CHAPTER 370: THE COLLISION

She’s not y-! Cassandra stopped abruptly, cutting herself off.

She’s not what? Aman asked, curiosity piqued.

W-well... Cassandra floundered for a moment, searching for a plausible excuse. She certainly couldn’t say ’she’s not you’.

Well... She’s still so young, and she’s been... down, since your ’death’. She’s handling it, but she’s still a kid at heart.

...Yeah, Aman nodded, a shadow of guilt passing behind his eyes. That’s true.

But don’t worry, Cassandra added, her tone softening with genuine reassurance. She will be fine.

I am sure she will, he agreed, a small, grateful smile returning to his lips. She’s got you after all.

Mmm, Cassandra nodded, sneaking another glance at Aman. The glimpse of his true self had faded, but the memory of it lingered, a warm, unsettling echo in her chest.

They continued their walk, the conversation easily flowing from the practical to the playful. They discussed the immediate plan — escorting them to Derier City, his own impending departure from the Keep — and ventured into lighter topics about the future. Occasional teasings were a language in themselves, a way to say things they weren’t ready to voice aloud. Eventually, they circled back to the castle for a final lunch with the group.

Afterwards, they set out for Derier City and arrived there about three hours later. Aman, taking the lead as usual, secured two high-quality rooms at a reputable inn near the city center.

After settling in, they realized they still had a few hours of spare time before dinner.

"Well," Aman said, breaking the silence. "Since we’ve got some time to kill, how about taking a proper look around the city?"

Cassandra looked at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "That’s a good idea. Where are we going then?"

Aman shrugged. "We can just walk. But if you have somewhere you want to go, just say so."

Cassandra exchanged a glance with the Princess, who gave an affirming nod.

"Alright, then let’s walk around while we think of where to go," Cassandra said.

"Good. Let’s go then."

Aman led the way, falling naturally into the role of their guide. The first thing he did was steer them toward a street vendor selling sizzling meat kebabs, the savory smell impossible to resist. He bought one for each of them, and for a few minutes, all conversation stopped as they enjoyed the simple, delicious food right there on the bustling street. Vance, usually so stoic, looked genuinely pleased, and the Princess ate hers with a focused delight that made her look her age.

Fueled by their quick meal, they continued. Aman didn’t follow a strict plan. He seemed to navigate by instinct, leading them down a lane known for its bookbinders, where Cassandra spent a long moment admiring the tooled leather covers. He then guided them through a vibrant market square where colorful bolts of fabric fluttered in the breeze. Here, he surprised Cassandra by pointing out a deep blue silk shot with silver threads.

"That would look good on you," he said offhandedly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Since when are you an expert on fashion?"

"Since I started traveling with someone who has expensive tastes," he shot back with a grin, but he still ended up buying a small, finely woven hair ribbon from a nearby stall and handing it to her without ceremony. She accepted it with a quiet "thank you," her fingers brushing against his for a second longer than necessary.

For the Princess, he bought a small, hand-painted whistle from a toy maker, a simple trinket that made her eyes light up. For Vance, it was a practical gift — a new, sturdier whetstone from a blacksmith’s supply stall. Vance accepted it with a serious nod, the equivalent of a beaming smile from anyone else.

They weren’t grand gestures, just small, thoughtful things that showed he’d been paying attention. It didn’t feel like a guided tour; it felt like four friends simply exploring together, sharing discoveries.

Cassandra found herself relaxing, her usual sharp edges softening. She’d tease him about his sense of direction, and he’d retort by pointing out the most convoluted legal contract he could find posted on a notice board, saying it reminded him of her business proposals.

Even Princess Aurelia seemed to shed a layer of her royal reserve, laughing freely at their banter. Vance, walking a half-step behind them, wore a look of quiet contentment, his usual vigilant posture more relaxed.

As the sun began to dip lower, casting long shadows across the cobblestones, the group made its way back to the inn. The mood was light, filled with the easy comfort of a day well spent.

After returning to their rooms to wash up and change into fresh clothes, they met again in the main hall for dinner.

"Huh, you got vegetables too? Didn’t you hate them?" Cassandra asked, eyeing his plate.

"What do you mean by hate? We half-elves are almost as vegetarian as elves!" Aman protested, spearing a carrot with his fork.

"Hmph! But you wouldn’t eat them when I cooked?!"

"Um... Well, I was on a strict... protein-centric training regimen back then?" he offered with a weak grin, knowing the excuse was flimsy at best.

Cassandra opened her mouth to deliver what was sure to be a scathing retort when she stopped. The lively chatter of the dining hall was fading, dropping into an unnatural hush. The sound of their own banter suddenly felt too loud.

"..."

They both looked up, their playful argument forgotten. Their eyes met across the table, a silent question passing between them. Then, as one, their gazes shifted toward the inn’s entrance.

Tap.. Tap..

A man and a woman had just stepped inside. The man was handsome in a polished, aristocratic way, his clothes expensive but understated. The woman beside him was elegant, her posture perfect, her eyes scanning the room with a discerning, detached air.

’Carmine?!’

The name echoed in Aman’s mind like a struck bell. Of all the people to run into here...

’Urgh...’ Thankfully, he managed to keep his face a mask of neutral curiosity, but his instincts were screaming. A quick glance at Princess Aurelia confirmed his worst suspicion. She had gone rigid, her face pale. However, it wasn’t Carmine she was staring at.

It was the man.

The man’s eyes swept the room and landed on their table. A charming smile spread across his face.

"Oh, Aurelia! Is that you?" he called out, his voice cutting through the silence. "What a fortunate coincidence."

’...Her brother.’

’...The Crown Prince.’