Nearly an hour passed with Leroy alone beneath the winter sky.

  The cold pressed against the stone terrace while distant torches flickered along the walls of the Kingdom of Prisian, their light trembling against the night like fragile constellations bound to earth. Snow drifted softly across the courtyard, settling into silence that felt heavier than the music still echoing inside the estate.

  Behind him, a door opened.

  Starmist stepped out.

  “So here you are,” she said lightly. “I thought you might have fled to Mainland in defeat against the cold.”

  She came to stand beside him, yet Leroy offered no reply. Together they gazed across the distant fortress, its battlements glowing beneath scattered flames.

  The quiet lingered too long.

  To fill it, Starmist spoke of a prince who had proposed earlier that evening. A young man scarcely older than Elysius, earnest and awkward, whose confession she had declined with gentle firmness.

  Leroy listened while continuing to drink.

  “Leroy,” she said, glancing toward him, “you are listening, yes?”

  His face had flushed beneath the alcohol’s warmth. He wiped his mouth, placing the nearly empty bottle on the stone floor.

  “Just accept him Starmist,” he said.

  She frowned slightly.

  “You are tired,” Leroy continued, voice heavy. “Tired of the council. Tired of carrying policies that feel… less human than they should.”

  Starmist stepped back, confusion edging her tone.

  “What has gotten into you?”

  “It is my duty,” she said quietly.

  Leroy blinked slowly, eyes weighed down by both drink and thought.

  “Since the day we met… and after Lucretius’ tragedy,” he said, “there are moments when I wonder. So many people love you. Yet none of those feelings are ever returned.”

  “That is…” she hesitated. “Coincidence. I simply do not love those who love me.”

  Leroy let out a faint breath.

  “When nearly every noble admires you and you feel nothing in return, coincidence becomes difficult to believe.”

  Her expression cooled.

  “Are you accuse that I play with their feelings?”

  “No,” Leroy said. “You have always been this way. But years have passed.”

  “Because I refuse to build a life with someone I do not love,” she answered.

  Inside the estate, laughter and music continued, yet the sound felt distant, muted by the space between them.

  “Perhaps,” Leroy said quietly, “you prefer the admiration of many to the devotion of one. That is your choice, Starmist. I have always supported your path.”

  He moved past her, beginning his descent down the stone steps.

  Snow crunched beneath his boots.

  “One more thing,” he added without turning back. “Be cautious of Sicilia. I believe her envy toward you has not faded.”

  The words lingered in the cold air long after he had taken another step away, leaving Starmist alone beneath a sky where falling snow blurred the boundary between silence and thought.

  The stone steps glistened beneath frost.

  Leroy descended without care, boots slipping once as his balance faltered. The alcohol blurred his coordination, yet he refused to turn back. Behind him, Starmist’s gaze lingered on the empty bottle he had left behind.

  “How much of that did you drink?” she asked.

  He did not answer.

  She followed, the distance between them shrinking with every step while northern winds swept across the terrace, carrying their voices into a space where no other guests remained.

  “Why you not answer me?” Starmist raised her voice, though the storm of air ensured only Leroy could hear.

  He turned abruptly.

  “Why are you shouting?” he said, brows tightening. “I only spoke my thoughts.”

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  “I am trying to help you,” she replied. “Why are you pushing me away, again?”

  Leroy fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing through the haze of drink. When he spoke again, his voice carried restrained exhaustion.

  “I am sorry, Starmist. Truly. The timing was bad. I'm better leave now.”

  He drew a slow breath.

  “Our journey ends this month. I will come to Stargate again when it resumes.”

  He turned and continued toward the gates.

  But Starmist’s composure fractured.

  Not again.

  “Wait,” she called, rising into the air in a quiet burst of pale light. She landed before him, blocking his path with resolute stillness.

  “I do not want your apologies,” she said. “Those words came from your tounge. I need to know if they reflect what you have truly thought all this time.”

  Leroy stood motionless, caught between retreat and confrontation.

  “I have known you long enough,” Starmist continued. “You are honest when drunk, that is why you avoid alcohol.”

  “I am not drunk,” Leroy replied, defensive. “I can still walk.”

  Her eyes traced the stiffness in his movements, the uneven rhythm of breath that betrayed him despite his denial. She herself remained composed despite the cold, her sleeveless gown untouched by the wind.

  “Let us return inside,” she said softly. “We can speak where warmth exists.”

  Leroy slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “I want to go home.”

  “You cannot fly in this condition,” she answered. “The mainland lies far from here.”

  She paused.

  “You are Chairman. Even if you stayed, no one would deny you.”

  Leroy looked toward the estate.

  Through frost coated windows, silhouettes of dancers moved beneath golden light, their shadows gliding across glass like fragments of a world untouched by the tension unfolding outside.

  He stepped forward again, attempting to pass her.

