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The morning sun rose faintly over the horizon, its golden light scattering across a world blanketed in fresh snow. The air was crisp and biting, carrying the silence only winter could bring. Each tree stood tall, its branches heavy with delicate frost, and the ground sparkled like powdered diamonds under the pale light.
Not too far into the woods stood a small, modest house. Its roof sagged slightly under the weight of snow, smoke curling gently from the crooked chimney. The wooden walls, though old, still held a sense of warmth, and the faint creak of its frame whispered stories of the years it had endured.
The door opened slowly, the hinges groaning as a man with soft brown hair peeked outside. The icy breeze hit his face immediately, making him flinch and shudder before pulling the door halfway shut again.
“Time passes quickly…” Totomaru murmured, hugging himself as he crossed the room to the window. His gaze fell upon what was once his vegetable patch, now just an empty stretch of frozen soil hidden beneath layers of snow. Good thing he had harvested everything days earlier, any later and it would’ve all been lost to the frost.
“Grandma would’ve killed me if she knew I noticed the weather changing so late,” he chuckled to himself, recalling her sharp scolding the last time he’d been careless.
Another shiver ran through his body, pulling his attention back to the flickering fireplace. The flames were low, barely warming the room. Right. He needed more firewood.
He cursed himself softly, too busy harvesting and preparing his little garden for the winter, he had forgotten one of the most important things: stocking up on firewood.
After forty minutes of gathering supplies, he finally prepared to leave the house. He tugged his cart from under the wide cloth cover he had used to shield it from snow and placed an axe gently inside. No horse stood waiting for him as he could never afford one. That luxury was far beyond him. Instead, he would push the cart himself.
Bundled in a thick coat and a scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, Totomaru stepped into the woods. The snow crunched softly under his boots as he walked deeper, his breath visible in the freezing air. The trees towered above him, their branches bowing under snow.
The silence was heavy yet beautiful, broken only by the distant rustle of winter birds. The forest seemed endless, painted in silver and white. Both breathtaking and lonely.
While pushing the cart, Totomaru scanned the trees with a practiced eye. His grandmother had once taught him which trees were best for firewood and which were not. In his younger years, he had thought all wood burned the same, but time and countless cold nights had taught him otherwise. The right wood lasted longer, burned hotter, and kept the house warm through the bitter hours of winter.
Two hours passed before Totomaru finally gathered a respectable stack, enough to keep his hearth alive for at least a week. His shoulders ached, his breath puffed in clouds, but he felt satisfied.
“Also found some good wood for carving,” he hummed to himself, pleased with the shapes and smooth grain of certain pieces. Maybe he’d finally try whittling something new when the nights grew too long. With that thought, he turned his cart toward home.
But only a few steps later, something unusual caught his eye.
A cat.
It sat perched on a large rock, its fur dusted with snowflakes, eyes glinting against the pale white surroundings.
“What are you doing out here?” Totomaru asked softly, setting his cart aside as he approached. “Aren’t you cold? My home isn’t far—you’d be warmer there.”
But before he could reach it, the cat sprang off the rock and disappeared behind it.
Frowning, Totomaru followed, curiosity pricking at him. And when he looked beyond the rock, his breath hitched.
The cat wasn’t the only thing there.
A broken carriage lay half-buried in the snow, one wheel snapped, the wood splintered and frozen stiff. Scattered traces of shattered glass and torn fabric told the story of a violent accident.
And there slumped against the wreckage—was a man.
He was nearly swallowed by the snow, his dark hair rimmed with frost, his clothes soaked through. Panic rushed through Totomaru as he stumbled forward, dropping to his knees. He pressed his trembling fingers to the stranger’s wrist. For a moment, his heart sank, then relief.
A pulse. Weak, but steady. He was still alive.
Acting on instinct, Totomaru slid his arms beneath the man’s knees and back, straining with all his strength to lift him. The man wasn’t that heavy and Totomaru managed to carry him to the cart. He set him down carefully, shoving aside part of the firewood to clear space. Without hesitation, Totomaru tore off his own coat and spread it over the unconscious figure, tucking it tightly around him.
He hurried to the front of the cart, gripping the handlebar to push, when he noticed the cat was sitting atop the discarded pile of firewood, calmly licking its paw as though it had been waiting. Its tail flicked once before its gaze locked on him.
“…Seems like you want to come along too,” Toto muttered, breath still quick. He gave the cat a small, wry smile.
With that, he leaned into the cart and began the long push back toward his small house. The man, the cat, and fate itself now trailing after him.
Totomaru didn’t waste a moment once he reached his front door. He rushed inside with the man in his arms, carefully laying him down on the nearest couch by the fireplace.
With fumbling hands, he stacked a few of the remaining logs and lit them, coaxing the flames until warmth began to chase away the cold that clung to the room.
He checked the stranger’s wrist again, pressing gently until he felt it—faint, but steady. Relief eased some of the tension in his chest.
The cat sat nearby, curling its tail around its paws, amber eyes following Totomaru’s every move. It almost looked as though it, too, was waiting.
“Don’t worry,” Totomaru murmured to it, voice soft. “He’s going to be fine.”
He set a pot of water over the fire, waiting only a few minutes—long enough to warm it, but not so long that it would burn. Pouring it into a wooden bowl, he carried it carefully to the small table beside the couch.
From a drawer, he pulled out a folded, clean handkerchief. He dipped it into the steaming water, wrung out the excess, and then leaned closer to the unconscious man. With delicate strokes, Totomaru wiped along the man’s temple, down the line of his cheek, and across his lips, brushing away the frost and dirt clinging to his skin. The warmth of the cloth seemed to draw faint color back into his face.
It was then Totomaru really saw him.
Dark hair, now damp from the melted snow, clung in soft strands to his forehead. His lashes were long, casting faint shadows on his pale skin. The curve of his jaw was sharp despite his weakened state. Even in such a condition, he was striking, like a figure carved from stone and softened only by exhaustion.
“What’s someone like you doing out here… in the middle of the woods, in this weather?” Totomaru whispered, frowning as he wrung out the cloth again, his hands trembling slightly.
Ron stirred when something wet tickled his cheek. His lashes fluttered open, eyes hazy as they adjusted to the glow of the firelight.
For a moment, the warmth almost lulled him back into unconsciousness until he felt the sensation again. Blinking fully awake, he turned his head and realized it was his cat, licking his face insistently.
