(Next Day)
Eva’s eyes fluttered open slowly. She stretched, arms lifting above her head, toes curling beneath the sheets—only to freeze when a cool breath of morning air brushed against her bare skin.
She blinked. Then carefully lifted the edge of the sheet.
Bare.
Her cheeks burned instantly. “Did I… fall asleep like this last night?”
Fragments of the night before slipped back into her mind—hands, heat, the way control had slipped and returned in uneven waves.
Her lips parted slightly. “I didn’t know his fingers could move that…”
She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, eyes widening at her own thought.
“…I really didn’t want it to stop.”
A pause.
“But....” She shook her head quickly, scolding herself. “This time… I want to see his real face. I want to see when he touches me.”
A dangerous thought followed before she could stop it.
“I wonder how he’d look as Eyan when he’s inside m—”
SMACK.
She slapped her own cheek, heat blooming across her skin.
“What is wrong with me?” she muttered, mortified. “Since when did I become this shameless?”
And yet— She giggled softly, unable to help herself, burying her face into the pillow.
“I can’t wait to see him like that…”
Her smile slowly faded as she lifted her head.
“Speaking of him…”
The house was unnervingly quiet.
Too quiet.
Eva rose from the bed, dressed quickly, and stepped out of the room. Her footsteps echoed as she descended the stairs, peeking around the corner—
Empty.
No Kyel. No movement. No sign he’d even been there this morning.
Her brows knit together.
“He’s not here?” she murmured. “I thought he’d be begging for forgiveness after how he behaved last night…”
Then her gaze shifted.
On the dining table sat a pot—neatly placed, a lid resting on top. Still warm.
Eva walked toward the table and slowly lifted the lid.
Warm steam rose instantly, carrying a familiar scent that wrapped around her like a memory. Her breath caught.
She leaned closer, inhaling softly.
“It smells so good…” she murmured. “It’s been so long since I ate something made by his hands.”
For a moment, she simply stood there, letting the warmth sink into her skin—into her chest. Then her eyes shifted.
A folded note lay beside the pot.
Eva reached for it, fingers hesitating before she unfolded the paper.
Kyel’s handwriting was uneven, as if written in haste—or fear.
Eva slowly lowered the note onto the table. The room felt heavier now.
“…He’s hating himself so much,” she whispered.
Her fingers curled slightly against the wood. A flicker of guilt stirred in her chest. “Maybe I really did go overboard with my acting…”
She glanced back at the note, her brows knitting together.
“But what did he mean by ‘
She frowned. “I already have his father’s approval. The engagement is decided.” Her lips pressed together. “It’s not like he can stop anything now.”
Silence answered her.
Eva stood there, thinking—too long.
“…Maybe I’m overthinking,” she finally said, shaking her head lightly. “Nothing is going to happen.”
She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I should eat breakfast.”
--------------------------------------------------------
(Royal Palace, Velmoria)
(Emperor’s Study)
A long, hollow sigh escaped the room.
Eyan sat curled in the corner of the study, knees drawn tightly to his chest, arms locked around them as if he were holding himself together by force alone. His head rested against the cold stone wall, eyes unfocused, empty.
Another sigh.
Hans stood near the desk, arms crossed, watching the scene with growing concern.
“Your Majesty,” he said at last, exhaling sharply, “how long do you plan to sit there and sigh like a dying man? You’ve been in that corner since morning. What in the world happened?”
Eyan didn’t look up.
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“I hate myself,” he said quietly.
Eyan’s fingers tightened around his sleeves. “I didn’t know I was this kind of person,” he murmured. His voice dropped further, almost a whisper. “I didn’t know I was capable of becoming someone so… .”
He shut his eyes. “I wish I could undo what I did,” he wishperd to himself, “I never wanted her to see that side of me. Never.”
Hans let out a tired sigh of his own and walked closer.
“Enough with the self-hatred, Your Majesty,” he said firmly. “Now stand up and come eat breakfast like a living human being.”
“I’m not hungry,” Eyan replied without hesitation.
Hans narrowed his eyes. “Whether you are or not doesn’t matter. Your father, His Majesty is waiting for you.”
That got a reaction.
Eyan’s eyes opened slowly. “…What does that old man want now,” he muttered bitterly, “after destroying my life so thoroughly?”
Eyan pushed himself up from the floor at last. His movements were slow, mechanical—like a man dragged forward by obligation rather than will. He didn’t bother straightening his clothes or fixing his disheveled hair.
--------------------------------------------------------
(Dining Hall)
Eyan entered the dining hall with slow, measured steps.
