By the time Kyle and Silvy reached the inn, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, casting the village streets in a dim golden hue.
Queen glided silently ahead of them, landing on the inn's signpost as if it had claimed it as its perch.
The innkeeper looked up from his ledger as Kyle stepped inside.
"Evening. How many nights will you be staying? And how many rooms?"
The innkeeper greeted, wiping his hands on a cloth.
Kyle glanced back at Silvy, then turned to the innkeeper.
"One night. One room."
The man nodded, handed over a key, and offered a polite smile.
Kyle didn't linger—he headed straight up the stairs, the worn wooden boards creaking beneath his steps.
Silvy followed behind, her pace quick and determined.
As soon as Kyle reached the door, he stepped in and shut it firmly behind him—click—locking it in one smooth motion.
Silvy blinked, stared at the door for a moment, then frowned. She raised her fist and banged on it.
