The cold air struck Cherion the moment he stepped outside, cutting through the warmth of the ballroom. It immediately cleared away the overwhelming mix of expensive perfumes, fancy noble nonsense, and the lingering feeling of being trapped in the same room as Philia.

Honestly, the fresh air had never felt more beautiful.

Cherion didn’t slow down until he had dragged Zarius far enough into the darker corner of the balcony, away from the curious eyes of the capital nobles like they were waiting for another disaster to happen.

Zarius stood quietly beside him, his massive, broad-shouldered frame automatically shifting into place to block the wind from hitting Cherion directly. The Duke looked down at him, his eyes moved over Cherion’s face carefully, checking for any sign that something was wrong.

"Nothing shocking other than you dancing with Philia happened tonight, right?" Zarius asked.

Cherion let out a soft, breathy chuckle, the tension in his shoulders draining away as he looked up into the eyes of the man who served as his ultimate sanctuary in this bizarre, dangerous world. He tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. "Maybe there’s something else."

Zarius raised an eyebrow, his protective instincts instantly sharpening at the words. "What?"

Cherion leaned in just a fraction, beckoning the Duke closer. Zarius didn’t hesitate. He lowered his head, allowing Cherion to whisper directly beside his ear.

"Flio and Karson," Cherion whispered.

Zarius’s eyebrows shot up even higher, a trace of rare, genuine surprise slipping through his usually unshakeable composure. He straightened back up, blinking down at Cherion as his mind immediately jumped to the worst baseline assumptions of capital drama. "What are they doing?" Zarius asked, his voice deadpan but tinged with a sudden, dark curiosity. "Dancing? Hugging? Other thing?"

Cherion burst out laughing, a genuine, cheerful sound that bounced softly off the stone balustrade. He waved his hands hurriedly to dispel the wild imagery. "No, no, nothing like that! Just talking," Cherion corrected quickly, thoroughly entertained by the older werewolf’s blunt imagination. "But it was still incredibly shocking to me. I didn’t realize they had a history, or... you know, a thing between them."

Zarius’s expression softened, the sharp surprise fading into a heavy, quiet solemnity. He turned his head, his gaze drifting out over the dark, manicured palace gardens stretching beneath the balcony.

"Yes..." Zarius murmured, there was a strange sadness hidden in his voice.. "I feel sorry for them somehow."

Cherion watched the Duke’s profile carefully. The situation they were caught in was complicated enough to make anyone’s head hurt. Political schemes, betrayals, hidden motives, everything felt like a giant chess game where everyone was secretly holding knives.

And yet Zarius, a man who had spent his entire life surrounded by war and betrayal, still had the ability to feel sympathy.

That alone made Cherion’s chest ache.

He leaned against the railing, thinking quietly.

"Are you not afraid, Your Grace?" Cherion asked softly, his voice barely louder than the rustle of the wind. "Afraid that Flio will... well, you know, choose that side in the end?"

"No," Zarius replied instantly. There was not a single shred of hesitation in his voice, nor a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "I trust Flio. And Flio is not that crazy, as far as I know."

Cherion smiled. The amount of trust Zarius carried inside him was almost unbelievable. But as Cherion stared at the immense, unwavering trust radiating from the Duke, a sudden, violent wave of reality struck his chest.

His brain started to spin frantically, digging up memories he had desperately tried to bury. He remembered the conversation with Karson, espectially that dark, horrific details of the OG Cherion’s plots.

I really need to tell him. I need to tell him about the transmigration thing. If he can trust Flio, he will trust me too, right?

But the thought still terrified him. Should I do it right now? Here on this balcony, in the middle of an imperial banquet? Or should we just wait until we go back home?

"Something is bothering you," Zarius spoke up suddenly.

Cherion blinked, tearing himself out of his spiraling thoughts and trying desperately to keep his facial expression composed. "Why do you ask?"

"I don’t ask," Zarius countered smoothly, stepping a half-step closer until his massive, warm frame completely blocked the wind, trapping Cherion between his body and the railing. He looked down with absolute certainty. "I know."

Cherion took a deep breath. He looked directly into Zarius’s red eyes, realizing he couldn’t keep hiding the truth from the man who had become his entire world, his shield, and his sanctuary. He needed to confess before the plot dragged them under. His expression turned completely, utterly serious.

"Well... actually, there’s something that I need to talk to you about," Cherion murmured, his voice trembling just a fraction despite his best efforts. "And it’s pretty serious."

Zarius’s gaze instantly sharpened, his entire posture turning rigid and alert as he focused solely on Cherion. "What is it?"

Cherion took one final, deep breath, steeling his resolve. Just say it. Tell him you aren’t the OG Cherion. Tell him you’re from this other world. He parted his lips. "Actually, I..."

"KKKYYYAAA!!!" 𝚏𝕣𝕖𝚎𝚠𝚎𝚋𝚗𝐨𝐯𝕖𝕝.𝕔𝐨𝕞

A blood-chilling scream echoed from inside the ballroom, cutting through the silence and bringing Cherion’s attention back instantly. It wasn’t the startled cry of a drunk noble, it was a sound of pure terror.

Cherion and Zarius traded one sharp, alarmed look, their instincts instantly kicking into absolute overdrive. Without a second thought, they abandoned the conversation, and rushed back inside to check.

The once-glittering, orderly crowd of nobles had completely fractured, violently parting in a frantic wave of mass panic.

High-society etiquette vanished in a heartbeat as aristocrats scrambled backward, shoving past one another to distance themselves from the horrific sight. The air instantly filled with a chaotic din of sharp, terrified gasps and frantic, overlapping whispers.

"What is happening?"

"Get back, step away!"

Silver trays slipped from the hands of trembling servants, sending crystal wine glasses crashing to the floor, filling the hall with the sound of breaking glass.

There, Iryna was collapsed on her knees.

Cherion’s breath completely hitched in his throat, his eyes widening in absolute horror.

The princess coughed harshly, blood staining the elegant dress she had worn so carefully for the evening. Her shaking hands pressed against the cold marble beneath her.