The night passed without incident, wrapped in silence broken only by the crackling of dying embers and the distant song of a nocturnal animal.
Carmen, seated near the fire—now reduced to a faint glow—calmly rummaged through her backpack. Her fingers brushed against various objects until they found what she was looking for: a pendant tied to a thin chain.
She pulled it out carefully, and the flickering light of the embers made the stone set at its center sparkle—a smooth fragment, resembling quartz.
Carmen held it up before her for a moment, her eyes fixed on the stone.
After observing it for a couple of seconds, a sigh escaped her lips—a soft sound, yet laden with something indefinable.
With a slow, almost reluctant gesture, she closed the pendant in her fist, then carefully placed it back into her backpack, slipping it into an inner pocket as if she wanted to hide it not only from others but from herself as well.
Then, she turned toward Mirac, who was sleeping on a bed of leaves, his steady breathing barely visible beneath his cloak.
She leaned over him and gave his shoulder a light tap.
"Your turn," she murmured, her voice low but firm, breaking the silence of the night.
Mirac woke with a slight start, rubbing his eyes as his foggy mind struggled to shake off sleep.
Carmen adjusted her cloak and lay down without another word, closing her eyes almost immediately.
Mirac yawned quietly, stretching slightly before standing to take his place beside the fire, now reduced to embers.
The night was cold, and the wind rustled the tree leaves with a constant whisper.
During his watch, he simply listened to the forest, letting time flow peacefully while his mind wandered through thoughts of the day gone by and of Carmen.
When the sky began to turn gray, heralding dawn, Mirac decided it was time to wake her.
He approached and gave her a light touch on the shoulder, just as she had done hours earlier.
"It's morning," he murmured.
Carmen woke up without jolting, with the alertness of someone used to sleeping with one eye open.
She stretched slowly, then rose with a fluid, confident motion.
While she gathered their things, Mirac focused on preparing breakfast.
He took the leftover bread from the night before, squeezed it between his fingers for a second, and repeated the process:
'Multiply by three…'
The bread wobbled and split—first into two pieces, then three—each identical to the original.
Carmen, who was gradually getting used to that magic, said nothing, but Mirac noticed that her eyes observed the phenomenon with the same attentiveness as the night before.
Then, without a word, Carmen walked toward the nearby trees and returned shortly after with a handful of red apples, picked from a small apple tree growing at the edge of the clearing.
"Well, it looks like we also have fruit today," she said simply, handing one to Mirac.
They sat again on the flat stones near the extinguished fire, and ate in silence.
The bread, plain but nourishing, paired perfectly with the sweet, fresh taste of the apples.
It was a pity not to have jam or honey to spread on it, but neither of them complained, of course.
After all, they were still grateful to have something to eat, and even more so when they thought about the fact that their food supplies would never run out—thanks to Mirac's ability to multiply the loaves of bread.
After eating, Carmen set aside the usual leftover piece of bread and an apple, carefully placing them in her backpack so that Mirac could multiply them once again for lunch and future meals.
Then, she stood and brushed the dust off her clothes.
"We better get moving," she said.
Mirac nodded, rising smoothly and adjusting his cloak.
Without further delay, they set off again into the forest, leaving their "night refuge" behind.
* * *
The sun had now reached its zenith, filtering through the tree canopies and casting blades of light across the rough forest path.
Carmen and Mirac walked with steady steps, the soft ground beneath their boots muffling the sound of their footsteps.
After lunch—a simple meal of two hares they had skillfully caught and cooked, accompanied by multiplied bread and an apple each—they had set off again without hesitation, revitalized by the food and the brief rest.
The forest around them seemed alive, a tangle of sounds and shadows: the rustling of leaves stirred by the wind, the sharp song of a bird hidden among the branches, the crackling of small twigs snapping under the weight of some insect.
Suddenly, Carmen's voice cut through that fragile equilibrium:
"Oh, I almost forgot…" she began. "You know, after your 'disappearance,' I had to take care of a few things at the palace."
Mirac turned to her, his cloak slipping slightly off his shoulder.
"Disappearance?" he repeated, half confused. "You mean…"
His voice broke for a moment, as if merely recalling that truth caused a tightness in his chest.
"You mean when my family locked me in a cell, right?" he finally asked, his tone betraying a hidden pain.
"Exactly…" she replied, without slowing her pace, but mindful of the turmoil inside Mirac. "Your 'disappearance' was a bolt from the blue. Everyone at the castle noticed it right away. They searched for you everywhere in the palace, even in the forest around it, but no luck: it was like you had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind. Even the guards on the walls swore they hadn't seen anything, no suspicious movement, no escape. Yet, in no time, everyone had come to the same conclusion: that the Prince had fled."
Mirac furrowed his brow, a shadow of bitterness crossing his face.
"Fled, huh?"
Carmen nodded, her gaze fixed ahead.
