The courtyard was blanketed in an oppressive silence, broken only by the soft, rhythmic patter of raindrops against the earth. The rain danced over the leaves of the trees, creating a melancholic melody that filled the air. From behind the tree, Astia peeked out cautiously. Her gaze landed on Arxil, who stood motionless amidst the greenery. Rain poured over him, soaking his clothes and dripping steadily from his hair. His eyes remained fixed on the ground as though he were entirely detached from the world around him.

"Arxil..." Her trembling voice barely rose above the sound of the rain.  

There was no response. He didn’t flinch or lift his head. His silence weighed heavier than the rain, pressing down on the atmosphere with an almost tangible force.  

"Are... are you okay?" she asked hesitantly, her voice softer this time.

The muffled sound of Astia’s voice finally pulled me out of my daze. It was as if her words, "This isn’t you," had dispelled the shadows that had consumed me. I found myself staring blankly at the wet grass beneath my feet. My hands trembled as fragmented memories of the moments before replayed in my mind—dark and vivid.  

The image of the dagger in my hand was crystal clear. The way its shadowy blade had sliced across Astia’s soft, pale skin, leaving cruel, bloody marks... it was a memory that refused to fade.  

The sound of her shaky voice reached me again, snapping me back to reality. Her words carried a mixture of fear and concern that I didn’t deserve to hear. Slowly, I raised my head, though my shame kept me from meeting her eyes.  

"Brother... are you okay?"  

She took a cautious step toward me, despite the pain I had inflicted on her.  

When I finally dared to look at her, the sight before me felt like a blow to my chest. Her once pristine white dress was now torn and covered in mud, her skin bruised and scratched. Red stains marred the fabric, evidence of the harm I had caused. Yet, even in this state, her gaze was steady, filled not with anger but with worry.

Astia took a hesitant step forward from behind the tree. Arxil, still standing in place, slowly lifted his head. Every movement of his felt deliberate, weighed down by an unseen burden.  

"You’re... badly hurt," he said quietly, his tone heavy with regret.  

She said nothing, her eyes locked on him, watching for any sign of his next move.  

"Come here. Let me heal you," he offered, taking a single step toward her.  

Instinctively, she stepped back, her body recoiling on its own. Arxil froze, recognizing the invisible wall that had formed between them. Raising his hand gently, he spoke in a softer tone than she had ever heard from him before.  

"I don’t want... to hurt you."  

Astia’s breathing slowed, her fear momentarily tempered by his words. Taking a small step forward, she watched as a faint light began to emanate from Arxil’s hands—a soft, gentle glow reminiscent of Ayleran’s healing powers. Within moments, her wounds disappeared, leaving no trace of the pain she had endured.  

Now, it was Arxil who began to retreat. Each step he took seemed to distance him not just physically but emotionally, as if he were trying to escape both Astia and himself.  

"I... I’m sorry," he whispered.  

"Brother..." Astia’s voice quivered with a mix of confusion and sadness.  

"Please, stay away from me. I don’t want to hurt you again—not like today." His voice trembled, a reflection of the internal turmoil threatening to consume him.  

Before Astia could respond, Arxil turned sharply and walked away, disappearing into the Star Hall. She remained behind, standing in the rain that continued to fall relentlessly.

A conversation unfolded between Ayleran and Arin as they delivered their daily reports to Ryan. The topic of discussion was Arxil, whose unexplained absence had begun to raise concerns.  

"My brother’s lost it again. He hasn’t left his room in days," Ayleran said, his tone filled with frustration.  

"Maybe something’s going on that he isn’t telling us about," Arin suggested.  

"I don’t know, but he’s definitely more withdrawn than before," Ayleran replied.  

Astia, who had been present to deliver her own report, overheard their words. A heavy guilt churned inside her. She knew the reason behind Arxil’s behavior but chose to remain silent.  

Ryan nodded thoughtfully as he listened to his sons. "Try to figure out what’s troubling him before Ayleran’s birthday," he instructed.  

"Birthday?" Astia’s surprised voice drew everyone’s attention.  

Ryan offered her a gentle smile and explained, "In two weeks, it will be Ayleran’s birthday. People from across the empire will gather at the royal palace. I’d like you to stand by his side as his younger sister."  

"That’s amazing!" Astia exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.  

Her enthusiasm caught Ryan off guard but also seemed to please him. He appeared content to see his adopted daughter growing closer to his family.  

"Astia," Ryan continued, "this will be your first royal celebration. I’m sure you’ll fall in love with everything about it."  

Arin, brimming with even more excitement than Astia, turned to her with a wide grin. In contrast, Ayleran remained indifferent, his expression revealing little more than a faint, artificial smile.