From the third day of his stay at the royal palace, Rihaan began receiving strange letters—ones that could easily be interpreted as death threats. They warned him to leave the empire if he valued his life.

He couldn’t understand why—or who would have the courage to do such a thing, especially when he was a royal guest. The Imperial Crown Prince’s ex-fiancé, no less. Shouldn’t that alone earn him a measure of respect?

He considered telling Soren. However, he held back—especially when the man seemed too busy preparing the bedchambers for the marriage candidates who were expected to arrive at any moment.

It wasn’t until a week later that Rihaan recalled something from his previous stay. Back then, he had also received a threat, though he hadn’t paid it much attention at the time. It had warned him not to marry Crown Prince Soren.

Lost in thought, Rihaan paced down the hallway toward the garden. Whenever Soren was too occupied to spare him even a glance, Rihaan found himself there. He missed his homeland—where plants still grew freely and snow was something unheard of.

At Soren’s insistence, he had sent a letter to his mother. The man simply couldn’t accept that Rihaan had left his country without notifying his parents, knowing full well how worried they must have been.

"What if they think we kidnapped you and waged a war?" Soren had asked, frowning at him.

Rihaan couldn’t bear to see such an expression directed at him—not one laced with anger. So he had given in to the omega’s request and written the letter.

Now, taking a sip of the tea a maid had prepared for him, the alpha gazed at a field of red amaryllis. Standing before it, he gently brushed his fingers over the petals, careful not to pluck or damage them.

For some reason, they made him think of Soren.

Prideful. Determined. And above all, radiantly beautiful.

"What are you doing here?" Leon asked as he came out for a stroll.

The alpha turned, startled.

"Am I not allowed?" he replied with a soft smile, bowing respectfully to the queen.

The Queen—one of the least seen figures even within the palace walls. It was rumoured that the Emperor had granted him an entire wing of his own, rarely visited by anyone. Even the servants assigned there were few in number.

"Why wouldn’t you be?" Leon returned the smile. "However, you still haven’t answered me. What are you doing here?"

"Admiring the beauty of these flowers," the young man said, turning back toward the field of red blooms.

"Hm? No one ever pays attention to them," Leon remarked, gesturing toward the flowerbeds. "They are always too mesmerized by the red roses." He pointed to the roses beside the table where plates of desserts had been arranged—untouched by Rihaan.

"Well, roses are quite common," Rihaan replied calmly. "If someone were to give something to the one they cherish, shouldn’t it be unique?"

Leon chuckled. "And who do you plan to give flowers to, Your Royal Highness? Someone special?"

Rihaan shook his head. He didn’t have the right.

As if Leon had read his thoughts—and he had, though Rihaan didn’t know it—the Queen spoke again.

"If someone is precious to you, you must pursue them," he said gently. "Otherwise, you will truly lose them and drown in regret—something I would never advise anyone to endure."

The omega let out a dry, almost pained laugh. He had experienced that feeling, undoubtedly.

"It is quite agonizing."

"I understand... Thank you for sharing your advice," Rihaan bowed, greeting the Queen goodbye before heading back to his bedchambers.

As he strode down the hallway, the only thing on his mind was the threats he had received so far.

Maybe if he told Soren about them, the man would finally pay more attention to him.

It should be alright, right?...

He sank his teeth into his lip until he tasted blood.

What should he do? What could he do to make Soren cancel the marriage talks—no, to make him stop, to make him look at him instead? To keep him as his—

Rihaan sucked in a sharp breath.

No.

What was he thinking?

Soren wasn’t his. He had never been. He wasn’t someone Rihaan could cling to, claim, cage—

I don’t love him.

The thought barely held before it cracked.

Or... Do I?

His chest tightened painfully. Rihaan dragged a hand through his hair, pacing, turning, breathing too fast. His thoughts tangled, tripped over themselves, and refused to settle.

He couldn’t think.

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t understand himself anymore.

***

A man wrapped in a dark jacket entered the bar. His figure was well-defined, like a soldier who had trained and fought countless battles. He wasn’t of average height either. Perhaps he was another half-breed—they were often taller than most people.

"What brings you here?" the lady standing at the front asked, smiling brightly at him.

"I wish to meet with the guild master," the man stated.

Just as the lady was about to speak, the man continued.

"XASK. The password." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

The woman’s eyes widened, her mouth parting slightly. She hadn’t seen him before. Then again, she was just a part-time worker here. Perhaps he was familiar with the place, judging by how quickly he said the password.

She quickly recomposed herself, clearing her throat as her smile stiffened into something more cautious.

"Please... wait a moment," she said, her voice lower now.

She slipped through the beaded curtain behind the counter, disappearing into the back.

The noise of the bar—laughter, clinking glasses—felt suddenly distant, as if muffled by an invisible wall.

A few patrons glanced his way, curiosity flickering in their eyes, but the man remained still, his hands tucked into his pockets, posture relaxed yet alert.

Minutes passed. Then the curtain parted again.

"Follow me," the woman said, no longer smiling.

She led him past a narrow hallway, a floor down. The dimly lit stairs reeked. Reaching the very end stood a heavy iron door, she knocked.

The door opened just enough for a single eye to peer through.

"He’s here," the woman said simply.