One-Shot Transmigration: Sorry I'm Here To Ruin Your Happy Ever After-Chapter 144: Behind closed doors, the crown means nothing (2)
I am begging you.
Please help me.
I do not know what help looks like anymore.
Advice, protection, intervention—anything.
You are the only person he listens to, the only name that still holds power over him. I know it is cruel of me to burden you with this.
I know I am asking for something dangerous.
But I am desperate, and I am afraid.
If I stay here like this, I will be destroyed.
Please... do not ignore this letter.
Lady Syris.
Syris folded the letter slowly, smoothing the creases with hands that still trembled. For a long moment she simply stared at it, as if committing its weight to memory.
Then she slid it beneath the false bottom of her jewelry box, pressing until it clicked back into place.
Only after she was sure it was hidden did she allow herself a shaky breath.
Radomir had forbidden her from sending letters, forbidden leaving the castle.
He had even forbidden her from speaking too freely to servants.
The walls had ears, and fear had taught her how to move quietly within them.
But there was one person Radomir did not notice.
A child was invisible to a king obsessed with heirs and power.
Syris wiped her eyes, rinsed her face with cool water, and changed into a simple cloak, nothing regal, nothing that would draw attention.
She counted out a few coins from her private stash and tucked them into her sleeve. Her heart pounded as she slipped the letter free again and hid it against her ribs, bound by fabric and resolve.
If this failed, she didn’t want to imagine the consequences.
She waited until the corridors settled into their late-afternoon lull, when courtiers withdrew and guards grew lazy with routine.
Then she moved, her steps light, posture lowered. She wasn’t a queen anymore, but a woman moving through shadows.
The stable sat at the edge of the inner grounds, close enough to be monitored, far enough to be overlooked.
The smell of hay and animals reached her before she crossed the threshold, grounding her in something real, something alive. She pulled her hood lower and slipped inside.
"Gael," she whispered.
A moment passed.
Then a head popped up from behind a stack of straw.
"Syr—" The boy stopped himself instantly, eyes widening. He scrambled to his feet, brushing hay from his hair. "My lady.." he corrected in a hurried whisper, bowing awkwardly.
She smiled despite herself. "I told you. When it’s just us, you don’t have to do that."
Gael grinned, bright and unabashed, blonde hair sticking out in every direction.
He couldn’t have been more than twelve, all elbows and enthusiasm, clothes a size too big and patched at the knees. "Old habits.." he said cheerfully. "You’re not supposed to be here."
"I know," Syris replied softly. "That’s why I need your help."
His expression shifted immediately, seriousness settling over his youthful features. "Is something wrong?"
Syris hesitated. She had sworn to herself she would never drag him into danger. Never make him part of Radomir’s cruelty.
But there was no one else.
She knelt so they were eye to eye. "Gael... I need a letter delivered. Somewhere far from the castle."
His eyes flicked toward the entrance instinctively. "The king said—"
"I know what he said," Syris interrupted gently. "And that’s why I can’t ask anyone else. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t important. If it weren’t... necessary."
Gael swallowed. "Is it dangerous?"
"Yes," she said honestly. Then, softer, "But I would never ask you to do something I thought would get you hurt."
He considered her words in silence, brows furrowed in concentration far beyond his years.
Then he straightened. "Who’s it for?"
She drew a slow breath. "Kaizar Amagi."
Gael’s eyes widened. "The one from the trial?"
She nodded. "Yes. I need you to deliver to his estate, he lives with his husband, governor Meical at the Vukasin estate.."
He glanced around once more, then leaned in. "I can do it. I help the stable hands bring supplies in and out. No one checks on a harmless little boy.."
Syris’s chest tightened painfully. "You don’t have to.." she said, even as hope bloomed treacherously in her chest. "I won’t think less of you."
"I know.." Gael replied simply. "But you’re kind to me. And you’re sad. And the king..."
He trailed off, jaw tightening. "He scares people. I don’t like him."
She reached out and cupped his cheek briefly, affection and fear tangling together. "Thank you.." she whispered. "But you must be careful. If anyone asks—"
"I don’t know anything." Gael said promptly. "I just clean and feed the horses. I am a small child and have bad memory."
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped her. She pressed the coins into his palm and slipped the folded letter after them.
"Only give it to him. No one else. You can use the coins for transportation and food."
Gael nodded solemnly and tucked both into his shirt. "I’ll do it tomorrow morning."
Syris stood, heart pounding, dread and relief warring inside her. "Gael... if anything happens—"
He shook his head fiercely. "Nothing will. I promise."
Syris held him again, with a gentle smile on her face. "When I regain my freedom. Would you like to leave with me? I will take you far away from this place."
Gael smiled, his warm smile just as radiant as the sun in the sky.
But Gael seemed brighter in this moment.
"Yes, when you are leaving please take me along with you. I do not have many belonging.."
As she slipped back toward the castle, the weight of what she had done pressed heavily on her chest.
She had taken a risk she could not undo. All she could do now was wait and pray that her desperation would not cost the only innocent soul she trusted.
Gael barely had time to steady his breathing before a sharp voice cut through the stable.
"Gael!"
His shoulders stiffened.
The boy turned just as a broad figure stepped into view between the stalls,a senior stable hand, old enough that the younger workers called him Master out of habit rather than rank.
His boots thudded against the stone floor, eyes already narrowed in suspicion.
"Why are you standing around?" the man demanded. "That bay hasn’t been fed yet."
Gael’s heart leapt into his throat.
In one smooth, panicked motion, he slipped his hand inside his shirt, shoving the folded parchment and coins deeper between the layers of fabric and the loose bindings at his waist.
He forced his face into something innocent, something harmless, the way he always did.
"I—I thought I heard a noise, mister," he said quickly, pointing vaguely toward the far end of the stable. "Like something fell. I just came to check on it."
The man grunted, unimpressed. "This isn’t a place for imagining things. Horses don’t feed themselves."
