Carlos POV

The forest was supposed to be safe.

That’s what the knights had insisted when we entered the dense stretch between the border and Larak Academy. But the moment the sky darkened with the screech of beasts, I understood how wrong they were.

The fight was messy—too fast, too chaotic. One of my guards took a full blow to the chest, collapsing with a sickening thud. I had a scratch across my cheekbone, hot blood running down my face, but I stayed standing. Barely.

“Your Highness, fall back—!”

Another knight shouted, trying to shield me as the final monster lunged.

Then—light.

A burst of gold split through the trees, warm and divine, forcing the creature back. The air shifted, humming with a power I had only read about in ancient scripts.

And then I saw her.

A girl in a hooded cloak ran toward us, her steps controlled, confident. Behind her, her escort knights quickly formed a barrier.

“Move,” she ordered softly, kneeling beside my fallen guard.

The voice was gentle, but steady enough that my knights obeyed without question.

Her hands hovered over the injured man, and then—her eyes glowed.

A radiant, shimmering gold.

My heart stopped.

Only one lineage in the entire continent had such eyes.

The divine-blooded royals of Sammang.

She was in disguise—clearly—but there was no mistaking it.

The glow from her hands seeped into the injured knight’s wound. The torn flesh began knitting itself back together as if time itself bent to her will. The man gasped, breath returning to him, color flooding back into his face.

I stared like a fool.

When she finished, she turned to me next.

“You’re injured. Let me see.”

“It’s nothing,” I tried to say—then regretted it when she lifted her head, and I saw her eyes again. Not glowing now, but bright, clear, and breathtaking.

She reached out anyway.

Her fingers brushed my cheek, warm and feather-light. The golden light bloomed again, softer now.

The sting faded.

The blood dried.

My heart… did the opposite.

For the first time in my life, I forgot who I was supposed to be.

The cold, calculating Crown Prince of Yakthung.

The heir burdened by politics and duty.

The boy taught never to trust anyone.

All of that melted away under her touch.

“Thank you,” I murmured, voice embarrassingly low.

She blinked, startled—as if she wasn’t used to gratitude.

Then she smiled.

And that was it.

That moment—mud on my boots, blood on my face, monsters still twitching on the ground—I fell. Harder than any blade could cut, deeper than any wound could reach.

She stood, ready to leave, her cloak fluttering in the wind.

“Safe travels to the Academy,” she said, bowing politely.

Before I could ask her name, she was already walking away, golden eyes dimmed, hidden beneath her hood.

But I already knew.

I would find her again.

Even if it meant walking through ten forests full of monsters.

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