Panic flickered through him. His heart began to race as he scanned the unfamiliar room. A small, modest home. A fire crackling in the hearth. A simple wooden coffee table and on top of it was a medical kit.
His temples throbbed with pain, his head heavy and clouded, no doubt from the accident. But even in this weakened state, Ron’s instincts refused to let his guard down.
The room was empty. No one in sight.
Perfect. A chance to escape.
He pushed himself upright with slow, deliberate movements, gathering the cat into his arms. His sharp gaze darted across the room again, ensuring he truly was alone. As his feet touched the ground, pain lanced through his leg, forcing a hiss from his lips.
He glanced down—bandages wrapped snugly around his ankle.
“No…” he muttered under his breath, dread creeping in.
Still, he didn’t give up. Gripping the armrest for support, Ron forced himself upright, swaying slightly before steadying. Step by step, he made for the door, determination written across his pale face.
The cat, however, meowed loudly, the sound cutting through the silence. Ron flinched, panic sparking in his eyes. “Shhh, not now,” he whispered urgently.
But before he could reach the knob, the door swung open from the other side.
A man stood in the doorway—slightly shorter than him, with warm brown hair and wide eyes full of surprise. The sudden appearance jolted Ron so badly he stumbled, collapsing back onto the floor with a harsh thud.
The stranger’s expression shifted instantly from startled to deeply worried. “I’m so sorry! Are you alright!?” He hurriedly stepped inside, shutting the door against the cold.
Ron’s fear surged. He clutched the cat tightly, eyes wide, trembling. “Don’t send me back there, please!!”
The man blinked, startled. “Send you… back where?”
Ron didn’t answer. His lips pressed tight, his body shaking as if the words themselves might betray him.
The stranger’s voice softened, steady and warm, like a fire crackling low. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help. You’re injured.” He extended his hand gently, careful not to make any sudden moves. “Come here—let me check.”
Ron’s eyes locked onto him, torn between fear and instinct. Yet… there was something unshakably genuine in the man’s gaze, something that made his heart waver.
“It’s just you and me here. Trust me. I don’t know what happened to you, but you’re safe with me.”
Slowly, Ron let the man take his hand. The man gently guided Ron’s arm over his shoulder to support him.
“…I’m fine, it doesn’t hurt at all” Ron tried again as he was brought back to the same couch. The man sat on the coffee table beside the medical kit, facing him. “I should go soon… uh, my cat will get really annoying. It doesn’t like new places.”
“You mean this cat?”
Ron’s eyes widened—his cat was sitting comfortably on the man’s lap. When did it even get there?
“Don’t worry. It’s not a hassle. It’s not like I always have guests… or a cat.” The man chuckled softly, patting the animal.
With no choice, Ron lay back on the couch, letting the man touch the bandage on his head.
“I’m sorry, but… may I know how far we are from the castle?”
“The castle? That would take about three and a half days to reach. But the nearest village is just a few hours away.”
“I see…”
“Are you heading to the castle?”
“No! No… just curious.”
“Good. I hope you won’t go there.” The man gave him a sad smile as he unwrapped the bandage.
“…Why?”
“Let’s just say it’s not safe for you.” Then, as if remembering, he added, “Oh and where are my manners? I’m Isshiki Totomaru.”
“I’m… Ron.” He studied the man’s expression carefully.
“Just Ron, huh?” Totomaru’s face didn’t shift at all. It seemed he truly didn’t know who Ron was.
Good.
Ron’s eyes drifted past Totomaru and landed on a small carved figure of a platypus. “Kamonohashi…”
”Kamonohashi?”
“Kamonohashi Ron. That’s my name,” he said.
“Oh? And where are you from? I’ve never seen you before.”
“Uh… somewhere far…”
“Are you an adventurer?” Totomaru asked as he carefully adjusted the bandage.
“Yes.”
“All done, Kamonohashi Ron the adventurer,” Totomaru chuckled. “I’ll check your ankle now.”
“Thank you.” Ron smiled awkwardly. “…Are you living alone here?” he asked, trying to start a conversation.
“Yes,” Totomaru replied as he examined the bandage around Ron’s ankle. “I used to live with my grandma… but she passed away two years ago.” He gave a small nod to himself, relieved that there was no serious injury.
“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”
Totomaru only gave a quiet smile before standing to put the medical kit back inside a cabinet. “Say… how does it feel, traveling around as an adventurer?”
“Uhm… it’s great. You… get to meet a lot of people, try different cuisines, and… well, you know… adventurer stuff.” Ron scratched his cheek nervously, hoping Totomaru would believe him.
“Really? That sounds fun.” Totomaru’s eyes lit up with excitement. “I wish I could go adventuring too. There are so many places I’d like to see.”
Ron sighed in relief. “You want to, but you’re worried about your garden, right?”
“Yes—wait, how did you know that?” Totomaru tilted his head in surprise.
“The plants in this house are still in good condition, even in this cold weather. At first, I thought you were just skilled at taking care of them. But then I noticed a full set of gardening tools. It wouldn’t make sense to have them just for a few small plants, right?”
Totomaru froze for a moment before slowly nodding. “…I do have a small garden out back. It was my grandma’s. Ever since she passed, I’ve taken care of it. I sell the crops to the villagers.”
Ron smiled softly; this man really did seem kind. “I’m very grateful you saved me. But I should go—”
“Your ankle’s badly swollen. You shouldn’t move…you’ll only make it worse,” Totomaru interrupted, voice steady with concern.
“How long until it heals?” Ron asked. He couldn’t stay here forever—he didn’t want to put Totomaru in danger.
“I’m no doctor, but it’ll probably take a few weeks,” Totomaru said, frowning as he examined the bandage.
“I see…” Ron looked down at his bruised ankle, the disappointment tight in his chest. “Have you heard any news in the past two days?”
“About what?” Totomaru asked, curious.
“Like… missing persons or anything strange?” Ron cleared his throat. “As an adventurer, I try to keep an ear out for trouble.”
“Nothing like that, as far as I know,” Totomaru answered. “I live a bit far from the village, so I might not hear everything.”
Ron let out a quiet breath. So far, no one was searching for him.
“Don’t worry,” Totomaru said brightly, stepping away toward the small kitchen. “Once your ankle’s healed, I’ll take you to the village. They’d love to meet someone new.”
