Having already informed certain individuals in advance, Lorin departed the Royal Capital that day without visiting anyone else. In truth, there were very few people Lorin truly needed to bid farewell to.
The belongings requiring packing were minimal. The manor at his new territory would surely provide essentials, so Lorin traveled with only a few attendants. The rest remained at his original residence to continue their duties.
Rocked gently by the carriage’s motion through the streets, Lorin gazed out the window toward the Academy.
These past days had been spent almost entirely with Xueyi. Though Lorin had deliberately avoided mentioning his imminent departure, Xueyi kept sharing girlish daydreams with him.
Sighing softly, Lorin thought: It wasn’t that these fantasies were unwelcome. To him, they suited her perfectly.
But what had filled Xueyi’s thoughts before the Second Prince—before *he*—appeared? What had truly led her down the path to vanishing? Was it merely the original worldline’s distortion? It couldn’t be that simple.
Though *he* was the one leaving, Lorin’s heart felt as if *Xueyi* were the one departing. He couldn’t shake the feeling of worry.
Leaning against the carriage wall, he asked the Bookkeeper in his mind, "If things continue like this… has Xueyi’s vanishing fate already changed?"
The Bookkeeper’s voice echoed within him: "The storyline has begun diverging from the original, yet we cannot confirm it is fully altered."
"Just as I thought."
When Xueyi had confessed her feelings, the Bookkeeper had emphasized they were entirely her own choice. Lorin had known then his actions had shifted the narrative—but never imagined it would bend *this* way.
Whether this change led to salvation or ruin remained unclear. Only time would tell.
Drowsiness crept over Lorin as these thoughts swirled. His eyelids slowly closed.
---
That evening, after Lorin’s departure, a carriage rolled up to his former residence and halted before the gates. Xueyi stepped down, fresh from her Academy classes.
The guards at the door blinked in surprise. One approached hesitantly. "Miss Glaite… His Highness the Second Prince left the Royal Capital at noon."
"I see." Xueyi stared at the manor, motionless for a long moment. "May I enter?"
The guard scratched his head, puzzled but unlocking the gate. Though Lorin no longer resided here, the estate remained his. Maids bustled about as usual, tidying rooms. None knew the true nature of Lorin and Xueyi’s bond, but seeing them come and go together often, they sensed no harm in granting her entry.
"Miss Glaite?" A maid gasped softly as Xueyi entered.
Xueyi merely nodded—a silent greeting—before walking straight to Lorin’s old chamber. The maids found her demeanor strange, yet this quiet reserve was simply her true self, restored.
She shut the door behind her, sat on the neatly made bed, and hesitated. Then she buried herself under the covers, pulling them over her head. Muffled, deep breaths filled the darkness—searching for traces of Lorin’s lingering scent. Only after a while did she emerge, her cheeks slightly flushed, whether from lack of air or something else.
"If only… I could keep you here… forever."
This thought had haunted her all week. She’d played a small trick: when Lorin asked her to visit after her Academy duties ended, she’d dodged the question with silence or deflection. Even Lorin hadn’t noticed, assuming her silence meant consent.
Before, when Lorin was merely absent for days within the Royal Capital, the distance hadn’t truly troubled her. She’d known he was reachable—she could seek him out anytime, even slip into this very room as before.
But now, with him beyond the Capital’s walls, the sudden impossibility of seeing him crashed over her. The emptiness felt raw, unfamiliar.
Clutching the quilt tightly, Xueyi stared blankly ahead, trying to fill the hollow ache.
---
Lorin’s assigned territory lay far from the Royal Capital. Even with brief stops only for meals, the carriage journey took three grueling days.
For Lorin, unaccustomed to prolonged travel, it was agony. The padded seat offered little mercy. At one point, he grimly joked that the permanent dent his backside left in the cushion might become his final testament.
Shortly after entering the territory’s borders, a middle-aged man hurried forward with a retinue. Bowing deeply before Lorin’s carriage, he announced, "I am Gellis Beppay, the former lord of this land. Welcome, Your Highness the Second Prince, to assume command."
Groaning, Lorin clutched his lower back as he stepped down. He faced Gellis and a dozen attendants—a scene he’d never witnessed as royalty before.
"Your Highness," Gellis continued, "the manor is still being prepared. Allow me to arrange temporary lodgings."
The manor had been Gellis’s home until the transfer notice arrived. He hadn’t expected the prince to arrive so early.
Lorin winced at the excessive formality. "How long have you governed here?"
"Governed, Your Highness?" Gellis faltered. "Ah—you mean my tenure? I inherited this lordship from my father. Ten years, nearly."
"*Ten* years?" Lorin’s eyes widened. Lordships typically passed through bloodlines, but this unassuming man held a decade of experience.
After a pause, Lorin waved a hand wearily. "Don’t bother preparing anything. Continue managing affairs here as lord. Consider me a tourist. Everything stays as it is."
He’d come to this world to rewrite Xueyi’s story—not to learn territory administration.
Gellis and his aides exchanged bewildered glances. "Your Highness… I don’t understand?"
By rights, Gellis should remain as advisor even after stepping down. But Lorin’s words sounded like a refusal to take charge at all.
Lorin just sighed, the road-weariness heavy in his bones. "Just… carry on as usual."
