"Where exactly did the Second Prince go?" The coachman scratched his head, staring at the direction where Lorin had vanished.

"Who knows? I saw His Highness in quite a hurry earlier, like something was calling him over there," another coachman replied after taking a swig of water.

Lorin hadn’t told them his destination. All they could do now was wait.

Thankfully, the Royal Capital was already visible on the horizon—a sign their mission was nearly complete.

They’d taken turns driving the carriage nonstop to reach here. By now, both horses and men were nearing their limits.

Just as the coachman lowered his waterskin, an arrow shot from the darkness. It pierced the waterskin clean through, pinning it to the carriage.

The coachman glanced at the arrow embedded in the wood, then toward its origin.

From the shadows emerged dozens of shadowy figures. Clad head-to-toe in black night gear, their faces were indistinguishable—but the chilling glint of their weapons spoke volumes.

"Bandits?"

The two coachmen exchanged a look. In perfect unison, they leaped off the carriage and bolted in opposite directions.

Years of experience had taught them this truth: when ambushed, abandoning the carriage was the safest bet. Most bandits wanted loot, not coachmen. Unless they had other orders.

The lead shadow raised a hand. His followers drew arrows, lit their tips, and nocked them with practiced ease.

At his signal, a rain of fiery arrows transformed the carriage into a porcupine. Flames engulfed the wood instantly, spooking the horses into snapping their reins and fleeing.

"Even if he knows Advanced Magic, it’s useless without chanting time."

Common knowledge held that Advanced Magic required lengthy incantations—a fatal opening for enemies.

But the truth? Had anyone watched Lorin closely, they’d have seen his lips never moved when he unleashed that spell.

The crackling of burning wood filled the silence. Nothing else.

The shadow leader frowned. "That brat’s tough. Not a single scream?"

Sensing something amiss, he signaled his men to investigate.

They approached cautiously—only to find the carriage empty.

"What?!" The shadow leader’s shock cut deep. Their intel had been precise: Second Prince Lorin would return to the Royal Capital these past days. Yet here stood an empty carriage.

"Boss! We caught these two!"

The coachmen were dragged back and dumped at his feet.

Trembling, one stammered, "It—it was the Second Prince! Spare us! We’re just drivers with nothing to steal!"

*So it was him.*

Impatient, the shadow leader drew his sword and pressed it to the man’s throat. "Where is he now?"

"We don’t know! When we reached here, His Highness suddenly ordered us to stop. Then he ran toward those woods!" The coachman pointed shakily at a nearby forest.

The shadow leader exchanged puzzled glances with his lieutenant. Why would Lorin flee into the woods?

"Did he say anything before leaving?"

"No, sir! If he had, we wouldn’t be waiting here like fools!"

A henchman leaned in, whispering, "Boss... could it be robbers robbing robbers?"

"*Robbers robbing robbers?*"

The leader’s mind raced. Their intel on Lorin’s return wasn’t exclusive. Their mysterious employer had likely hired multiple groups. This betrayal stung.

"Local crews have no honor anymore!" he spat. "Search the woods!"

---

Lorin’s eyes fluttered open. An unfamiliar ceiling swam into view.

*Where... is...* He tried to speak, but his tongue felt numb, unresponsive.

*Why can’t I talk?*

"That’s the medicine’s effect," the Bookkeeper’s voice echoed in his mind.

*Right. Medicine.*

His last memory was Xueyi forcing something unknown into his mouth before darkness swallowed him. He had no clue what happened after.

His entire body felt heavy, limbs limp as if drenched in anesthesia. With great effort, he shuffled against the bed frame, propping himself up.

He stared at his shoulders. His arms hung lifeless, wrists drooping like rabbit ears.

*Where did Xueyi get this drug? And why use it on me? Just to keep me from returning to the Royal Capital?*

The room was small—only a bed and a cabinet. Pale morning light seeped through the window. *I’ve been out for hours. But where am I?*

He had no memory of ever being here.

The door creaked open. Xueyi entered, cradling a small bowl of porridge.

"You’re awake."

She set the bowl down carefully, then rubbed her earlobe—burned by the heat.

Noticing his bewildered stare, she murmured, "The medicine hasn’t worn off yet. You can barely move."

A soft smile touched her lips. "You can’t eat alone. But don’t worry—I’ll feed you."

She stirred the porridge, scooped a spoonful, and blew gently on it.

But instead of offering it to him, she parted her own lips and slipped the spoon inside. Climbing onto the bed, she pressed a hand to his shoulder while her other caressed his cheek. Her lips parted his gently, and her tongue slid the warm porridge—infused with her breath—into his mouth.

Unlike last time, there was no force. Only tenderness.

She lingered, savoring the closeness, breathing in his scent. Not because it was unique—but because it was *his*. The scent she’d craved like parched earth craves rain.

Only after a long moment did she pull away, reluctantly.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed longing as her thumb traced his cheekbone.

"Just us two is enough," she whispered, her gaze locking onto his immobile form. "Let everything else fade away."