Ron managed a weak smile. “I’m sorry I have to impose.”
“No—really, I’m glad to help.” Totomaru tied an apron around his waist. “Do you have anything you want for dinner? I’m not a professional, but the ingredients are fresh.”
“Anything’s fine,” Ron replied, watching him move about the tiny kitchen. “Is there anyone else living nearby or just you?”
“There’s one person not far from here—Grandma’s friend, Old Man Leo,” Totomaru said, opening a cabinet and pulling out vegetables. “He helps me sometimes. He’s part of my family now.”
“That must be nice, to have someone you can rely on,” Ron said softly, staring up at the low-beamed ceiling as if remembering something distant.
“Do you have friends, Kamonohashi-san?” Totomaru asked as he began chopping.
Ron flinched at the fake name. “You can call me Ron.”
Totomaru laughed. “I like your name. It’s unique.”
“Ron is better,” Ron said, looking away. “And… no. I don’t have friends.”
“I’d think an adventurer would have lots of friends,” Totomaru mused, hacking at a carrot.
“You’d think so,” Ron agreed. “But not everyone we meet becomes a friend. Some people can hurt us now—or later.” He absently patted the cat that had climbed into his lap.
The rhythm of the knife paused for a beat, then resumed. Totomaru glanced over as he worked. “Still…consider me as your friend.”
“We barely know each other,” Ron protested, voice thin. “How can we be friends? We don’t know anything about each other.”
Totomaru shrugged, smiling in a way that made the kitchen feel warmer than the fire. “That’s the fun part. We’ll learn. Plus, you already know about my garden and my grandma. And I know you’re an adventurer. Isn’t that enough?”
“No, it’s not.” Ron’s tone was sharp, almost defensive. “You shouldn’t just trust strangers because they look kind. What if they’re only saying nice things to take advantage of you? They could hurt you in the future.”
“I always believe what happens in the future will happen regardless,” Totomaru replied, his voice calm but firm. “All we can do is prepare ourselves to face it. Once fate is sealed, no one can change it.”
Ron scoffed at such childish optimism. “So, what? Our meeting is fate too?”
“It could be,” Totomaru said simply. He stepped closer, hiding his hands behind his back. “Maybe fate is trying to give you a chance.”
“A chance of what?” Ron asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“A chance to have your first friend.” Totomaru’s lips curved into a gentle smile. He extended one hand. “Hello, I’m Isshiki Totomaru. I’d like to be your friend. Would you accept me?”
“I…” Ron faltered, words sticking in his throat. That smile—open, unguarded, impossibly warm—caught him off guard. No one had ever looked at him like that before. Back then, people’s eyes always carried disgust, fear, or hatred. But Totomaru’s eyes… there was none of that. Only sincerity. Only light. For the first time, Ron felt the fragile spark of something unfamiliar—acceptance.
Before he realized it, his hand reached out. Totomaru’s palm was rough, calloused from hard work, but steady and reassuring. The contact made something inside Ron twist uncomfortably, like his chest was too small to contain it.
Then—suddenly—Totomaru whipped out the other hand that had been hidden behind his back and pressed something to Ron’s forehead.
Ron startled and only blink in confusion when he realised what it was. A carrot. Just a carrot. Inches away from his face.
“Didn’t see that coming, huh?” Totomaru teased, twirling the carrot in his hand. “See? Even you trusted me enough to come closer—even though we’re just strangers.” He let go of Ron’s hand with a gentle pat and returned to the small kitchen, humming as if nothing had happened.
Ron sat frozen, still rattled by how easily he had lowered his guard. He clenched his fists against his knees, frustration simmering beneath his calm expression. What’s wrong with me? How could I slip like that—for a man I just met?
“Uh… well,” Ron finally muttered after a moment, trying to steady himself, “you did save me. If you were a bad person, you’d have just left me to die out there.”
Totomaru glanced over his shoulder, smiling warmly. “Does that mean I’m on your good side?” His tone was light, teasing, but his eyes searched Ron’s carefully.
“…I guess so,” Ron admitted reluctantly.
“Good.” Totomaru chuckled softly as he turned back to his chopping board. “And even if you don’t consider me your friend, that’s fine. I’d never force you.” His voice grew quieter, steadier, as if he wanted his words to stick. “But just so you know—I would never regret saving you. Even if you’re lying about who you are, Ron… I believe you have your own reason.”
Ron’s breath caught. He stared at Totomaru’s back, the way his shoulders moved as he worked so casually, as though saving a stranger had been nothing more than instinct. He didn’t know how to respond. No one had ever said something like that to him before. No suspicion. No demand for answers. Just… trust.
But deep down, Ron already knew—things like this never lasted.
The room fell into a fragile silence, broken only by the bubbling of boiling water and the steady rhythm of a knife against the cutting board. The fire crackled, the cat purred lazily on the couch, and for a fleeting moment, the small wooden house felt warmer than Ron had ever imagined.
Before long, the smell of dinner filled the little wooden house, warm and comforting. Totomaru bustled about with practiced ease, setting plates and bowls neatly on the low coffee table. Ron could only watch from the couch, itching to help, but Totomaru had firmly insisted he stay put and rest.
“I hope you’re not a picky eater,” Totomaru said with a cheerful smile as he placed the last dish down. Then, moving to Ron’s side, he gently helped him sit up properly, careful not to strain his ankle.
The food wasn’t anything extravagant—just a steaming bowl of vegetable soup, fragrant with herbs, accompanied by roasted root vegetables and a portion of tender meat seared golden-brown. Simple, yes, but the aroma alone was enough to make Ron’s stomach twist with hunger.
Totomaru scooped some soup into a small wooden bowl and handed it to him. “Here. Careful, it’s hot.”
Ron accepted it with both hands, murmuring a soft, “Thank you…” before bringing it to his lips. The first sip nearly undid him. The warmth spread through his chest, the flavor rich but gentle, nothing like the bland scraps and cold meals he had forced down in the past. For the first time in his life, food didn’t taste like survival—it tasted like care.
His throat tightened. “Can I… have more?” His voice was unsteady, and to his horror, his eyes burned as though he might cry on the spot.
Totomaru arched a brow, teasing lightly, “Please?”