"Your family, shedding fake tears of grief, managed to deceive everyone and hide the fact that they'd imprisoned you—to avoid scandal, of course. So, without an official explanation, while investigators scrambled for clues about your whereabouts, rumors took over."
Mirac clenched his fist, listening to Carmen's words about his treacherous family.
Anger simmered inside him, a fire heating his chest, but he forced himself to hold it back, staying calm.
He took a slow breath, letting the fresh air soothe his nerves.
"I see…" he murmured vaguely, his voice tense but controlled.
Carmen, pretending not to notice his emotional state, smoothly changed the subject:
"Anyway… To save you and then escape with you, I couldn't just vanish without an explanation either. That would've been too suspicious. So, I resigned."
Mirac raised an eyebrow, his cloak slipping slightly as he matched her pace.
"Resigned?" he repeated, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Carmen offered a half-smile, her eyes still forward.
"That's right. I told them I couldn't stay there anymore because your 'escape'—or rather, your absence—had completely broken my heart. I told the Head Maid, Lady Elvira, that the pain was too great, that it no longer made sense for me to work at the royal palace without you. I added that I felt partly responsible, as if I hadn't been able to protect you and keep an eye on you the way I should have done."
Mirac slowed for a moment, his green eyes widening slightly.
"And they believed you?"
"Yes," Carmen replied with a sharp nod. "Lady Elvira didn't ask too many questions. She accepted my resignation almost immediately. I think she was relieved, honestly. One less servant to manage, and with all the chaos that followed, they didn't have time to investigate me. My little act, therefore, worked perfectly. And it was the very evening I resigned that I came to save you. In fact, by secretly following your family as they transported you the night they poisoned you, I discovered the secret passage that led to the underground prison where they had locked you up. At that point, all that was left was to wait for King Arthur to leave for this year's World Conference, so I could sneak into his private study without being discovered. That's where one of the two entrances to the underground prison was. The exit we used, however, was the second passage. After all, an underground prison isn't just a place to lock up prisoners, but also serves as a safe escape route in case the royal palace is attacked and the royal family needs to flee."
'This explains a lot of things! For example, how Carmen knew where to find me to free me…' Mirac thought, nodding slowly as he processed her words. "I see… But tell me, what happened in the Kingdom after… well, after everyone thought I had escaped?"
Carmen paused for a moment, turning to look at him.
Her dark eyes studied him carefully, as if deciding how much to reveal.
Then, with a light sigh, she continued:
"The Kingdom of Ardorya erupted in a mix of shock and speculation. The news of your 'escape' spread like wildfire. Some were devastated, others furious. In fact, there are those who consider you a traitor, convinced you abandoned the throne for some selfish reason. Others, though…" She paused, a shadow of amusement crossing her face. "Others came up with more… creative stories."
"Creative?" Mirac repeated, intrigued despite the weight of her words.
"Yeah," Carmen continued, resuming her walk. "I've heard there's a rumor going around about you in the markets and taverns lately: in short, they say you ran off with a woman of low status. A romantic story, in their own way."
Mirac blinked, incredulous.
"What?! R-Really?"
"Yep," Carmen replied with a mocking smile. "According to these rumors, it seems you chose love over the throne, fearing your family would never accept your relationship. Some even swear they saw you with a mysterious girl with dark hair, wrapped in a cloak, as you both fled together toward the East."
Mirac was left speechless for a moment.
Even he didn't know exactly how to react to this news.
But then, inevitably, with a mix of embarrassment and disbelief, he let out a short, awkward laugh.
"Ah, I-I see…" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck in an awkward gesture. "Well, people sure have quite an imagination, I must say…"
Carmen shrugged, a small smirk playing on her lips.
"Well, yeah. After all, people love stories. It gives them something to gossip about while they drink watered-down beer. But it doesn't matter what they think." Carmen's tone grew firm and serious. "What matters now is that no one, except for your family, knows you're a Chaotic. And that will make our journey much easier!"
Mirac nodded, his smile fading as he reflected.
"I suppose so…" he murmured.
But just when their little conversation seemed to have come to an end, Carmen turned back toward Mirac, her face serious as she ran a hand through her red hair.
"However, unfortunately, there's one thing that could actually cause us trouble along the way," she said, her tone vague.
Mirac looked at her, curious.
"What do you mean?"
"After your 'disappearance,'" Carmen explained, "your family had several posters with your face spread all over the Kingdom. Everywhere, from the taverns to the villages, there's your portrait with the words 'Missing Prince.' If anyone recognizes you, it could really cause trouble for us."
Mirac furrowed his brow, a shadow of concern crossing his gaze.
"Oh, I didn't know that," he murmured, lifting his gaze toward the clear sky, a deeply thoughtful expression creasing his face. "But knowing them, I should've expected it…"
Suddenly, a gust of wind stole the words from his mouth, tousling his dark hair and pushing his hood back, leaving him exposed.
