The silence that followed Lilith's whisper was sharp enough to cut.
Toki still felt her breath at his ear, warm and deliberate, when King Mathias rose from his throne.
The scrape of stone echoed through the vast hall.
"Enough," the king said calmly.
The single word carried weight—authority forged by years of command, compromise, and bloodstained decisions. Lilith withdrew half a step, though the amusement never quite left her crimson eyes. Toki straightened instinctively, as if bracing for a verdict.
King Mathias descended the steps of the throne slowly, hands clasped behind his back.
"Lilith's presence here," he began, his gaze fixed on Toki, "is not coincidence. Nor is it punishment."
Toki said nothing. He listened.
"The Order and the Church of Moonlight have always operated as separate powers," the king continued. "Parallel forces. Cooperative when necessary. Oppositional when unavoidable."
Smith shifted slightly beside the throne, arms crossed tighter than usual.
"But in cases like this," Mathias said, voice hardening, "separation becomes a liability."
He stopped a few steps before Toki.
"We are facing an active Star Collector within our capital," the king said. "An entity capable of bending the supernatural to his will. Invisible beasts. Spiritual concealment. Precision killings."
His eyes narrowed.
"That alone would have warranted extreme measures."
Toki felt the weight of the room press down on him.
"But that is not our only concern," Mathias went on. "Your encounter with the supernatural. Your rapid ascent through the ranks. Your… evolution."
The word lingered.
"There are whispers," the king said quietly. "Among the Order. Among the clergy of Moonlight."
Bernard's jaw tightened.
"They question whether your power aligns too neatly with coincidence," Mathias added. "Whether your survival is luck—or something else."
Toki clenched his fists.
"I contacted the Church of Andromeda," the king said. "I requested their guidance. Their oversight."
A brief pause.
"They have chosen neutrality."
Smith clicked his tongue softly. "Cowards."
Mathias ignored the comment.
"Which left me," the king said, "caught between the hammer and the anvil."
He met Toki's eyes.
"I could not refuse the one condition both powers agreed upon."
Toki inhaled slowly.
"…Lilith," he said.
The woman smiled faintly.
"She has been appointed as both your evaluator," Mathias continued, "and your partner for this operation."
Toki lowered his head.
"I attempted to shield you," the king said, his voice softer now. "But even as king, my authority is not absolute."
A rare thing—regret—flickered across Mathias's face.
"I am sorry, Toki."
For a long moment, Toki remained still.
Then he knelt.
The sound of his knee striking stone echoed through the hall.
"Thank you for your efforts, Your Majesty," Toki said, head bowed. "I accept all conditions placed upon me."
Bernard's eyes widened slightly.
"The welfare of the kingdom," Toki continued, "outweighs my personal preferences."
Mathias nodded once.
"That is why I trust you."
Toki rose.
And that was when Lilith touched him.
Not subtly.
Her fingers pressed against his arm, then slid—slow, assessing—along his shoulder, his side. She circled him like a predator inspecting prey.
Toki stiffened.
"What are you—?"
"Oh?" Lilith murmured. "You healed already."
Her fingers pressed into his thigh.
"Fast regeneration," she said thoughtfully. "Exceptional muscle density."
She leaned closer.
"So the stories are true."
Toki's face burned.
"Please," he said tightly, "could you stop?"
Lilith chuckled.
"Relax," she replied. "If we're to be partners, I need to know you… intimately."
Smith pinched the bridge of his nose.
Lorelay looked away pointedly.
Before Toki could respond—
The doors slammed open.
Every head turned.
Utsuki stepped into the throne room, her presence immediate and undeniable. Elizabeth followed close behind, composed as ever—but alert.
Toki's breath caught.
Utsuki.
Relief surged through him—quickly followed by dread.
She took in the scene in a single glance.
Lilith's proximity.
Toki's flushed expression.
The unmistakable tension in the air.
Her lips curved into a smile that did not reach her eyes.
"Toki," Utsuki said sweetly. "I was informed you'd experienced something… traumatic."
She looked at Lilith.
"But it seems you're enjoying yourself."
Toki swallowed.
"Utsuki—wait—it's not what it looks like."
Lilith turned toward Utsuki with interest.
"Oh?" she said, then stepped forward and extended her hand. "You must be Toki's lady."
Utsuki hesitated for half a second—then took it.
"Lilith," the woman said brightly. "His new partner."
Her grip tightened.
"I hope we'll get along," Lilith added. "After all, Toki and I will be inseparable."
She smiled wider.
"Two peas in a pod."
Utsuki's temple twitched.
