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Walking into the grand ballroom, Nyne S. was for the hundredth time swept away by the sheer splendor of the castle which had somehow become his home. From the ornate chandeliers wrought in gilded iron to the vaulted ceilings covered with colorful Renaissance frescoes, every inch of the building was breathtaking, especially when he mentally compared it to the ruins he had once lived in and the desert that surrounded them.
The stark contrast extended into general outlooks on life as well.
Back where he’d come from, his strategic and technological intelligence amounted to little; rather than “waste his time” scavenging for scraps to experiment with, the villagers always told him to work in the fields instead and “do something useful for once.” And he always took their words to heart—though that didn’t stop him from continuing to research in his free time—until he one day received summons to the castle.
Somehow or other, word had reached kingdom officials of his current ability and therefore his future potential, and people from higher up decided to recruit him as an apprentice to the kingdom’s head strategist.
At first, Nyne S. was too excited to be nervous and set out the very next day for the capital. Enraptured by the new scenery as he passed various parts of the countryside he’d never visited, said rapture carried him all the way up to the castle’s front steps, and the building’s sheer magnificence nearly brought him to his knees before realization hit and actually leveled him:
He wasn’t here to sightsee. If he wanted to remain, he had to prove himself as an apprentice to the head strategist of the entire kingdom.
Anxiety immediately welled up in his stomach, bringing to life butterflies which had been lying silently in wait for his brain to catch up.
But he was soon reassured that his worries were unfounded.
Not only was the head strategist calm, cool, and collected, he was also incredibly welcoming of Nyne S. despite the ongoing war. Of course, said war had been in motion for nearly one hundred years without any progress nor detriment on either side, so that it was hardly even considered a war anymore. Furthermore, Nyne S. proved a quick learner and already had an excellent base knowledge level, allowing him to speedily become a “great asset to the kingdom,” in words of great praise from the queen herself.
Of course, he didn’t let that go to his head.
Diligent and hardworking by nature, Nyne S. continued to be as useful as possible to the kingdom in an effort to repay what he felt he owed the castle officials for taking him in and giving his innate curiosity space to flourish.
He had only one regret.
There had been a single person in his village who always encouraged him, despite what the others said. Her name was Teu B., and she was born with a natural talent for swordsmanship. People respected her strength but also feared her for her aloofness and seemingly frigid character. As a result, she was an outcast much like himself, and they soon found themselves together more often than not.
Upon spending some time in each other’s company, they grew to be great friends, and Nyne S. came to know Teu B.’s true self:
From the warmth in the grey gaze she sometimes directed at him to the way she would insist on accompanying him out into the desert to scavenge for scraps, he realized that despite her frosty outer shell she was actually incredibly kind and caring.
It was only on the night before she left to respond to castle summons requesting that she enlist as a royal guard that he learned why she hid herself away behind walls of ice.
“I…hurt someone precious to me once. I didn’t know my strength, and I hurt them.” Her look of sorrow had pierced through his heart like a glass blade under the moonlight. “So I vowed to never again let anyone get close to me lest the same thing happen. After all…” she held up her hands before her, splaying the slender fingers as if watching blood drip down the knuckles. “These hands of mine only ever destroy what they touch.”
He had taken her hands in his, forcing her eyes to meet his conviction. “That isn’t true, Teu B. You’ll understand when you become the greatest royal guard at that castle. Hands that serve to protect—even if they destroy to fulfill that goal—can only create because they form and strengthen an unseen bond that is tougher than anything else in this world.”
He wanted to see her again, to know how she was doing. Did she understand what he meant? Would she be proud to see him living out his dream? Being recognized for his skill? Was she being properly recognized for hers?
Had she missed him as much as he had missed her over all these years?
It had been a little over a year (three for Teu B., assuming she was in fact still posted here) since he arrived at the castle, and the queen was hosting a grand masquerade in commemoration of the kingdom’s bicentennial anniversary. His hands had thus been full that week helping to decorate and to produce some form of pyrotechnic entertainment, a kind of “firework” to be viewed later in the evening from the balcony.
