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Chapter 4: “Where Light Doesn’t Belong”

Rikuya’s perspective

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He hadn’t meant to remember her.

He was good at forgetting things. Faces. Screams. Even names.

But not hers.

> Yume.

The name sat too softly in his thoughts.

The way she knelt beside him without flinching. The way she touched his bandaged hand. The way she said “monster” like it was just a word—not a curse.

It should’ve faded. It should’ve been nothing.

But that night, when he returned to his cold chamber, cleaned his wounds in silence, and sat staring at the wall…

he thought of her.

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The next morning, Rikuya skipped his morning drills.

Instead, he stood beneath the eastern balconies, concealed behind stone and shadow. Watching.

> She was in the garden again.

Laughing.

She looked different in sunlight.

Not royal. Not rehearsed.

Just… real.

He wasn’t used to that.

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A soldier approached him from behind. “Your Highness, you’re late for combat review.”

Rikuya didn’t move. “Tell the commander I’ve bled enough this week.”

The soldier hesitated, then left.

Rikuya remained hidden, eyes never leaving the girl who had dared to speak to him like he was a person.

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For days, he did this.

Just watching.

> Not out of obsession.

Out of confusion.

She didn’t belong here. Not among silk-tongued liars and gold-draped cowards.

And yet, she moved among them like light through a battlefield.

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Then, one day, he saw it.

A noble’s son—drunk on wine and ego—cornered her beneath the garden arch.

Rikuya’s body tensed. His fingers curled around the edge of the marble pillar.

He didn’t know why.

He just hated the way the boy smiled at her. Like she was already something to own.

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The boy reached for her wrist.

Rikuya was there before his brain caught up.

> “Touch her again and lose your hand.”

The words came out ice-cold.

The noble turned, startled. “I—I didn’t know she was yours, Prince.”

Rikuya stepped forward, his presence swallowing the garden like a shadow. “She’s not mine. She’s not anyone’s.”

The boy backed away and vanished, muttering apologies.

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Yume stared at him, wide-eyed.

“You were watching me?”

Rikuya looked down, then away.

> “I told myself I wouldn’t care.

But something about you… makes forgetting difficult.”

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Silence.

And then—Yume smiled.

Not like the nobles did. Not out of fear or flattery.

But soft. Honest.

“I think… I’d like to be someone you remember.”

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> And that terrified him more than any battlefield ever had.

Because if he remembered her…

He might start wanting more than survival.

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