CHAPTER 28: CH:28 THE QUIET BETWEEN STORMS

Meanwhile, in another wing of the Exonory castle...

"Ahhh—ohhh... my neck...!" Sarios groaned, shifting slightly on the wide bed of the Hero’s Altar Chamber. His body creaked like an old chair, stiff and sore, wrapped in layers of fresh white bandages from his neck to his right arm. "What even happened back there...?"

He winced, eyes blinking slowly. Then—like a flood—memories came rushing back.

The masked man.

Stella taking a brutal punch to the gut.

And himself... getting kicked square in the face like a boot met a watermelon.

He groaned again—this time with a short chuckle. "That was... mad. Insanely mad. Who fights like that? That’s not the way to go, that’s the way to go to a hospital."

He rubbed the side of his neck with his good hand. "Well, at least I’m not dead. That’s a win."

The soft sound of breathing caught his attention.

He glanced to the side—and there she was. Stella. Sleeping beside him on a small couch, still in her white priestess gown, head resting on her staff like a pillow.

"Stella..." he called

As Stella slowly stirred, she blinked once... then twice...

Her eyes widened.

"SARIOS!!" she gasped, instantly leaping from the couch with pure joy. "You’re awake!!"

Before Sarios could even say a word, she rushed over and threw her arms around him in a tight, joyful hug.

"GAH!!—gah!!—gah!!—gah!!—gah!!" Sarios choked, his whole body stiffening like a broken scarecrow. "Easy!! I’m mostly held together by bandages and willpower right now!!"

Stella pulled back with a sheepish giggle, realizing she just squeezed a man with at least three ribs on strike.

"Oops! Sorry!" she said, holding his shoulders like he might crumble if she blinked too hard.

Sarios gave her a crooked smile, still catching his breath. "You trying to heal me or finishing me?"

Stella just laughed harder, eyes watery with relief. "You big dummy... don’t scare me like that again!"

"Then stop hugging like a bear," he grinned.

And despite the bruises and bandages... the room felt a little warmer again.

Sarios shifted carefully against the pillows, wincing a bit as he moved his shoulder.

"How long... have I been out?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

Stella tilted her head, then held up a finger. "A month and a half."

Sarios blinked. "A month and a—what?! That long?!"

He stared at the ceiling for a second, processing. "Wait... what year is it again?"

Stella giggled. "Relax, it’s still the same year. Barely."

Sarios sighed dramatically, then looked at her with concern.

"What about you? Are you hurt? You look... okay-ish."

She smiled, her expression softening. "I was down for maybe three weeks. But I’m okay now. Nothing broken. Just a lot of sleep... and soup."

"Soup heals everything," Sarios muttered, nodding like a wise sage.

"Exactly," Stella said with a wink. "Especially when you’re unconscious and someone else has to spoon-feed you."

Sarios paused. "...Wait. Did someone spoon-feed me?"

Stella smirked.

Sarios groaned. "Please tell me it wasn’t that weird old priest again."

Stella just laughed. "He sings while he feeds. Be grateful you’re alive."

"Ugh. I regret waking up now."

But even as he joked, he smiled. And deep down, he was grateful too.

Suddenly, Sarios’s face grew serious.

"Wait... where’s Dila? Is she okay? And what about that masked guy—was he beaten?"

Stella blinked, her smile fading. "I don’t know. The knights said they just found all three of us lying on the ground—unconscious and half-broken. No enemy in sight."

Sarios sat up straighter, despite the soreness in his body. "That’s it? That masked man isn’t dead yet? So he escaped...?"

He frowned, muttering to himself. "Tch... slippery bastard."

Then, after a pause, his eyes turned toward Stella again.

"Speaking of which, where exactly is Dila now?"

Stella tilted her head. "You mean the Princess?"

Sarios froze. "...Princess? What are you saying?"

Stella nodded with a playful grin. "Yup. Turns out she’s the Princess of Eldor."

Sarios’s eye twitched.

"You’re telling me... Dila’s been royalty this whole time?!"

