Bab 24: Truth

The morning sun climbed higher, its rays piercing through the room's narrow window and illuminating the dust swirling in the air. The faint sounds of the bustling city outside filtered in—vendors calling out, distant chatter, the occasional clatter of hooves on cobblestone. Yet within the room, the tension was so thick it drowned out everything else.

"Alex, we need to go," Lyra said, her tone sharp, cutting through the heavy silence. Her grip on his wrist tightened, her urgency evident. "The guards are coming. If they find us, it's over."

Without waiting for his response, she turned and tugged at his arm, heading for the door. Her steps were quick, calculated, her gaze darting around the room as though expecting danger to burst through the walls at any moment. But just as they reached the threshold, Alex stopped.

The abruptness of it threw her off balance, his arm suddenly immovable, like iron rooted to the floor. Confused, Lyra turned to look at him, her brow furrowing.

"Alex, what are you doing?" she demanded, her voice rising slightly as panic began to creep in. "We don't have time for this! Move!"

But Alex didn't budge. He stood there, unmoving, his head bowed slightly, his hair obscuring his face. For a moment, it was as though he hadn't heard her at all, his presence eerily detached. Lyra gave his arm another sharp pull, but it was like pulling against a statue.

"Alex!" she snapped, louder this time. "They'll kill us if you—"

Her voice died in her throat as Alex slowly lifted his head. When their eyes met, she froze.

He was grinning. Not a grin of amusement or relief, but something far stranger. His lips curved too widely, his teeth bared in a way that felt almost predatory. But it was his eyes that truly unsettled her. They weren't filled with fear, anger, or even determination—they burned with an intensity she couldn't place, like a flame that had been ignited in the depths of his mind.

For a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear, the sounds of the city fading into a muffled hum. The room felt colder, the sunlight no longer warm but stark, casting Alex in sharp relief.

"Alex...?" Lyra's voice was quieter now, wary. She loosened her grip on his wrist, stepping back instinctively, though her feet felt heavy.

He chuckled, a low sound that didn't belong in the tense stillness of the room. His shoulders shook slightly, but his gaze never left hers.

"Why are you so afraid, Lyra?" he asked, his tone oddly calm, almost casual. "You are the princess of this kingdom, aren't you? Why are you afraid of the guards when they are coming for you? Or are you not the princess and deceiving me?"

Lyra's eyes widened at his words, her expression hardening. She took a step back, her movements deliberate and precise, as though preparing to defend herself if necessary.

"So, you are being chased by the capital guards for doing something, right?" Alex said, his voice low and laced with mock curiosity. His grin lingered, though it no longer carried the mirthless edge from earlier. Instead, it was calculating, as if he were piecing together a puzzle in real time.

"Say, what did you do or I will hand you over to the capital guards."

Alex's smirk froze on his face as he heard a quiet sound—soft, almost imperceptible. A sniffle. His eyes snapped to Lyra just as her knees buckled, and she sank to the floor. The movement was sudden, almost too quiet, as if the weight of the world had finally pressed down on her.

She folded her legs beneath her and buried her face between them, her arms wrapping tightly around her knees. For a moment, Alex stood motionless, his mind racing to process the scene before him. Then he saw it—the faint glisten of tears streaming down her cheeks, catching the sunlight like fragile crystals.

Her voice, trembling but steady, began to fill the room. "My uncle… he was always ambitious. Always looking for more, even when he already had power. When my father—the Emperor—started falling ill, it was only a matter of time before the throne became vulnerable."

Her shoulders shook slightly as she spoke, her fingers clutching the edges of her sleeves tightly. "I thought he was just waiting, just preparing for the inevitable transition. But I was wrong. He didn't wait. He didn't care about tradition or law. He only cared about himself."

The faint echo of boots outside faded into the background as Alex listened, his arms crossed as he leaned back slightly. Lyra continued, her voice thick with emotion.

"He staged a coup. Poisoned my father, silenced my mother, and used the royal guard to lock down the capital. No one stood in his way. No one dared. And those who did… they're gone now." She paused, taking a shuddering breath. "I barely escaped. A maid—a loyal one—smuggled me out of the palace before they could… before they could find me."

She raised her head slightly, her tear-streaked face turning toward Alex, her eyes hollow. "Now I'm nothing. No title, no power, no home. Just a fugitive running from the people who once swore to protect me."

"So, it really was true," Alex thought, his grin fading into a subtle smirk as his mind worked through the pieces. "She's being chased by the capital guards, but in the end, she must have something to do with royalty. Figures. This whole thing feels straight out of an anime or manga."

He let out a small huff of amusement, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. "Anime really comes in clutch at moments like this. The old 'runaway princess' trope. If I hadn't acted, if I hadn't gambled on my hunch… maybe I'd be the one in danger.."

His eyes flicked to the window, where the sunlight framed the edges of the room, its warmth unable to chase away the cold reality settling in his chest. "Most of the stories I've read go like this: the princess is being hunted down by her uncle who stole the throne. She's running, desperate, and then… she meets the protagonist. They team up, face danger, and by the end, they're destined lovers."