Emma’s lips curved faintly as she caught sight of the feline figure at the window.

  “Awake already,” she murmured softly.

  The sleek black cat didn’t move at first. Its glowing blue eyes fixed on her with a calm, consuming light, silent for a heartbeat before its mouth opened. A deep voice, unfitting for such a harmless creature, rolled into the quiet room.

  “Why?”

  Emma, who had shifted her focus back to the white dress she had chosen to wear, raised her head slightly. “Why what?” she asked, her tone even, though her fingers smoothed the fabric as though pretending she hadn’t noticed the weight of the question.

  The cat’s expression shifted, its fur bristling with the faintest irritation. “Stop acting like you don’t know the question. You know exactly what I am asking, and you are deliberately playing ignorant.”

  A sigh escaped Emma; her shoulders dropped lightly as though she had carried this exchange a thousand times before. “I would love to say the same of you, but….” she replied, her voice faintly trailing off. She paused, glancing at him before lifting her hand in a quiet gesture for the cat to turn away so she could change.

  The cat sneered inwardly, its tail flicking once against the window frame, but it obeyed, turning its head aside.

  Emma loosened the towel from her frame, the soft fabric falling away as she slipped into the white dress. The gown draped smoothly over her figure, its purity reflecting the faint light of the room. She carried the discarded towel into the bathroom, dropping it neatly, before returning to straighten the bed with careful motions. The box was set at the side, her fingers pressing the lid down before she sat back on the edge of the mattress.

  “Alright,” she said quietly, brushing a strand of silver-white hair behind her ear. “I’m done.”

  The cat turned back, its glowing eyes unreadable. It watched her with a gaze that revealed nothing, and Emma lifted her chin slightly, staring back at him with equal calm.

  Finally, she answered the question that had lingered since his first word.

  “I didn’t want to erase your memories of who you were,” she said. Her voice carried no hesitation. “I didn’t see it as a problem, since it would serve more as a punishment for someone like you.”

  For a moment, silence filled the room. The cat, Matana, did not speak. The weight of her words sank into the quiet like stones settling deep underwater.

  Then, slowly, his mouth curled into a sinister smile.

  “You know that with this,” Matana said, his voice low but steady, “I can easily be free from being your sentinel as time passes by.” His eyes glowed brighter, almost pulsing. He knew that beings like him and Emma, whose very existence was their own to determine, could not be forever trapped beneath someone of the same existence, especially when they held the knowledge of what they truly were.

  Emma’s lips curved slightly, the faintest smile flickering across her face as though she acknowledged his words rather than resisted them. Her white eyes, calm but sharp, rested on the feline figure at the window.

  “I know that,” she said softly, her voice steady, “and I also know you’re more knowledgeable than me. Sooner or later, you’ll return to your prime, and maybe by then you’ll have already broken free from being my sentinel.”

  She paused, the silence between settled before she continued.

  “But I don’t really care. You see, I don’t plan on keeping anyone at my side who can’t choose or think for themselves.” Her hand smoothed the edge of the white dress on her lap. “You might call that foolishness,” she added, “but that’s what I want… at least for now.”

  The words settled in the room, the air between them still and heavy. For a long breath, neither moved. Then Matana’s sigh broke through the quiet, his glowing eyes narrowing as his fur rippled faintly with irritation.

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  “What a foolish child,” he muttered, his voice thick with disdain. Inwardly, he resisted the urge to bury his paw against his face.

  Emma’s brows pinched slightly, her lips pressing together before she let out a soft sound, almost a scoff. “I’ll say the same of you.” A faint hmph! escaped her, sharp but quiet.

  Matana’s sneer twisted into his voice. “What’s the same? Did you think I would act as foolish as you did?”

  “You did act foolish,” Emma retorted. “If not, then why did you give up so easily in the battle inside the artificial dungeon? You could have kept on. You have a strong will, but you easily gave up like a fool.”

  Her voice sharpened as her fingers curled lightly against the fabric of her dress. “And don’t even start saying it was because you were weakened. That doesn’t matter. Not too long ago, an Eradicator was defeated, yet it willed itself back into existence. Now, just imagine if I tried to make that one my sentinel. Do you think it would have agreed that easily? No. It wouldn’t. I would have to struggle with little hope of success. Because it didn’t will it."

