Fang and Syaoran arrived at the bank. The moment Syaoran stepped inside, all eyes turned toward him. His unfamiliar appearance and aura drew everyone's attention. Fang laughed quietly and went to withdraw money while he stood awkwardly, shivering.
Noticing him hug his arms, Fang asked, "Are you cold?"
He gave a small nod, clearly uncomfortable with the chill of the air conditioning. Fang smiled and said, "Then wait outside. And don't wander off, alright?"
He muttered, "I'm not a child like you… stop ordering me around," and pouted.
After completing her withdrawal, Fang stepped out—only to find that Syaoran had disappeared. Panic welled up in her chest as she called his name, walking briskly around the area. A few blocks away, she finally spotted him standing in front of a shop, eyes fixed.
Storming over, she slapped his shoulder. "I told you to wait! Why did you come here?"
Rubbing his shoulder, he mumbled, "Don't hit me… I was just walking. You were inside for an hour. Do you want me to melt in the sun?"
Fang scoffed, "Then why are you standing here of all places?"
Syaoran pointed to his left. She turned—and saw a beautifully decorated cake shop.
"You want cake?"
He nodded, then paused. "What's cake?"
"It's sweet," she explained. "It's called cake."
They walked inside, and Fang bought him the cake he pointed at—along with some of her favorites. That night, back in their mountain home, the two of them sat outside under a blanket of stars, enjoying the treats.
When Syaoran took a bite, his eyes lit up.
Fang grinned. "Do you like it?"
He nodded, mouth full, clearly enjoying every bite.
Later that night, when Fang was fast asleep, Syaoran lay beside her, lost in thought. He remembered the strange power surge from the night before. Curiosity nudged him again. Quietly, he reached out and placed his hand on her forehead.
A surge of energy flowed into him once more, even stronger this time. The power flooded his body—too much, too fast—and he collapsed beside her, unconscious.
---
Meanwhile, back in Lycan world ,the queen-lycaconia sat on her throne, her heart heavy with sorrow. The soldiers had returned, reporting that only traces of the king's scent were found—no sign of his presence.
The queen's maid gently tried to console her. "Your Majesty, do you recall where the king went after the battle?"
She shook her head slowly. "He said nothing. After the war, he vanished… and now there's no trace."
Just then, the king's adviser burst into the room, breathless.
"You may enter," the queen allowed, standing slowly. "What is it?"
The adviser panted, "It's… it's the Heart Room—the place His Majesty sealed with his own magic. "It's glowing uncontrollably. If it keeps growing… it will rupture the seal."
The queen's maid stepped forward. "Speak clearly!"
The adviser swallowed. "That room—where the king connected his heart to this world—it's unstable… it's going to explode. If that happens… His Majesty may… he may die."