Shinkai - The Eyes That Shouldn't Exist

"I want to see it."

Lady Elyria's voice was calm but unwavering — the kind that made guards nervous.

She stood near the stained-glass windows of the eastern wing, arms folded, her green eyes narrowed toward the city below. From this height, Yurelda looked like a painting. Still. Obedient.

"The Lower Crescent," she added. "I want to see how they live."

There was silence.

Then came the slow shuffle of parchment, and a cough — dry, practiced.

"Your Highness… permission to speak plainly?"

The man who addressed her was old, cloaked in the ink-scent of royal records. A scholar. Maybe a historian. Maybe something else. His name was never remembered — but his voice always was.

"You request to descend. Very well. But before you take a single step from this tower, you must understand what it means to walk downward in Yurelda."

He drew a map in the air with two fingers — not with magic, but memory.

I. The Garden

"At the top, there is the Garden. You know this one well — the royal estate, the king's seat, the untouched sky. Here, flowers grow out of stone and pretend they were never tamed. The nobles say the Garden reflects order. But order only thrives in places that fear collapse."

He smiled thinly.

II. The Upper Crescent

"Beneath the Garden lies the Upper Crescent — the noble districts. The estates. The marble walkways. This is where violet, blue and green eyes rule in layers, where even their servants have better names than soldiers. Here, people kill without blades. They drown each other in etiquette, inheritance, and smiles."

III. The Lower Crescent

"Now — the place you wish to visit."

His fingers moved again, lower this time, tracing a rougher shape.

"The Lower Crescent. A mess of life and heat. Markets that stink of fire and fish. Houses built atop houses, all leaning on hope and string. This is where hazel eyes argue with brown, where grey eyes fix machines and carry crates, where black eyes clean the blood off both."

He paused.

"Some call it the heart of Yurelda. Some say it's where the kingdom ends and the real world begins."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Down there, words don't wear titles. They wear scars."

IV. The Hollow Veins

The air shifted. The room felt colder.

"And below even that," he said, "are the Hollow Veins."

He didn't gesture this time.

"Tunnels that predate the king. Some say they were carved by magic. Others say they were cities once — crushed beneath Yurelda's own ambition. A Place forbidden for Nobles and Royals to ever enter."

"They don't teach you this, but some of our oldest records mention a fifth level — one that sank before names were written."

Elyria watched him closely now.

"What lives down there?" she asked softly.

"Not what," he answered. "Who. And many of them do not wish to be found."

The silence between them lingered like old dust.

Then he rolled the parchment back into its case.

"So you still wish to descend, my lady?"

Lady Elyria smiled — not out of amusement, but something far sharper.

"Now more than ever."

The man sighed.

"Then walk lightly, and do not speak your name."

"Why?"

"It's a secret"