  Her eyes locked firmly on his, unblinking. “Now look at you. Did you think It would have been easy to make you my sentinel if you hadn’t foolishly backed out of the battle and simply given up?”

  The words struck sharper than Matana expected. His glowing gaze faltered, and for the first time in the exchange, silence bound him. His ears dipped ever so slightly, and he looked down at his paw, the glow in his eyes dimming as Emma’s words pressed into him harder than he wanted to admit.

  Emma’s gaze lingered on him, and as she watched the silence weigh down, she realized her words may have cut deeper than she intended. Her expression softened, a trace of regret dimming her eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured, her voice low as though trying not to disturb the stillness. She rose slowly from the bed, the white folds of her dress brushing against the wooden floor with each step. “I didn’t mean to say more than I was supposed to.”

  Her bare feet carried her closer to the window where Matana sat perched, his black fur shimmering faintly in the glow of the pale light outside. She paused beside him, her fingers lightly brushing against the sill as she looked out. “I only wanted you to understand,” she continued gently, “that I’m not doing this because I’m foolish… or anything like that.”

  Her words faded as the sound of laughter and playful voices rose from outside. Drawn to it, her unique white eyes narrowed slightly as she focused through the frosted glass.

  Below, in the snow-covered street, two children, about her age, were bundled in thick coats. One of them, a boy with an eager grin, was brushing snow out of the other’s dark hair.

  “Alright, alright, I’m sorry for hitting it on your hair, Vanessa,” the boy said, still smirking as he held out a round ball of snow to her.

  The girl, Vanessa, accepted the ball only to toss it aside carelessly. She folded her small arms across her chest and gave him a sharp hmph!

  The boy blinked at her, confused. “Why? Why’d you throw it away?”

  “Don’t ask, Yuam,” she replied firmly, turning her head aside. “I chose not to pay you back. Because I don’t want to.”

  Yuam’s brows furrowed as he tried to understand. “Isn’t that foolish? What if I hit you again because you didn’t hit me back?” His smile lingered, but there was genuine curiosity in his tone.

  “That’s your choice, not mine,” Vanessa answered without hesitation. Her chin lifted stubbornly. “I don’t care what you do. All I want is for you to come see how they make the frost cream, so you’ll feel what I felt when it was made.” She grabbed his arm suddenly, tugging him along. “Come on, let’s hurry, or we’ll miss it.”

  From above, Emma’s lips curved into a faint smile as she watched the two vanish into the lively snow-filled street. Their small exchange, so simple yet so stubbornly personal, struck something quiet in her.

  Her voice returned in a whisper, more certain this time. “I just feel like… this is the decision that’s right for the moment.”

  Beside her, Matana’s glowing blue eyes dimmed into something unreadable. His whiskers twitched faintly before he let out a long, tired sigh.

  “If that’s what you want, then it’s your choice,” he said, his tone flat yet carrying an edge. Slowly, his gaze lifted to hers, a dark smile tugging at the corners of his feline mouth. “But don’t think anything can ever change me. You’d better be ready… because at any moment, I might just flip the coin.”

  Even as his words lingered, his body began to unravel, dark frost breaking away from his form in drifting shards that dissolved into the cold air. The sight was both beautiful and foreboding, his figure fading like smoke in the wind.

  Emma only smiled faintly, her silver hair brushing against her cheek as she turned her head toward him. “I didn’t plan on changing you anyway,” she replied softly. “And don’t worry about me. I’ll be ready the moment the coin flips.”

  Matana, his form almost fully dissolved, gave one last sneer. “Who said I was worrying about a mortal?” His voice was sharp, carrying a final bite as the frost particles scattered.

  Emma’s laughter came quietly, escaping her lips as the swirling frost particles danced briefly around her, circling her figure like fleeting shadows before seeping into her chest where they belonged.

  Her gaze lifted again to the snowy sky outside. Evening was creeping in, the once-bright light dimming into shades of cold twilight. The sky carried a weight of anticipation, the quiet before something greater.

  “When evening comes…” she whispered, her white eyes reflecting the dimming horizon, “it’ll be time to meet the queen.”

  The Queen of the Xin Region.

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