#noren

NoRen Royal AU

Chapter 7

The silence stretched.

Renjun paced to the middle of the tower room, heart racing, every instinct in his body screaming for flight over fight. His magic curled along his fingertips like smoke, raw and restless. 

He had a few seconds.

His mind swiped through his options, none of them very good; ward the door, burn the scrolls, fight the Prince…jumping out the window would only get him killed faster. His eyes darted from the sealed chest in the corner to the dusty statues and cracked mirrors. There was no time to hide.

He’d been so careful. Every step, every lie, every breath in this palace was measured, but it still wasn’t good enough. 

The doorknob rattled.

No.

The aged wood opened slowly, just a few inches of a crack. It was almost as if whoever was on the other side wasn’t sure if they were welcome. 

But Renjun knew. 

It can only be him. He was the only one who would be damned enough to follow him. The door creaked as it gently moved to reveal the figure.

Jeno.

Framed in the doorway; hair tossed with night air, cloak flared slightly from the climb, sword at his side, unsummoned. His eyes swept the room till they landed on Renjun.

Renjun’s stance faltered. His magic cracked, blue light flaring at his palms reflexively.

“Don’t,” he whispered, voice hoarse. “Don’t come closer.”

Jeno didn’t move, but Renjun took a step back. The spell on his lips was one he hadn’t used in years.

One word and I’m gone, he thought as he got ready to move. 

Three beats, a light breeze through the window and then– 

“Huang Renjun.”

Renjun froze. Something in a deep part of his psyche had cracked. 

His name, his real name, hung in the air like a brand and burned through him.

Every instinct to flee, to defend, to fight instantly shattered. He stared at Jeno, eyes wide, breath caught like a knife in his throat.

His magic flickered, stuttered, then dimmed. He was frightened. Not by Jeno, but by what it meant to be known.

“How?” The word barely escaped.

Jeno stepped into the room, slow as a tide.

“I knew something was wrong.” His voice was quiet and careful. “You started acting differently. Then you started avoiding me. I went back to those rooms so many times trying to find you.”

“You—”

“I thought I did something wrong,” Jeno huffed in frustration. “But then I got ‘curious’ too…”

Jeno took another step, watching Renjun’s eyes and head dart around for an escape.

“Most texts say that everything in the Eastern Rise perished, that no heir made it out. There were plans to carry out a campaign and ongoing attacks. They never taught us about that in the academy. I did not, I still don’t.”

“Everything feels scattered,” Jeno’s eyes met the boy’s again. “What the Central Kingdom knows is wrong, isn’t it?

His shoulders sagged. The prince looked tired as he stood.

“You knew from the start Inj–”

“Stop.” 

Renjun felt tightly coiled. He turned away needing to breathe, pressing a shaking hand to his ribs like he could hold himself together if he tried hard enough.

He knows. He really knows. There’s no pretending now. No more hiding. I’m not safe. 

One after the next, Renjun’s mind flooded with panicked thoughts. He glanced back at the prince’s woeful eyes.

He hasn’t drawn his sword or alerted the knights.

As if sensing the other’s panic, Jeno straightened, putting his hands up in surrender. 

“I wouldn’t hurt you Injun, he pleaded, “gods, never you.”

Renjun wanted to cry. 

“Why did you not say anything to me? Do you not trust me, Injun? Renjun?”

Renjun’s heartbeat thundered, but the air between them remained unbearably still; no spell flung, no sword drawn, just truth laid bare in the form of his name.

And then—

A ripple surged through the stone. 

Buzzing magic, like a thread being pulled too hard, then snapping clean.

Jeno straightened immediately.

“Did you feel that?”

Renjun nodded, breath caught.

Then, from somewhere below,

“Prince Jeno!”

A voice sharp and trained. Sir Johnny was too close.

Another voice followed it. Then footsteps. Multiple.

They were coming.

They shouldn’t be this close, Renjun thought, his panic reigniting. This tower is sealed. No one patrols here anymore.

Unless someone had noticed the disturbance in the wards. Or worse, had tracked Jeno’s movements...or his own.