With a quick, almost Pavlovian motion, his hand shot up to his head to adjust the fabric, fingers tightening around the edge as if he already feared being recognized by someone.
After fixing his hood, Mirac turned back to Carmen.
"Posters with my face, huh?" He sighed, his lips curling into a bitter grimace. "I get it… But if that's the case, what do you suggest we do? This hood certainly won't be enough to hide me when we're in town… Not with my portraits plastered everywhere!"
Carmen waited for Mirac to finish speaking.
Then, without saying a word, she reached into her black backpack, her fingers moving decisively among the items inside.
She rummaged for a moment, the rustling of the fabric breaking the quiet murmur of the wind, before pulling out an object wrapped in a dark cloth.
She handed it to Mirac with a firm gesture, letting it fall into his hand.
"Here. From now on, wear this."
With a slow and careful movement, Mirac grasped the cloth with his one hand, using his teeth to pull it aside just enough.
The fabric opened, revealing exactly what he needed—the solution to hide from the prying eyes of anyone:
"A mask?!" Mirac exclaimed, his voice filled with surprise as his eyes locked onto the object between his fingers.
The mask was a deep, opaque black, a color that enhanced its menacing and mysterious appearance.
Its surface was marked by numerous thin, irregular cracks, like scars etched by time, giving it a worn and unsettling look.
The mask's expression was neutral: neither serious nor smiling, an immobile face that conveyed an enigmatic indifference.
Instead of eye slits, there were two dark lenses, as black as the rest of the mask, which seemed to swallow the light rather than letting it pass through like ordinary glass, creating an almost spectral effect.
Mirac stared at it for a moment, his breath catching in his throat, as he observed the cracks that intertwined on the surface like an intricate web of veins.
"Damn, it's really chilling…" he finally admitted, weighing the mask in his hand. 'And why the hell does it have all these cracks?'
But he didn't ask Carmen any questions, not wanting to appear ungrateful or overly critical of her.
After all, once again, the red-haired woman had shown that she had already planned everything down to the smallest detail, leaving nothing to chance.
And faced with this truth, the young man couldn't help but smile to himself, feeling deep down grateful for her help.
Without further hesitation, Mirac brought the mask to his face.
To his surprise, it fit perfectly to his features, as though it had been crafted just for him.
'Wait a minute!' he thought inwardly. 'How am I supposed to wear this without straps?'
The thought was interrupted when the mask clicked onto his skin with a dull, organic sound, like a piece of iron connecting to a magnet.
It was then that Mirac understood the reason for the lack of straps: with a shock of amazement, he realized he didn't need any!
"Ooooo!" the boy exclaimed in front of that unexpected magic, as his lone hand gently touched the surface of the mask.
It remained firmly attached to his face without the need for any external support, as if it had found a perfect balance between the material and his skin.
Moments later, however, Mirac noticed another detail: the lenses over his eyes appeared completely dark from the outside, yet from the inside, he could see perfectly.
He speculated that the material of those lenses was very similar—if not identical—to that used in the spy mirrors of the interrogation rooms in his previous world: a surface designed to allow viewing in only one direction, obscuring whoever was on the other side, while enabling the wearer to clearly observe everything in front of them.
"How do I look?" Mirac asked, his voice slightly muffled by the mask but still clear.
Carmen studied him for a moment, tilting her head slightly.
"Black really suits you," she said, with what seemed like a hint of a smile. "Anyway… I know it might be an extra burden for you, but just as a precaution, I'd advise you to keep it on for the entire journey ahead."
Mirac nodded slowly, absorbing her words.
"Don't worry," he muttered. "I had already planned on doing it even before you told me."
Carmen gave him an approving nod.
"Good," she said finally. "Once we reach our destination, you'll be free to take it off."
That said, the red-haired woman turned and resumed walking, her steps decisive and silent.
She added nothing more, as if every extra word were superfluous, letting the soft sound of her boots on the packed earth fill the silence between them.
Mirac took a deep breath, trying to push away the tangle of thoughts crowding his mind, and focused on the steps that carried him forward—one after the other.
But as they walked away, a wolf with gray fur streaked with silvery hues silently emerged from a dense bush just a few meters from them.
It stared at them with wide eyes, its orange pupils glowing like embers in the dim light, a clever and patient gaze, typical of one waiting for the perfect moment to strike its prey.
Its tail twitched slightly, an almost imperceptible shiver, as it remained motionless, blending with the shadows of the trees.
Carmen didn't turn her head, but she sensed the wolf's presence immediately.
Her steps remained steady, her rhythm unchanged, as if nothing could unsettle her.
'So she's really following us, huh?' she thought, a faint frown creasing her forehead as she subtly tightened her grip on the dagger at her belt, ready for anything…