Ukraine kept everything inside.
His anger stayed hidden in the palms of his hands, clenched so tightly beneath the desk that his nails bit into his skin. The look on his father's face unsettled him deeply. It was not the face of a man making a harmless visit. It was the face of someone stepping into dangerous territory with purpose.
Ukraine had a very bad feeling.
The mission was starting to slip.
Across the room, Song had forgotten almost everything else.
The moment he saw Kro sitting on the edge of Ukraine's desk in that black dress, one leg crossed over the other, all thought scattered. For an instant he was no longer in the present at all. He was back in that university hall thirty years earlier, staring at the same woman with the same untouched beauty, the same impossible stillness in her face.
Time had done nothing to her.
Not a single thing.
His heart beat so violently it almost embarrassed him.
Kro, of course, had no idea who he was.
She stepped away from Ukraine's desk and returned to her own with calm ease, expecting nothing more than an unannounced visitor with some ordinary request.
"Welcome. Please, have a seat," she said.
"Thank you," Song replied.
He followed her, pulled out the chair, and sat down without sparing Ukraine a single glance. That, more than anything, made Ukraine uneasy. His father was pretending too well.
"First of all," Song began, smiling breathlessly, "I must apologize for coming here without an appointment. And secondly, thank you for agreeing to see me."
"It's alright," Kro said. "I was free anyway. How may I help you?"
Song's eyes remained fixed on her as if she were something sacred.
"Ah, yes. I came to thank you for giving my child a job. He's been trying to get work for years, but nobody ever saw his potential. I wanted to come in person and show you how grateful I am."
Kro blinked, genuinely surprised.
"I can't believe you have a son old enough to work for me. You look like you should have a ten-year-old daughter instead."
Song laughed with open pleasure.
That compliment landed exactly where he wanted it to. He had spent years taking care of himself for reasons he rarely admitted aloud. Hearing those words from Kro made every ounce of effort feel suddenly worthwhile.
"I hired a number of men recently," Kro said. "Now I'm curious. Who is your son? What's his name?"
Ukraine went still.
This was it.
He could already see disaster rushing toward him. He wanted nothing more than to physically zip his father's mouth shut and drag him out of the office before he ruined everything.
Instead, Song smiled and lied without hesitation.
"My name is Fang. Mr. Fang."
Ukraine's mind nearly collapsed.
His father had just invented an entirely new identity in front of both of them.
"But I can't tell you which one is my son," Song continued smoothly. "I'm very sorry. If he finds out I came to thank you personally, he'll be furious with me."
Kro accepted that with a polite nod.
"I understand. Thank you for being grateful enough to come. That's rare. Other parents have come here to threaten me for giving their babies jobs."
Song frowned theatrically, "What? Some parents did that to you? Why? This is the best company in Knnew Republic. Who wouldn't want their child working here?"
"Them, apparently," Kro said dryly.
"Some parents," Song repeated, as if testing the idea.
"Exactly."
He kept looking at her, waiting, hoping, searching for even a flicker of recognition.
Nothing came.
Kro did not remember him.
Not even a little.
Song was being forced back to the beginning.
Ukraine could not bear another second of watching them sit there like that—his father devouring her with his eyes, Kro unaware, the whole room tightening around him. He grabbed his tablet, stood abruptly, and crossed to Kro's desk.
"Boss," he said, perhaps a little too sharply, "it's time for your next appointment."
Song turned his head, offended at once.
"We were still talking."
Ukraine kept his gaze on Kro.
"I know, sir. But perhaps we can schedule this properly for another day. And next time, please make an appointment before showing up. It's protocol. She's a busy woman."
Kro looked up at him in surprise.
That tone was new.
He did not sound timid or flustered. He sounded tense. Almost protective. She turned her eyes toward 'Mr. Fang' and found a small smirk resting at the corner of his mouth.
"Your assistant?" Song asked.
"Yes," Kro said. "And he's right. You'll need to do that next time, okay?"
That answer hit a nerve.
Song had expected her to gently dismiss Ukraine and continue the conversation. Instead, she had sided with him instantly. It was a tiny thing, but it stung with ridiculous force.
He rose with stiff pride.
"It was nice talking to you," he said. "I'll take my leave now. I hope I see you again sometime… outdoors."
Kro gave a polite smile.
"Sure. It can happen."
Song nodded once and left.
The office door closed behind him.
Kro looked back at Ukraine.
He still looked wound tight, like a string pulled too far. She wanted to ask about it, but something in his face told her this was not the moment.
So, she said nothing.]
...
Azaradan
The Palace
Kro stood beside General Qin before the king and the crown prince, both of them bowing with their heads lowered.
Neither of them had expected to be summoned at that hour. The call had come suddenly, offering no explanation, and now they stood in the royal chamber with unease settling quietly between them.
Buk, meanwhile, saw almost nothing in the room except Kro.
He had rehearsed this in his mind from the moment he left his father's quarters. Every part of the path had been imagined already. All he needed now was for the king to speak the words.
King Bukka cleared his throat.