They know we’re here.

Renjun's breathing quickened as the seconds ticked away.

“Go,” Renjun spoke, turning to the desk with frantic hands. He started gathering scrolls—no time for neatness now, just the most damning things.

“Renjun—”

“Go!” he snapped, more force than he meant. The name still felt too raw on Jeno’s tongue. Renjun didn’t want to hear it.

He shook his head in desperation, “They can’t find me here. Not like this.”

Jeno moved forward, “Then come with me.”

Renjun’s eyes snapped up, startled.

“We’ll slip back through the archive hall,” Jeno said quickly, already calculating. “The east wing corridors are still unguarded this time of night. We can get to your room, stash the papers, no one will know—”

“No.” 

The footsteps were climbing now, a few flights down.

He pushed a satchel of documents and odd things poking out into Jeno’s chest.

“Take it. If I’m caught—burn it.”

“Renjun—”

“Promise me!”

Their eyes locked again. This time, there was no mask left. 

“Okay. I promise.”

The handle of the door rattled.

Renjun turned, magic crackling along his arm again, stronger this time, pulsing wild from fear and instinct. Darting to the end of the room, he placed his hand on the far wall, muttered the old words, ones Jeno was not familiar with. The stone before him shimmered, then parted.

An exit. One Renjun had discovered years ago and used frequently as a means of escapism. It was a single narrow passage leading downward to a forgotten wine cellar. The routes below the Palace were intricate, but Renjun, much like many of the servants, knew the system well enough to bob and weave seamlessly. 

He hesitated at the threshold, sparing the prince a look over his shoulder and a curt nod.

Then he was gone.

The wall sealed shut behind him just as the upper door burst open.

Jeno turned, the satchel now hidden under his cloak.

Sir Johnny stepped inside, eyes locking on him.

“Your Highness?” he said, confused. “We thought you were—”

“I’m here,” Jeno interrupted smoothly. “The magic flared in the area. I came to check it, but found nothing. This tower is old after all, and could be dangerous. See to it that no one wanders here or tampers with this place again.”

The knight hesitated, looking around at the sealed room. At Jeno’s calm face and steady hands.

“Understood, Your Highness.”

But Jeno could still feel the warmth in the room; still see the imprint of where Renjun had stood.

He could still hear the name ringing softly like a silver bell.

The knights left without further question, but the room felt heavier for it.

The moment the door shut, Jeno finally exhaled.

He was alone again, and yet, he wasn’t. Renjun’s presence still clung to the room. The sharp scent of lightning-singed air, the whisper of old magic still coiling where he’d vanished. The stones hummed faintly beneath Jeno’s boots, like they resented being disturbed.

Jeno looked down at the satchel in his arms. Plain leather, a little frayed at the seams but heavy with history, a life Renjun had buried; pressed flat between pages and ink and silence. He sank to one knee and opened it carefully.

Inside were three things. A folded Eastern map, ringed with marked paths and circled ruins—most he did not recognise from official charts. Flipping it over revealed a network of loops and winding lines that made little sense. A journal also lay there, battered and thin, written in Renjun’s hand, but its contents were mostly protected by a spell that made sections of paragraphs invisible. Memos in a foreign script, fragmented memories and entire names were blacked out in charcoal from what Jeno could make out. Lastly, at the bottom, a gold crest: a half-broken phoenix medallion. 

The contents still held power; old, grieving power.

Jeno reached out and touched the medallion. It sparked faintly beneath his fingers, then pulsed warmly, recognising him not as its heir, but as someone close enough to one.

His throat tightened.

He wasn’t meant to survive, Jeno thought. And he did. He made it all the way here. Right under their noses. Under mine.

He should report it.

He was the Crown Prince. The heir of the Central throne.

The Eastern Rise had been extinguished for a reason, the records claimed them to be users of dangerous magic, blood-born dark witchcraft and a people of treason.

It is what he was taught, though Jeno never could find it in himself to truly hate another region.

Yet, how can the boy he knew be as dark as they say? Jeno believed Renjun was not a threat, not a weapon to be used or destroyed.