"Looks like it," Stella chimed, trying to hold back a laugh.

Sarios groaned and leaned back into his pillow.

"I should’ve treated her with more respect... maybe bowed more or something."

Stella giggled. "Owww~ Don’t get all serious now, Mister hero Knight. You looked like a pancake a week ago."

Sarios sighed, grinning faintly. "Great. I mocked a princess by half asses bowing, got kicked across a marketplace, and spoon-fed by a singing priest. This week’s been... wild."

Stella burst out laughing.

"Hahaha! Yeah, that’s the life!"

Sarios looked at her, a little beat up, half-bandaged, still aching from the fight—

But then he smiled anyway.

Even with the madness, the pain, and the confusion...

That moment, watching her laugh like that, somehow made everything feel lighter.

"...Yeah," he said softly. "I guess it is."

Back in Dila’s room, the soft rustle of footsteps stirred the air.

The doors creaked open gently, and another maid stepped in—quiet, respectful—carrying a tray of freshly prepared food. Steam curled from the silver dishes. The scent of roasted turkey, warm bread, and seasoned vegetables filled the room like a quiet celebration.

She walked closer and gently opened the ornate food cover.

A golden, perfectly cooked turkey rested on a porcelain plate surrounded by rich, luxurious side dishes. The light from the window made it look almost too beautiful to eat.

Dila sat up slowly in the bed, still a little pale.

Her eyes widened as the scent reached her.

Then, suddenly, she froze.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for the silver knife and fork. Her eyes shimmered, and a soft whisper escaped her lips, broken by a sob.

"...Finally... real food..."

Her voice cracked as tears began to fall—not from hunger alone, but the loneliness in the past that had stretched through her time that she’s not let go enough, the isolation, the weight of not knowing who she really was, or why her body hurt soo much because of effects, or why everyone kept calling her Princess.

This—this simple act of being fed something warm, something made for her—felt like a kindness too heavy to hold.

The maid stood nearby, watching the girl cry quietly over a plate of food.

Her own heart ached.

She lowered her head and whispered, "I’m sorry, Princess... I didn’t mean to make you sad..."

But Dila didn’t answer.

She just let the tears fall... holding that fork like it was the only real thing in this strange world that hadn’t tried to hurt her.

And then, gently—like a soft breath—Nari’s voice echoed in Dila’s mind.

☆ Are you okay, master...? ☆

Her tone was careful, tender, almost hesitant.

But Dila didn’t answer.

She couldn’t find the words.

She simply gave the smallest nod, barely noticeable, her silver-white hair shifting slightly as her head moved. A faint glint of light caught the wetness still clinging to her lashes.

She picked up the fork again, hands still trembling a little.

And in the silence that followed, Nari didn’t say another word.

She just watched quietly through the bond they shared—loyal, soft, and close—while her master took her first bite of food in what felt like forever.

Even if the world was heavy.

Even if everything felt too much.

For that one quiet moment, Dila was allowed to simply... be...

One week later...

The morning sun poured softly through the tall glass windows, casting gentle warmth across Dila’s chamber floor. Her long silver-white hair shimmered faintly as she stepped forward—barefoot, quiet, but steady.

She stood on her own. No support. No pain.

"Looks like... it’s time for me to explore this castle," she muttered, glancing down at her hands as she flexed them. Her strength had returned.

☆ Go for it, master ☆ Nari chimed with a wink in her voice. ☆ You’ve earned it. ☆

Dila smirked lightly. "Yeah."

She stepped toward the wooden door, her footsteps light on the polished floor. As she reached for the handle—

A sharp chill swept through the air.

The torches in the hall flickered once. Then again.

And behind that door... a faint noise. A whisper. A breath?

Dila froze, her fingers still hovering just above the iron handle.

"...Was that...?"

☆ ...Master? Wait. Something’s... not right. ☆

Then—

A sudden knock.

Three slow, deliberate taps.

Dila’s breath caught.

She hadn’t told anyone she was leaving her room.

No one was supposed to be on that side of the hall.

The castle had just gotten quiet.

Too quiet.