Now the event was finally here, and quiet chatter ran subtly under the saccharine song of stringed instruments in the vast space of the ballroom. The sun had just set when Nyne S. made his way to the doors and then to the top of the staircase leading down to the polished tiled floor where men and women were dancing, coattails trailing through the air and dress skirts flaring up like flower blossoms around twirling figures.
Adjusting his mask once more, he straightened his posture and descended the stairs, holding one arm behind his back as etiquette demanded.
The mask he had chosen was black with golden inlay—in accordance with the dress code, which requested that attendees wear the two colors of the kingdom’s signet—woven with intricate vine-like patterns that reminded one of the twisting branches of a forest’s silhouette. It went well with his everyday uniform: a crisp black double-breasted suit with golden buttons and gilded shoulder pads, polished ebony dress shoes, and specialized slacks with concealed pockets for carrying his various engineering tools. All he had to do to fully “spiff up” was wear a collared shirt and tie underneath his regular attire.
He didn’t expect to dance with anyone. Any would-be suitors had all been politely rebuffed long ago, and by now everyone who knew him well enough had learned that he was waiting for some mystery girl from his past to show up. Even if it had been three years, he thought of Teu B. at least once a day, and when he had first come to the castle, he had spent every second of his free time looking for her and trying to ask other guards if they knew her. But after a week of time to settle in, his workload increased, and after a month, he gave up his fervent search and told himself that if she was around, he was bound to see her one day.
As a result, he had contented himself with the idea of standing against the wall at the masquerade and watching everyone else dance until the firework show.
Some guests he knew waved at him from the sea of couples, and he greeted them shyly in return; at some point, the head strategist swung by to check on him in their outwardly muted but affectionate way; and a member of the pyrotechnics crew dropped by to inform him that everything was prepared and to thank him for his assistance in the project.
All the while, he kept an eye out for her.
But before he knew it, it was time for the show, and he followed on the heels of the guests as they made their way to the balcony so that he ended up in the very back, standing in the doorway leading back into the ballroom.
The queen delivered a small speech on the past and future of the kingdom, and as the last of her words rang out into the night, the pyrotechnics crew lit the fireworks on cue.
At the same moment, someone stepped into Nyne S.’s peripheral vision, and he was immediately struck by a strange sensation, like a rock dropping in his stomach, heavy with something like fate.
Barely daring to breathe, Nyne S. edged his gaze over towards the person, working up from the sharp black stilettos to the cascading folds of the midnight sky gown to the slender hands wrapped in velvet elbow-high gloves to the sword slung brazenly over the back of the almost regal attire—
And turning his head completely, he locked eyes with Teu B. under the cacophony of explosions, her face (and it was hers, he knew it at once despite the mask she was wearing) illuminated by the warm colors of fireworks, perfectly in time with the moment.
She smiled softly at him. “Hey, Nyne S.”
Everything hit him at once, the years of separation that had suddenly become past, the days he had spent dreaming of this moment, the way Teu B. looked so effortlessly stunning in that outfit—all of it left him speechless, gaping at her like a fish out of water.
“Well, it’s good to see that you haven’t changed,” she chuckled.
When he continued to stutter at her uselessly, she let her expression relax into something more serious and, leaning forward, murmured, “I missed you.” Her gaze dropped from his, pink tinging her cheeks at the admission, and focused instead somewhere around his collar; he soon learned why when she brought her hands gingerly to his tie to fix it for him. She was close enough for him to hear her over the fireworks as she whispered in a subdued tone, “You look nice.”
With that, he managed to break himself out of his trance (at least for a moment). Breaking out into a bright grin, he took her hands in his and said, “See? You create beauty.”
She mirrored his grin, and they both leaned in at the same moment, meeting each other halfway for a soft kiss.
It was the beginning of many firsts for the two of them, and Nyne S. was determined to never look away from her from that moment on lest he miss a single one.