He looked terrified when Jeno said his name.

But he would’ve fought me, Jeno realised. His magic is stronger. He would’ve run through me if I’d made one wrong move.

The satchel rested in his hands, waiting for a decision.

Burn it.

Bury it. 

Hide it. 

Or return it.

If I protect him…what does that make me?

He stood slowly and closed the bag, tucking it back beneath his cloak.

Outside, the moon had begun to rise past the spires. The wind howled higher now, rattling the thin windowpanes.

His mind felt heavy. He did not want to think too much right now, so he settled with lingering feelings of wanting to know more. Jeno couldn't find it in himself to tell a soul in the Palace.

No, he'll deal with this on his own.

I’ll protect him, even if I shouldn’t. Even if it’s just for now.

~

Jeno moved through the palace like a ghost.

The satchel was still warm against his back when he slipped through a servants' corridor and into the private eastern archive chamber. Not even the scribes visited this deep past nightfall; he’d made sure of that long ago.

He pried up a floorboard behind the third shelving wall, the one with faded ledgers no one touched. Inside: a dry cavity lined with old spell-dampening fabric. A space he’d once used to stash contraband sweets as a child.

Now, it would keep Renjun’s past out of reach.

He wrapped the satchel tight and laid it in the hollow.

“You’ll come back for it,” Jeno muttered, more to himself than anyone. “You’ll want it whole when you run.”

Or when I run with you. 

The prince shook his head, wanting to rid himself of that thought. 

He sealed the floorboards, wiped the dust from his fingers, and left without looking back. The guards were waiting for him by the time he reached the northern corridor that led to his quarters.

“Your Highness,” one of them said, stepping into his path. “The King requests your presence.”

Jeno blinked, masking his reaction.

“At this hour?”

“It’s regarding one of the palace wards.” The guard hesitated. “And the boy, Injun.”

For a moment, time stopped. 

There it is, Jeno thought. 

Hora del cuento con la tía Kiara

A japán büfék-kocsmák, amelyeknél függöny (noren) lóg a bejáratnál és gyakran lehet dohányozni, jellemzően az izakaya-k (居酒屋) — a japán kocsma-büfék — és más hagyományos vendéglátóhelyek. �

🇯🇵 Mi az a noren?

A noren (暖簾) egy rövid, gyakran színes vászonfüggöny, amit Japánban sok étterem, büfé és izakaya bejárata fölé tesznek:

jelzi, hogy az üzlet nyitva van,

egyfajta cégér / dekoráció,

és részben védi a belsőt a külső időjárástól. �

Nippon +1

🍶 Izakaya — japán kocsma

Izakaya (ejtsd: izakaja) az a hely, amit a legtöbb ember „japán kocsma-büfének” hív:

mint egy pub / tapas bár keveréke, ahol alkoholt és kisebb ételeket szolgálnak fel;

gyakran papírlámpásokkal és noren függönyökkel a bejáratnál;

kifejezetten népszerű a vacsora utáni társasági ivásra. �

🚬 Dohányzás Japánban

A dohányzás Japánban szabályozottabbá vált az utóbbi években, de:

kis helyi izakaya-kban még mindig engedélyezett lehet dohányozni, különösen ha kicsi (<100 m²) és nincs elkülönített nemdohányzó tér;

az új törvények miatt azonban sok helyen külön dohányzó részre vagy szobába kell menni;

nagyobb éttermek és láncok gyakran nem engedik a dohányzást a vendégtérben. �

Tokyo-ban és más japán városokban például a yokocho (kis sikátorok, izakaya-utcák) tele vannak ilyen hagyományos helyekkel, ahol a kültéri függönyös bejárat mögött kicsi, hangulatos, néha még dohányzó izakayák sorakoznak. �

Go Tokyo +1

Röviden:

👉 Azokra a japán büfék-kocsmákra, amiknél függöny lóg az ajtónál, egyszerűen azt mondjuk: noren-es vendéglők, leggyakrabban izakaya-k. �