She feared the truth would drown you when you were too young to understand.”
“Well,” Rachael said bitterly, “I’m drowning now anyway. Knowing how my own father abandoned my mother before I was even born. Knowing how you...hid everything.”
Something in her eyes frightened me—not anger, not bitterness, but the look of someone bracing for a truth they already expect to hurt. And for the first time, I wondered if learning everything might cost her more than ignorance ever did.
Asteria didn’t rebut her. Her face was full of guilt and regret. How she had to carry this weight all these years.
“Your father didn’t abandon you or your mother.” She said, her voice trembling, shoulders shaking.
Asteria reached into her bag—slowly, reverently. And pulled out a faded, leather-bound diary.
Worn at the edges. The corners softened. A pressed blue flower sealed beneath its front cover. Something that had been held. Carried. Loved.
My heart skipped.
Every part of me wanted to pull her away, to put myself between her and whatever truth was coming next. But I stayed where I was. This wasn’t something I could shield her from. This was something she had to face…and all I could do was make sure she didn’t face it alone.
Rachael’s breath hitched.
“This,” Asteria whispered, “was written by your mother. For you. The last thing she left behind. This holds the entire truth—everything you might have wanted to know.” A short pause, “there’s something in here your mother wanted only you to read when you were ready.”
Silence.
The kind that vibrates.
Rachael didn’t reach for it. She stared at it like she wasn’t sure whether it would burn her or save her.
Her voice came out strangled. “What…what does it say?”
Asteria opened her mouth, but Rachael cut her off.
“No—wait.” Her gaze sharpened. “Tell me something first.”
Asteria blinked. “Anything.”
“…Is it about him?” Her throat bobbed. “The king.”
The name landed like a stone in a calm pond.
Rachael took in a shaky breath and forced out a laugh. A broken one.
“How he tricked my mother? Got her pregnant? Abandoned us? Moved on with his palace life while she died alone and I—”
“Stop.” Asteria’s voice cracked. “None of that is true.”
Rachael’s jaw clenched. “Then what is the truth?”
Asteria thrust the diary forward—not harshly, but urgently, as if she could no longer bear holding it.
“Read it,” she whispered. “Please. I don’t know the exact contents inside, but this thing holds all the answers you need.”
Rachael stared at it. Trembling.
I couldn’t shake off this ominous feeling. I was afraid—not of the truth itself, but of what it might take from her.
I didn’t say much. I just stayed close enough that she could feel me if she needed to. It felt like she was so close yet so far away.
I stepped closer, placing my hand on her shoulder.
“I’m here,” I murmured. “Calm down.”
She shut her eyes once. Her face didn’t look good. After a few seconds, that felt like an eternity, she finally took the diary.
I didn’t know what to do. Her hands trembled as she clutched the diary, her chest rising and falling unevenly. Every word she spat at Asteria felt like it might break her completely, and I could feel my chest tighten as helplessness clawed at me.
Rachael had helped me overcome my demons...but, right in this moment I felt more helpless than ever.
I wanted to tell her it wasn’t her fault, that none of this was her burden to bear—but the words stuck, trapped somewhere between my throat and my heart. All I could do was watch, my mind racing, my fingers itching to reach out and steady her, even though I wasn’t sure she’d let me.
Her fingers traced the pressed flower.
Asteria’s voice trembled. “Your mother wrote every page with you in her heart. She wanted you to know the truth—the truth of your father, the truth of their love, the truth of why they made the choices they did.”
Rachael swallowed so hard it hurt to hear. “I don’t…I don’t think I can read it alone.”
“You’re not alone.” I said it before she could even look at me.
Her eyes shimmered, anguish and fear blending with something tender.
My heart tightened just from a glance...I had never seen her appear so weak. Usually, she was so bright, warm and gentle, yet in this moment...it seemed like she was standing on the edge of a cliff—barely holding back from collapsing.
She nodded once, her expression now mixed with a tinge of relief and fear.
Asteria stepped back, giving us space, her hands clasped tightly over her chest as if holding herself together.
Rachael opened to the first page.
Her mother’s handwriting washed over the paper—elegant, curved, almost poetic.
“My dearest Rachael…”
Rachael’s breath caught. A tear fell before she even realized she was crying, as she almost stumbled, her chest rising and falling in fast successions.
She kept reading.
“If you are holding this, then I am no longer with you. I am sorry. I am sorry for leaving you too soon, my baby, but know this—I stayed alive long enough to know you. To hold you. To love you with a heart that belonged equally to you and to the man who gave you life. I stayed alive for you two, and even when I’m not there, I’ll continue to look over you from above.”
