The next morning, the main city's streets were suddenly sealed off.

Immediately after, the royal family declared martial law.

Large production facilities were shut down. All city gates were locked tight. After nightfall, no one could go outside—or face criminal punishment.

Guards stood at every intersection. Knights patrolling each district wore unusually grim expressions.

Panic spread among the citizens. Such emergency measures only happened during wartime sieges.

Soldiers with torches kept watch all night. Even in bed, you could hear the clank of their armor outside.

Boka and the others on the shopping street closed their shops at dusk, just like everyone else.

“What’s going on?” Cynthia gazed out the window, worry in her eyes. “Could it really be war?”

“It’ll be fine,” Boka reassured her. “The main city’s defenses are so strong. Probably…”

“I wonder if we have enough food,” Cynthia sighed. “Though we do have stores in the cellar.”

The tension even infected Dorin. She watched her mother anxiously. Only Aisha seemed relaxed, feet propped up as she napped on a recliner. If she ever felt real danger, it’d likely be her last moment.

During past total wars, Albion’s people always stockpiled grain. Every year’s surplus went into cellars for emergencies. Even after peace returned, that habit and memory lingered. Cynthia was puzzled too. The border was far away—why no warning before this lockdown? Had the enemy attacked by sea? That could bypass the long frontier. But any ship reaching the capital must pass through Angora’s Holm Strait. Warships would’ve triggered alerts by now…

“Boka, let’s sleep together tonight.”

As Cynthia spoke, Boka was drinking water. He choked violently in shock.

“What? I—”

“Dorin and Aisha too. For safety, we’ll all stay in one room,” Cynthia added.

“Oh… you meant that.” Boka exhaled in relief.

“What else?” She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, and Boka—you’ll have to sleep on the floor.”

“No problem!”

Since the upstairs houses connected, moving bedding was easy. Cynthia’s room was spacious enough for all four. Boka often saw her in pajamas—it wasn’t a big deal normally. But in her bedroom, his thoughts wandered. He slapped his own cheeks twice before she noticed. Forget Baird—he couldn’t betray Helen.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” He shook his head quickly.

His bedroll lay beside Cynthia’s bed. The two kids snuggled on either side of her. He placed his bow within arm’s reach, just in case. Snow still swirled outside, but with two thick quilts, he shouldn’t be cold. Yet Boka, even with a hot water bottle in his bedding, learned the true misery of sleeping on the floor. That damp chill seeped into his bones—utter torture.

“Are your teeth chattering, Boka?”

His body reacted before his mind could stop it.

“Seems like it…”

“Then… why not join us up here?”

“Ah… no, I’d crowd you.”

“Really? Well, maybe I—”

Before Cynthia finished, a small figure slipped into Boka’s blankets.

“We won’t be cold together,” Aisha murmured, pressed against him.

“Oh. Right.” He nodded slowly.

With Aisha, they could share warmth. Back in the mountains, they’d often huddled on a single wooden bed to survive the cold. But chances like this were rare now.

Soon, Boka would marry Helen. Opportunities like tonight might never come again. Aisha probably knew that.

“Wait!” Cynthia panicked. “You can’t sleep together—it’s not allowed!”

“Why not?” Boka and Aisha blurted in unison.

“Aisha’s grown up! I’ve warned you, Boka. It’s just… not proper.”

“What does it matter? It’s the last time.”

He grumbled from the cold. Yet Aisha’s cheeks flushed strangely.

“Maybe I should take Aisha’s place instead…” Cynthia’s voice trailed off.

Awkward silence filled the room.

Cynthia hesitated, torn between scolding too harshly and hurting Aisha. Boka’s disobedience also made her uneasy. So he compromised: Dorin would sleep with him, while Aisha stayed with Cynthia. A perfect solution—and Dorin was thrilled. Boka felt clever. Though he couldn’t shake the weird stares aimed at him.

That’s how Boka’s group survived the restless night.

The next day, the royal court and authorities finally revealed the reason.

Mia Pendragon.

Princess of Albion.

Dead.

And all evidence pointed to her healer—the Dragonfolk, Alva.

After Mia’s death, Alva and every Dragonfolk in the palace vanished without a trace. The three knight-captains guarding the palace delivered the grim news to King Gil. The Hero King said nothing. Mia was his eldest daughter, the child of his late first wife—the one he cherished most. After a deathly silence, he uttered a single word: “Kill.”

Posters plastered every alley and street. Anyone sheltering the fugitives would face execution under Albion’s law!

Cynthia and Boka stared at the flyer in their hands. Shock left them speechless.

Mia was gone—the girl who’d dreamed endlessly of life and beauty. And the killers were Alva and the others.

“Impossible!” Boka snapped. “This is all lies!”

His mind reeled. He couldn’t accept Mia’s death. He refused to believe Alva was guilty.

“Where are you going?!”

Cynthia blocked Boka as he headed for the door.

“I need answers from them.”

“From Alva?! Don’t be an idiot! I don’t think they did it either—but do you want to die?! Haven’t you read the posters?!”

Sheltering fugitives meant death. The implication was clear: even suspicion could get you executed.

“They’re probably not here anymore,” Aisha said flatly.

“What?”

“They’ve likely started back to the forest.” Aisha stayed calm. “If they don’t want to be found, no one will.”

“How do you know—”

“I doubt anyone will see them for two hundred years.” Aisha gave a dry, mocking laugh.

Boka froze. Aisha sounded delusional, yet utterly convincing. She’d always known about Dragonfolk—and showed clear hostility toward Lola.

“Did they really do it…?”

“Of course not.” Aisha shrugged. “They’re vegetarians.”

“So someone framed them?”

“Who knows.” Aisha’s shoulders lifted. “Anyway, I’m glad she’s gone. And you—stop meddling. I’ve warned you about this flaw before.”

Boka hung his head. Aisha had struck a nerve. His same mistake had caused him trouble twice already. As Aisha scolded him, Cynthia nodded in agreement. Even though Alva was Baird’s old friend, she worried more about Boka’s safety. His wedding to Helen was days away—she’d worked so hard for it. All she wanted now was her brother safe.

Boka slumped, ashamed. He’d overestimated himself again—acting on impulse, ignoring consequences.

“Hello? I’d like to buy something.”

A voice came from the shop entrance.

Boka turned. A girl stood there, about Aisha’s age.

During lockdown, streets were nearly empty. Why would a young girl shop alone? No parent would be that careless. A trap? Suspicious, Boka motioned for Cynthia’s group to stay back. He approached her alone.

“Hi there. What can I get you?”

Boka crouched, studying her face.

“I want that one.”

Her finger pointed straight at Aisha.

“…Not for sale.”

“No?” She grinned mischievously.

“No.” Boka’s tone was firm.

“What a shame.”

She shook her head like an adult, teasing.

Boka felt he’d seen her somewhere before. Familiar, yet he couldn’t place it.

Aisha had been silent—but suddenly, she realized something.

She rushed forward, jabbing a finger at the girl and shouting.

“Go! Leave now!” she yelled. “Stay away from us!”

The girl didn’t flinch. She stood her ground, though her smile tightened.

Her identity was unclear, but Boka thought Aisha was overreacting.

“You’re scaring her,” he intervened.

“Get lost! Don’t come near us!” Aisha kept roaring.

Boka sighed helplessly.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll give it to you—then go home, okay?” he pleaded.

The girl said nothing.

But in that instant, Boka noticed something odd about her.

He yanked her arm and pulled her inside the shop in one swift motion.