Zayden’s eyes went wide the moment he stepped inside the building. It was nothing like what he had seen earlier.

The once-bright hallways were now steeped in unnatural darkness, light swallowed whole. The white walls had turned dull and distorted—even the paintings that once hung upon them had melted away, leaving nothing behind.

"What... is this?" Zayden murmured.

He didn’t look back to ensure his knights were following him, too focused on the strange thing that caught his eye.

A faint flicker of light drifted through the air, floating like falling snow, yet never touching the ground. Without wasting another moment, he followed it, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword, senses stretched taut, ready to strike the instant something revealed itself.

The strange light led him to what appeared to be a room. The moment he stepped inside, the door shut behind him with a soundless finality—as if the space itself had decided he would not leave.

"Do you even... love me?"

The voice echoed, layered and distorted, coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

Zayden’s gaze snapped to the walls. Upon them, the memory of his last conversation unfolded, repeating itself in a cruel loop.

His breath caught in his throat. His eyes widened.

What was this place?

He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Ren. It was exactly as it had been before he left—every expression, every pause. His heart pounded wildly, as though it might burst from his chest.

"No. I don’t love you."

The words rang out again, hollow and unchanging.

Zayden’s heart sank as the reply he had been dreading echoed on the screen.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then a short and dry laugh escaped his lips.

"...No."

He shook his head, a faint, almost amused smile tugging at his lips. "This is ridiculous."

The image before him didn’t waver. Ren’s face remained the same—cold, distant, unmoving.

"Ren loves me," Zayden said, more firmly now, as if the words alone could shatter the illusion. "You think I wouldn’t know?"

He took a step forward. The room rippled, the walls breathing in and out, yet the memory continued to play.

The smile slowly faded.

Why wasn’t it disappearing?

Just then, another memory began to play.

It was the scene of his best friend falling from the tower—except this time, it wasn’t him.

It was Ren.

Zayden gasped, his breath tearing from his chest as he shouted Ren’s name, rushing forward as if he could still reach him.

But the illusion didn’t stop.

The image shifted, forcing him to look down. Ren’s body lay sprawled on the ground below, unmoving, the stone beneath him soaked in red.

Zayden froze.

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be.

Yet the sight burned itself into his eyes all the same.

And the worst part of it? It felt as if it were truly happening—as if he weren’t merely watching a memory, but experiencing it himself.

His knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, unable to tear his eyes away.

"...Ren, open your eyes! Please!..." He cried, his voice trembling.

***

Ren stared at the box of condoms in Zayden’s room. Maybe the man had placed it on the night table while Ren was in the shower.

He couldn’t understand what it was—or why it was so important, to the point that Zayden had even refused to penetrate him despite him being in heat. Any alpha would have lost control...

"What is so special about this?" he muttered, opening the box. Inside were several small packets. He picked one up and tore it open. It was a thin, latex-like object, already slick with lubricant inside and out.

And it had the shape of a... dick.

"Ugh. Who should I ask?" Ren wondered, narrowing his eyes. Someone who wouldn’t laugh at him. The only person who came to mind was Lillia—she had always been a great help to him.

"But if she asks why, then...?" He fell into deep thought.

Once he finally came up with a good reason, he sprang to his feet and headed to the kitchen, moving like a storm carried by the wind.

Arriving at the kitchen, Ren spotted Lillia standing near the table, arranging the meals.

"Miss Lillia!" he called, rushing toward her.

The elderly lady glanced his way, her expression brightening.

"My, Ren! It has been a long time since I last saw you."

The young man lowered his eyes slightly, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t visited her in a while.

"How have you been?" she asked, grinning brightly as she continued mixing the salad.

"I’m alright," Ren replied softly. Then, after a brief pause, he added, "How about you, Miss Lillia?"

She let out a small sigh, her hands never stopping as she worked. "Life isn’t easy," she said with a faint smile. "But what can I do? One simply keeps going."

Ren nodded. They spoke for a short while after that—about small things, about the weather, about familiar faces. Eventually, Lillia asked about his time in the capital.

"It was... an experience I won’t forget," Ren answered simply.

She chuckled, clearly reading between the lines. "I see."

Then she tilted her head. "So, what brings you here today?"

Ren froze.

He gasped softly. He had almost forgotten. "Ah—!" He straightened quickly. "I actually wanted to ask you something."

Lillia raised an eyebrow, amused. "Oh?"

Ren hesitated, his ears slowly turning red. "I... um... what are condoms?"

For a second, Lillia stared at him. Then she laughed—lightly, warmly—before quickly composing herself. "My goodness," she said, clearing her throat. "Why do you ask?"

"I... I read about it in a book," Ren answered, avoiding her gaze. He couldn’t possibly reveal to her that Zayden wanted to use it during sex!

"Oh," she nodded. "They’re used to prevent pregnancy. An alpha—or anyone, really—uses it during intimacy so their partner won’t conceive."

Ren’s face burned.

"O-Oh."

Suddenly, everything clicked.

No wonder Zayden had wanted to use one. It wasn’t rejection—it was protection.

The realization made his stomach twist, embarrassment flooding him as he recalled how clueless he must have looked back then.

He should have just said so!...

He groaned inwardly.

***

At dinner, Soren sat across from his father at the edge of the table, while Rihaan sat beside him and the Empress by the king’s side.

"I have notified the two kingdoms to send their respective candidates for marriage," Zaphyr began.

Rihaan stiffened at the king’s words.

Already?

Wasn’t he moving too fast?

His grip around the spoon tightened.

Soren said nothing and raised no objection, simply continuing his meal in utter calm.

Rihaan’s chest tightened, and his fingers gripped the spoon until his knuckles turned white.

No. This couldn’t be happening.

He didn’t want Soren to get engaged—no, not just engaged. He didn’t want him to marry anyone at all. The thought of another person taking that place, sharing a life that Rihaan had imagined for himself alone, made his stomach twist.

He kept his eyes fixed on Soren, who remained serene, eating as if nothing in the world could touch him. The calmness only made Rihaan’s anxiety spike further.

He can’t. He just can’t...

Rihaan’s mind raced.

What could he do? Could he stop it? Could he—should he even try?

Every polite smile and measured bite from Soren felt like a reminder of what Rihaan might lose. The heat in his chest built a quiet, suffocating pressure that left his legs trembling slightly under the table.

He hated how powerless he felt, yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Soren was always so composed, so untouchable. And right now, that composure felt like a threat.

Someone else was to have him.

The thought alone left a sour taste in his mouth.

"Ah, right. I heard Zayden say he wants to get married," the Empress said casually, stirring her tea.

Soren and Zaphyr immediately turned to her, eyes wide.

What?

Soren thought, his mind racing.

I thought he had no intention of settling down with anyone. Although he did seem to have something going on with Ren...

"Well..." Zaphyr said slowly, leaning back in his chair, his gaze thoughtful. "When one finds love, what can he do but be helpless in his own desires?"

The Empress smiled knowingly. "Exactly. Even the strongest wills can falter when faced with the heart."

Soren’s jaw tightened, his fingers brushing against his cup, betraying the faintest tension beneath his calm exterior.

Love.

Again with that word.

He had begun to hate how everyone used it at their own convenience. He had fallen in love himself, but he didn’t let it control him the way Rihaan or Zayden did.

No wonder some called it a disease.

He told himself.

A disease no one could find a cure for.

He stole a glance at Rihaan, whose hand trembled slightly as he lifted his spoon. The younger man’s composure was fraying, and Soren didn’t know the reason behind it.

Then, he shook his head immediately. Why should he even know what Rihaan thought?

It didn’t concern him. Not anymore.