Rachael’s hand shook violently.
I reached out, steadying her fingers with mine. She gave me a fleeting gaze—it felt like a dagger to my heart. The pain, the anguish...she was an open book right now.
She flipped the page. Her lips trembled and I settled her down on a chair, her hands quivered as she flipped through each page.
She read in silence. Too silent. Then her breathing changed—unsteady, shallow—as if every line took something from her and gave something back in return.
Something from Iris to Rachael.
Her tears didn’t come all at once. They slipped down slowly, soaking into the pages like the words themselves were pulling them out of her.
Gently, softly...she didn’t struggle against the pages. When one finished she flipped to the next.
I stood closer to her, my gaze fully focused on her expression. All I could offer her right now was my presence.
I didn’t know what she was reading—my attention was fixed on her, rather the pages which I skimmed through. But I knew it wasn’t cruelty. Whatever it was, it broke something in her—and mended something else just as painfully.
Her hands kept shaking as she read through half the pages, tears relentlessly falling from her eyes, her broken breaths made my chest cave.
After a long pause—something that felt too long, she finally looked up, her eyes reddened, same for her cheeks.
Her eyes met mine and I was barely able to hold myself back from holding her into a tight embrace.
A choked sound left her throat, barely audible at first. “He didn’t…” she whispered, shaking her head, as if correcting a lifetime of belief. “He didn’t leave us like that. The way I thought he did.”
Asteria looked away, tears sliding down her cheeks silently.
Rachael pressed her fist to her mouth.
“She…she loved him.” Her voice trembled. “She still loved him, after everything that happened between them.”
I nodded softly, wrapping an arm around her, taking her in my embrace finally, no longer able to hold back.
She broke into my arms, her tears and snout pressed against my shirt, and she settled there for a moment trying to swallow everything she had just read.
After a few minutes, she pulled back and turned another page—hands still trembling but determined.
Pictures. Memories.
Moments described with aching tenderness.
A pressed gardenia.
A note about the day she learned she was pregnant.
Then she turned to a page which was wrinkled, the ink discoloured, stained faintly with water—tears? Rain? No one knew.
Then—
Her lips parted as she read, trembling—not in anger, but in something far more fragile.
“She…never hated him,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Not even at the end.”
Her fingers tightened around the page. “She wanted me to understand him. Even now.”
She stopped at one page longer than the others. Her breathing hitched, then steadied.
When she turned it, she didn’t wipe her tears away. She let them fall—quiet, accepting.
Whatever her mother had written there, it wasn’t a warning.
It felt like something was loosening in her chest—enough to let her breathe again.
I caught her before she could fall again, arms around her, holding her tightly as she shook.
Her tears hit my neck, hot and relentless.
Her fingers fisted in my shirt like she was terrified I would disappear too.
“It wasn’t a lie,” she whispered against me. She trembled harder. “All this time...I thought I was a mistake—something that happened between two people.”
Asteria wiped her eyes. “Child…the happiest day for Iris was when she finally held you in her arms.”
She paused, then added, quieter, heavier, “because in that moment…everything she loved had finally become real.”
Rachael covered her mouth, sobbing so hard her whole body curled inward.
I held her tighter.
“It’s not fair,” she whispered. “It’s not fair, Shun. Why did she have to suffer? Why did she die alone? Why did he never come? Why—”
“Because the world was cruel,” I murmured. “Because life is unfair. But the love they had…that was real. And you’re proof of it.”
She collapsed into me, crying until her breath stuttered.
Asteria approached slowly, kneeling beside us.
“I kept it hidden because Iris feared the truth would break you before it healed you,” she whispered.
“But now…now you are strong enough.”
Rachael looked up, face wrecked with tears.
“What am I supposed to do…now that I know?”
Asteria touched her hair with trembling fingers. “You do what you think is right,” she whispered. “That’s what your mother wanted for you do after learning the truth. She didn’t want you to force yourself, but to find your own path.”
Rachael shuddered. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You won’t be alone,” I said immediately. “I’ll be with you. Every step.”
She looked at me, eyes swollen, terrified, hopeful.
“You promise?” Her voice broke.
I cupped her cheek gently.
“I promise.” I spoke with determination, taking all of her grief head-on.
A promise—our promise. From me to you.
Asteria’s gaze softened—relief, sorrow, pride.
And Rachael, clutching her mother’s diary to her chest like a lifeline, then whispered: “…Mom…I understand.”