Ocean received the regular report from the shadow teams he had assigned to both Princes. The information was relayed succinctly, stripped of emotion and speculation—exactly how he preferred it. On the surface, everything was proceeding as expected.

Almost.

The only deviation was the incident involving Carlos.

"He managed to get past the guards?" Lyall repeated, a faint edge of disbelief creeping into his otherwise steady voice.

They were in Ocean’s office within the Ryujin mansion, the space illuminated only by a handful of low-burning mana lamps embedded into the walls. Their pale blue orange reflected faintly off the polished mahogany desk that dominated the side of the room.

The hour was late, deep into the night and the mansion itself had long since fallen silent.

Lyall stood before the desk, posture rigid, hands clasped neatly behind his back. Ocean remained seated, one elbow resting on the arm of his chair as he listened.

"Apparently," Ocean replied, his tone calm, almost detached, "he was stealthy enough to climb over the railing of his balcony and then jump off the fence of the mansion. After that, he ran until he disappeared into the crowd in town, slipping past even our guards."

Lyall’s brows drew together into a sharp frown.

"I’ll conduct a training session for the guards once they return," he said at once, irritation tightly leashed beneath professionalism.

Ocean didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, the faint creak of finely crafted wood breaking the silence. His fingers came together, steepled lightly beneath his chin as his gaze drifted toward nothing in particular.

"Or," he said at last, voice quiet but deliberate, "it wasn’t Carlos."

Lyall stiffened.

His eyes sharpened, and though his face remained composed, his fists clenched behind his back.

Ocean’s gaze remained distant, unfocused, as though he were replaying fragments of an unfinished puzzle in his mind.

"I suspected my mana stone might not be sufficient," he continued. "But to think Carlos would allow the demon to take over just to create a diversion... a deliberate goose chase. He also returned the next morning and slept in."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier.

Lyall said nothing. He knew better than to interrupt when Ocean was thinking aloud.

"I won’t interfere," Ocean went on, his tone cooling further, "not while the Trial is ongoing. However-"

His eyes shifted at last, locking onto Lyall with sudden clarity.

"Send one of Oasis’s team leaders to keep an eye on Carlos," he ordered. "I’ll provide a tracking device. If he attempts something like this again, I want to know immediately."

Lyall straightened and bowed, crisp and precise.

"Whom should I send, Master?"

Ocean considered the question for only a moment.

"Send Alyssa."

Lyall nodded once, committing the order to memory, before turning and exiting the office without another word.

The door closed softly behind him.

Ocean remained seated for a long while after, the quiet pressing in from all sides. Eventually, he rose to his feet and crossed the room, the hem of his coat whispering against the stone floor.

Without looking back, he left the office and made his way toward his chambers, his thoughts already several steps ahead of everyone else.

Ocean plopped onto his bed without bothering to remove his mana devices. The metal and crystal pressed coldly against his skin, but he didn’t register the discomfort. He lay there, staring up at the ceiling, one arm thrown over his eyes.

Something felt... off.

His body was heavy in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Not illness—this wasn’t the sharp weakness that had seized him the last time he had collapsed. There was no dizziness, no pain curling in his veins, no warning signs flaring through his mana pathways.

Just exhaustion.

The kind that settled deep, weighing down his limbs and slowing his thoughts, as though the night itself had decided to rest upon his shoulders.

He exhaled slowly. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Staying here would be easier. Letting the bed claim him, letting the stillness swallow him whole. For a brief moment, he even considered it.

But there was a hollow pressure in his chest that refused to ease.

A void, quiet, persistent, stretching wide enough that no amount of rest could fill it. Every time he tried to close his eyes, the emptiness pressed back, keeping him awake, alert, restless.

He didn’t want silence.

He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts.

Ocean lowered his arm and stared at the ceiling once more before clicking his tongue in mild irritation- at himself more than anything else. With a sharp breath, he pushed himself off the bed.

The decision was instant once made.