"General Qin. Captain Kro. I know this summons was unexpected, but I hope I did not interrupt anything serious."
"No, my king," Kro answered at once. "You are always our priority."
Buk smiled at the sound of her voice.
"As you know," the king continued, "my son has returned. And soon, he will be crowned king of Azaradan."
The prince lifted his chin slightly, though his eyes stayed fixed on Kro.
"When I asked him his greatest wish," Bukka said, "he told me he needed a guard. One guard to stand beside him, protect him, and make him feel safe in this kingdom. It is difficult for a man to make wise decisions when he feels threatened, so first he must feel secure."
General Qin bowed deeper.
"We are at your service. What do you require of us to make the crown prince feel safe?"
The king answered without hesitation.
"He wants Kro to be his guard."
General Qin's head snapped up, "What?"
Even Kro, though still bowed, felt surprise ripple through her body. She remained silent, wisely leaving the matter between the king and her father.
"My king," Qin said, struggling to keep his voice steady, "with deepest apologies, I do not believe this is wise. Kro cannot leave the army to guard the crown prince. She is the captain. Our best fighter. She trains the soldiers, arranges strategy, leads the warriors. She cannot abandon that position."
"I've already discussed that problem with my son," the king replied. "We have an arrangement. Because Buk enjoys walking at night, Kro will remain with the army during the day and perform all her duties as captain. From sunset to sunrise, she will guard the prince."
Qin's worry sharpened.
"And when war comes? Will she leave the crown prince unguarded to fight? Or stay with him while the army rides out?"
"She will fight," Bukka said. "But for now there is no war at our borders. Let us try this." Then his tone softened. "What do you say, my friend?"
General Qin glanced at Buk.
And that was when he saw it.
The way the prince was looking at Kro.
It was not the look of a man speaking of strategy or safety. It was warmer than that. Hungrier. Too focused.
A red flag rose in Qin's chest at once.
But he was still the king's general. And Bukka was still his closest friend and ruler.
So he bowed.
"Let us try it, my king."
Bukka smiled broadly.
"I knew I could count on you."
A short distance from the palace, General Qin pulled Kro aside into a quiet corner.
The moment they were alone, the strain broke across his face.
"Can you do it?" he asked.
Kro nodded.
"I can. It only means I won't come home often. But I'll be alright."
Qin searched her face.
Then, lowering his voice, he said, "I'm not supposed to say this… but I saw the way he looked at you."
Kro was confused, "Who? The king?"
"The crown prince." The words came hard. "I know that look. And that is why I need you to remember who you are."
He stepped closer.
"You are not some weak girl made to wander gardens and carry flowers. You are a warrior. You were born to hold a sword. Do you hear me?"
Kro straightened.
"Yes, Father. I hear you. I won't disappoint you."
Qin's expression softened just slightly.
"I trust you, Kro. And I love you."
Her face warmed.
"I love you too, Father."
He nodded, then turned away with a heavy heart.
He had spent too many years building toward one outcome to let anything undo it now.
Too many sacrifices.
Too many lies.
Too many dreams stitched together with blood.
And if protecting that dream required more brutality still, then so be it.
...
Present
Restaurant
"What are you going to have?" Kro asked.
She and Ukraine sat across from each other with menus in hand while the waiter stood patiently beside their table.
Ukraine glanced over the list one last time.
"I'll have white rice, spicy walnut shrimp, steamed vegetables without carrots, and gyoza for appetizers."
He handed over his menu.
Kro looked impressed.
"Alright then. I'll have a whole chicken soup, a small white rice, and lots of salad."
The waiter collected both menus and stepped away.
Ukraine stared at her.
"I didn't know you were such an eater."
Kro lifted a brow, "I'm just hungry. We can share the appetizers, if that's alright with you."
"It is."
As they waited, Ukraine took in the restaurant around them. He had never been there before. The place was elegant in an old-fashioned way—traditional details softened by a modern polish. It was beautiful, and not the sort of place he would have expected Kro to bring him.
Then Kro set her elbows lightly on the table and looked at him.
"So. What was that this morning?"
Ukraine blinked, "You mean with that parent?"
"Yes. You showed me a whole new side of yourself."
He tried to sound casual, "I was just doing my job. He came in without warning, and you had another meeting scheduled, so I interrupted like I should have."
Kro tilted her head. "You looked irritated."
"No. I looked impatient. I didn't want you blaming me for not stepping in earlier."
She held his gaze a moment longer.
Then, quietly:
"You did a good job."
Ukraine smiled, "Thank you."
Their food arrived soon after.
Kro rubbed her hands together with visible satisfaction as the dishes were placed down. Then, to Ukraine's surprise, she closed her eyes and bowed her head for a silent prayer.
He watched, startled.
When she opened her eyes again and picked up her spoon, he asked, "I didn't know you prayed."
"I do. I always pray."
Ukraine leaned in a little, "To what god?"
Kro looked up at him with open amusement, "The one above, of course. Why are you surprised?"
He chose his words carefully, "You just don't seem like the believing type."
Kro scoffed lightly, then stirred her soup once.
