Morning light spread slowly across the street outside the Whisper Bowl, softer than usual, as if even the sun knew this was not an ordinary day. The sounds of the city were already waking—vendors calling out, carts rolling over stone—but around the restaurant there was a brief pocket of quiet.
The Duke's carriage stood ready.
The Duke and Duchess were already there, dressed in plain but elegant commoner clothes. They had helped until late the previous night, their hands sore, their backs aching, yet neither complained even once. Now, standing still, the exhaustion finally showed—not in their bodies, but in their eyes.
They did not want to leave.
Lian An stepped forward first.
The Duchess looked at her for a long moment, as if memorizing every detail—her posture, her face, the calm confidence she carried now. Then, without warning, she pulled her daughter into a tight embrace.