He crossed the room in a few long strides and vaulted through the balcony window without hesitation. Cool night air rushed past him as he leapt downward, his body moving on instinct alone. The invisible set of three pairs of angel wings unfurled behind him, cushioning his descent before he redirected his momentum forward.

A heartbeat later, he was already moving—roof to roof, shadow to shadow—his trajectory set unmistakably toward the Aurelius mansion.

He didn’t question why.

He just knew he needed to be somewhere else.

Somewhere occupied.

Somewhere that wasn’t empty.

Ocean didn’t go to Reina’s room.

Instead, he hovered outside the windows of his family’s quarters, the night air still and unwelcoming around him.

He drifted first to his father’s window.

Arthur lay asleep inside, his expression finally unburdened, the steady rhythm of rest softening the lines that worry had carved far too deeply into him. The sight made Ocean pause.

His eyes lowered.

He couldn’t bring himself to go in.

Arthur was always carrying the weight of Reina’s safety, always alert even in exhaustion. Waking him in the middle of the night- just because Ocean felt unsettled- would only add another invisible stone to his shoulders.

That wasn’t what he wanted.

It was better to let him sleep.

Better to leave him untouched by the restlessness Ocean couldn’t seem to shake off.

He pulled away silently and moved on.

Rune’s window came next.

Ocean barely needed more than a glance.

Rune was awake—seated upright, engaged in quiet conversation with Celestia. Their voices didn’t reach him clearly, but their presence together was unmistakable.

Focused. Whole.

Ocean turned away at once.

There was no place for him there either.

With nowhere else to go, he rose higher into the moonless sky, the darkness stretching wide and empty around him. He drifted aimlessly, neither flying with purpose nor stopping, suspended between decisions he didn’t want to make.

Faint echoes brushed the edges of his mind- soft prayers, distant reverence, the hum of faith offered to the authority of the Dragon God’s name.

He frowned.

That wasn’t what he wanted.

He didn’t want devotion.

He didn’t want hushed awe or careful distance or the constant pressure of concern wrapping around every interaction.

He just wanted to exist beside someone who wouldn’t weigh him down with worry.

Someone who wouldn’t look at him like he was something fragile, or divine, or dangerous.

Minutes passed as he floated there, detached, like a lone planet cut loose from its orbit.

Eventually, almost without realizing it, his descent began.

When his feet touched stone, Ocean blinked and looked up.

He had landed on the balcony of someone he wasn’t supposed to go to.

The person inside the room was asleep—but not deeply.

The moment Ocean’s presence brushed against the space beyond the balcony, the man within stirred, senses snapping awake before thought could follow.

Ocean remained where he was, standing still on the balcony. He didn’t open the window. Didn’t knock. Didn’t move an inch, as though crossing that final boundary required permission he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Inside, Davian Montaire jolted upright.

For a brief, disoriented second, his mind refused to process what his instincts were screaming at him. His heart was already pounding by the time he swung his legs off the bed, eyes locked onto the shadow just beyond the glass.

He rushed to the window and pulled it open.

Ocean stood there.

Alive. Real. Close enough to touch.

"Master...?" Davian frowned slightly, his gaze darting over Ocean as if confirming he wasn’t imagining things.

Something was wrong. He could feel it immediately, the stillness in Ocean’s posture, the way his presence felt... muted. But before Davian could form the words to ask, his body betrayed him.

He reached out and wrapped his arms around Ocean.

The realization came only after.

He had missed him.

Ocean’s eyes closed the moment he was pulled in. The warmth seeped through him instantly, steady and grounding. He rested there, unmoving, listening to the rapid, uneven heartbeat thudding beneath Davian’s black silk shirt.

It was loud. Fast.

Alive.

Comforting.

Davian waited, expecting arms to return the gesture but when they didn’t, he slowly loosened his hold. He pulled back just enough to look down at Ocean’s face, searching for his eyes.

"Master, are you-" he began, concern sharpening his voice.