  But as he drew beside Starmist, he stopped.

  Leroy closed his eyes.

  A long breath escaped him, white mist rising into the freezing air. The scent of alcohol lingered between them, sharp and undeniable.

  “Do you know why I proposed that program?” he said quietly. “Yes, superhumans require regulation. But when I write it… the image that remained in my mind was you. Injured in the colosseum and during the war.”

  Starmist’s pupils widened.

  Leroy let out a faint click of his tongue, a small smile surfacing with tired honesty.

  “After all these years,” he said, “I am no different from those princes who admire you from afar. Lucretius was right.”

  The wind surged, tearing through the silence and lifting strands of Starmist’s pale hair into restless motion.

  “My heart keeps choosing you.”

  The words dissolved into the night.

  Starmist stood motionless, fingers clutching her gown as though anchoring herself to reality. Her lips trembled, color fading into the familiar blue that surfaced whenever emotion threatened to overwhelm her calm.

  Leroy turned and walked toward the gates.

  “You…” she whispered, the sound lost to the wind as distance grew between them.

  "At last," Leroy thought, eyes fixed ahead. "No more weight. I cannot carry it any longer."

  But a hand caught his arm.

  He stopped.

  When he turned, Starmist stood behind him, breath uneven yet gaze unwavering.

  “You say that,” she said, voice low but steady, “and then leave me here?”

  A pause stretched between them.

  “Does my answer mean nothing to you?”

  Leroy could not meet her eyes.

  “As council, we must place duty before personal feeling-,” he began, voice strained.

  Before he could finish, Starmist pushed him lightly. He stumbled, nearly losing balance again on the icy stone, but steadied himself as her expression shattered into something far more fragile than anger.

  Her eyes shimmered.

  Starmist’s voice dropped, deliberate and sharp.

  “Those words… were they yours? Or Cygnus Spellbane?”

  He looked away.

  The question offered no refuge. No simple truth or convenient falsehood remained available.

  “Starmist,” he said quietly, “I will hear your answer. After that, I will go home."

  He still could not face her.

  Starmist stood frozen for a moment, fingers tightening around the star shaped pendant at her throat. Slowly, a faint smile appeared, fragile yet luminous.

  Memory stirred.

  Years ago, a reckless soldier had forced his way into Stargate, knife pressed against her neck in desperate determination to survive. A boy driven by fear and defiance, whose eyes held the same unwavering resolve she now saw before her.

  The boy who had become the man standing before her.

  And in that memory, beneath conflict and chaos, something else had always been present. A connection neither had named, yet neither had ever escaped.

  A memory surfaced between breaths.

  Years ago, inside the halls of Stargate.

  “Why did you give such a relic to an intruder?” Starmist had asked, leaning against the doorway with folded arms, irritation clear in her voice.

  Lord Star had remained calm.

  “If my intuition is correct,” he said, “he will become someone significant.”

  “He broke into our home,” Starmist replied sharply. “What faith could justify that?”

  Lord Star’s smile had been faint, patient.

  “You are right, my sister. Risking one’s life to save four strangers is reckless. Yet to those with a hero’s heart, such recklessness becomes reason.”

  He left her there, words lingering like quiet prophecy.

  Starmist’s expression had shifted from irritation to stillness. She had moved toward the door and glanced through the window, watching the boy who had dared challenge fate itself.

  “A hero?” she had murmured, laughing softly as she shook her head.

  The memory faded.

  Back in the present, near the outer gates of House Canis, Starmist looked at Leroy with a smile that slowly replaced the tension that had held her moments before.

  All the misunderstandings, refusals, and long silences between them now felt like fragments of a single unfinished conversation finally reaching completion.

  “Since the beginning,” she said gently, “I have seen something different in you. Through war, through power, through every burden you carried… you never stopped trying to do good from the depths of your heart.”

  Leroy’s stiff posture softened as he turned fully toward her.

  “You are the only man who changed how I see commonfolk,” Starmist continued, tears gathering without restraint. “Do you know how long I have waited to hear those words from you?”

  Emotion blurred Leroy’s vision.

  He closed the distance without hesitation, wrapping his arms around her as her body trembled against him, unsteady beneath elegant heels that suddenly felt too fragile for the weight of the moment.

  Their embrace held no desperation. Only release.

  Quiet sobs broke between them, not born of sorrow but of relief that years of unspoken feeling had finally found voice. Leroy said nothing. He simply held her, as though afraid the truth might dissolve if loosened.

  Starmist leaned closer, whispering near his ear.

  “I'm … friend I have always waited for.”

  Snow drifted softly through the night once more.

  No witnesses stood nearby. No nobles lingered in shadow. Only the silent sky watched, stars and moon burning bright above as if acknowledging a confession carried too long in silence.

  What had once been a restrained ache now transformed into a melody of honesty beneath the vast and indifferent heavens.