The moment Xanthe released her grip, Lyra crumpled to the marble floor like a ragdoll. A choked gasp scraped out of her throat as her lungs fought to reclaim air. Pain exploded across her back from the impact, but that wasn't what made her cry.
It was Adrian.
His voice.
His coldness.
"She is nothing but a tool."
The words rang louder than the clash of thunder in a storm. It was as though every shard of hope she'd carried in her chest fractured with that sentence.
Her heart, already teetering on the edge, dropped into a void.
Tears blurred her vision as she looked up at him. Not once had he flinched. Not once had he moved to stop Xanthe. He hadn't lifted a single finger while she was nearly killed. And now he dismissed her as nothing. Not even human. Just a means to an end.
Was this really the person she agreed to contract herself to?
She barely heard his next command.
"Take her back to her room. Lock the door."
Two of the icy-eyed maids appeared. They didn't look at her, didn't offer a hand, just grabbed her arms and lifted her like something fragile but unimportant. Her body screamed with pain, but she didn't resist.
As the heavy doors of her room slammed shut and the lock clicked, the reality crashed over her.
She was alone.
Truly alone.
No one came to check on her. Not a single soul knocked. Not even a whisper came from the hallway.
Her luxurious dress, once stunning and glittering with emeralds, now felt like a suffocating cage. Her makeup was smeared with tears, her hair disheveled. The beauty that once drew curious eyes now mocked her in the reflection of the vanity mirror.
She was a stranger to herself.
Trembling, she tried to unzip the dress, but her hands shook too violently. She gave up, stumbled toward her journal, and collapsed onto the plush chair beside the candle-lit desk.
Today, I nearly died.
And the man who saved me two days ago watched in silence.
She didn't stop writing. Her hand moved as her heart spilled ink:
I miss Grandma's dumplings.
I miss Grandpa's loud coughs and bad jokes.
I miss the marketplace, the dusty road, the neighbor's annoying rooster. Everything. Everyone.
I don't know why I agreed to this madness.
I don't know what Adrian wants from me.
But it feels like I'm sinking into a place where light doesn't reach.
As she wrote, her sobs became quieter. Her lashes fluttered until sleep finally claimed her.
---
Downstairs...
The air still hadn't settled. The atmosphere was thick with tension, magic, and rage.
Xanthe paced like a storm barely held by its seams. Her long silver-blonde hair whipped behind her as she snarled under her breath. Her blood-red stilettos clicked against the polished floor like daggers striking bone.
The maids kept their heads bowed. Servants moved like ghosts, careful not to breathe too loudly.
"You dare bring another woman here?" she hissed. "Into my palace?"
Adrian didn't even blink. He stood with his arms folded, gaze as icy as the Arctic. His black ensemble shimmered under the low chandeliers—a tailored suit infused with silent power, sharp as obsidian.
"This is not your palace, Xanthe," he said flatly.
She barked a humorless laugh. "Yet everyone here knows I was meant to be yours. Do you think I don't feel her scent? She reeks of cheap hope."
Still, Adrian said nothing.
Xanthe's voice dropped lower, sharper. "You don't feel anything, do you? You never have. I would kill for you. I would burn every dimension just to make you look at me. And what do I get? A mortal girl you pluck from the dirt?"
The room pulsed with her fury, yet Adrian's stillness only made it worse.
On the sidelines, the three male guests watched quietly.
Kaelith, clothed in white, his skin luminous and hair like spun moonlight, sat with his hands laced neatly. He looked like a celestial king, his demeanor regal and reserved.
Valefor, in deep crimson, wore sternness like armor. His ruby-toned eyes cut through the silence with intensity. He rested his chin on his fist, saying nothing.
Seren, all ocean blue, shifted in his seat and finally broke the tension with a single snort of laughter.
"This is getting romantic," he teased, eyes twinkling. "Someone bring me popcorn."
Valefor glared.
Kaelith remained composed, but even his fingers twitched.
Adrian exhaled, barely.
"Are you done, Xanthe?"
She froze.
"Because if you are," he continued without emotion, "then leave. I have an appointment."
The words landed like a guillotine.
Xanthe's eyes flared, her beauty twisting into something monstrous. "You'll regret this."
Adrian turned away.
She let out a final growl of warning. "She won't survive. I'll see to that."
With a ripple of shadows, Xanthe vanished into thin air, leaving behind a whisper of lavender and rage.
The room was silent again.
Until Seren let out a loud, exaggerated sigh. "She's gotten worse. Drama queen with a goddess complex."
Valefor looked over. "She loved him."
"So?" Seren shrugged. "Everyone does. It never matters."
Kaelith finally spoke, his voice soft but echoing. "This will not end here."
Adrian nodded faintly, his eyes distant.
Seren glanced at him. "So...about the girl?"
Adrian didn't answer immediately. He walked toward the large arched window that overlooked the night.
"I'm leaving in two days."
That froze even Seren.
Kaelith's brows lifted. "Where?"
Adrian replied, "Somewhere she can't follow."
Valefor asked, "And the girl?"
Adrian turned slightly, just enough to meet their gazes. "You three will stay and watch her."
Seren laughed again, but quieter this time. "Babysitting a mortal girl in your cursed mansion? Fun. Can we braid her hair and tell ghost stories?"
"Don't interfere with her," Adrian said, voice colder than frost. "Just watch. Observe. Protect, if needed."
The three nodded, though each with their own unease. None dared question why Adrian had brought Lyra here. None asked what mission he was leaving for. Not yet.
That time would come.
But for now, Adrian vanished into the shadowed hallway without a word.
And above them all, locked in her cold, haunted room, a girl who once believed in stars now cried into her journal.
----