Soren was too focused on the pile of papers on his desk, going through every name on the guest list and making sure the invitations had been sent to each and every one of them.

When he heard the knock on the door, he responded with a low hum without looking up. The door cracked open, and he heard footsteps approaching.

"What is it?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion.

"Is that how you speak to a friend who came to visit you personally?" a familiar voice answered.

Soren sprang to his feet, dropping the documents onto the desk, eyes wide.

"What are you doing here, Enzo?!"

Without waiting for an answer, he rushed toward the man and reached out to help him walk.

Enzo chuckled, standing still without budging.

"You’ve become strong," the crown prince remarked.

"Your mother has been training me all this time," the other man replied, heading toward the couch, limping as he put his weight on the cane he carried.

Although he was much healthier now, his leg was still in the same condition. If his father saw him like this, he would definitely call him a disgrace among all demons.

Soren followed close behind him, concern clear in his expression.

"You shouldn’t have walked all the way here. You could have just sent a message."

Enzo lowered himself onto the couch with a small wince, resting the cane by his side.

"I came to congratulate you in person. I wasn’t about to let a messenger speak on my behalf."

Soren sighed and adjusted the cushion so Enzo could sit more comfortably. "You could have waited until the banquet. You know everyone will be there. Or at least until I went to visit you."

"That’s exactly why I didn’t wait," Enzo replied, his tone dry. "Knowing you, you’re already buried in work. I’d rather speak to you before you get buried under a mountain of nobles, too."

Soren let out a breath, glancing back at the desk full of guest lists and arrangements.

"It’s exhausting. The Emperor and Empress want everything perfect. No errors."

Enzo’s eyes briefly scanned the papers.

"It’s your engagement celebration, after all. They want it to reflect well on you."

Soren didn’t respond. His gaze dropped to Enzo’s leg. It looked completely normal on the outside, yet he still couldn’t walk properly despite having no physical deformity.

The physicians said it was due to the shock his brain received when the bone broke during the bond with his fated alpha—Charles, and the trauma of that alpha’s death.

"Are you feeling any better? Be honest," Soren asked quietly.

Enzo shrugged.

"I’m alive. That’s good enough for me."

"I’m glad your father isn’t here. If he saw you—"

"He’d say I’m a disgrace among demons. I know." Enzo finished for him and waved a hand. "He’s said it countless times before. It doesn’t bother me. Not anymore," Enzo lowered his voice, almost hesitant.

"And," he inhaled before letting out a soft chuckle, "this is insane. I was thinking about this earlier."

Soren raised an eyebrow.

"About what?"

"What my father would say if he saw me in this state." Enzo’s voice turned quieter. "But then again, I wonder—would he even have the time to look my way?" His mouth filled with a sour taste.

The bitterness that had followed him through childhood, adulthood, and even a few decades ago wasn’t something that would disappear in a few days, months, or years.

Knowing exactly what his friend meant, Soren stayed quiet for a long moment. Neither of them spoke, both averting their gazes as if they were the culprits of some great crime.

"How are things with your fiancée?" Enzo finally asked, breaking the heavy, unbearable stillness in the room.

Soren didn’t mind the quiet. Silence was the only companion he had embraced all these years. His relationship with others was that of a future emperor—someone expected to protect his empire and know his people. They weren’t truly his friends—not beyond a handful of people he trusted. And Enzo was one of them.

When they were younger, Soren and Enzo shared every secret between them—but that stopped after Enzo got married two decades ago.

Ever since then, Soren had spoken little of his own feelings to anyone. He barely spoke of them to begin with. Enzo had always been the one who dragged words out of him.

But with him gone, everyone simply assumed Soren was fine. He was—until five years ago, when he agreed to marry Crown Prince Rihaan Devraat of Danshin.

That man despised him, for reasons Soren didn’t know. But he couldn’t tell Enzo that—not when he already worried about him more than he should.

"Your Imperial Highness?" Enzo waved a hand in front of Soren, trying to catch his attention. "Are you alright?"

