In a royal corridor so vast that one could easily imagine a bustling bazaar or even a refugee camp within it, the only recurring vision shared by the guards stationed there was of a long-haired woman with striking white locks, always seen dashing hastily toward the royal meeting chamber.

  “That’s twice this week,” one guard muttered.

  “At this point, I’m starting to think she lives in that meeting room,” said the other.

  The woman finally reached the towering double doors of the chamber. Without dey, the two doormen each wearing strange coverings over their ears, opened the doors. They moved out of sync, awkward and unprepared. No one had warned them she was coming.

  Before the doors fully revealed the atmosphere inside the chamber, the woman tried to compose her facial expression, remembering the exact rules her brother had once id out for entering the royal meeting hall.

  Once the doors shut behind her, she performed an abstract, formal bow — a gesture unique to the royal bloodline. Yet before she could complete the traditional etiquette, a man's voice echoed throughout the room. Calm, but ced with unmistakable authority.

  “You’re te again, Miss Bougainvillea,” said a man dressed entirely in white, seated at the far end of the meeting table.

  “I’m sorry, brothe—”

  “Shall I remind you of the rules of this chamber?” he interrupted, his voice sharper now as he struck the table with a force that silenced her completely.

  “Your Majesty, lower your voice. We wouldn't want your royal gem here to crack under pressure, would we?” came a deep voice from the opposite end of the table.

  “Very well then, Miss Bougainvillea. You know what must be done upon entering this room. Don’t you?” said the man in white once more.

  The woman simply nodded at her brother’s command, as she always did. The chamber, occupied by only three individuals, was notorious for birthing agreements that, unbeknownst to the others, always favored just one side.

  The next thing she felt was cold.

  Not the chill of the room, but something like her body had been emptied and never properly refilled.

  Night had fallen.

  The woman awoke in the silent meeting chamber. Everyone was gone, leaving her alone, her garments terribly disheveled. The room was bitterly cold and shrouded in darkness. Only the moonlight spilled in through the window, piercing the gloom of the chamber that always carried a strange scent after each assembly concluded.

  She tried to push herself off the floor, but colpsed almost instantly, as though all her strength had been drained.

  Suddenly, the chamber doors creaked open, revealing a soldier cd in full armor.

  “Lady Yoei?! What happened?” the soldier excimed, rushing toward her limp body.

  “I don’t know. It always ends like this… after those meetings.” Yoei replied, her voice steady but fragile, trembling beneath the surface.

  “Quick, take my hand. I can't let you remain like this—”

  Before he could finish, the man dressed in pure white entered the room.

  The echo of his footsteps alone sent a shiver down the soldier’s spine, who immediately dropped to his knees in reverence.

  “Y-Your Majesty! It’s not what it looks like, I only found Lady Yoei colpsed like this! I swear I did nothing—!”

  Without saying a word, the white-robed man strode past him, approaching Yoei who still y on the floor.

  “Use your healing magic. Didn’t I train you to, at the very least, tend to your own wounds?” he said calmly, though his voice seemed to carry a thousand veiled truths.

  “Y-yes… Forgive me, broth—”

  “Just call me Suna,” he interrupted before she could call him brother.

  Yoei simply nodded as always. She pressed her hand against the aching spot and tried to cast the healing spell Suna had once taught her. But nothing happened.

  “S-sorry, let me try again,” Yoei said softly, as she made another attempt to mend the unseen wounds ravaging her body.

  “My apologies, Your Majesty,” the soldier cut in, “Her mana might be drained… or something’s wrong in her mind—”

  “I know that,” Suna snapped, his voice sharpened as if the soldier’s words had struck too close to something he wished to remain hidden.

  Suna's voice grew dimmer, and the world began to blur before Yoei’s eyes.

  Everything slowly faded — swallowed by an eternal, silent darkness.

  After what felt like a thousand years adrift in that void, a faint glimmer of light appeared in Yoei’s vision.

  The world around her felt warmer now, softer somehow.