Toki noticed.
Everyone noticed.
Lilith tilted her head.
"Oh," she said. "You're quite strong."
She squeezed.
"A firm grip."
Utsuki felt the urge—sudden and violent—to rip Lilith's arm off.
She did not understand why.
Smith cleared his throat loudly.
"I spoke with Leonard," he said. "He agreed that Lilith will be staying with you for the time being."
Toki and Utsuki shared the same thought.
Leonard, are you out of your mind!?
Lilith clapped her hands.
"We'll be housemates!" she said cheerfully. "I might even request a room near yours."
She leaned toward Toki.
"In case of emergencies."
Her voice dropped.
"I'll be watching you."
A chill ran down Toki's spine.
"Let us take a walk," King Mathias said quickly. "The courtyard, perhaps."
Cold air greeted them outside, sharp and biting.
The tension did not ease.
If anything, it worsened.
Lilith walked so close to Toki's left side that their shoulders brushed.
Utsuki matched her on the right.
Each step became a silent battle.
Lilith leaned in slightly.
Utsuki leaned harder.
The result was Toki being slowly crushed between them.
Bernard, Elizabeth, Lorelay, Smith—and even the king—struggled not to laugh.
"Careful," Lilith whispered. "You're tensing."
Utsuki shot her a murderous glare.
"I don't remember inviting you," she said coolly.
Lilith smiled.
"Oh, I wasn't invited," she replied. "I was assigned."
The courtyard echoed with steel and breath, knights training amid falling snow.
Toki stared straight ahead.
Why is this my life?
Lilith leaned closer.
"Try not to sneak off again," she whispered. "I bite."
Utsuki's eye twitched.
Bernard finally lost it.
A laugh escaped him.
Elizabeth followed.
Even Lorelay smirked faintly.
Toki closed his eyes.
Somewhere deep inside, a single thought echoed:
I am on a leash.
Toki stood at the edge of the training yard, unmoving.
Snow drifted slowly from the sky, settling on armor, on banners, on the dark stone beneath his boots. His soldiers moved in disciplined lines, steel ringing against steel, voices calling cadence through frozen air. Every instinct in his body urged him forward—to correct a stance, to shout an order, to join them.
But he didn't.
The presence behind him made that impossible.
A king.
A master.
A shadow assigned to his shadow.
He folded his arms, eyes unfocused, thoughts spiraling inward.
They don't need me.
The thought came uninvited—and stayed.
Before anyone could react, Toki lowered himself and sat directly onto the snow.
The soft crunch echoed louder than any blade.
Bernard stopped mid-step.
Lorelay raised a brow.
Lilith tilted her head in interest.
Toki looked up, directly at King Mathias and Smith.
"…I think," he said quietly, "I need advice."
The king blinked once.
Then, without hesitation, he unclasped his cloak, spread it carefully over the snow, and sat down beside Toki. A heartbeat later, he lay back fully, staring at the pale winter sky as if this were the most natural thing in the world.
A stunned silence followed.
"…Your Majesty?" Smith muttered.
Mathias waved him off lazily. "If a man asks for counsel from the ground, it would be rude to answer from above."
Smith stared for a long moment, then sighed deeply.
"Madness," he grumbled—and sat down as well.
Bernard felt it then.
The weight in Toki's shoulders.
The quiet desperation in his eyes.
"I'll get hot chocolate," Bernard said quickly, already turning. "For everyone else."
Elizabeth nodded, understanding immediately.
Lorelay turned away without a word.
Even Lilith paused. Her crimson eyes lingered on Toki longer than usual. Then she shrugged.
"I will come too.."
Reluctantly, the others withdrew.
Soon, only three figures remained on the snow.
Toki.
The king.
And his master.
The wind whispered over the courtyard.
Time seemed to stretch—thin and fragile.
For a long while, no one spoke.
Toki stared at the pale sky above them, eyes unfocused, as if searching for something written between the clouds.
Then, at last, he spoke.
"Lately," he said, his voice low and carefully controlled, "I feel like I'm failing the people who rely on me most."
Neither Mathias nor Smith interrupted.
The king remained still, gaze fixed upward.
Smith's hands rested calmly against the snow, patient.
"My students," Toki continued. "My regiment."
His fingers curled into the snow, the cold biting through his fingers.
"I give orders. I teach. I fight beside them." His voice wavered for just a moment. "And yet… I feel like they would be better off without me."
The words tasted bitter once spoken.
He turned his head slightly, just enough to look at them.
"How do you do it?" Toki asked quietly. "How do you balance everything without losing yourself?"
