Everything about her was the exact opposite of everything he desired. Rhaion thought so as his gaze traced over the woman standing before him — the one who, by her mere presence, seemed to provoke the deepest parts of his desire. Saena Nowood was, to him, not a temptation but a catalyst — the very spark that intensified his hunger for Maude.

“It’s such a lovely day, Your Highness.”

Her soft voice drifted through the summer air, and his eyes lingered briefly on her flushed cheeks before turning away, indifferent.

“I suppose it is.”

Even that indifferent reply made her cheeks redden further beneath the early summer sun. That unguarded, blind sort of love — Saena’s love — was like an unchanging melody that played only one note. Rhaion closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again.

How dull.

Her endless chatter faded into the background, a distant hum that no longer reached him. Through the thick greenery of summer, he saw it again — the flicker of an illusion. A dream of a woman who existed like sunlight through the leaves. A smile brighter than any memory. He could summon that image even with his eyes closed — the girl who had run toward him, as though summer itself had bloomed in her eyes.

“You’ve always liked summer, haven’t you, Your Highness?”

Rhaion’s gaze returned to Saena.

“Because Maude returns in the summer.”

“Ah, of course.”

Her smile brightened in response to his — that radiant smile that could make anyone believe it was love. But Saena knew better now. What he felt was never love. It was desire — fleeting, burning, destined to wither the moment it was possessed.

If that could be called love, then love itself might not exist in this world. No, this wasn’t love. And precisely because of that, Rhaion would one day belong to her — to the woman who understood him best, who understood both his desire and his cruelty. Saena Nowood.

With elegant grace, she lifted her teacup.

“It’s been half a year.”

Rhaion murmured it softly. Maude was returning. Like the brilliance of summer itself. She had abandoned her travels through distant lands — trading coffee beans and tea leaves — and was coming back to Berren, back to him. That knowledge filled him with a dark sort of joy.

There was no avoiding it. The empire’s grand Founding Festival ball — an event Maude could never refuse. Rhaion already knew who his partner would be that night.

‘We should match our attire,’ he thought. ‘She always looked beautiful in shades of water and sky.’

Amid the vivid greens and golds of summer, he imagined them together — her beside him, every detail of the scene perfectly drawn. To Rhaion, Maude was both tangible and abstract. A woman he could define with absolute certainty… yet never truly touch.

He chuckled softly. ‘Perhaps that’s what made her irresistible.’

A breeze stirred Saena’s red hair, sending strands dancing against the white clouds overhead.

“I wonder how beautiful the fireworks will be this year,” she said lightly. “I’m very much looking forward to them.”

Rhaion rested his chin in one hand and studied her face. That face — calm, polished, faintly smiling — was like a mirror. Every time curiosity made him look closer, he saw only himself reflected in her eyes. It was always the same reflection. Always that same memory.

A faint irritation flickered across his face.

“Enjoy yourself, Saena.”

As the summer breeze brushed past, her crimson hair slipped through his fingers. The wind whispered through those strands, and Saena’s cheeks colored at the unexpected touch.

‘Yes,’ he thought, ‘that’s Saena.’

He let out a dry laugh, toying with a lock of her hair.

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you have a partner.”

He smiled softly, rose from his seat, and left. Her eyes trembled as she watched him go, but he paid it no mind. Just like that day long ago — she had been offered to him suddenly, and one day, she would vanish in much the same way.

Their engagement, the Nowood family — all of it would soon be over, like the countless empty seasons they’d already wasted. Saena stood alone, watching his figure fade into the shimmering summer light.

***

“Mother!”

“The Emperor is looking for Duke Nowood. There’s no helping it — you’ll attend tomorrow’s ball with Saena.”

The usually quiet corridor connecting the Empress’s palace to the greenhouse echoed with shouting. Rhaion’s furious voice rang out again and again — so loud it disturbed the still air.

All this… over a partner?

Celeste sighed softly, her expression unreadable as she continued walking.

“You promised me!” 

“You promised Maude would be my partner!”

That roar made her stop. Slowly, she turned — her golden eyes cool and sharp.

One step.

“Don’t ruin things, Rhaion.”

Another step closer. Then her gloved hand rose and gently brushed his cheek — a silent warning. Do not resist. Whether he wished to obey or not was irrelevant. She would make him obey.

“Maude will be yours in the end.”

Even Rhaion, who rarely yielded, found himself silent. Celeste’s hand smoothed down his back like she was soothing a child.

“Good boy.”

He looked down at her and gave a bitter laugh. It was always like this. Always the same. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but neither could he bear it. A strange tension hung between them — and in the end, Rhaion spoke first.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Celeste’s satisfied smile gleamed beneath the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Rhaion’s lips curved in a polite smile, but his eyes… were colder than ice.

If that was what it took to claim Maude, he would play the dutiful fool — his mother’s puppet, her jester. He could endure that much. Once he ascended the throne, he’d carve her out of his life completely.

He imagined her — the proud, beautiful rose — wilting in the shadows of his golden throne.

With a curt bow, he turned away. Beneath that polite mask, fury burned like wildfire.

***

Rhaion stepped out onto the terrace and lit a cigar. Music swelled within the ballroom. Laughter, perfume, the shimmer of glass — and women. Always women.

His sanity was fraying, consumed by itself. Through the smoke, he saw another vision — her voice, her laughter, her light.

“Your Highness! Why are you alone?”

“I brought you a gift today!”

His hand clenched into a fist. The summer night was thick with heat, the scent of roses heavy in the air. The cigar burned low, forgotten, as his thoughts spiraled. Until a sudden commotion from the ballroom caught his attention.

He turned sharply. Through the haze of light and sound, he saw them — her and him.

Maude Hablein. Kyle Rizewell. The sight was enough to twist his lips into a bitter laugh.

He pulled another cigar from his pocket, struck a flame — and the spark flared, blue and fierce.

“How dare they…”

The firelight reflected in his eyes. Some days, he thought he knew her; on others, she was a stranger. But never — not once — had he imagined she could belong anywhere but by his side.

Smoke filled his lungs, but his gaze never left the couple on the dance floor. They moved together, elegant and radiant, as the waltz swelled — until the last fragile thread of his restraint snapped.

Rhaion threw the cigar to the floor and ground it underfoot.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Then I’ll just take everything.”

By force, if he had to. Whatever it took.

“Your Highness! There you are!”

The terrace door burst open, flooding the darkness with golden light. And in that light stood Saena. Rhaion’s expression hardened instantly. He seized her wrist and slammed her against the wall.

She gasped in pain, a soft cry escaping her lips.

“My mother thinks of you as nothing more than a high-priced courtesan.”

His words cut through her like a blade. Saena bowed her head, shame burning behind her eyes— but she bit her lip and endured.

‘Don’t cry,’ she told herself. ‘He only wants to hurt you again.’

But Rhaion didn’t stop. He gripped her face, forcing her to look at him.

“Your father’s the one who fed you to the wolves,” he said coldly. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate your delusions.”

Mercy was a luxury he no longer possessed. At least, not for her.

“Try something like this again — use your father, use the Nowood name — and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He watched her tremble, satisfaction curling his lips. She looked like she might cry at any moment. Perhaps it was a blessing to know one’s place so clearly.

“Clean yourself up,” he said at last, pressing his handkerchief into her hand like a mockery of kindness.

His footsteps faded beyond the terrace, swallowed by the glittering light. And Saena collapsed, alone — the delicate sound of her sobs lost to the music inside.