"I wasn't," she admitted. "But Loro was. One day I took her to church, and she told me, 'Do what I do, and believe.' So she knelt on a bench, and I did too. She closed her eyes, and I did too. Then she said, 'Tell Him what you want.'"
Kro smiled faintly at the memory.
"So I looked up and saw a statue of a woman carrying a child. I told her what I wanted."
She lifted the spoon and tasted her soup.
"The next morning, I got it."
Ukraine stared.
"Oh. Wow. And since then you started going?"
"Every Sunday."
He nodded slowly, more intrigued than before.
Then Kro asked, "Tell me something. When was the last time you felt truly happy? Extremely happy."
Ukraine smiled crookedly, "Do you want me to be honest?"
"No," she deadpanned. "I want you to lie."
He laughed.
"Then in that case, I've always been happy. And I was extremely happy the day I got a job at your company."
Kro smiled. "How has working for me been? Is it hard?"
He set down his spoon and met her eyes.
"Do you want honesty this time?"
"Yes."
He took a breath.
"Working for you has been a rollercoaster. It's hard. Nerve-racking. But most of the time… it's fun." Then he added, "Except for the part where you split the butterfly in half."
Kro burst into laughter.
He had known that would be the thing she remembered most clearly.
"It was terrifying," he said.
"It was only a butterfly."
"Exactly," he replied. "Why do you hate them so much?"
The laughter disappeared from her face.
Her spoon returned to the soup, slowly stirring once, twice.
Silence settled.
Ukraine immediately regretted the question.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"
"Someone used to love butterflies," Kro said quietly.
She kept her eyes lowered.
"Someone I cared about very deeply."
Ukraine fell silent.
"She broke my trust," Kro continued, "and broke my heart into a thousand pieces."
Her voice was controlled, but only just.
"It was the worst betrayal I've ever known. So whenever I see a butterfly… it feels like seeing her. And I kill it."
She paused.
"I'm sorry for what you saw that day. Let's hope it doesn't happen again."
Her head remained bowed, but one tear slipped free and landed softly on the table.
Ukraine saw it.
And with that single drop, he understood more than he wanted to.
There was a reason her face had always looked burdened in every old photo. There was a reason her beauty never seemed light or easy. Somewhere inside her was a wound so old it had become part of her shape.
And whatever the full story was—
This was only the edge of it.
...
Ministry of Archeology
Minister Akeshi was nearly done for the day when his secretary stepped in.
"Sir, your daughter is here."
He looked up in surprise.
"Misaki? Let her in."
A few seconds later, Misaki entered and closed the door behind her.
She did not smile.
She did not greet him warmly.
She walked straight to his desk, pulled out the chair, and sat with a seriousness that unsettled him at once.
"Misaki, you could have just come home—"
"I wanted this conversation here."
His brows drew together.
"Why here?"
She met his eyes.
"Why did you come to my office and make a scene?"
Akeshi's expression tightened.
"You could have stayed home too, right? Why did you embarrass me? Why does me having a job bother you so much, Dad?"
He groaned softly.
"Is this why you came—"
"You don't know how it feels, do you?" she cut in. "So I'm here to help you feel it."
Akeshi sat up straighter.
"Misa—"
"I'm going to walk out that door," she said, pointing toward it, "go stand in the lobby, and pretend I'm drunk. Everyone here knows who I am. Let's see how you like it when your daughter makes a scene in front of the whole ministry."
His face drained.
"Misaki, don't."
"What? That's exactly what you did at my workplace. I'm only returning the favor."
She stood.
"Misaki, stop right there!"
She reached for the door.
"Good luck with the gossip, Minister."
Then she walked out.
Akeshi shot to his feet so quickly the chair nearly fell backward. His bodyguards looked up the moment he rushed from the office like a man fleeing fire.
He jabbed at the elevator button repeatedly, sweating so hard it ran down his face.
His mind filled instantly with humiliating images.
Misaki laughing in the lobby.
People whispering.
Phones out.
Rumors spreading.
His carefully built reputation splintering in public.
The elevator took less than two minutes.
It felt like torture.
By the time the doors finally opened at the lobby, he was half out of his mind. He kept calling her phone, but she would not answer. He shouted so loudly his own guards began looking at him with alarm.
Then he stepped out.
And found—
nothing.
The lobby was perfectly normal.
No crowd.
No scene.
No Misaki.
Just the ordinary rhythm of the building.
He stopped.
Before he could process it, his phone buzzed in his hand.
A text.
From Misaki.
His fingers trembled as he read it.
Now imagine how it feels when you embarrass me. Take care, I love you Dad.
For a second, all sound left him.
Then rage surged back through him with twice the force.
He hurled the phone to the ground.
The sharp crack made everyone in the lobby stop and stare.
His breathing turned ragged.
His humiliation curdled instantly into hatred.
"So," he said through clenched teeth, loud enough for no one and everyone at once, "after you gave her a job, now you're turning her against me?"
His eyes burned.
"You asked for it, Kro."
His voice dropped, harsher now.
"You just did."
***