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Already happened story > Soul Garden [Slice of life | Dark fantasy | Slow-Burn Progression ] > Chapter 18 - An idea?

Chapter 18 - An idea?

  Chapter 18 - An idea?

  It had been more than a week since Ryn began his lessons with Ariel. In that time, he had improved noticeably, most of it thanks to Lilia. He no longer fumbled with cutlery at the dining table, though his grip still earned the occasional sigh from the instructor. His words, once blunt and clipped, now carried the cadence of a polished noble, though every correction from Ariel came with a roll of her eyes. Even in conversation drills, where he had once stumbled over pleasantries, he now managed to respond with enough charm to draw a raised brow of approval. It wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

  “Ryn, you could have at least gone easy on him,” Ariel called, her tone half-scolding, half-amused, as he stumbled through another stiff dance step.

  Ryn didn’t pause, his voice calm as ever. “He outranks me. If I had gone easy, it would have been an insult. Since he requested the duel, the only kindness I could offer was to take him seriously.”

  Ariel blinked, then let out a short laugh, golden eyes glinting. “So you’re saying beating him bloody was an act of mercy?”

  Ryn’s foot dragged slightly across the floor, but his tone never shifted. “Would you rather I humiliate him by pretending he was weak?”

  She smirked, tilting her head. “I’m starting to think you enjoy making enemies.”

  He finally looked up at her, expression faint. “I don’t enjoy it. I just don’t avoid it.”

  With those words, Ryn missed a step. His boot slid too far, and in the next breath, both he and Ariel tumbled unceremoniously to the floor. The crash echoed through the chamber, her gown flaring like a banner as they landed in a graceless heap.

  Ariel rose first, brushing dust from her skirts with a sharp huff. She shook her head, golden eyes gleaming with a faint annoyance.

  “If only you were half as skilled with dancing as you are with a sword, we’d be out of this mess already.”

  Ryn pushed himself up slowly, expression as empty as ever, though the faintest frown tugged at his brow. “Unfortunately, Your Highness, I am unable to duel the dance floor.”

  Ariel’s laugh slipped out, amused. “What a shame.”

  Ryn left the training hall not long after, boots echoing faintly along the marble corridors.Servants passed in small clusters, their eyes flicking toward him, then quickly away.

  After the duel with Dolrak, Ryn had expected the stares to fade. Instead, they multiplied. Yet the looks had changed, no longer filled with disdain or fury, but with fear. It was almost the reverse of how they saw Ariel: where the Princess drew awe and reverence, he drew silence and distance. Everywhere he went, the palace staff seemed to pause, turn, or even step back as though he carried some unseen plague. His exhaustion only sharpened the effect. Dark rings hollowed his eyes, making him look less like a knight and more like a shade haunting the corridors.

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  The maids, especially, were the worst. After the disrespect they gave him a few days prior, they must have expected Ryn to enact some kind of revenge against them.

  Unfortunately for them, Ryn, weary from his lessons and drained of patience, found no reason to care. It wasn’t much different from how he’d been treated back at the barracks, or in his life before that. Being stared at, whispered about, or avoided entirely was practically a way of life. If anything, the palace staff were more polite about it; they at least tried not to kill him in his sleep.

  Ryn slouched in his chair, fighting to stay awake as Lilia droned on about the proper way to approach discussions of lineage blessings with members of royal families.

  Noticing his glazed-over expression, she tapped her quill against her notebook, her eyes flicking to him more than the parchment. Finally, she blurted:

  “…you know you look like death, right?”

  Ryn didn’t even glance her way. “Thanks.”

  “I-I’m serious!” she hissed, lips curving down as her brows knit tight. “You’ve got… bags. Huge ones. People are starting to move out of your way in the halls, like you’re some kind of walking ghost.”

  “Better than when they just scowled at me,” Ryn muttered, scratching absently at the table.

  “That’s not better!” she squeaked, a little too loud, before leaning back in with a pout. “You’re scaring the servants, Ryn. Even I nearly screamed when I saw you this morning.”

  That got him to finally turn, giving her a flat, unimpressed look.

  Her pout deepened. “Don’t give me that face, you know I’m right.”

  Ryn paused, then sighed and looked away. “I’ll live.”

  Lilia tilted her head, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “That’s exactly what someone about to collapse says.

  A silence stretched between them, the weight of it almost uncomfortable. Then Lilia shifted in her chair, fiddling with her quill before whispering;

  “Still…” Lilia’s voice softened, her words tripping over themselves. “O-once this whole Varghelm mess is over, Ariel won’t… she won’t need a personal guard anymore. Things will just… go back to how they were.”

  She twisted her quill between her fingers, gaze fixed firmly on the table. “Y-you’ll be sent back to your old post, and the three of us… we probably won’t get to talk like this as much.”

  Her lips pressed together, and when she spoke again, it was barely above a whisper. “I just… don’t want the last days we get to work together to be remembered as the time we were all half-dead from exhaustion”

  She froze mid-thought, eyes widening. The quill slipped from her fingers and clattered against the desk.

  “W-wait! That’s it!”, leaning in toward him. “T-Tell Ariel—no, both of you—M-meet me tomorrow at the courtyard at dusk! Don’t ask why, just—just do it, okay?”

  Her hands fluttered like she was trying to catch the idea before it slipped away. “Promise you’ll come. B-Both of you. It’s important!”

  With those words, Lilia gathered her books and notes in a flurry and bolted out of the room with surprising haste, nearly tripping over her own skirts but somehow managing to keep everything clutched to her chest.

  Ryn just sat there, staring at the half-open door she’d left behind. For a long moment, he blinked, then leaned back in his chair with a sigh.

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