Ron ducked his head, embarrassed, but repeated softly, “…Can I have more, please?”
That earned him a wide grin. Totomaru took the bowl from his hands and ladled it full again without hesitation.
Ron ate until he was full—so full it almost hurt, but in a good way. Never before had his stomach known such comfort. Back then… he never even dreamed of meals like this.
Few hours later, he noticed Totomaru pushing the coffee table out of the way. The man unrolled a futon on the floor, smoothing the fabric with care before fluffing a pillow and setting it down with a soft pat.
Totomaru then walked over and extended his hand with a gentle smile. “Come on, you should rest here. The couch won’t be good for you.”
Ron shook his head immediately. “No, you should sleep there. I’m fine with the couch.”
“How could I ever do that to my guest? Come on.” Without hesitation, Totomaru bent down and lifted Ron with ease.
“What—how—how are you this strong!?” Ron yelped, clutching onto him for dear life.
“Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m weak,” Totomaru chuckled, carrying him effortlessly to the futon. “Besides, you’re actually pretty light. Have you even been eating properly these past few days?”
Ron didn’t answer. What could he say? That he had been living on a single piece of bread a day?
Totomaru only gave a soft chuckle, as though he didn’t expect an answer. “Don’t worry. Tomorrow we’ll see Grandpa Leo. He’ll know how to help you.” With that, he tucked the blanket over Ron before moving to the couch.
“…Thank you…” Ron muttered, his voice quieter than he intended.
Totomaru lay down facing him, his expression open and gentle. Ron hesitated, then spoke again, “…If you don’t mind me asking one more thing… what do you know about the royal family?”
The room fell into a heavy silence. For a moment, Ron regretted asking, ready to fumble an excuse to change the subject. But then Totomaru shifted, turning his back to him.
“What I know,” he said flatly, “is that they’re the worst people I’ve ever known.” His voice hardened. “I hate the Moriarty family.”
Ron’s lips parted, but no words came. He swallowed them down. Totomaru wasn’t wrong—the Moriarty Family were monsters. Cruel, corrupt, power-hungry. The kingdom had rotted under their rule, their tyranny casting shadows over every village. People whispered of their greed, their violence, their disregard for life.
But Ron knew very little of what truly went on. Locked away in the palace, caged like a prisoner, he had been kept from the world for years.
Judging by Totomaru’s reaction, there was no way he realized the truth—that the man he had just saved from the snow was one of those very princes. A Moriarty.
Ron was certain most people outside the family wouldn’t recognize his face. And Totomaru hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even suspected. That was good. Very good.
And yet… guilt twisted in his chest. He hated lying to someone like Totomaru, someone so genuine and kind. But if word spread that he had escaped, it wouldn’t only be his life on the line.
No. He would recover quietly. Then, once his ankle healed, he would disappear. Leave Totomaru behind before he could get dragged into Ron’s cursed bloodline.
“Forbidden!!”
“You shouldn’t exist!!”
“You should be grateful we even keep you alive!!”
“This is what you get for carrying the blood of our enemy!!”
“Don’t forget—you’re still a Moriarty.”
“Ron!”
Ron gasped so loudly it tore through the quiet night. He jolted upright, sweat clinging to his skin, his chest heaving as though the walls of the dark room were closing in. The only light flickered faintly from the fireplace, casting long shadows that danced across the wooden walls.
“Ron, are you okay??” Totomaru’s voice broke through, urgent yet gentle.
“I… I’m sorry…” Ron forced out, his voice shaking as he pressed a hand against his temple. “Did I wake you up?”
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about me,” Totomaru said quickly, crouching down by the futon. “Worry about yourself. Did you have a nightmare?”
Ron could only nod, his throat too tight to answer. His eyes still carried the echoes of the voices, words that branded themselves deep into his chest.
Totomaru’s expression softened. Instead of asking more, he gave Ron a small, reassuring smile before standing. “Wait here.”
Confused, Ron watched as Totomaru padded away quietly. A moment later, he returned holding a small wooden box, polished but clearly old. He knelt down and placed it in Ron’s hands.
“Open it.”
Hesitantly, Ron lifted the lid. At once, a soft, dim glow shone through the tiny glass window, and a delicate melody began to play. The tune was slow, tender, almost lullaby-like, filling the small house with warmth that contrasted sharply against the cruel words echoing in Ron’s mind.
“…It’s a music box,” Ron whispered, surprised.
“Yes,” Totomaru said quietly, his tone suddenly much gentler, almost reverent. “This is my most precious possession. Every time I had a nightmare… or whenever I missed my grandma… I’d listen to it. Somehow, it always made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”
Ron stared at the moving gears inside, the way the little figurine inside spun with the rhythm. He let the melody sink into him, wrapping around the ache in his chest, softening the weight of his memories. His trembling slowed, his breath evened out.
Totomaru sat beside him, arms crossed loosely over his knees, humming faintly along with the tune as if he’d done so countless times before.
For the first time in years, Ron felt something he had forgotten existed—comfort.
They sat in silence, letting the melody speak for them. The crackle of the fireplace mingled with the tune, creating a cocoon of peace.
“…Thank you,” he whispered, his voice thick.
Totomaru only smiled, leaning back as the little box played on. “You don’t have to thank me, Ron. Just… rest. The music will take care of the rest.”
The two of them sat together, bathed in the glow of firelight and the gentle lullaby, as though the world outside didn’t exist.
Morning seemed to come too soon—or perhaps Ron simply didn’t want to rise from the soft mattress. For years, the cold, unforgiving floor had been his only bed, and every morning he would wake with an aching back. This time, however, his body felt rested, almost reluctant to move.
A sudden rustling noise beside him made his eyes snap open. His cat was pawing at some carved wooden trinkets scattered on the floor. Right. He wasn’t dreaming—he really was in someone else’s home. Flustered, Ron sat up slowly, brushing through his messy hair. He realized with a faint sting of guilt that he had slept in longer than he should have.
Across the room, Totomaru sat cross-legged by the coffee table, a faint curl of steam rising from the cup in his hands. He looked so at ease in the morning light.
“Good morning,” Totomaru greeted, his smile warm.
“Sorry… I overslept,” Ron muttered, quickly ruffling his hair again as if that might make him look less unkempt.
“Don’t apologize,” Totomaru chuckled, resting his chin on one hand. “I didn’t want to wake you. You looked like you were having your best sleep in years.”
