After Laian left, silence fell over the room.
Anya stood by the window, absentmindedly rolling the pendant at her chest between her fingers. Behind her, Noah stood quietly, his wooden hands hanging at his sides. The amber glass beads in his eyes reflected no light, as still and lifeless as a frozen lake.
At last, Anya turned to face him.
"Noah..." she said softly, a flicker of guilt passing through her eyes.
Noah looked up. There was a weight in his gaze, a quiet grief that had long been buried beneath the surface. "Why did you tell him?"
His voice was low, yet it pierced straight through her heart like a fine needle.
Anya bit her lip and did not answer right away. She stepped forward and knelt before him, reaching for his hand, but Noah pulled away gently.
"We promised to keep this a secret," he said again, this time with unmistakable sorrow in his voice.
She was silent for a long moment, then suddenly raised her voice. "But didn't you say you wanted me to be happy? You said you'd give me a big house, fine meals, servants at my side. I have all that now. Aren't you happy for me?"
Noah froze, as if her words had caught in his throat and rendered him speechless.
"Don't you want me to be happy?" she continued, her eyes glistening, "You've always said you'd do anything for me. Isn't this the time to fulfill that promise?"
Noah looked down. His wooden fingers curled tightly together, silent for a long time.
Her voice softened. She slowly embraced him, whispering into his ear.
"I'm truly happy, Noah. You don't understand… to wear soft dresses, to have someone brush my hair, to drink hot soup without wondering where tomorrow's meal will come from or whether I'll have a roof over my head… It's something I've never known before."
"I've wandered all my life. I've been pushed aside, scorned, laughed at. But now… now it's like the world finally remembers I exist. Laian is kind to me. He wants to marry me. He wants to make me a princess."
Her voice trembled, almost choking, "Noah… do you understand? This is the life I've always dreamed of. If you really care about me, please help me make this dream come true. Please?"
Noah parted his lips, but only managed to whisper one line.
"You… really want to marry him?"
Anya did not speak. She simply nodded.
Something cracked inside Noah. Though he had no heart, no blood, he felt as though something deep within him had been hollowed out.
He forced a smile, his voice dry as dust.
"...All right. I will."
From that day forward, Noah's life changed completely.
He was no longer simply Anya's little puppet. He became the center of the entire kingdom's attention. The name "miracle puppet" spread through the palace like wildfire, and the king's affection for him grew by the day.
At every banquet, Noah would be placed upon a gilded pedestal to perform—sometimes a dance, sometimes a silent drama, sometimes a mournful tragedy. He never refused. His movements were flawless. His expressions seemed to hold more emotion than any human actor could portray.
"Are we sure that's not a person in disguise?" one noblewoman whispered at a banquet.
"No human can move like that," another replied, her voice tinged with awe. "He dances with a soul."
And Anya—
She became the brightest star in the royal court.
She wore silk gowns that swept the floor, her hair adorned with golden leaves and precious stones. Everywhere she went, maids followed. She had changed. No longer was she the trembling girl on a wind-blown corner, scraping by with street performances.
Sometimes, she watched from afar as Noah twirled and leapt in the palace's grand hall. She would smile. She would clap. She would even cheer with Laian beside her when the performance ended.
But Noah never looked back at her.
At night, she returned to her room, lying on a bed of silk sheets, surrounded by gold-trimmed trays of delicacies. She sipped wine with practiced elegance, but now and then she would stop and stare at the reflection in her glass, unmoving.
She knew where Noah was. In a distant wing of the palace, he lay alone in a gilded cabinet, locked away like a royal treasure.
One evening, after a grand feast, Noah stood alone on the stage. Everyone had left. The lights were out. Only the moonlight poured in through the tall windows.
He gazed at a corner of the hall—the spot where she used to stand.
And softly, barely audible, he asked himself:
"I did it… didn't I? I really… made her happy, didn't I?"
That night, he didn't return to the cabinet. Instead, he wandered to the far end of the royal garden.
There, beneath a blooming white rose bush—her favorite—he sat down and did not move for hours.
The breeze drifted across his wooden shoulders. He closed his eyes, as if trying to listen to a voice that no longer existed.
It was her laughter.
Back when she had not yet met a prince. When she would hide in his arms, clinging to him as she whispered:
"Noah, you are the most important person in the world to me."
But now, she belonged to someone else's world.
That night, one of the white roses wilted in silence.
And Noah remained in its shadow, still and wordless, like a statue forgotten by time.