The golden doors of the temple swung wide, and sunlight spilled across the aisle as a little girl in a white dress entered, a basket of petals clutched in her small hands.
It was the flower girl—Eve.

Though the sanctuary brimmed with guests, she skipped lightly along the red carpet, unbothered by the countless eyes upon her. With a fistful of dried petals, she flung them high, scattering them like falling snow to the swell of the orchestra’s march. Some landed on the neatly braided crown of her hair, and the sight drew warm laughter from the crowd at her charm.

And along the fragrant path she left behind, the bride made her entrance.

Shed turned, watching as sunlight poured through the doors and framed the figure who stepped inside.

Luise walked slowly, her gaze lowered, shy and hesitant, until at last she lifted her eyes. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only her.

He had never seen her in a wedding gown before—tradition forbade it.

The shimmer of white silk, the brilliance of her veil… dazzling, radiant. Yet it would be a lie to say he noticed such details. He could not recall the cut of her gown, the length of her veil, or whether jewels graced her throat.

All he saw was Luise Ideana.

‘Do you know how long I have waited for this moment? Do you know how I yearned for you, back when I was nothing but a slave serving the daughter of a count’s house?’

His trembling hands clenched tightly at his sides.

As he watched Luise draw nearer, a sudden thought struck him—perhaps this was all a dream. Every moment of happiness he had shared with her had always dissolved into dreams: her whispers of love scattered into emptiness, her warmth crumbling to ash, vanishing like smoke in his arms.

He nearly pinched his thigh to test it, then stopped. If it was a dream, he would not wake. If it was real, there was no need.

When Luise finally reached him, Shed extended his hand with solemn courtesy.

Her gloved fingers rested atop his palm.

Although their bond was not so strong that a mere touch would be thrilling, his heart still surged.

Luise felt the same.

Standing before him in his stark black ceremonial attire, she could feel her heart racing uncontrollably. His dark hair swept back neatly, his features seemed sharper than ever.

“Duke Shed Lester, and… Lady Luise Ideana.”

The officiant dispatched from the High Temple called their names.

Together, they stood before the divine presence and laid their hands upon the ancient scripture.

By rights, Giselle, as Ideana’s appointed High Priestess, might have presided.

But as she herself had said:

“I’m hardly idle enough to recite the vows of my ex-fiancé.”

Even Giselle Marlhein could not bring herself to go that far.

The High Priest of Dynaemes stood with solemn composure, reciting a passage from the ancient scripture as he pronounced a long blessing upon the two who were to be joined as husband and wife.

With their hands still resting together on the scripture, Luise and Shed exchanged rings and embraced their vows wholeheartedly.

“As partners bound by destiny, do you swear before God to cherish and love one another, until the light of the divine is no more?”

Their eyes met as they answered in unison.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Their reply echoed through the temple, carried on a hush of reverence.

The priest placed the marriage contract before them and they signed their names next to each other’s.

Shed Lester.
Luise Ideana.

Names etched into a vow without end.

“Therefore, in the name of the divine, I declare these two to be husband and wife.”

With the proclamation, applause and cheers erupted, a tide of blessings pouring over them.

Luise looked up at the man who was now her husband. For the first time in what had felt like an endless, weary life, she could breathe again.

Shamefully, she feared that she would start crying again, so instead she lifted her lips into a radiant smile.

When their smiles met, a fierce warmth surged through Shed’s chest.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

The banquet hall swelled with a dizzying press of guests. Not even in the height of Ideana’s glory had so many ever gathered beneath its name.

The orchestra played, but its melodies were drowned beneath the hum of countless voices.

Luise, now dressed in her reception gown, stood to greet them—no longer the frail young lady in hiding, but the new mistress of the ducal house. She and Shed remained together as custom demanded, yet the duties of host and hostess often drew them apart.

Strangers approached her as though she were an old acquaintance, speaking with the ease of familiarity.

But as the sickly daughter of House Ideana, she had never once stepped into society’s gatherings. Save for a handful of faces she dimly recalled from her years of servitude, every guest was a stranger to her.

Even those few who had once crossed her path in the days she wore a maid’s apron pretended ignorance, as though they had never known her at all. After all, what advantage was there in admitting they had once scorned the woman who now stood before them as the Duchess of Lester?

And so, the conversations of the feast—cloaked in polite smiles and shallow flattery—proved more wearying than welcome.

“Lady Lester. At last, we meet. I had only ever read of you in the papers… It seems, perhaps, that rumor tends toward exaggeration.”

“Indeed. To think this slight frame could have slain both demon and dragon… Surely the articles ought to have dwelt less on battle and more on your beauty, my lady! Ha ha!”

They dressed their disbelief as praise.

Luise met their words with a quiet smile. She had no wish to speak of the battles; the world already believed she had borne only a curse of black magic.