  Gradually, Yoei opened her eyes, realizing she had colpsed — drained by her own attempt to force the healing magic.

  Her room felt more cramped than usual, filled with her eccentric collection of strange market trinkets and vines she had let grow freely. It was less of a room now, more like a tiny forest. A sanctuary, shielding her from whatever waited just beyond her bedroom door.

  Yoei tiptoed toward the door and peeked outside, checking the hallway.

  To her astonishment, the guards that usually stood outside her door… were gone. Completely vanished.

  Overjoyed, she stifled a giggle behind both of her hands, bouncing slightly on her toes.

  Even when no one was watching, she still followed the etiquette of the royal family.

  She slowly opened the door and took a deep breath, as though the fate of the world hinged on that single exhale.

  Her destination: the pace garden.

  Although it was called a “garden,” it really only contained a single young tree, located at the very top of the pace.

  “Good morniiiing, Nirvel~” Yoei greeted the little tree cheerfully.

  Apparently, she had a habit of naming her pnts.

  She gently stroked its delicate leaves, as if longing for the presence of a friend, someone who didn’t need to speak, or even respond. That was enough for her.

  “You look so pitiful… you haven’t fed on anything, you just sit here in silence…” Yoei murmured.

  It was as if she had no knowledge of pnts, or perhaps no knowledge of her world at all.

  All she knew was how to pnt — never how to care for what she pnted.

  “I’m going to the market now, my dear Nirvel~”

  The moment Yoei turned to leave, the small tree stirred, as if trying to respond to the Girl of Light.

  Perhaps it was the wind…

  Or perhaps the world itself was listening, and it chose to answer.

  At long st, Yoei’s feet touched the cobbled streets of Aurathis once more.

  It had been so long, and yet… something felt off. The pace was unusually quiet when she left, and the thought still lingered in her mind.

  In her white cloak, floral ornament in pce, she walked with her head lowered — hoping not to draw too much attention.

  Though she tried to blend in with the crowd, her graceful steps and agile movements gave her away. No ordinary citizen moved like that, only someone trained within the halls of the Altherian pace could carry themselves with such silent precision.

  Yet none of the townsfolk seemed to notice that hidden among them was Yoei Bougainvillea, quietly making her way toward a small, quiet shop nestled in a corner of the market.

  “Ohh! So there you are, child,” came the voice of an elderly woman, her face a tapestry of age, woven with simplicity and a thousand lived stories.

  “Ah! Madam Ruby,” Yoei replied warmly, her eyes scanning the shop’s curious wares. Books of magic, jars of herbal remedies, and even knightly swords, all cramped into the modest little space.

  “Madam, have you added anything new to your collection tely? Anything more curious than this knight’s bde?”

  It was a question Yoei asked every time she visited. A tradition of sorts.

  “Let me see now…” the old woman murmured, pressing her wrinkled fingers to her temple before rummaging through a dusty wooden box filled with spellbooks of various sizes.

  “I believe this one might suit you, Lady Yoei,” she said, handing over a worn, tattered book that looked as if it had survived some great disaster.

  But the moment Yoei’s hand touched the book—

  An explosion shattered the stillness outside. Screams followed — bloodcurdling and panicked.

  From afar, a cavalcade of shadowy bck horses charged through the city, their riders cloaked in dark veils, armed with staffs and bdes that shimmered like dying stars.

  In an instant, the marketpce turned into chaos. Spells were shouted, lives were cut short mid-scream, some not even granted the chance.

  The scent of blood hit Yoei’s nose like a dagger to the senses, sharp and metallic.

  And before she could even react…

  The attackers were already upon her.

  —

  Author’s Note:

  Thank you for reading the first chapter of Yoei: Symphony of the Broken Oath.

  I’m Cyruka, a doll who writes stories.

  This is my debut novel, but my progress can be felt as the number of chapters increases. (Edited at December, 07, 2025).

  If you have thoughts, questions, or cracked theories, I’d love to hear them. I don’t bite. (Usually)

  The strings are tightening.