Kiss the Stranger

“Yohan, where have you been? I was so surprised when I didn’t see you,” Meisa said the moment she saw me, and I forced an awkward smile. The nurse answered for me.

“She said you wanted to get some exercise—remember? Zahara, the maid who looked after your cat.”
The nurse didn’t know I’d spoken with Zahara, so I kept silent, as Zahara had instructed.
“Oh, you went to see the cat? Why did you have to go out?”

Meisa sounded convinced but then tilted her head in puzzlement. I couldn’t bring myself to admit that Rikal hated the prince, so I mumbled:
“Just… thought I’d get some exercise… and wanted to go out.”
“That makes sense—you’ve been in that room for over a month.”

Her considerate words made me avoid her gaze. After that, nothing unusual happened: they treated my «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» back wounds, I ate dinner, and took my medicine. I couldn’t see the progress, but Meisa assured me the wounds were healing. The pain lessened and I no longer felt my flesh tearing.
“It’s fortunate there’s no infection.”
Meisa said, offering thanks to God. Then—

Huh.
My vision flashed black. I blinked, and as my sight cleared, I found Meisa’s concerned face.
“Yohan? Are you all right?”
“N—nothing.”

I shook my head quickly. I must be anemic—that would explain it. They were already doing so much; I didn’t want to cause more worry or extra work.
“It’s nothing.”
Just then, a knock sounded and the door opened.

“Lady Meisa, there’s a visitor.”
The attendant bowed and stepped aside, revealing an unexpected guest.
“Your Highness the Princess.”

Meisa immediately curtsied. I tried to stand, but my vision went dark again—this time for a different reason.
“Yohan!”
Najima’s voice brought me back to consciousness. When I opened my eyes, the nurse was supporting me as I sat on the floor.

“You’re all right? You could have just stayed seated.”
Meisa said, worry in her voice. “I thought you were well enough to step out briefly—perhaps I was too hasty.”
I meant to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but Najima spoke first.

“There’s no rush. You’ve only just started recovering. How are you feeling? Yohan, maybe you should lie back down?”

“That sounds best. Attendant, please help Yohan back to bed.”
The attendant, just as he began to close the door, paused, then stepped in and lifted me. Meisa checked my condition once I was back in bed and nodded, while Najima sat in a chair and waited.

“Are you feeling better?”
I lifted my head in answer. Najima was smiling at me. Soon the only people in the room were Najima, Meisa, and me. I blinked in confusion, and Najima said,
“I asked everyone else to leave so we could speak freely. Is that all right, Meisa?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”

Najima’s delicate frown turned to a soft smile.
“I did say I wanted a candid chat.”
She looked at me and added, “Meisa and I have been friends since childhood—along with Asgail and Haham.”

“What?”
Startled, I looked at Meisa. She answered awkwardly,
“In a way, we’re relatives too…the late queen was my aunt. Haham is my brother, so he’s oldest, then me…”

“Asgail is the youngest of us.”
Najima said with amusement. “He was so adorable… until he manifested.”
“Even before manifesting, Asgail was different, Najima.”

Meisa spoke casually. They sounded like true friends—so at ease. Najima’s smile faded to a wistful expression.
“True enough. If only that incident hadn’t happened…”
Silence fell. I wanted to ask what that incident was, but it felt wrong to pry into royal matters. After a sigh, Meisa asked,

“If the queen had been of royal blood, would things have turned out differently?”
“Hard to say. I don’t think so,” Najima replied.
“Probably not.”

Najima shrugged. “There are only four royals left—His Majesty the King, Haham, me, and Asgail. Eventually Asgail will need to take another wife from outside the royal line to continue our bloodline.”
“What about your child?”
“She would be queen. But even if custom didn’t demand it, my child would have no choice. There’s simply no alternative.”

Her dispassionate tone puzzled me. Did Najima not care for Asgail?
But no—she didn’t dislike him.
I suddenly understood: Najima and Meisa sat together like childhood friends, comfortable and affectionate. Najima gently plucked a stray hair from Meisa’s cheek—a bond deeper than protocol.

Asgail was the same.

He could sever a chamberlain’s wrist without hesitation, yet he showed leniency to Haham, Meisa, and Najima—cousins and childhood companions. Their shared history bound them.
And I was not part of any of it.

I thought calmly, surprised I felt no pain or sadness at the realization. I had every reason not to. I belonged nowhere—no childhood friends, no shared memories, only Rikal.
I must remember my place.
Asgail would marry Najima. Whether he remembered me mattered not. My path was clear: find whoever tried to kill him and then leave. And now I had another goal:

I had to get Rikal back.
Thinking of Zahara’s words and recent events drained me. My vision blurred, Najima’s voice faded—and I sank into deep sleep.
…!
My eyes flew open. I held my breath, blinking into the darkness. My heart thundered in my chest—I pressed a hand over my mouth to stifle the noise. Behind me, I felt a familiar warmth—Asgail sleeping as he always did.

My heart raced so violently it hurt. I clamped my lips shut, fighting the tremor, but the sweet scent enveloped me and tears blurred my vision.
Why am I like this? I know it.
I chastised myself. I had known he held me each night until I slept—drugged me and left. That was my sole purpose. What was there to fear?

Yet my body refused to obey. Panic gripped me, and I tried to wriggle free—but a firm arm around my waist held me fast. I froze.
Huff, huff.
Stars danced before my eyes. I pressed one hand over my mouth and reached to pull his arm away. He remained deeply asleep. Slipping free was easy—but imagining what came next was impossible. My panic peaked as I gripped his arm.

Then a flash of lightning lit the room. I stiffened as thunder crashed overhead. His arm tightened around me. I froze, every nerve focused on the man behind me.
Asgail did not stir. Only the rain pattered beyond the window. Summoning courage, I slowly turned my head to look at his face.
Huff, huff.

Suppressing my breathing, I edged my gaze toward him. I blinked rapidly to clear my vision—and when I finally saw his face, I held my breath.
He was sound asleep. I stared at him, knowing exactly what I intended. My hand shook, my breath coming in short gasps—I could barely think.
He might kill me.

Fear crowded my mind. This time, he might kill me. Yet the thought I feared more was the lash of his whip. Just imagining it made me dizzy.
Then, as if urging me on, lightning flashed again—illuminating Asgail’s furrowed brow.
My trembling hand came into view—scarred and cracked. My hand. A thought struck me:

When I’m gone, Princess Najima will hold you.
At once, I covered his ears with both hands and whispered, desperate that no sound reach him. Thunder boomed above me.
“I love you, Kamar.”

My confession vanished into the echo of thunder. I eased my hands away—Asgail remained unaware. I watched his face for a long moment. Then, mustering every shred of courage, I leaned closer. My chest tightened with fear and something else.
My lips barely brushed his—then pulled back. Silently, I shaped one final greeting:
“Goodbye, Kamar.”

Tears blurred my vision, and I smiled once more.
I will never forget you.