Ron’s lips parted slightly, surprised by how easily Toto read him.
Totomaru took another sip of his drink, then tilted his head. “Would you like some coffee?”
Ron hesitated only for a second before nodding. “Yes… please. Thank you.”
With a small nod, Totomaru stood and walked toward the open kitchen. Ron used the moment to finally take in his surroundings. The morning light spilled gently through the curtains, painting the little home in soft gold. Wooden shelves lined with books and jars filled one corner. Handcrafted decorations and trinkets gave the space a personal warmth. It was nothing like the cold, lifeless rooms Ron had been trapped in for years—it was alive.
“Here you go,” Totomaru said as he returned, holding out a steaming mug.
Ron accepted it with both hands. The aroma rose instantly—rich, earthy, and faintly sweet, the kind of smell that seemed to hug the senses. He closed his eyes briefly, letting the steam brush his face before taking a cautious sip. Warmth spread through his chest almost instantly.
“When you’re ready,” Totomaru said lightly, “we can head to Grandpa’s.”
Ron lowered the mug a little, embarrassed as his cheeks warmed. “…Also, um, may I… use your restroom?”
Totomaru’s lips curved into a small smile at the way Ron phrased it. “Of course. I’ll show you the way.”
“I’m sorry, all my clothes are a bit too small for you,” Totomaru said as he helped Ron carefully down the steps of the house. He guided him toward a wooden cart parked outside. “Don’t worry—once we get to Grandpa’s, you can borrow some of his old clothes. I once found a whole pile in his closet.”
Ron shook his head, pulling the oversized coat tighter around himself. “No, don’t worry about it. This coat is more than enough for me.”
Totomaru chuckled, amused by how the coat practically swallowed Ron’s frame. “Well, that’s the only thing that fits you anyway. But we’ll see if Grandpa’s got some spares tucked away.”
As Ron eased himself onto the cart, his cat leapt gracefully after him, curling up at his side like a silent guardian.
“Should we go now?” Totomaru asked, stepping to the front and gripping the handlebar of the cart.
Ron blinked, startled. “W–Wait! Are you… going to push this cart!?”
“Yes?” Totomaru replied, tilting his head as though it were the most natural thing in the world.
Ron gawked. “What!? You don’t own a horse??”
“I can’t afford one,” Totomaru said simply, though his smile was as cheerful as ever. “Don’t worry, this isn’t the first time I’ve carried someone in this cart.” He tightened his grip, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “All set? Then let’s go!”
With that, he began pushing, the cart creaking slightly as it rolled forward.
The journey was slow but steady. They talked along the way, mostly about Totomaru’s life. He shared how much he loved gardening and chopping wood, and explained that the carved wooden animals in his house were made as toys for the village children. The handmade coffee table? His grandmother’s work. And the futon Ron had slept on? A gift from Grandpa Leo after the old one was ripped to shreds when a sudden gust of wind carried it into a tree while it was drying.
Every few minutes, Ron found himself asking if Totomaru was alright. He couldn’t help it. Watching the smaller man push him and the cart without complaint made him feel uneasy, even guilty. If only his ankle weren’t injured, he would’ve insisted on helping.
Finally, after the winding road opened into a small clearing, they arrived at a single house, slightly larger than Totomaru’s own. Its walls were sturdy timber, the roof tiled with neat dark shingles. A little vegetable patch stretched beside it, and bundles of dried herbs hung from the porch. The air smelled faintly of earth, pine, and something sweet—like fresh bread carried on the morning wind.
“Here we are!” Totomaru announced cheerfully. He let go of the cart’s handle and strode up to the main door. Raising his fist, he knocked twice, the sound echoing solidly against the wood.
“Grandpa, it’s me!!”
It took a minute before the door creaked open, revealing a sturdy, healthy old man with kind eyes and a wide smile.
“Well, if it isn’t Toto,” the old man greeted warmly, opening his arms to pull Toto into a hug. “Did you bring the vegetables?”
“Sure did and they’re still fresh!” Toto said proudly, puffing up his chest.
A sharp tap landed on his forehead.
“Still fresh because you forgot the changing season again?” Grandpa Leo scolded, raising an eyebrow.
“No…” Toto mumbled, pouting like a child before quickly straightening up again. “Anyway! Grandpa! I brought someone with me. He needs help.”
Without hesitation, Toto took the old man’s arm and guided him toward the cart where Ron sat. “Ron, this is Grandpa Leo. Grandpa, this is Kamonohashi Ron. He’s an adventurer. Can you help treat his ankle?”
“An adventurer?” Grandpa Leo’s sharp gaze lingered on Ron for a moment—searching, measuring—before his eyes dropped to the wrapped ankle. His tone softened. “Alright, young man. Let’s get you inside.”
As he turned back toward the house, a soft meow stopped him. Grandpa looked down at the cat sitting on the cart, its amber eyes glinting in the morning light. He gave a small nod. “Yes, and you too.”
“Can it be treated?” Toto asked quickly as he helped Ron hobble inside.
The interior of Grandpa Leo’s house felt warm and lived-in. Wooden beams supported the high ceiling, herbs hung drying from strings across the kitchen, and the faint scent of mint and cinnamon lingered in the air. The shelves were stacked with old jars, scrolls, and curious little trinkets that glinted in the morning light streaming through the window.
Toto eased Ron down onto a wide, cushioned chair covered in a handwoven blanket. Grandpa soon returned with a small wooden box in hand.
Sitting across from Ron, the old man carefully lifted his injured ankle. His fingers were firm yet gentle as he unraveled the bandage, revealing the swollen, almost purple joint. He let out a low hum.
“How did you even manage this?”
“It was an accident,” Ron said quietly, hugging his cat close against his chest as though drawing strength from it. “How long will it take to heal?”
“Well,” Grandpa Leo said thoughtfully, turning the ankle slightly to examine it, “if we treat it normally, a few weeks. But if I use my ways… it’ll take only a few days. Which would you prefer?”
Ron swallowed hard. “Your ways would be good… please.”
Grandpa chuckled, his laugh deep and reassuring. “Alright then. But that means you’ll be staying here a while.” He gently set Ron’s leg back down and got to his feet. “I’ll fetch us all some hot chocolate.”
