* * *

The carriage, which had been speeding along the road, gradually slowed down.

Perhaps they had reached their destination.

Faint cries of seagulls, known to frequent the harbor, drifted into the air.

Nael clung to a sliver of hope—maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he bolted out of the carriage alongside Killian.

He needed a way to evade Killian’s watchful eyes, which seemed as unyielding as the gatekeeper of hell.

Brushing away the lingering tears at the corners of his eyes with his fingers, he knew the first thing he needed to do was dress himself.

“Your Grace… May I… have some clothes?”

Killian shrugged off his jacket and draped it over Nael’s shoulders.

The man’s shoulders were so broad that even this single piece of clothing managed to cover half of Nael’s thighs.

While it wasn’t ideal without trousers, it was better than nothing.

“We’ve arrived,” announced the coachman.

This was Nael’s only chance to escape.

He steadied his breathing, filling his lungs with the salty sea air.

Before boarding the ship, he had to find a way to slip away.

Once they set sail, there would be no second chance.

His heart pounded furiously, hammering against his chest.

The door to the carriage opened, and Killian stepped out first.

His large, broad frame moved with such weight that Nael felt the entire carriage tilt, though it was likely just his imagination.

Even after Killian’s boots touched the ground, the door remained open.

“Are the preparations complete?” Killian asked.

“We’re ready to set off immediately,” someone replied.

“Bring him.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“And—”

Now.

This was the moment.

As Killian issued further instructions to his men, Nael sprang into action, darting out of the carriage.

He moved like a squirrel escaping a cramped cage, his steps quick and nimble.

The ground was wet, and each step sent splashes of muddy water flying in all directions.

Nael didn’t dare look back, nor did he know where he was running.

He simply kept moving.

The jacket flapped wildly, its buttons still undone.

Nael held it tightly around his body to conceal himself as best as he could.

His stiff muscles, uncooperative after being cooped up in the carriage, burned with each movement.

His thighs felt heavy, slowing him down.

The bustling and chaotic harbor seemed to absorb the sound of Killian’s voice calling out for him—if he was even calling at all.

Nael could only hope he wasn’t.

The harbor was a labyrinth of large wooden crates scattered everywhere.

Dockworkers hurried back and forth, and Nael had to weave his way through them.

He didn’t have the luxury to glance back; the mere thought of locking eyes with Killian’s piercing gaze froze his legs.

He kept his focus ahead, intent on putting as much distance between them as possible.

Once he was far enough, he planned to hide and wait until the area quieted down.

He could figure out the lack of trousers later.

For now, he clung to the thought of escape, forcing himself to think positively.

“Ack!”

A fisherman carrying a crate full of fish was startled by Nael’s sudden appearance and dropped his load.

The wooden crate shattered upon hitting the ground, and fish flopped about wildly on the wet surface.

The fisherman let out an angry shout.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”

“I—I’m sorry!”

Under normal circumstances, Nael would have stopped to help clean up and check if the man was hurt.

But now, he had no time to spare. Just as he turned to flee, the fisherman grabbed him by the arm.

Nael froze, startled by the unexpected turn of events, and tried to free himself.

But the fisherman’s grip was as strong as a sailor braving rough waves.

“Where do you think you’re going? You need to pay for this!”

“I… I can’t right now. Please, I’ll come back later, I promise…”

The fisherman tugged at Nael’s jacket sleeve, refusing to let go.

For a brief moment, Nael considered abandoning the jacket and running, but with nothing underneath—not even a shred of underwear—it wasn’t an option.

The delay left him frantic, his emerald eyes welling up with tears.

“Please, let go…”

“Ha! Look at this! Did you steal this fancy jacket too? Covered in jewels, and it doesn’t even fit you. Hey, everyone! Get over here! I’ve caught a thief!”

The fisherman’s booming voice quickly drew a crowd.

People gathered around Nael, their curious stares zeroing in on him.

It was impossible not to notice the man dressed in an expensive, jewel-adorned jacket, with bare legs and no shoes.

Surrounded, Nael’s heart sank.

He tugged desperately at his sleeve, trying to free himself from the fisherman’s grasp.

“Please… Don’t… Let me go…”

“You little brat! Take that off! Where’d you steal such a fine piece of clothing?”

As Nael struggled to keep the jacket on, his trembling lips pleaded silently for mercy.

But the fisherman’s grip was unyielding.

Something slimy squished under his foot, and Nael recoiled in horror, losing his balance.

He fell to the ground with a loud thud, his jacket flying open.

His half-exposed body, smeared with mud, was on full display.

Around him, fish flopped about on the ground.

The crowd gawked at the humiliating scene.

Flushing red with shame, Nael hurriedly pulled the jacket closed, but it was too late.

Fingers pointed, whispers spread, and laughter erupted around him.

His pale face burned with humiliation, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Move aside!”

The clinking sound of swords and armor silenced the commotion.

A group of knights pushed through the crowd, forcing people to step aside.

At the end of the path they created stood Killian, his face dark with shadowed intensity.

Unable to meet Killian’s gaze, Nael lowered his head in shame.

One of the knights approached the fisherman, speaking with a commanding tone.

“What’s going on here?”

“This… this scoundrel ruined my day’s work! Look at him! Wearing such fine clothes that clearly don’t belong to him, strutting around half-naked in broad daylight. He must be mad!”

After hearing the story, the knight tossed a gold coin at the fisherman, the clinking sound silencing his protests.

The fisherman, eyes wide with greed, picked up the coin reverently.

“That’s for the fish. Now leave.”

“Ah, thank you, kind sir—”

“Go.”

The fisherman scrambled away, clutching the gold.

The knight turned to Nael and extended a hand.

“Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to… Please, help me. I beg you…”

“His Grace is already displeased. It would be in your best interest not to provoke him further and to follow quietly. His patience doesn’t last long.”

“I…”

Nael attempted to voice his refusal once more, but a knight let out a small sigh and slipped his hand under Nael’s arms, hoisting him upright as if it were an effortless task.

It was as though he were picking up a tantrum-throwing child from the floor.

Nael shook his head in resistance, stumbling backward.

The onlookers had already been dispersed by the knights, leaving only Nael, the knights, and Killian, who observed everything with a calm yet penetrating gaze.

Killian’s voice resonated low and deep, carrying a weight that silenced everything around it.

“Aiden, bring him here.”

The knight addressed as Aiden obeyed without hesitation, grabbing Nael firmly.

One arm dragged him forward while the other pushed against his back.

Nael tried to plant his feet firmly, but the strength disparity was insurmountable.

His legs scraped against the ground, leaving small wounds, but the pain didn’t register.

As he was pulled closer to Killian, Nael cried out, his voice escalating in desperation.

“I don’t want to go! Please, no!”

The spectators clicked their tongues in disapproval but offered no help.

* * *