Soren nodded, forcing a smile.

"Yes. Yes, I was just... thinking."

"Thinking about?"

"Some things," Soren replied.

"Hmm," Enzo hummed. "If you say so. But you still haven’t answered my question. How is your fiancée? Is he good to you? Don’t marry him if he doesn’t take good care of you from now on."

Soren almost laughed aloud.

Rihaan taking good care of him? What a joke. If he could, that man would kill him without hesitation.

Still, the crown prince nodded, forcing a grin. He couldn’t let anything jeopardize the engagement. Everyone had to believe things were fine between them—even his friends, even his parents.

"He does," he replied, voice as soft as he could although his throat burned as if punishing him for lying to a sick friend.

***

When he opened his eyes, Rihaan found himself in a strange place. A sharp pang throbbed at the back of his head.

He looked around, trying to remember how he had ended up in this shadowed building. The walls were yellowed and cracked, as if they could crumble at any moment.

Rubbing the back of his head, he remembered the impact—someone had struck him from behind.

But who?

Rihaan pushed himself up, wincing as his back protested. The floor beneath him was rough and cold, dust clinging to his palms as he steadied himself.

The room was small, dimly lit by a single lantern hanging crookedly from the ceiling. A faint smell of damp wood and old smoke clung to the air like a plague.

He tried the door, but it was locked. The handle was rusted and unmoving beneath his fingers. Panic prickled up his spine, his hands trembling, but he forced himself to focus, keeping his breaths controlled.

"Alright... think," he muttered. His gaze swept the room again. There were no windows—only the heavy door and the cracked walls. The place felt wrong, intentionally designed to keep someone trapped.

A muffled sound reached him—a shift, a footstep, barely perceptible. Too faint for an ordinary person to hear, but Rihaan wasn’t ordinary. He was a beast—he could sense these things from far away.

Rihaan froze. His pulse quickened.

"Who’s there?" His voice was quiet and controlled, but sharp enough to cut through the silence.

Nothing.

He crouched slightly, muscles tensing. The arrow, the ambush, the fall—it was all connected. Someone had planned this. Someone had known exactly how to lure him here.

And now, he was alone.

Alone, and at their mercy.

Clenching his jaw, he rammed his shoulder against the door, trying to break it open. He had no idea where he was or how to get back to the mansion.

"Damn it," he growled. He closed his eyes and focused. A flicker of amber light glowed around his hands. Sharp claws emerged, and he drove them into the wooden door, tearing through it with a splintering crack.

Through the hole he made, he saw only the same forest he had come from. Empty. Silent. The trees were bare of leaves, the ground covered in a thin blanket of snow. The trunks were wide enough that someone could easily hide in their shadows.

As he stepped through the hole, the cold bit into his skin. The snow crunched beneath his boots with every step he took. White smoke curled in the air with every breath he exhaled.

While he searched for his horse, he saw it.

A tree stood a few meters away, its trunk freshly slashed. Something had been carved into the trunk with something sharp—a knife, or claws, each letter deep and deliberate.

[Don’t you dare marry Crown Prince Soren.]

Rihaan stared at the words for a long moment, his expression unreadable. A sharp laugh escaped his throat, humorless and bitter.

"It’s not like I want to," he muttered. As if he needed someone to hear him say that, although he knew the person or people who did this were no longer around.

They wanted to scare him—but Rihaan didn’t care about this. All he wanted was for this to end.

He clenched his fist and slammed it into the tree. Cracks formed from the impact of the blow, bark falling around the tree. His knuckles cracked against the cold wood, but he didn’t care.

Whoever did this—whoever ambushed him—wasn’t trying to kill him. They wanted to warn him. Threaten him. Test him.

Cowards.

He glanced back at the building once more, wondering if his horse was still around. Then he concluded the animal was gone—of course. Whoever had dragged him here made sure he’d have no choice but to walk.

His mind raced, wondering who could have been behind this. And it seemed like they knew about his lover.

"As long as they don’t harm him, it doesn’t matter," he mumbled.