King Thalor was already seated at the head of the long table, posture straight and commanding as ever. Luca sat to his right, relaxed—but his eyes were sharp, observant.
Eyan stopped a few steps away and bowed. “Good morning, Father.”
“Good morning, Eyan,” King Thalor replied, his tone neutral.
Eyan took his seat. Almost immediately, servants moved in silence, placing plates and bowls before them. The soft clink of porcelain echoed faintly in the vast hall.
Eyan lifted his spoon. Just as it hovered near his lips—
King Thalor spoke. “Where is Eva?” he asked, turning his gaze to the maid standing nearby. “Why isn’t she here?”
Eyan’s hand froze midair. The spoon trembled slightly.
The maid lowered her head. “Your Majesty, I went to call the lady for breakfast, but… she wasn’t in her room.”
King Thalor’s brows furrowed. “She wasn’t in her room? Then where did she go?”
“I—I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
An uncomfortable silence settled over the table.
Eyan shifted in his chair, his shoulders tightening. Luca noticed immediately. His eyes flicked toward Eyan, studying the subtle stiffness, the way his jaw clenched.
“Eyan,” Luca said casually, though his tone carried weight, “do you know anything?”
Eyan flinched. “Hm?” He looked up, startled.
“Lady Eva,” Luca continued, watching him closely. “She’s not in her room. Do you know where she went?”
Eyan swallowed. “No,” he said, a little too quickly. “I don’t.”
Luca didn’t reply—but his gaze lingered, suspicious.
Just then, a voice broke the tension.
“I apologize for being late.”
Luca turned first. “Oh—Lady Eva. You’re here.”
Eyan stiffened. Slowly, he lowered his head, his eyes fixed on the table.
King Thalor looked up, relief evident in his expression. “Eva, come here. We were waiting for you. The maid said you weren’t in your room—where did you go so early?”
“I went to my house,” Eva answered calmly. “I needed to bring my belongings. I didn’t have many clothes here.”
King Thalor frowned slightly. “You should have informed us. The maids would have brought you anything you needed. Why trouble yourself by going all that way?”
“I’ll do that next time,” Eva said with a small smile.
King Thalor nodded. “Very well. Now come—sit and eat.”
Eva walked forward and took a seat at the far side of the table.
Immediately, King Thalor noticed.
“My child,” he said gently, “why are you sitting there? Come. Sit beside Eyan.”
Eva hesitated. She glanced toward Eyan.
He sat stiffly, head lowered, eyes fixed on his untouched plate—as if the world beyond it didn’t exist.
“…Alright,” she said softly.
She stood and walked around the table, then took the seat beside him.
The moment she settled—
Eyan moved his chair. The legs scraped faintly against the floor as he shifted farther away from her.
Eva’s fingers curled slightly in her lap. she thought
She turned her head toward him anyway. “Good morning, Your Majesty,” she said gently.
Eyan didn’t look at her. “Good morning,” he replied, his voice distant, controlled.
Eva’s smile faltered.
Eva took a slow, steady breath and finally lifted her spoon.
Just as it touched the bowl—
“Wait, Lady Eva.”
Her hand froze midair. She looked up.
“Yes…?” she said softly.
Luca was staring at her now, no trace of his usual lightness in his eyes. His gaze moved deliberately—from her wrists to her face, then lingered on her lips.
“What happened to your hands?” he asked quietly. “And your face… your lips are cut and swollen.” His eyes narrowed. “And your wrists—why are they bruised like that?”
The room seemed to stop breathing.
Eyan’s breath caught painfully in his throat. He lifted his head despite himself.
His eyes landed on Eva’s face—on the faint swelling of her lip.
Then her wrists.
Dark marks circled them, unmistakable now in the morning light.
His chest tightened violently.
Eva reacted quickly. “Oh—this?” she said lightly, forcing a smile. “It’s nothing. Just something small.”
King Thalor’s spoon paused against his plate. His gaze sharpened. “…Did your husband do this?”
Eyan’s hands curled into tight fists in his lap. His nails dug into his palms, grounding him against the sudden rush of dread.
Eva stiffened. “No, Your Majesty,” she replied immediately.
King Thalor’s voice turned firm. “You don’t need to lie. Anyone can clearly see the marks on your wrists.” His eyes hardened. “Those are fingerprints—from a man’s grip.”
Eva lowered her gaze.
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
“Did he strike you?” King Thalor continued. “Or do anything improper to you? Tell me the truth, and I will ensure he is punished.”
Eva shook her head. “No,” she said quietly but firmly. “He didn’t.”
