Early in the morning, Soren was already at the training grounds. He rarely missed his sessions. Yesterday had been unusual—Rihaan had stayed in his room all night, calling out one name over and over, not letting him sleep. On top of that, he had been summoned by the king immediately after waking and showering.

"Your Imperial Majesty, may I spar with you?" one of the knights asked, kneeling with his head lowered.

Soren smiled softly. It was Captain Oliver La Violette of the Royal Army.

"But we sparred not long ago," he said, wiping his blade carefully with a white handkerchief.

Oliver looked up, a bright grin spreading across his face.

"The more I lose to you, the more motivated I become to defeat you. The stronger I will grow because of it. And hence, we will win more wars," he flashed his teeth, certain that his logic would convince the Imperial Crown Prince—like always.

"You are quite good with your words," Soren chuckled, gesturing for him to rise with a faint wave of his hand.

Oliver sprang to his feet, eyes shining.

"Does that mean you accept?!" he exclaimed, glancing at his subordinates, who watched in awe.

They would never dare challenge the Crown Prince—Soren was far too strong.

"Grab this, captain!" one of the knights shouted, tossing a sword toward Oliver.

The tall man caught it effortlessly.

"Then... shall we begin?" he grinned, taking his stance.

Soren nodded, adjusting his posture. One of his techniques was to hold the hilt of his sword with one hand while guiding it with the other—a method once mocked by many, until he had defeated them all.

Oliver swallowed hard, raising his blade seriously.

"Shall I go first?"

"Of course. I don’t bully people weaker than me," Soren replied, locking eyes with him.

Oliver chuckled, amused. This was exactly why he loved sparring with Soren.

Within a few seconds, he struck, and Soren’s sword met his immediately.

Their blades clashed repeatedly. Both men began to sweat, panting and gasping for air, yet neither showed any sign of yielding.

Just then, Rihaan stepped into the training ground. It was larger than he had expected. After breakfast, he had asked around to learn that Soren was practicing swordsmanship.

"Who trains this early in the morning?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. It was barely six, and while he knew Soren rose early, this was extreme.

Rihaan’s eyes widened when he saw Soren fighting a man taller and more muscular than himself. His thin white shirt clung to pale skin from sweat, which dripped down his sharp jawline.

And the smile on Soren’s face... it was one Rihaan had never seen. He couldn’t look away, jaw slightly dropped.

When the match ended, the two men stared at each other before bursting into laughter. Oliver lay on the ground, Soren’s blade resting lightly at his neck.

It was the usual outcome—nothing new, nothing special.

Until Rihaan stepped forward. He removed the jacket he had been wearing and draped it over Soren’s back.

The omega tilted his head, looking up at the alpha, confused.

"What is this? Why are you putting this on me? I’m hot," he frowned, pushing the jacket away.

Rihaan clenched the fabric, forcing a bitter smile. He didn’t know why he was doing it either.

"I-I mean, it’s cold here. I thought you might be too," he lied, trying to save face before the soldiers who were staring at him as if he didn’t belong.

And they weren’t wrong. He truly didn’t belong here—not in a country so cold that one could freeze to death. Back in his kingdom, people only died from drought, famine, or scorching heat.

"Thank you for your care," Oliver said, springing to his feet with a swift jump. "But His Imperial Highness is no frail man," he added, smiling brightly.

Rihaan said nothing, slipping into his jacket.

"Do you want to continue?" Oliver asked, eyes glinting with excitement.

Soren glanced at Rihaan, who stood there with arms folded like a sulking child. He must have come all the way to the training grounds to speak to Soren about something.

"I think I will head back for today. I have a meeting soon," Soren said smoothly, making up a lie as he gently took Rihaan’s arm.

The alpha gasped, eyes wide with surprise, but he followed silently, saying nothing.

Once the two men had left, the knights ran toward their captain.

"Isn’t that the Crown Prince’s ex-fiancé?" one asked, eyes wide with curiosity.

"He is hot though," one of the omegas in the group giggled.

"And an asshole," another soldier rolled her eyes.

"Why is he here anyway, captain?"

"I don’t know..." Oliver mumbled, narrowing his eyes.

***

Soren glanced at Rihaan, who was wearing the clothes he had carefully selected for him. The alpha hadn’t even bothered to bring proper winter clothing for Revhara—or rather, even if he had, it wouldn’t have helped against the city’s biting cold.

"Why are you staring at me?" Rihaan asked, suddenly very aware of Soren’s gaze.

What Soren had said last night still lingered in his mind, making the air between them feel heavier.

"The clothes look good on you," Soren said, his expression unreadable.

"Oh, please. I know I look good. You don’t need to force yourself to compliment me if you don’t feel like it," Rihaan replied, a low hmph escaping him.

Soren shook his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

"How old are you?" he asked.

Rihaan tilted his head, leaning slightly closer.

"Why are you getting so close?" Soren murmured, instinctively leaning back as Rihaan edged nearer.

"Just making sure you are not some copy of Crown Prince Soren," Rihaan said, eyes glinting with mischief.

"Why do you ask that?"

"I mean, he is supposed to know my age. I was his fiancée."

Soren let out a soft, stifled chuckle, the corner of his lips twitching. Once he managed to calm himself, he cleared his throat with a small cough.

"I was asking because you are behaving like a child," he sighed.

"My? A child?!" Rihaan gasped, pouting in disbelief.

"Are you not acting like one?" Soren raised an eyebrow.

Rihaan bit the inside of his lip, avoiding Soren’s gaze. He couldn’t argue with that.

"But... why were you at the training grounds?"

The alpha turned, opening his mouth only to close it again.

"Uhh... no reason? Can I not look for you without a reason?"

Soren shrugged.

"It wouldn’t be proper. I suggest you try to relax here a little before heading back to your kingdom. I can’t send them a letter saying you’re here, but they would surely be worried about you."

Rihaan lowered his head. The ache in his chest returned at the thought of going back to Danshin. He didn’t want to go.

Not anymore.

Not when there was nothing left for him there.

He didn’t have caring parents like Soren’s.

He had a brother who couldn’t stand against the king—unlike Zayden.

And a so-called lover who had betrayed him for... status and wealth.

None of it was worth returning to.