The sun had long since set, and the golden glow of the torches cast flickering shadows across the royal campsite. I had expected us to set up a simple camp, but who was I kidding?

The Maharaja of Vyantara settling for a mere tent? Impossible.

The camp was nothing short of a traveling palace. Large silk tents stood tall, adorned with intricate embroidery and golden tassels. Guards patrolled the perimeter, torches in hand, their armor gleaming under the moonlight. Inside the main tent, where Rudraksha resided, everything was lavish—thick carpets covered the floors, a grand wooden table sat at the center, and cushions embroidered with royal insignias lay neatly arranged.

I sighed, shaking my head. Of course he wouldn’t settle for less.

But at that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My body was sore from riding all day, and I was sprawled across a cushioned seat outside my tent, letting my tired muscles relax.

I had been so caught up in traveling and exploring that I hadn’t realized something—Rudraksha and I hadn’t spoken about the mirror at all.

The loop, the shards, the man who had died with the first piece—he never brought them up. And I had never asked.

I frowned, trying to recall how many shards we needed to find. He had told me before, but I had forgotten.

As I lay there, lost in thought, I heard footsteps approaching. The familiar heavy, confident stride made my heart race before I even looked up.

Rudraksha.

He stood at the entrance of my tent, his golden eyes glinting in the firelight. In his hands, he carried a small bowl filled with turmeric paste and healing herbs.

“Here,” he said, offering it to me.

I blinked. “You brought my medicine?”

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “Take it. Then rest.”

I accepted the bowl, hesitating. He was about to turn and leave when I spoke.

“Wait,” I said.

He stopped, glancing back at me.

“There’s something I wanted to ask.”

He sighed, tilting his head slightly. “Apply the medicine first. Then come to my tent, and we’ll talk.”

And just like that, he walked away.

After redressing my wounds, I made my way to his tent. The guards outside bowed at my presence before stepping aside. I ignored them—I was still not used to all the bowing.

As I entered, I found him sitting near a low wooden table, staring at nothing in particular. The dim glow of the lanterns made his features appear softer, almost… tired.

“I know you’re standing there,” he said without turning. “Come in.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How did you know?”

His lips twitched slightly. “You always hesitate for a second before stepping inside. I’ve noticed.”

I scoffed but took a seat across from him. “Observant, aren’t you?”

He finally looked at me, his golden gaze sharp yet expectant. “What did you want to ask?”

I took a deep breath. “The mirror. The shards. Why haven’t we talked about them?”

His eyes darkened slightly. He leaned back, arms crossed. “Why do you suddenly want to talk about it now?”

I shrugged. “Because I realized we never did.”

He exhaled through his nose. “There are… things I don’t remember. Before the loop began, some of my memories were already missing.”

I frowned. “You don’t remember how the loop started?”

He shook his head. “No. But I remember one thing—the location of the first shard. It was the last thing I saw before I lost consciousness.”

I hummed, absorbing the information.

“Why do you think your memories are missing?” I asked.

He rubbed his temple, looking frustrated. “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”

I was about to press further when he suddenly reached out, stopping me.

His fingers curled gently around my wrist, holding me in place.

“Aranya,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Do you want to leave?”

His question caught me off guard.

I shook my head. “No… but—”

“But you have to,” he finished for me. His grip didn’t loosen.

I sighed. “One day, yes.”

He didn’t say anything, but I could see the storm brewing behind his eyes.

To my surprise, instead of pushing the conversation further, he changed the subject. “Do you know what I find strange about you?”

I blinked. “What?”

He smirked slightly. “The way you speak. You use words I’ve never heard before.”

I tilted my head, confused. “Like what?”

“The other day,” he said, shifting slightly, “you said something was ‘lowkey annoying.’”

I stifled a laugh. “Oh. Yeah.”

“What does ‘lowkey’ mean?”

I grinned. “It means ‘a little,’ or ‘not very obvious.’ Like… if something is slightly annoying but not enough to be a big deal, you say ‘lowkey annoying.’”

He stared at me for a long moment, as if committing the words to memory.

Then, to my absolute horror, he smirked.

“You are lowkey irritating.”

I gasped. “Excuse me?!”

His smirk widened. “Did I use it correctly?”

I glared at him. “Yes. But rude.”

He chuckled, the sound deep and rich.

I crossed my arms. “Fine. Since we’re playing this game, let me introduce you to another modern word.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“‘Simp,’” I said proudly.

He frowned. “Simp?”

“Yep. A simp is someone who does way too much for someone they like.”

He leaned forward slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with mischief. “Are you calling me a simp?”

I smirked. “Well… you did bring me my medicine personally. You watch over me like a hawk. You even helped me tie my anklet once. Sounds like a simp move to me.”

He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “And what would that make you?”

I blinked. “Huh?”

“You followed me into another time,” he said slowly, as if savoring each word. “You risked your life for this journey. You are the only one who has ever dared to stand against me. If I’m a simp for bringing you medicine, then what does that make you for crossing time to be here?”

I opened my mouth—then closed it.

Damn it. He got me.

He leaned back, looking extremely pleased with himself.

“You’re impossible,” I muttered.

He smirked. “And yet, here you are.”

I rolled my eyes.

We sat in silence for a while after that. The fire flickered, casting warm shadows around us.

Finally, I stood, stretching slightly. “I should get some sleep.”

As I turned to leave, his hand caught mine again.

I looked back at him, startled.

For a moment, he said nothing. His thumb lightly brushed against my skin, his gaze unreadable.

Then, quietly, he murmured, “Stay close, Aranya.”

I swallowed, my heart doing something strange in my chest.

“…I will,” I whispered.

And as I stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t shake the feeling that leaving him one day would be much harder than I had ever imagined.