She lifted her wrist slightly.
“This happened because he was holding my hand too tightly,” she explained. “He was begging me not to leave him.” Her fingers trembled faintly. “And my lip… I tried to pull away, lost my balance, and fell. That’s how I got hurt.”
She looked up again. “My husband didn’t harm me.”
Each word felt like a knife twisted deeper into Eyan’s chest.
She was protecting him. Even now.
King Thalor studied her, then nodded. “…Very well. I’m glad to hear that.”
Eyan couldn’t lift his head.
Couldn’t look at her.
Couldn’t bear the thought that she hurt—because of him, yet still defending him.
“Luca,” King Thalor said, “after breakfast, tend to her injuries.”
“Yes, Father.”
The sound of cutlery resumed.
But Eyan heard nothing.
Eva picked up her spoon again, though her appetite had vanished.
She glanced sideways.
Eyan sat rigid beside her, head bowed low. His lips trembled faintly, as if he were holding back something far heavier than words.
, she thought.
Suddenly, Eyan pushed his chair back and stood.
Luca looked up sharply. “Eyan? Where are you going? What about breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry,” Eyan said flatly. “You all can eat.”
He turned and walked away before anyone could see his face.
Eva’s eyes followed him until he disappeared beyond the tall doors.
--------------------------------------------------------
(Eyan's Chamber)
The door burst open.
Eyan staggered inside like a man chased by his own thoughts, chest heaving, breath ragged. Guilt, rage, and self-loathing crushed down on him until it felt impossible to breathe.
He stared down at his hands—those same hands that had left bruises blooming on her pale skin, marks he could still see in his mind’s eye even now.
They trembled, not from cold, but from the weight of what they had done. Self-loathing coiled tighter in his chest, a serpent squeezing until he could scarcely draw air.
From behind his back he drew the dagger, its blade catching the firelight in a cold, accusing glint.
He sank to the floor, knees striking stone, and pressed one palm flat against the flagstones. The rough surface bit into his skin, grounding him just enough to steady his grip.
A voice—soft, pleading—whispered through the haze of memory. “Kyel, stop… you’re hurting me.”
His jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He raised the dagger and drove it down.
The pain was immediate, bright and clean. Blood welled around the steel, hot and dark. He did not flinch.
He lifted the blade again and struck once more, then again, each thrust deliberate, punishing. The pain was nothing compared to the guilt that clawed at his insides.
He switched hands, the dagger flashing, and repeated the punishment on the other palm—again and again—until both hands were ruined.
“Your Majesty!”
Eva’s voice shattered the silence. She stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide with horror.
She ran.
She dropped to her knees beside him, heedless of the blood, and seized his wrist. “Your Majesty—what are you doing? Why are you hurting yourself?”
Eyan’s voice was low, raw. “Let my hand go. I deserve it.”
“No.” Tears streamed down her face as she pried at his fingers. “Please, stop.”
With a desperate wrench she tore the dagger from his grip and flung it across the room. It clattered against the far wall, spinning out of reach. His hands hung limp between them, gashes deep and ugly, blood dripping steadily onto her skirts.
Eva’s breath hitched. “Are you insane? Don’t you feel the pain?”
She grabbed his hands carefully now, pressing them together, trying to stop the bleeding with shaking fingers.
Eyan didn’t look at her.
Instead, his voice came out low and broken. “Why did you lie?”
Eva froze.
He finally looked up.
“Your husband,” Eyan said, voice cracking, “he wasn’t begging you. He wasn’t trying to stop you.” His teeth clenched. “He was hurting you.”
“No.” The word came out small, automatic. “He wasn’t.”
“LIAR.”
She stared at him, something shifting behind her eyes—“Your Majesty… how can you be so sure I’m lying? You speak as if… as if you were there when it happened.”
Eyan went still.
“Did you see it happen?” Eva asked softly.
He looked away, unable to hold her gaze any longer. His fingers twitched in hers, smearing blood across her skin.
Eva’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m not lying. These bruises on my arms… they’re proof of how desperate he was. How far he was willing to go to keep me by his side. They prove how much he loves me.”
Eyan’s jaw tightened. “Then why are you leaving him?” The question came out rough, almost pleading. “Can you not just stay by his side?”
Eva said nothing. Her fingers tightened around his trembling hands.
“You need treatment,” she said urgently, fear threading through her voice. “The bleeding isn’t stopping. Healing magic won’t work on you.”
“You need to call your wolves. Only they can heal these wounds.”
Eyan stared at her. Stunned.
“…How,” he whispered, “do know that?”