As he disappeared into the kitchen, Toto leaned toward Ron and gave him a big thumbs-up, his grin almost boyish. Then he bounded after the grandpa.
“Grandpa, you really mean it? Just a few days? That’s incredible!”
“You could say that,” Grandpa replied, gathering some herbs from a shelf. “But don’t get too excited.”
“Huh? What do you mean?” Toto tilted his head. “Will it… hurt?”
Grandpa glanced at him with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“A lot.”
Toto froze. “…Oh.”
For the past three days, life had been nothing short of a nightmare for Ron. Grandpa Leo’s “traditional treatment” was brutal—each session left him sweating, trembling, and biting back curses. The old man would press down hard on the swollen ankle with his calloused thumbs, muttering about “setting the blood right.” Then came the heated poultices made of bitter-smelling herbs, wrapped tightly until Ron felt his skin burning. If that wasn’t enough, Grandpa would force him to soak his foot in icy water afterward, claiming it was the only way to “shock the swelling away.”
By the third day, Ron could walk again—though only with the help of a sturdy stick Grandpa carved for him. His ankle still ached, but compared to the first night, it felt like a miracle. Still, the memory of Grandpa’s relentless hands kneading into the bruised flesh made him shiver. He’d rather fight a pack of wolves than go through that again.
“Grandpa, I’m borrowing your horse to go to the village!” Toto called loudly as he stepped toward the door, scarf already wrapped around his neck.
“Toto! Toto!!”
Toto turned, blinking in surprise. Ron was hobbling toward him, leaning heavily on the carved stick. He wore a heavy cape and hood, his cat trailing faithfully behind. “Let me come with you. Please!”
Toto frowned. “But you still need more treatment before you go anywhere.”
“No, no,” Ron said quickly, shaking his head. His voice almost cracked. “I don’t want to stay here alone with Grandpa. He… he might do something worse without you here.” He visibly shivered at the thought, clutching his stick tighter.
A sudden voice from behind made Ron nearly jump out of his skin, almost twisting his good ankle in panic.
“That’s true. Let him go with you,” Grandpa Leo said, entirely too casually, as if he hadn’t just scared him half to death. He strolled into the room with a wide grin, holding a pouch that jingled heavily with coins. He handed it to Ron. “You’ve been working hard, right? Time for some proper rest. Take this money and enjoy your day together.”
“Grandpa, this is too much!” Toto protested, eyes widening as he peeked at the pouch.
“Just take it.” Grandpa waved him off. “Buy whatever you need. And this young man—”he patted Ron on the shoulder with surprising strength “—needs clothes fit for the winter. Can’t have him freezing in that old coat.”
Before either of them could argue, Grandpa practically pushed them both toward the door.
The cold air hit their faces the moment they stepped out. Ron stumbled a little, catching himself on his stick, while Toto let out a long sigh.
“…I feel like we just got kicked out,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “Wait here. I’ll get the horse.”
Ron glanced back at the closed door, then whispered under his breath, “Thank the heavens…”
After making sure the cart and horse were ready, Toto guided the horse toward the village, the cart creaking softly behind them. Sitting next to him was Ron.
“Is Grandpa always like that?” Ron asked once he finally relaxed his muscles.
“Yes, he can be tough. But he’s not bad at all,” Toto replied. “He knows a lot—about everything, really. Not only that, he’s good with weapons and martial arts. If you ever need to learn something, just go to him.”
“And he’s rich too…” Ron muttered as his gaze lingered on the pouch.
After a long trip, they finally reached the nearest village. Ron immediately pulled his hood over his head to hide his face. He couldn’t risk being seen with so many people around.
“Hey, Tototo! Long time no see!” someone called out, waving enthusiastically.
Toto slowed the horse to a stop and climbed down from the cart to greet him. “Spitz! It’s been a while.” He pulled Spitz into a hug.“I’m just here to buy some stuff, then head back to Grandpa’s.”
“Oh, that old man’s still as strong as ever,” Spitz grinned. “Just last week I saw him carrying a huge sack of potatoes like it was nothing. Tell him I said hi when you get back.”
“I will,” Toto smiled. Right on cue, Ron stepped up beside him. “And this is my friend, Ron. Ron, this is Spitz. Spitz usually takes care of all the carts and horses here while we’re gone.”
Ron gave a small, silent nod.
Spitz raised his brows at Toto, mouthing silently, Why is he covering himself?
Toto shrugged lightly, whispering back, “He’s probably just shy around new people.”
Later, the two of them walked through the crowded streets. People shoved past, merchants called out their wares, and carts creaked over uneven cobblestones. The air buzzed with noise, smoke, and the smell of food.
“Please, just one loaf of bread is enough for me and my children,” a woman pleaded desperately at a nearby stall.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” the merchant said, shaking his head. “The price of flour’s gone up too much. I have a family to feed as well.”
“Here,” Toto said, stepping forward. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a few coins. “Get this lady some bread, please.”
The woman’s eyes brimmed with tears as she hugged him tightly. “Thank you, young man! Thank you.” She left clutching the bread to her chest, her steps lighter than before.
Toto only smiled. “Don’t wander too far, Ron. You might get lost in this mess. First, let’s get you some clothes. Then we’ll find food.”
Ron’s eyes followed the woman as she disappeared into the crowd, then swept over the streets again. The noise, the pushing, the desperate cries—there was a heaviness in the air. Families looked worn, children were barefoot, and even the merchants had tired, worried faces.
“Have they always lived like this…?” Ron murmured, his voice quiet but heavy.
“You could say that,” Toto replied with a sigh. “They’ve been bleeding us dry with taxes and fees. Taking and taking until we can barely afford bread ourselves.” He shook his head and started forward. “Come on.”
Ron said nothing. Instead, he silently reached out and slid his hand into Toto’s.
Toto blinked, then broke into a grin. “Great idea, Ron. Holding hands means we won’t get separated.” Without hesitation, he tugged Ron through the crowd toward a small shop, where two women stood near the entrance, gossiping loudly.
“Do you think he’s also like them?” one whispered.
“Probably. You can never trust anyone with Moriarty blood,” the other replied.
“Excuse me, Ms. Cella,” Toto interrupted as he pushed through the door.
“Oh! Totomaru! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you here,” Ms. Cella greeted warmly. “How have you been?”