It was then—

“So, are you suggesting the people of Faradel and the knights of House Lester all conspired to fabricate such a lie?”

She had been deflecting and ignoring the comments when, all of a sudden, someone cut into the conversation on her behalf.

“Sir Carlisle!”

“This is Lester territory. I suggest you watch your tongue, Marquess Mont.”

Carlisle’s violet eyes swept over the man with a deadly glare before he turned on his heel and walked away.

The marquess was left gaping, mouth open, too stunned to form a reply.

A soft laugh escaped from Luise. The abrupt way in which Carlisle had spoken on her behalf, without waiting for thanks, struck her as almost endearing. At the same time, his words carried the weight of recognition, as though he had finally acknowledged her as the lady of House Lester.

Perhaps it was because of the two calamities that had befallen Faradel, but the knights, soldiers and townsfolk all greeted her with genuine warmth.

Everyone was there, except the household servants who had once looked down on her. Janet was among them, and she turned deathly pale and scurried away at the mere sight of her. It was said that, pricked by guilty consciences, more than a few had resigned in haste together.

Even after Carlisle’s departure, the hall was alive with whispers.

“But wasn’t the entire Ideana family executed for treason over a decade ago? How is she even—”

“She already has a child, so that means before marriage, Duke Lester and she must have…”

Such words no longer hurt her; they had lost their power a long time ago. Nevertheless, the constant chatter was tiring. She didn’t have an eternity to waste answering them anymore.

It was then—

“Perhaps it’s best you retire now, my lady.”

A long arm slipped around her shoulders.

Startled, she looked up to see Shed standing beside her. Just moments ago, he had been across the hall speaking with other nobles.

“But the guests…”

Tradition dictated that the bride and groom remain at the reception at least a few hours after the evening meal.

“They’ll talk more freely without us. Best let them.”

His voice, low and faintly mocking, brushed her ear. Then, without warning, he swept her into his arms.

“Shed…!”

Crimson flushed Louise’s cheeks as all the guests in the banquet hall turned to look at them.

She strode straight through the crowd without slowing down.

“But the toast hasn’t even—”

“Ive’s already gone to bed.”

“What?”

Before she could grasp what he meant, they had left the hall and reached the second floor.

In the bedroom, he shut the door and looked down at the woman in his arms.

“Ha… Luise. You think a lupus only burns in heat?”

A hot, ragged breath escaped him as he looked at her innocent face.

Once a stable bond had been formed with a mate, a wolf’s cycle of rut would calm down. This was why, after learning of Ive’s existence, his violent instincts had subsided.

But desire had not vanished. If anything, he wanted her more often than before. Only now could reason hold him in check.

He set Luise gently down upon the bed.

“…If you don’t want this, say so.”

“There’s no way I wouldn’t…!”

Luise answered before his words had even fully left his lips. Did he realize she had been waiting for this night since the moment she first opened her eyes at dawn? Even without speaking it aloud, she had longed for this too.

Shed noticed the flush spreading across her ears, crimson against her pale skin, and let out a short, breathless laugh. He shrugged off the suffocating black jacket and set it aside, then reached for the row of pearl buttons fastened at the nape of her neck.

With his arms enclosing her from the front as he worked at the clasps along her back, it seemed as though she were already gathered against his chest. Luise’s hands tightened nervously on her knees, her breath caught as each button slipped free.

In the dim light spilling through the window, shadows traced the delicate hollow of her collarbone. His hand moved lower, loosening the ribbon tied at her waist. Piece by piece, her form came into view—her arms instinctively crossing to shield herself, her long golden hair spilling in loose curls, unbound and untamed.

‘This is driving me crazy.’

He had tried for patience, undoing his own shirt buttons one by one, but in the end restraint slipped away. His mouth claimed hers in a deep, consuming kiss.

Their breaths grew quick and uneven as lips and tongues entwined. Clutching at the folds of his half-open shirt, Luise yielded, falling back against the bed as though swept under by the force of him.

Across the white sheets, her hair tumbled in disarray, her chest rising with heated breaths. Her flushed face was unbearably alluring, so much so that his heart thundered as if it might break free of his chest. Unable to resist, he lowered himself, pressing his lips to the pale curve of her neck.

“I love you, Luise.”

Each whisper came with a burning mark left on her skin, his warmth sinking into her heightened senses.

There had been a time when she wondered: Were we nothing but shadows cast across each other’s paradise? For in one another they had felt the deepest sorrow, learned the fiercest rage and hatred, tasted a fear deeper than death.

‘To you—so radiant, so brilliant—it felt as if I were only misfortune, only a blemish.’

But now—

“I love you, Shed.”

Now she understood. Shadows only deepen where the light burns brightest. Sometimes, those shadows provided shelter and a place to rest.

And so, even on the darkest of nights, they knew how to love.

No matter how heavily the shadows fell, you were still paradise.