Mathias exhaled slowly, a breath that carried years of rule within it.
"You don't," the king said simply.
Toki blinked.
"It cannot be done," Mathias continued, his tone calm but unyielding. "You will never give everyone the attention they deserve. Even if you sacrifice yourself entirely—it will still not be enough."
Smith nodded in agreement.
"But," Smith added, "what you can do is make the moments you give matter."
Toki frowned faintly, listening.
"A single moment," Smith continued, "can outweigh a thousand lessons—if it reaches the heart."
He tapped his temple gently.
"Students don't need constant correction. They need a seed."
"A thought. A direction."
"They take what you give them… and they grow their own answers."
The words settled slowly.
Mathias spoke again, voice deeper now.
"You cannot be the perfect leader," he said. "No matter how much I wish to provide prosperity for all, there are still those who go hungry."
His jaw tightened.
"If I cannot be everywhere," the king said, "then I must become something others can follow."
He turned his head toward Toki at last.
"If you want your people to walk in the light," Mathias said, "then become the sun that shows them the way."
Silence followed.
The snow continued to fall.
Smith shifted slightly.
"Toki," he said quietly, "as your master… I have doubts of my own."
Toki stiffened, surprised.
"You advanced so quickly," Smith admitted. "So far ahead of what I expected."
"For a time, I wondered whether I could still teach you anything at all."
A small, tired smile crossed his face.
"I don't say this often enough," Smith said. "But I am proud of you."
Toki's throat tightened.
"You are an extraordinary man," Smith continued. "And I am certain your people—your students—already know that."
Toki bowed his head, eyes closing briefly.
"…Thank you," he whispered.
The wind carried the words away.
But their weight remained.
When the others returned, dusk had already begun to fall.
"I'm sorry I made you wait," Toki said.
Bernard clapped him on the shoulder.
"Don't worry," he said. "Everyone needs solitude."
As night crept in, Toki watched his men depart.
He raised his hand.
They saluted as one.
Respect.
Toki's chest tightened.
"…It's time I find my students," he said. "Tora and Kandaki have been training for hours."
The king nodded.
"We'll help."
They found Kandaki first.
He stood alone at the edge of the training ground, the last traces of daylight glinting weakly off his blade. His stance was correct—too correct—locked in place as if he had forgotten how to rest.
The sword in his hands trembled.
Blood streaked down his fingers, soaking into the hilt, dripping silently into the snow below. Each drop bloomed dark red before being swallowed by white.
For a brief moment, pride filled Toki's chest.
The kind that came from seeing effort taken too far.
Then it twisted into something heavier.
Toki approached slowly, careful not to startle him. Kandaki didn't notice until Toki knelt in front of him, lowering himself to the boy's level.
The sword slipped from Kandaki's grip and fell into the snow with a dull thud.
"That number," Toki said gently, already tearing a strip from his own shirt, "was hypothetical."
He wrapped the cloth around Kandaki's torn palms, firm but careful.
"I meant repetition," he continued. "Not punishment."
Kandaki's shoulders shook.
"I wanted to," he whispered, eyes fixed on the ground. "You didn't force me."
His jaw clenched.
"I wanted to be strong like you."
The words cracked apart as soon as they left his mouth.
"I know I'm weak," Kandaki said, voice breaking. "I feel it every time I swing. Every time I fall behind." His breath hitched. "But my dream… my dream is to stand at your right."
Toki paused.
"To bring hope the way you do," Kandaki finished, barely audible. "To be someone people believe in."
The snow swallowed the silence that followed.
Toki reached forward and pulled the boy into his arms.
Kandaki froze—then collapsed into the embrace, gripping Toki's cloak like it was the only thing holding him upright.
"You are not weak," Toki said softly, one hand steady on the boy's back. "You are exhausted."
He leaned closer, voice low, meant only for him.
"Strength isn't how much pain you endure," Toki said. "Sometimes one blow can be worth 100,000 blows.."
Kandaki nodded .
Behind them, the others watched in silence.
He pulled back.
"Where's Tora?"
Kandaki froze.
"…I haven't seen her in hours."
Cold crawled down Toki's spine.
"Everyone!" Toki shouted. "Search every corner!"
Snow swallowed sound.
That was the first thing Toki noticed as they spread out.
Boots pressed into white, leaving fleeting marks that vanished almost as soon as they were made. Lantern light cut narrow tunnels through the dusk, their glow dulled by falling flakes. The courtyard felt larger now—too large.
"Tora!" Bernard called, his voice echoing weakly against stone.
