The Burden of the Curse
The first few days after the Curse of Reflection awakened were awkward, painful, and surprisingly sweet(maybe).
Hayate, the young King, was forced to learn a terrifying truth: his soul was now intertwined with Neshuda's. If Neshuda suffered, Hayate collapsed. Their destiny was sealed, just as the priest had warned.
The royal physicians kept Hayate's condition secret, knowing that news of a King who bled whenever his guard twisted an ankle would cause a panic.
In the secluded royal quarters, the atmosphere was heavy.
Neshuda, usually so strong and defiant, was filled with guilt and fear. He walked with agonizing care, terrified of causing Hayate pain.
"I told you to send me away," Neshuda muttered one evening, watching Hayate pace with a nervous frown.
Hayate stopped and looked at him, his charming smile strained. "And I told you it's too late. You are my Guardian now, Neshuda. Your job is to protect me. My job is to protect you from hurting yourself."
He walked over and gently touched Neshuda's bandaged ankle. Neshuda flinched, not from pain, but from fear.
"It's healing well," Hayate confirmed, his healing aura naturally working on the wound. "But we need to figure out how to live with this. We can't hide you in my room forever."
The Palace Escape
Hayate decided they needed a distraction. The Citadel was too confining, too full of worried eyes.
"We are going out," Hayate announced the next afternoon, tossing Neshuda a simple tunic and a cloak.
"Out? Where?" Neshuda asked, instantly suspicious.
"To the village. I promised you the palace life, and that includes the good parts. You're going to try the famous almond cake from Barrackwall Town."
Neshuda, despite his intense loyalty, was still not used to Hayate's casual, pure-hearted way of breaking rules. "Your Majesty, you can't just walk out of the Citadel!"
"Watch me," Hayate teased, mirroring Neshuda's words from their first meeting.
Hayate disguised himself simply, wearing a fine cloak that hid his royal finery. Neshuda, now walking more easily, pulled his hood low over his dark hair.
They snuck out through the Royal Stables, just like the night they met. As they left the massive fortress of the Aurekawa Citadel, Neshuda felt a sudden lightness he hadn't realized he missed.
A Taste of Freedom
Barrackwall Town was the closest civilian town to the Citadel, a bustling place full of merchants and simple wooden homes.
Neshuda was quiet at first, observing everything—the smells of spices, the loud chatter of the merchants, the children chasing dogs in the street. Hayate watched Neshuda, fascinated by his intense focus.
They stopped at a popular bakery. Hayate bought two almond cakes.
"Try it," Hayate urged, pushing the sugary pastry toward Neshuda.
Neshuda took a small, careful bite. His expression, usually so grim, softened. He took another, larger bite, then quickly devoured the rest.
Hayate laughed, happy to see Neshuda genuinely enjoy something. "See? The outside world isn't all pain and whips, Neshuda. Some of it is cake."
Neshuda looked at Hayate, a small, genuine smile forming. "It's... the best thing I've ever tasted."
Hayate felt a small warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the sun. It was the feeling of watching someone you care about find joy. This was the moment Hayate knew their bond went deeper than the curse.
The Spark of Jealousy
Their peaceful moment was interrupted by a palace guard they recognized—a young man named Torvin, who Hayate was mentoring.
Torvin rushed up, his eyes wide. "Your Majesty! You shouldn't be here! It's too dangerous!"
Torvin was tall, handsome, and fiercely loyal to the Angelic bloodline. He immediately focused his attention on Hayate, ignoring Neshuda completely.
"The nobles are restless," Torvin urged, speaking formally. "You must return. They are questioning your commitment to the throne."
Hayate sighed, annoyed by the interruption. "I am fine, Torvin. I simply needed air. And company."
Torvin's gaze finally flicked to Neshuda, taking in the stranger's rough tunic and guarded posture. Torvin immediately stepped closer to Hayate, positioning himself as a shield.
"It's unwise to be seen with this... stray, Your Majesty. It only feeds the rumors. Please, let me escort you back."
Hayate felt the tension snap in the air. He felt a sharp, burning discomfort in his chest, not the searing pain of the curse, but something hot and unsettling.
Neshuda, sensing the insult, moved instantly. He didn't draw a weapon, but his whole body shifted, ready to fight. His eyes narrowed, reflecting a deep, dangerous flash of jealousy.
This guard thinks he can come between the King and his sworn protector?
Neshuda stepped slightly in front of Hayate, making it clear who stood closest to the King.
Hayate recognized the feeling in his own chest instantly: it was what Neshuda was feeling—an intense surge of possessiveness and anger towards the person trying to divide them. The curse was reflecting Neshuda's emotional suffering.
Hayate quickly placed a hand on Neshuda's arm, calming him. "Torvin, Neshuda is my sworn Guardian. He stays. Thank you for your concern, but we will return when we are ready."
Torvin bowed reluctantly, his eyes lingering on Neshuda with open suspicion before he left.
As soon as they were alone, Neshuda looked at Hayate with alarm. "Did you feel that? In your chest?"
"Yes," Hayate admitted, rubbing the spot where the burning feeling had been. "That was... possessiveness, Neshuda. You were angry that Torvin tried to separate us."
Neshuda looked away, his cheeks flushed. "It was... protective instinct," he mumbled. "Nothing more."
But Hayate saw the truth: their souls were bound, not just by pain, but by deep, intense attachment.
A Place to Stay...
The incident, though small, confirmed two things: they couldn't stay apart, and they couldn't be seen together easily.
Back at the Citadel, Hayate solved the problem. He gave Neshuda a small, quiet suite of rooms connected directly to his own by a secret passage that only the two of them knew about.
"This is your official quarter," Hayate announced. "You are officially part of the palace staff. But you will spend most of your time here, where we can be alone."
Neshuda surveyed the rooms. They were simple but elegant, the first true home he could remember.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Neshuda said, his voice unusually soft.
Hayate, tired of the formality, walked over and messed up Neshuda's hair playfully. "Stop calling me Your Majesty when we're alone. It's Hayate. We are stuck together, Neshuda. You might as well get comfortable."
Neshuda swatted Hayate's hand away, but his lips curled into a reluctant smile. "Fine. Hayate."
They settled into a rhythm. Hayate would handle the daylight politics, and Neshuda would train privately, always reporting back before sunset. Their moments together were peaceful, filled with quiet conversation, shared meals, and the easy comfort of deep, shared dependence.
But the peace couldn't last. The kingdom was fragile, and the shadows were already gathering. Hayate knew the true challenges of his reign—and their dangerous bond—were just beginning.