CHAPTER 130: [THE CHAOS YOU GAVE ME]

Inside the gently swaying carriage, the tension had eased—just enough for conversation.

Lysaria, still recovering from the emotional rollercoaster, narrowed her eyes at Kael.

"You know... when you told me to ’watch,’ I thought you were going to toss them a few gold coins."

Kael raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Why? So they could blow it all on beer and brothels?"

"Well, yeah," she huffed. "At least then they’d die happy."

"But I did something better," he said with a shrug.

"Better? You crushed their legs."

"I redirected their fate," Kael replied, proud.

"Now they’re getting healed and sheltered by temple priests.

Probably the best night they’ve had all year."

Lysaria gave him a long, flat stare.

Yue didn’t even bother responding.

She simply floated to the corner and pretended to be dead.

Kael smiled contentedly.

The silence from both women was tactically brutal—and he accepted it with all the joy of a child who just lit a building on fire and got away with it.

As the carriage rolled farther from the city center, the streets transformed around them.

Lights shimmered on every corner—spell lanterns flickering with illusions, magical storefronts glowing with runes, performers juggling flame and frost to cheering crowds.

The capital at night was alive.

It never slept.

Lysaria pressed a hand to the glass, breath fogging the window.

"I’ve never seen this before..." she whispered.

Kael glanced over. "Never?"

She shook her head.

"My parents never allowed me out after dark. Said the world changes at night."

"They weren’t wrong," he said, smirking.

She smiled faintly—but it vanished when a group of guards passed them by without a second glance.

Her body tensed.

But the guards kept walking.

Confused, she leaned closer and looked out again.

That’s when she noticed—their carriage was no longer black.

It was brown.

Ordinary. Unremarkable. Hidden in plain sight.

She turned to Kael. "Wait... wasn’t our carriage black?"

He ignored her.

She pouted.

But didn’t press.

Instead, after a moment’s silence, her voice came again—quieter now.

"...Why did you kidnap me?"

Kael didn’t answer right away.

Then he leaned back in his seat, eyes distant.

"You said you wanted to enjoy just one night.

To escape.

I was only giving you what you asked for."

Lysaria froze.

She turned away quickly, hiding her face.

A tear slipped down her cheek, lost in the flicker of city lights.

She didn’t reply.

She didn’t have to.

Eventually, the city gave way to empty roads, distant hills, and snow-kissed silence.

After a long while, the carriage slowed, then stopped.

Kael stepped out.

Lysaria followed hesitantly.

It wasn’t the grand spectacle she had expected—just a lonely hill, the sky stretched wide and deep above them.

No golden towers, no enchanted gardens.

But the sincerity in his eyes silenced any complaint.

She followed him.

At the top of the hill, they stood side by side.

And then she saw it.

The sky opened before them—twin moons hanging at eye level.

One silver, soft and serene.

The other a deep red, glowing like a distant ember.

Her breath caught.

"It’s beautiful," she whispered.

Kael smiled faintly.

"Come. A little closer."

They walked toward the edge.

Lysaria stepped forward, enchanted, ready to say something poetic—

Kael kicked her.

Right on the butt.

"WAIT—WHAT THE HELL—!"

She screamed as she went sliding down the snowy slope, flailing like a startled deer on ice.

Yue, hovering behind, looked horrified.

"You just kicked her off a hill?!"

Kael blinked innocently. "Gently."

"GENTLY?!"

From below came Lysaria’s voice, furious but alive.

"KAELION DRENLOR, IF I DIE, I’M HAUNTING YOU."

Kael grinned.

"She’s fine."

Yue stared at him like he’d grown horns.

"...You are completely unhinged."

Kael just grinned—

—and jumped.

"Wait, you idiot—!"

Yue groaned and floated after him, muttering curses only ancient ghosts would recognize.

They tumbled down the snowy hill, laughter trailing behind Kael like smoke.

At the bottom, Lysaria sat in stunned silence, snow clinging to her dress from the fall.

But she didn’t care.

She was staring ahead.

Frozen.

Awestruck.

The hill sloped into a vast, open plain... and it was glowing.

The entire meadow was covered in luminous flowers—delicate petals shimmering gold and silver, swaying softly in the night breeze.

Above them, the twin moons—one silver, one blood-red—hung low and full, casting their light across the field like a dream frozen in time.

Lysaria’s breath hitched. "I... I’ve only ever seen this in paintings."

Kael stepped up beside her, his expression unreadable. "Do you like it?"

She nodded slowly, voice barely a whisper. "It’s beautiful..."

He chuckled gently.

Then, without warning—he took her hand.

Lysaria’s cheeks flushed instantly.

But before she could say a word—

Kael ran.

Dragging her along.

"Wha—hey!"

She stumbled, then laughed, then ran too.

Through glowing petals and moonlight, they chased each other across the silent plain—laughing, spinning, breathless.

The wind tugged at their clothes and the stars watched quietly above.

For a while, there was no title, no duty, no curse, no crown.

Just two souls.

Running.

Free.

Even Yue, watching from above, paused—momentarily entranced by the rare stillness in Kael’s expression, by the sound of Lysaria’s laughter ringing like bells through the night.

Eventually, they collapsed onto the field—panting, laughing, limbs tangled among the glowing blooms.

The flowers were soft.

Warm.

Their clothes didn’t even stain.

Silence followed.

Not awkward—just peaceful.

Lysaria turned her head toward him, breath still catching.

"...Thank you, Kael," she whispered.

Her voice was sincere.

"Really. I’ll never forget this night."

Kael didn’t respond right away.

He hadn’t brought her here for some grand gesture.

He just wanted to forget—for a little while.

To escape the poison the Princess had left in his chest.

He’d read about this place once, in a crumpled newspaper left behind at an inn.

A field of eternal light under twin moons.

He never imagined it would look like this.

Feel like this.

He looked at Lysaria again—hair tousled, cheeks flushed, eyes shining under starlight.

Maybe this night wasn’t just hers.

Maybe it was his, too.

"...Yeah," he said quietly.

"Me neither."

And above them, the moons watched in silence—witness to a night neither of them would ever be able to name or explain.

Only remember.