The footsteps stopped right outside the door.

  Aira’s breath caught in her throat.

  She had been sitting on the edge of the bed, knees drawn up, fingers clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms. The sound of boots against stone had echoed steadily through the corridor—slow, deliberate, unhurried.

  Too calm.

  The silence that followed was worse.

  Knock. Knock.

  The sound was firm, controlled. Not aggressive. Not hesitant.

  Her heart slammed violently against her ribs.

  “W–Who is it?” she asked, her voice trembling despite her attempt to sound steady.

  For a brief moment, there was no reply. Then a voice answered from the other side of the door—low, calm, unmistakably the same one she had heard before.

  “No need to be afraid,” the man said. “These are clothes for you.”

  Aira swallowed hard.

  “If you are done panicking,” he continued evenly, “come to the last room at the end of the corridor.”

  There was no demand in his tone. No threat.

  That frightened her more than shouting ever could.

  Before she could muster the courage to respond, footsteps moved away, fading into the distance until only silence remained.

  Aira stayed frozen for several seconds, listening intently.

  Nothing followed.

  No pressure. No strange presence pressing against her mind.

  Slowly, shakily, she stood up and approached the door. When she opened it, a neatly folded bundle lay on the floor.

  Clothes.

  They were unfamiliar—made of a fabric she couldn’t identify, soft yet sturdy, dyed in muted, practical colors. Not elegant, but not crude either.

  Better than what she was wearing.

  She picked them up and closed the door again, her hands trembling. After some awkward adjusting, she changed into them. To her surprise, the clothes fit almost perfectly.

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  The real problem, however, wasn’t the clothes.

  It was the walk.

  Aira knew—deep down—that even if she stayed in this room forever, he would come for her eventually. Whatever she chose, the outcome would be the same.

  So she chose to walk.

  The corridor outside was dim, lit by small wall-mounted torches placed far apart. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the stone walls, twisting and bending as the flames flickered.

  The floor was scarred.

  Deep gashes ran across the stone, some shallow, others cut so deep they looked as though the floor itself had been cleaved open. Sword marks.

  Her steps slowed as she moved forward, her heart pounding louder with every step.

  From a narrow glass pane near the ceiling, she could see the sky.

  The sun was already setting.

  Orange and crimson light bled into the world beyond the castle walls, reminding her that time still moved forward—indifferent to her fear.

  She reached the end of the hallway.

  The final door stood slightly ajar.

  Before she could knock, it opened fully.

  “I thought you would take an eternity to arrive,” the man said calmly. “Come in, Miss Aira.”

  His gaze settled on her, sharp and assessing.

  “Have a seat.”

  The room was nothing like the corridor.

  It was… peaceful.

  The air was clean, carrying a faint, soothing aroma that reminded her of herbs and warmth. The walls were intact, unmarred by sword strikes. A small table stood in the center, set neatly with a teapot and two cups.

  The man—Sir Kael—sat already, pouring tea with slow, precise movements.

  He looked composed. Almost relaxed.

  That alone made Aira’s skin crawl.

  She sat opposite him, keeping her distance, her body tense and ready to bolt despite knowing escape was impossible.

  Sir Kael slid a cup toward her.

  “Drink,” he said. “It calms the nerves and sharpens the mind.”

  She hesitated.

  Then she took a sip.

  Warmth spread through her chest, easing the tight knot of fear just a little. The taste was gentle, subtly sweet, unlike anything she had ever had before.

  Her breathing slowly steadied.

  Sir Kael watched her quietly.

  “So,” he said at last, “you were pushed into a forest.”

  Aira stiffened.

  “While fleeing from divine guardians,” he continued, his tone unreadable, “you fell from a cliff and awoke in this castle.”

  She nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  His fingers paused against the teacup.

  “Miss Aira,” he said softly, “do you take me for a fool?”

  The air shifted.

  Pressure pressed down on her chest, subtle but unmistakable.

  Fear surged.

  Without thinking, Aira slid off her chair and knelt before him, bowing her head deeply.

  “I swear it’s the truth!” she said desperately. “I don’t know this world. I don’t know why I’m here. I was just trying to survive!”

  The words poured out of her—about the forest, the snake, the wolf, the castle, the monsters, the golden light.

  She told him everything.

  When she finally fell silent, her throat burned and her hands shook violently.

  Sir Kael stared at her.

  Something flickered across his face.

  Shock.

  “…You are human,” he murmured.

  Aira looked up slowly. “Yes.”

  Silence stretched.

  “You are the only human I have encountered,” Sir Kael said quietly, “in all my existence.”

  Before she could process the weight of those words—

  The ring on his finger blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Sir Kael’s expression hardened instantly.

  “Tch,” he muttered. “How inconvenient.”

  In one smooth motion, he stood.

  Dark fabric flowed and reshaped itself, forming armor around his body as the ring flared brightly. The gemstone shifted, extending outward until it formed a sword—its blade humming faintly with power.

  The same sword.

  “The monsters have respawned,” Sir Kael said calmly. “Our conversation will have to wait.”

  Aira’s heart raced.

  The peace shattered.

  And she knew—whatever she had fallen into—

  This was only the beginning.