“I’m doing great, thank you! Oh, I haven’t chopped the wood yet, but if you still want it in big pieces, I’ll send it soon,” Toto said.
“Oh, that would be perfect,” Ms. Cella laughed. “It’s about time my husband stopped lazing around and learned to swing an axe again.”
Toto chuckled, then gestured toward Ron. “And can I request some clothes for my friend here? He’s an adventurer from far away, and he didn’t bring any spares.”
“Oh, my poor boy. Come in, come in! Let me measure you first, young man,” Ms. Cella said kindly, holding the door wide. As they stepped inside, she turned back to the woman she’d been chatting with. “Looks like we’ll have to continue this another time, Ms. Bee.”
Ron kept his hood low as he followed Toto in.
“Don’t you want to take it off, Ron?” Toto asked gently, his voice low while Ms. Cella went to fetch her measuring rope.
Ron shook his head firmly. “I don’t want to be seen.”
Toto gave a small nod, respecting his silence. He didn’t press further.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, boys,” Ms. Cella said brightly as she returned, rope draped around her shoulders. “Now then, could you stand here, young man?” She pointed to the middle of the room.
Ron obeyed quietly, standing stiffly.
“Good. Now raise your arm, please.” She began wrapping the rope around his shoulders and chest, making quick notes.
“How’s business, Ms. Cella?” Toto asked, filling the quiet.
“Oh, steady as ever,” she replied with a grin. “But with the coronation coming, I can hardly keep up. Everyone’s been lining up for new clothes—dresses, suits, cloaks, you name it. My poor hands don’t get a rest these days.”
“Oh no, we surely came at the wrong time. We can always continue this later, Ms. Cella,” Toto said, guilt tugging at him. “The coronation day is getting closer—you should be focusing on that.”
“No, no, don’t worry. Since it’s you, I could never say no,” she chuckled warmly. “Totomaru, you’ve helped me so much. The others can wait forever while I finish your request.” She let out a hearty laugh. “Thank goodness I have my own farm to store fabric—otherwise, this shop would’ve been shut down ages ago.”
“Oh… thank you,” Toto muttered, cheeks turning red from the unexpected praise.
Ms. Cella paused, her expression shifting as she scribbled something into her notebook. “You two should be more careful these days. The castle has sent several men down to the village.”
Toto tilted his head. “Why? Is it for the coronation?”
“Not exactly,” she said, lowering her voice. “One of the princes has gone missing.”
“The crown prince? Prince Mylo?” Toto’s brows shot up. “But he’s about to be crowned as the new king.”
“Not him. Another one. A… special case.”
“What do you mean?” Toto asked curiously—too focused on her words to notice how Ron had gone utterly rigid beside him, his hands curling into fists under his cloak.
“They say there’s a hidden prince. They call him the forbidden prince.” Ms. Cella leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of gossip. “Do you know why? Because Prince Elliot secretly married Princess Romi,from the Holmes family.”
Toto blinked. “Wait how… how do you even know this?”
“The crown prince himself announced it,” she said, her voice full of excitement. “All over the villages, the order is clear: find the forbidden prince and bring him back to the castle before the coronation. Do that, and you’ll be granted anything you desire.”
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed behind them.
“Ron!!” Toto spun around, his heart leaping into his throat. Ron lay sprawled on the floor, trembling violently. Toto rushed to him, pulling back his hood without thinking.
Ron’s breathing came in sharp, uneven gasps, like he couldn’t get enough air. His eyes spun wildly, unfocused, his teeth clenched so tightly it looked painful. His whole body shook as if something unseen was gripping him in terror.
No.
He didn’t want to go back.
After all these years of waiting.
Don’t bring him back to that cold prison.
Ms. Cella’s hand flew to her mouth as her eyes widened in horror. “T-The scar… that’s the scar the crown prince described. Y-You… you are not the forbidden prince, are you!?”
Ron let out a broken scream, clutching his head with both hands. His fingers dug into his scalp as if trying to shut out the world. He pressed his palms hard against his ears, rocking slightly, gasping for breath. “No… no no no no… don’t send me back… I can’t—please—I can’t…” His voice cracked into sobs, his whole frame convulsing with raw fear.
Toto quickly pulled the hood back over Ron’s head, shielding his face from sight. If they stayed any longer, the entire market would notice. He turned to Ms. Cella, desperation in his eyes. “Ms. Cella—please. Don’t tell anyone about this. I trust you.” Without waiting for her answer, he scooped Ron into his arms and carried him out of the shop.
“Please don’t send me back… don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back don’t send me back…” Ron’s voice trembled, repeating the words like a mantra, quiet but frantic. His hands clutched his hood so tightly his knuckles turned white, hiding himself as if the fabric was the only thing protecting him. “Please… please…”
Toto said nothing. His throat ached, his chest heavy with pain at the sight of Ron so broken, so terrified.
“Tototo, what’s going on??” Spitz’s voice broke through as he rushed over, alarmed at the sight of his friend carrying the hooded man.
“Please, help me get him in the cart,” Toto said quickly. Spitz obeyed, helping lift Ron onto the seat.
Spitz’s eyes darted between them nervously. “What happened?”
“I’ll explain later,” Toto cut in firmly, already climbing into the cart. “But please, Spitz—don’t tell anyone you saw us today. Not a word.”
Spitz hesitated, but nodded.
Toto grabbed the reins and urged the horse forward. The cart jolted into motion.
Ron was silent now—too silent. He sat hunched under his hood, his trembling only faintly visible, the echoes of his panic still hanging in the air.
“Grandpa!! Help me!!” Toto’s voice cracked as he burst through the door, carrying Ron’s limp body in his arms.
Grandpa Leo, who had been calmly eating a bowl of salad, immediately shot to his feet. His frown deepened as he rushed toward them. “What happened??” His voice was sharp, demanding answers, but he quickly shifted his attention to Ron. With surprising strength, he took Ron from Toto and laid him gently on the nearest couch.
Toto stood frozen, fists trembling at his sides, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Grandpa…” His voice shook. “Is Ron actually part of the Moriarty Family?”
Grandpa Leo paused, his back stiffening. His eyes darkened as he slowly exhaled.
“…So, you knew,” he murmured.
A long time ago…
Not long after the first prince of the Moriarty family claimed the throne and became king, a secret began to stir within the castle walls.