"I’m tired," Ocean said quietly, cutting him off.

Davian stilled.

"I’m going to sleep here," Ocean continued, his voice even but subdued. "If you don’t mind."

Davian’s jaw dropped.

He blinked once.

Then again.

"Yes- what?" The words tumbled out before he could stop them.

Ocean lifted his gaze at last. "I’m tired," he repeated. "I thought I’d sleep here. But if you mind, then-"

He turned away.

Davian reacted instantly, grabbing Ocean’s hand before he could take even a step.

"No-no. Wait!" Davian almost shouted, the sound cracking with panic.

Ocean turned back.

Davian released a shaky breath, forcing himself to inhale deeply, then exhale—once, twice—until his nerves settled enough to function. He stepped aside and gestured inside, voice softer now.

"Please... come in."

Ocean stepped through the window and into the room.

It was large, but sparsely furnished. The Montaire family’s capital mansion carried the same restrained elegance as Frosthail—clean lines, muted colors, and very few accoutrements. No excess. No clutter. Nothing that suggested indulgence.

Just space.

Ocean felt Davian’s hands settle on his shoulders—steady, careful—and he let his arms fall loose at his sides. He didn’t resist as Davian gently peeled the long coat with the Dragon’s insignia from him, lifting it free with the kind of practiced ease that came from familiarity rather than habit.

The weight leaving his shoulders made Ocean exhale without realizing he had been holding his breath.

Davian’s fingers moved next to the communication brooch pinned at Ocean’s cravat. He unclasped it deftly, loosening the fabric before setting the brooch down on the vanity nearby, placing it with deliberate care, as if ensuring it wouldn’t intrude on the quiet that had settled between them.

His hand lifted again, this time toward Ocean’s ear.

Ocean caught his wrist.

It wasn’t forceful. But a quiet refusal to be parted with this one hint of his identity.

Davian froze for a heartbeat, then nodded once, understanding without needing words. He let his hand fall and stepped back, abandoning the thought entirely.

With a small gesture toward the bed, he invited Ocean forward.

Ocean crossed the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He leaned forward, reaching for his boots, but before his fingers could even brush the leather, Davian was already moving.

He went down on one knee in front of him.

The motion was so natural, so unhesitating, that it made Ocean still. Davian’s hands worked gently, loosening and removing the boots one by one, his touch careful, almost reverent.

Ocean found himself staring down at him.

Not because he was surprised, but because something about the sight made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t have words for. Davian didn’t look up right away, focused entirely on what he was doing, as though this simple act mattered.

When the boots were finally set aside, the silence lingered- unbroken, heavy, and oddly safe.

Once he was done, Davian placed the boots neatly to the side and rose to his feet. He reached for a pillow from the bed, tucking it under one arm as if the decision had already been made.

"Then, have a good night, Master," he said with a small, careful smile.

Ocean’s brows knit together almost immediately.

"Where are you going?"

Davian hesitated—just a fraction—before answering. "I’ll... sleep in the next room. I wouldn’t want to disturb you."

Ocean let out a slow breath, fatigue bleeding into it.

"I didn’t come here to kick you out of your own room, Davian."

Davian blinked, clearly caught off guard. His gaze drifted instinctively to the sofa near the far wall, and he lifted a hand to point at it.

"Then I’ll take the sofa."

Ocean followed his line of sight.

Then looked back at Davian.

At his height. His broad shoulders. The sheer impossibility of him fitting there without folding himself in half.

"And where," Ocean asked flatly, "will the rest half of you sleep?"

Davian tilted his head, genuinely confused. "Pardon?"

Ocean sighed again, quieter this time and shifted on the bed, scooting decisively toward one side. The movement was unhurried, final.

"You’re on this side," he said.

For a moment, Davian’s mind simply stopped.

Every thought collided at once and went nowhere. His grip tightened on the pillow as he stared at Ocean, processing lagging several seconds behind reality.

"Eh?"