That silent night, beneath the moonlight tinted with blue, Carlos stood in the center of the grand royal chamber, engrossed in aligning the heavy, embroidered drapes and arranging the royal bed's pillows with utmost precision.
His hands did not tremble, and his eyes watched every detail as if a single flaw could shatter the room's balance.
It was his ritual before the return of his master… Valerian.
He gently wiped the surface of the dark polished wood desk, then paused to glance at a small painting on the wall—two crossed daggers over painted flames—the symbol of the family, the symbol of honor.
Suddenly…
Without sound… without warning…
Axel appeared.
He emerged as if breathed into being by the very air, standing near the balcony, his slender frame leaning slightly, his smile still carrying a trace of boyishness.
"It's been a while, Carlos…"
He spoke in a soft voice, filled with a strange warmth.
But Carlos didn't move.