No answer.
Toki moved faster, scanning every corner . Behind the stables. Between training racks. Near the outer walls, where the wind bit hardest.
Nothing.
Utsuki knelt briefly, brushing snow aside with her bare hands. Her fingers trembled.
Lorelay traced the snow with her boot, eyes narrowed. "There are drag marks here," she said quietly. "Unsteady. Like someone losing balance."
Toki's chest tightened.
They followed the marks only to see them fade beneath fresh snowfall.
"Tora!" Elizabeth called, louder now.
Still nothing.
Lilith stood apart, crimson eyes half-lidded, gaze drifting—not searching, but sensing. Her fingers brushed the air as if feeling for something unseen.
"She is close," Lilith said at last. "And not moving much."
That was not comfort.
The wind rose, sharp and sudden, scattering snow in blinding sheets. Toki pulled his cloak tighter, dread creeping up his spine with every step.
"I should've stopped her earlier," he muttered.
Utsuki heard him.
"This isn't on you," she said, though her voice wavered.
They split again, covering ground faster now. The world narrowed to breath and crunching snow, to calling names that vanished into white silence.
Then—
Toki felt it.
Not a sound.
A wrongness.
He slowed, heart pounding, eyes drawn to a drift near the far wall. The snow there was uneven. Disturbed.
"Toki?" Bernard called.
He didn't answer.
He stepped forward.
His foot slipped.
He stumbled—and caught himself just in time.
Beneath the thin crust of snow was fabric.
"Tora," he whispered.
They rushed in together, hands clawing snow aside, breath coming fast. The shape beneath emerged slowly, painfully.
Toki dropped to his knees, already tearing off his cloak as he reached her. Her face was pale, lashes crusted with ice.
She blinked.
Barely.
"I… tried to finish," she murmured, voice thin as glass. "Just one more lap…"
"I'll never run again,I have tendinitis."
Her shoulders shook.
"I tried to endure the pain… but it's over."
Toki wrapped her in his cloak.
How long have you felt the symptoms?
"Ever since the race two weeks ago.The Winter Festival race is the biggest race of the year, it's the race that proves who the strongest runner of their generation is. But now... I don't even know if I can stand on my feet anymore."
"Running has become my way of showing love to my loved ones. When I run, I can feel everyone's love, I can feel their expectations. I want to get up there and show how strong my love is. If I can't run anymore..How can I still do this?"
"I didn't know the races meant so much to you," he said quietly.
Tora clenched her fists.
"It's not just races," she said. "I ran my whole life with my grandfather."
Her voice trembled.
"When I won the autumn race… I fell in love with the feeling."
She laughed weakly.
"I won five more using your techniques."
She looked up.
"I want to win.I wanted to be the best. I want to shine like you."
Toki closed his eyes.
"It seems," Toki said at last, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands, "that you have placed expectations upon yourselves that no one your age should carry."
Snow whispered as it settled on shoulders and cloaks.
He looked at them—not as soldiers, not as disciples, but as children standing at the edge of something too vast.
"I am not strong," he continued quietly. "Not in the way you believe."
Both Kandaki and Tora froze.
The words did not match the man before them.
"I was not always this person," Toki said. "The image you follow… the resolve you admire…" He shook his head faintly. "None of it was born with me."
He pressed his palm into the snow, grounding himself.
"The dream I carry was given to me," he admitted. "Inherited from someone who could no longer carry it themselves."
Silence deepened.
Utsuki's breath caught.
Smith's gaze sharpened.
"If I were truly a good master," Toki went on, voice lowering, "I would have noticed sooner. I would have seen the weight pressing on your hearts."
He closed his eyes.
"You inherited more than my teachings," he said. "You inherited my flaws. My impatience. My silence."
His fingers curled.
"I let you chase dreams that were never yours to bear alone."
Kandaki opened his mouth—then stopped.
Tora's lips trembled.
Around them, no one spoke. Even the wind seemed to hesitate.
Toki inhaled slowly, then looked up—not at them, but at the darkening sky above the courtyard.
"I don't often speak of my past," he said. "Not because it is painful… but because it is unfinished."
Snowflakes drifted across his lashes.
"But if I expect you to face your limits," he continued, "then I must face my own."
He met their eyes once more.
"I will tell you a memory," Toki said softly. "Not a lesson. Not a warning."
"A confession."
"I'll tell you the moment when Toki was really born."
His gaze lifted skyward.
"It began long ago," he murmured, "shortly after I was born."
The snow continued to fall.
The world grew quiet.
And Toki began to remember.