"In this chapter we will learn about a dangerous secret that Ron is hiding."
Rina had no choice…
Ron wasn't just her friend. He was the first spark that lit her bleak world, the companion of her childhood, the only one who never abandoned her in her darkest hours.
Her promise to him had always been a silent oath:
"We'll stay together… as long as I can breathe."
So how could she sit still now, while danger crept toward him?
How could she accept that a hidden hand of treachery might reach someone she loved—someone she could not lose, not again?
Her heart trembled like a frightened bird, and she ran—seeing no faces, recognizing no corridors of the palace, hearing none of the voices calling after her.
All she knew was the violent hammering in her chest and a single desperate echo:
"Ron… Ron… I have to reach him before they do."
She ran… as if the earth burned beneath her feet.
She ran… clutching her bandaged head with one hand, ignoring the pain.
The night was heavy, hollow, the streets nearly empty, but her fear was stronger than the darkness and the ache and every warning she had ever been given.
And when she finally reached the small house—the old woman's home where Ron often hid—
she pounded on the door with shaking hands and a heart full of terror.
She hadn't expected Ron to open it himself.
For a moment he froze, staring at her as if a ghost had appeared on his doorstep. He blinked repeatedly, unable to believe she was standing there in the dead of night.
"Are you insane?! Do you not see what time it—"
But his voice cut off the instant he saw the bandage wrapped around her head.
His expression shifted—shock melting into a sharp, fierce concern.
"What happened to your head?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she grabbed his shoulders, gripping him as if holding onto life itself, shaking him with desperate force.
"They're after you! Ron—listen to me—criminals, real criminals!"
Ron frowned, reaching toward her bandage with careful fingers, lowering his voice to calm her.
"Rina… breathe. Tell me slowly. What happened?"
But calm was something she no longer possessed.
Her whole body trembled.
The fear she had lived minutes ago clung to her lungs, choking her words.
With pale lips and stumbling breath, she whispered:
"It was the guard… the one who escorted me. He's after you because you exposed him… he—"
Ron cut her off with a long sigh, as if trying to gather the chaos spilling from her mouth.
"Rina… I can't understand anything when you're like this. Start with your head. What happened?"
She lowered her eyes, her voice barely audible yet trembling:
"He pushed me… in front of my house. I fell… and my head hit the ground."
Ron stilled.
Something dim in his eyes extinguished—and in its place, a cold, heavy anger rose.
Not loud.
Not frantic.
But the kind of anger that thickened the air around him.
"That bastard…"
The words escaped him from somewhere deep inside.
Then he met her gaze directly.
"Did you tell your father?"
She shook her head quickly, the shock still haunting her.
"The moment I stood up… I overheard him talking with my aunt. They're planning to get rid of you. Ron, they might have already sent men after you—Ron, we have to run, you have to—"
But she couldn't finish.
Her breath failed her.
She shook uncontrollably—not from the cold, but from a fear that felt carved into her bones.
"Let's walk for a bit… you'll calm down. I promise those men won't know my location this quickly. Don't worry… I'll call someone who can help us later."
He tried to soothe her with a low, steady tone—the voice of someone trying to steady a heart beating faster than reason.
And although his words touched something warm inside her, fear still crawled beneath her skin like winter frost.
She walked beside him with guarded steps, her eyes scanning everything—right, left, ahead, behind—as if the shadows themselves stalked her.
Then suddenly… her breath froze.
Between the still branches, she saw a figure move.
Her body jolted violently, and she clutched Ron's arm, shaking him, pointing with silent terror.
What unsettled her even more was that Ron… didn't flinch.
Not a single muscle in his face shifted. It was as though he had expected this.
His voice rose—calm, confident, and strangely commanding:
"Come out. No need to hide."
And they did.
One by one, the men stepped out, weapons in their hands, their laughter scraping through the quiet night.
Rina felt the ground tilt beneath her.
Her knees weakened; she could barely remain standing.
One of them sneered:
"A rebellious little kid… and the princess too? Lucky night."
The barrels of their weapons pointed at them without hesitation.
In a swift motion, Ron pulled Rina behind him, holding her close enough to shield her fully.
She didn't know how he moved so quickly—nor why he looked so composed.
Then he smiled.
A smile she had never seen before—sharp, assured, as if something dormant within him had awakened.
"No one will dare touch the princess… not while I'm still breathing."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small gun.
It didn't look threatening—
and that was exactly why the bandits burst into laughter.
In the next heartbeat—
before Rina could even understand—
he placed his hand gently but firmly over her eyes.
"Don't look."
She didn't understand…
Not until the world cracked with sharp sounds—too fast, too controlled, too impossible.
Movement, impact, chaos she couldn't piece together.
She trembled behind his hand, clinging to his shirt without realizing it.
Every sound was a jolt through her chest.
Every echo was a warning not to look.
But she tried anyway.
When he shifted his hand slightly… she saw enough to understand.
Not the details.
Just the end.
The men who had threatened them moments ago… were no longer standing.
The forest around them fell into an eerie stillness, as if even the night was stunned.
She didn't understand how… or why.
But one truth hit her with painful clarity:
A thirteen-year-old shouldn't be capable of this.
Not unless he carried a past far from ordinary…
Or a secret too heavy to reveal.
She looked at Ron—
and although he stood firm, steady, unshaken—
his eyes held something she couldn't name.
Something that made her heart whisper:
Who is Ron… really?