Chapter 11: Isolation.
Rina rose slowly, her tears still vivid on her cheeks; however, her resolve was stronger than ever. She wiped her eyes, her gaze now fierce and resolute. "I'm not going to give up," she declared, her voice steady, yet imbued with an unwavering conviction. "I'll make you fall in love with me. I don't care about anything else—only that. I'll sacrifice everything to be with you and I don't expect you to love me back; I just want you to accept my love." Roy's expression remained unyielding, as cold as ever. Her words, sweet and sincere, seemed to resonate in the room, but he did not flinch or feel anything at all. Love—he could not even grasp it. How could he fall in love with anyone when he lacked an understanding of the very notion? A small chuckle threatened to escape his chest, but he stifled it. Instead, he sighed deeply, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "Do whatever you want. I don't really think it will work, but if I ever happen to fall in love with you... I will make your wish a reality."
Her smile (radiant and captivating) illuminated her face. She waved her long, blonde hair with a subtle elegance; her charm was undeniable. However, she then turned and walked toward the exit. There were no more words exchanged—no goodbyes. This was simply the soft echo of her steps fading into the distance. Although it was a brief encounter, it lingered in the air because of her presence.
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As Rina departed, she unexpectedly came across Grey and the doctor near the mansion's entrance (which was quite a sight). They appeared visibly astonished to see her there: their expressions an intriguing blend of confusion and respect. Grey, ever the courteous butler, bowed his head and greeted her with politeness. The doctor mirrored this gesture. Rina, however, merely nodded her head in acknowledgment because she was preoccupied with the conversation she had just engaged in with Roy. Although she said nothing as she walked past them, her thoughts were entirely consumed by that prior discussion.
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Within the confines of the mansion, Grey and the doctor entered to attend to Roy's injuries. The physician—a man characterized by a steady hand and an astute gaze—quickly evaluated Roy's state. The bleeding had intensified; therefore, he promptly commenced his work, sewing up the reopened lacerations and bandaging the wounds with the precision of one who had performed such tasks countless times before. After prescribing medication, he departed once his duties were fulfilled, leaving Roy enveloped in silence. Now bandaged and clad in a black shirt and robe, Roy positioned himself by the window of his chamber, gazing out over the city. The pain persisted; however, it was not intolerable. He turned to Grey and remarked, "Let us go to my room upstairs. I have some matters to discuss." Grey followed him silently as they ascended the staircase. Roy's room was unadorned yet spacious. A large bed occupied the center, while a study table rested by the window, which opened onto a balcony that overlooked the city. Roy had always found pleasure in sitting there, smoking and observing the world around him. He settled into a chair on the balcony, his gaze tracing the horizon as he instructed, "Grey, please retrieve a chair, a hookah and prepare me some tea."
Grey, ever the dutiful servant, nodded and departed to prepare everything. Upon his return, he arranged the chair and hookah, lighting one for himself. Roy took a deep drag from his hookah; the smoke swirled around him as he exhaled, casting his gaze over the city below. After a brief moment of silence, Grey hesitated; this was his curiosity getting the better of him. "Sir," he began, his voice tinged with hesitation, "may I ask you something regarding the princess?" Roy fixed him with an unreadable expression. "Go ahead." Grey chose his words carefully, however, the question had lingered in his mind ever since he had seen Rina earlier. "Why would someone like Princess Rina be here, in this mansion, visiting you?" Roy let out a dark chuckle. "Well, she came to offer pity to a wounded man like me. How kind, isn't she?" Grey lowered his head slightly, feeling a pang of guilt. "Oh, my apologies, sir. I didn't intend to offend." Roy waved his hand dismissively, saying, "No need to apologize. It's fine." Another puff of smoke filled the room and Grey lit his own hookah, leaning back in his chair. The faint crackle of the coal mixed with the sounds of the city below; yet, in this quiet moment, it felt as if time had come to a standstill.
Roy's voice shattered the silence once more. "Tonight, some guests will be arriving. Prepare for a feast. You can either prepare it yourself or order it from somewhere—whatever you prefer. Just ensure it's a grand affair." Grey's jaw dropped slightly, taken aback by the request. He had toiled in this mansion for six years and throughout that entire duration, Roy had never once entertained guests. Why now? Grey, however, refrained from asking. He simply nodded. "Understood, sir. I'll commence preparations immediately," Grey replied, but his mind was awash with questions. Roy remained unresponsive, lost in contemplation as he gazed out at the city. He was indifferent to the opinions of others. The individuals in the streets, the political figures, the elderly women who frequently spoke ill of him—they were all beneath his notice. He was not perturbed by their disdain. If anything, it provided him with amusement. Outside, a flock of crows soared across the sky, eventually perching on a large jackfruit tree. These black birds were a familiar sight in Narzan and most residents regarded them as harbingers of misfortune. The populace detested the crows and Roy understood this sentiment. To them, he and the crows were similar—the most reviled beings in the kingdom.
However, for Roy, the crows were not so dissimilar from himself. He had experienced ostracism, rejection and societal neglect. The manner in which individuals regarded him (with disdain) echoed the way they perceived those birds. "They're genuinely laughable," Roy thought to himself, a bitter smile creeping across his lips. Although the world could despise him as much as it wished, it was of no consequence. They were akin to the crows—soaring through existence, merely biding their time until the inevitable descent. And Roy? He would remain there, observing everything unfold, detached as ever.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone