Mirabelle awoke to the sound of birds chirping through the open balcony doors.

A cool breeze greeted her, billowing the white curtains and carrying with it the scent of freshly baked bread.

Instantly, Mirabelle was fully awake. Lonan had been baking.

Excited, she sat upright.

And immediately jumped. The fur on her tail puffed up, and a startled hiss escaped her mouth.

Pebbles had materialized directly in front of her face.

Even with her newly enhanced, absurdly overpowered senses, the octopus mascot had been completely undetectable until the moment it suddenly appeared.

"Fuck, Pebbles!"

"Yes, Host?"

The flying tentacle thing cheerfully spun a circle around her head before curiously inspecting the room.

"Could you maybe warn me before randomly appearing like that?"

"Hmm." The system spirit did not sound enthusiastic.

’I knew it.’ Mirabelle narrowed her eyes.

’It enjoys annoying me.’

"Host, I recommend marking the fox Beastman as soon as possible."

Pebbles casually lifted a small statue of the Beast Goddess from her desk while delivering this life-altering advice.

The lynx female rolled her eyes. Apparently she had forgotten to disable Spirit Mode yesterday.

This was entirely her own fault.

"Be grateful I acknowledged him as a mate at all."

Pebbles nodded immediately while putting the statue back down.

"Oh, I am very grateful the duchesses’ plan succeeded."

Mirabelle watched him float toward the fireplace.

The spirit vanished into the chimney. A second later he emerged covered in soot.

It took an alarming amount of time for Mirabelle’s brain to process what he had just said.

"The duchesses’ plan?"

Pebbles wiped at his face with a tentacle.

It only made the soot worse.

"Ah, yes." He nodded. "Your mother and the High Duchess of Rotwald exchanged multiple letters to coordinate the matter."

Mirabelle became fully awake.

They had set her up with Lucien?

Whaaaat?!

Her thoughts raced backward.

The ball.

How Lucien had approached her almost immediately.

The crystal glass containing the aphrodisiac.

How conveniently Lucien had appeared exactly when she needed help.

One memory after another clicked into place.

And suddenly she saw red.

The corridors of the castle blurred around her.

Servants flattened themselves against the walls as the future Duchess of Luchsenstein stormed through the hallways like an approaching natural disaster.

Somewhere behind her, Pebbles floated along cheerfully.

"Host appears motivated today."

Mirabelle ignored him.

She was too busy preparing a murder.

Or possibly a very stern conversation.

The distinction was becoming increasingly unclear.

Lucien looked up in surprise when Mirabelle burst into his room.

The room felt more like a scholar’s retreat than a guest chamber.

Dark wood dominated the space.

One wall was paneled in polished walnut, their rich tones softened by fabrics in muted shades of green. Moss green. Forest green. Deep emerald.

The colors reminded of old forests after rain.

Large bookshelves occupied an entire wall, already partially filled with volumes the Duchess’s staff had thoughtfully provided after discovering Lucien’s unfortunate tendency to read everything within reach.

A wide desk stood near one of the windows.

Several sheets of parchment lay neatly stacked beside an ink set and a collection of maps.

Nothing was out of place.

Nothing was accidental.

Even the decorative elements felt restrained.

Instead of gold or gemstones, carved wooden leaves wound around furniture edges. Copper accents gleamed softly throughout the room, catching the light of several oil lamps. Their warm glow reflected from drawer handles, shelf brackets, and the intricate frame surrounding a large mirror.

Near the fireplace stood a pair of armchairs upholstered in dark green fabric.

One currently held Lucien.

The other held three books, a map, and what had once been a coherent attempt at organization.

The balcony doors stood open.

Cool morning air drifted inside.

Somewhere beyond the castle walls, insects sang beneath the rising sun.

The scent of pine and damp earth lingered on the breeze. The crackling fire added a steady rhythm to the room.

Calm.

Predictable.

Peaceful.

The sort of place designed for quiet thought.

Which would have been considerably more useful if Lucien had actually been capable of focusing on any of the books currently surrounding him.

The moment the fox Beastman caught sight of Mirabelle, he knew instantly that he was in trouble.

Her expression was every bit as dark as Silas’s whenever the panther wrapped himself in shadows.

It was as though a thunderstorm had just stormed into his room. The temperature seemed to drop immediately.

For a moment, Lucien could have sworn he heard thunder. Though perhaps that was only his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Suddenly, he was very nervous.

When your female looked at you like that, one of two things had happened.

Either someone had died.

Or someone was about to.

And he had the ominous feeling that someone was going to be him.

His fox ears flattened instinctively.

His tail froze.

Every survival instinct he possessed immediately began filing urgent reports.

Unfortunately, none of them contained useful advice. Because there was no known defense against an angry mate.

Lucien swallowed. Slowly, he rose to his feet and turned to face her fully.

Then he offered what he hoped was a charming smile. It felt more like a final prayer.

"Good morning?"

Mirabelle didn’t respond to his greeting at all. She felt like she was seconds away from exploding.

"Our mothers set us up?" she asked.

It was a trap question.

She already knew the answer.

What she wanted to know was how much Lucien knew.

The fox Beastman’s mouth went dry. He swallowed. And his ears flattened even further.

That was all the confirmation she needed.

"You knew." The words left her as a horrified whisper.

Suddenly, all of Mirabelle’s darkest fears felt confirmed.

He was...

He had...

Disappointment.

Betrayal.

Anger.

All of it surged upward and burned through her chest.

Lucien’s mate bond wasn’t particularly strong. But he felt it. And panic immediately began rising inside him as well.

He raised both hands in a placating gesture and took a careful step toward her.

"Yes, I knew about it, but—"

Mirabelle didn’t let him finish.

Her mind was operating at maximum speed while simultaneously refusing to function at all. Her emotions completely blocked her ability to think clearly.

Otherwise, she might have realized that nobody could possibly have known she would walk down that specific corridor.

Or that she would take the glass.

Or drink from it.

But precisely because she was such an analytical person, she was now overanalyzing everything.

And completely ignoring the possibility of coincidence.

Because it didn’t feel like fate.

It didn’t feel as though this was simply how things were meant to happen.

"I’m angry."

"I understand..." Lucien’s voice was quiet.

"All my mother told me was that I should spend time with you. But I would have done that even if she’d tried to stop me."

Mirabelle sniffed again.

Tears still streamed down her cheeks.

She could taste the salt on her lips.

Seeing her like this shattered something inside Lucien. Never, not even once, had he imagined they would end up here.

And for the first time in his life, his brilliant mind failed him.

He didn’t know what to say.

He didn’t know what to do.

His ears had flattened against the sides of his head. His brows were drawn together so tightly that it almost looked as though he were attempting the famous puppy-eyed expression.

Combined with his usually ethereal features, the result was almost absurd. Like a god worthy of pity.

But Mirabelle didn’t notice.

Not this time.

Her chest hurt. Her throat felt painfully tight.

She felt betrayed.

Yes.

That was it!

Betrayed.

What she didn’t know was that a female Beastman’s body processed emotions far more intensely after mating. Every feeling burned brighter. Every wound cut deeper.

Under normal circumstances, her modern mind would have evaluated the situation very differently.

Right now, however, it genuinely felt as though the world was ending.

Silas and Kaelith raced through the castle.

Their footsteps echoed through corridors of stone and polished wood.

Servants barely had time to react.

The moment they sensed the approaching pressure of one orf the two high-level cultivators, people threw themselves against the walls.

A maid dropped an armful of linens.

A steward stumbled sideways so fast he nearly fell.

Someone shouted a warning.

Nobody listened.

One unfortunate servant carrying an empty tray froze directly in Silas’s path.

Panic flashed across the male’s face.

The tray came up like a shield.

A completely useless shield.

At the last possible second, Silas dissolved into shadows.

Darkness swallowed him.

A heartbeat later he materialized several strides farther down the corridor without losing speed.

The servant nearly collapsed from relief. A collision with a peak Stage Five cultivator would likely have killed him.

Through the bond they could feel Mirabelle.

The pain.

The anger.

The heartbreak.

Each emotion slammed into them hard enough to make their own chests ache.

They knew the direction. But not the exact location.

Which meant Silas couldn’t simply step through the shadows directly to her.

He had to search.

Leap.

Feel.

Adjust.

Leap again.

Meanwhile, Kaelith had abandoned subtlety entirely.

The hyena had been in the library when the bond suddenly exploded with Mirabelle’s distress.

Instinct had taken over.

One moment he had been reading.

The next he had shifted.

The remains of his clothing were probably still scattered somewhere between the bookshelves.

Now he thundered through the castle in full beast form.

Claws scraped against stone. His paws struck the floor hard enough to rattle decorative vases.

Servants scattered before him like frightened birds.

Neither male cared.

They reached Lucien’s rooms from opposite directions at nearly the same moment. And arrived just in time to hear Mirabelle’s final words.

"Lucien of Rotwald." Her voice shook.

"I do not wish to see you or speak to you for the foreseeable future."

Silence fell.

Mirabelle tore herself free. She spun around.

And stormed straight past her two other mates without so much as a glance.

The scent of tears followed in her wake.

Neither Silas nor Kaelith moved.

For a moment, both simply stared after her.

Then, slowly, they turned toward Lucien.