The second prince—Elliot Moriarty—had gone against the will of his family. He had fallen in love with the only princess of the Holmes bloodline.
The Moriarty and the Holmes… two houses that had despised each other for generations. Their rivalry was carved into history through blood, betrayal, and countless wars. For a Moriarty to join with a Holmes was unthinkable—a disgrace, a shame that could shatter the Moriarty name.
And yet, in the shadows of the grand palace, Elliot secretly married Princess Romi of the Holmes family. Their union was hidden from the world, known only to a handful within the castle walls. But secrets, no matter how carefully guarded, rarely last forever.
Whispers spread. Scandal brewed. And when it was revealed they had a child, the court erupted with fury. That child was branded as nothing more than a curse, a disgrace, a living reminder of betrayal.
The forbidden child.
The boy was meant to live quietly under his father’s protection, until the day he would be sent to his mother. But fate was cruel. Prince Elliot died suddenly—some say by accident, others by assassination. Whatever the truth, his death left the forbidden child alone in the palace.
Alone… in enemy territory.
Princess Romi, devastated by the loss of her husband, begged to take her child and raise him among the Holmes. But the Moriarty forbade it. No Holmes would ever set foot to claim what was theirs.
So the child remained.
Despite sharing the Holmes’ blood, he also carried the name of Moriarty. And for that, he was trapped within their walls.
But blood was not enough to grant him safety.
The Moriarty saw him as an enemy’s spawn, a stain on their family’s pride. They did not raise him with love or even indifference. Instead, they sought to mold him into their kind through cruelty. If he was too much of a Holmes, they would beat it out of him. If he was too weak, they would break him until nothing was left.
Torture was not just punishment—it was their entertainment. His cries were nothing more than music in the palace’s cold, merciless halls.
And thus, the forbidden child grew up knowing only suffering.
“He probably managed to escape because the coronation day of the crown prince becoming king is coming soon,” Grandpa Leo said gravely. “Everyone in the palace must be too busy polishing the ceremony, making everything perfect for the heir. The gates would’ve been open for nobles and families to come and go… the perfect chance for him to slip away.”
Toto’s fists clenched tightly at his sides. His whole body trembled, emotions flooding in too fast to untangle. “He’s been waiting… for years. For that moment, just so he could run. After all they did to him… after all they did to Grandma—” His voice cracked. Anger burned in his chest, mixing with sorrow and frustration until it hurt to breathe. “I… I feel like I want to march up there right now and—and—!”
“Calm down, Toto.” Grandpa’s firm hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him. “Take a deep breath. Let go.”
Toto inhaled sharply, but his jaw remained tight. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. “How can I calm down, Grandpa? Look at what they did to him! To Ron! He’s broken, terrified, and still they call him a Moriarty like it’s some curse!”
“I know,” Grandpa said softly. His eyes carried the weight of someone who had seen too much of the world’s cruelty. “But listen to me, Toto. The Moriarty are dangerous. To fight them blindly is to throw yourself into fire. I’m afraid… the only one who can truly stand against them is Ron himself.”
Toto’s head snapped up, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “Ron?! But he—he’s…” He trailed off, his gaze falling back on Ron’s unconscious figure. “…He’s so broken.”
Grandpa’s gaze softened, though a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Broken, yes. But not destroyed.”
“But—”
“To fight a Moriarty, you must think like a Moriarty,” Grandpa continued, his tone deep and steady. “And Ron… Ron has been forced to think like them his whole life. He knows their ways, their tricks, their cruelty. But more than that…” He leaned back, lifting a finger and pointing it to his temple.
“Ron has something none of the Moriarty family will ever have.”
Toto blinked, his voice quiet, almost pleading. “Like what?”
Grandpa’s grin widened just slightly, carrying a spark of pride.
“An intelligent mind… just like his mother.”
“His mother… the Holmes,” Toto muttered under his breath.
“And you.”
“And me… wait, what!?” Toto’s eyes widened, his voice cracking in disbelief.
Grandpa Leo chuckled warmly, stroking his beard. “Just by looking at him, Ron seems like he never really connected with anyone outside his family before. Yet somehow, you managed to earn his trust in just a few days. What kind of charm do you have, hmm?” he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Flustered, Toto’s face turned red as he cleared his throat loudly. “A-anyway! That’s not important. The question is… would Ron even agree to this?”
“I do.”
The words cut through the air like a blade. Both Toto and Grandpa Leo froze, spinning around to find Ron. His eyes, half-lidded but sharp, were open. He lay staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable, shadows from the dim firelight dancing across his face.
“Ron, you’re awake!” Toto rushed to his side, wrapping an arm around him and helping him sit up carefully.
Ron’s breathing was heavy as though every word carried weight. “I’ve been running from them for so long. But no matter how far I went, I was still trapped in their grasp. I kept wondering… what did I do wrong? Why did every plan I made fall apart when theirs never did?” His gaze finally shifted, piercing straight into Toto’s eyes.
“Toto… I’m sorry. Sorry for lying to you. I didn’t want you to be dragged into this danger. My hope was… once I could walk again, I’d leave you and this place behind for good.” His voice trembled, but he pushed on. “Toto, I do want to be an adventurer—travel the world, help people, see everything beyond these walls. It all sounds so nice. But… how can I achieve that if I can’t even protect the people here? Grandpa’s right. To truly end this, I have to face my own fear. I have to fight them—once and for all—and free everyone who’s suffered under their hands.”
Toto’s throat tightened, his eyes burning. He pulled Ron into a desperate embrace, as if to shield him from the world. “Ron…”
Grandpa Leo stood silently nearby, his gaze soft but proud. He nodded to himself before speaking. “Then I suppose… it’s time we continue what we left unfinished years ago.”
Ron blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”
The old man only smiled knowingly, placing a hand on Ron’s shoulder before turning toward the kitchen.
The room quieted again, leaving only the crackling fire and the sound of Ron’s uneven breaths. Toto remained close, his hand never leaving Ron’s.
“Ron,” Toto whispered, his voice filled with determination, “after all this is over… let’s go adventuring together.”
Ron exhaled slowly, a faint, weary smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I know where we should begin. The only place with the power to help us destroy the Moriarty Family.”
Toto’s eyes widened. “You mean…”
Ron turned his head, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “Are you ready to meet Her Majesty… Queen Romi of Holmes?”