Crash!
The sound of shattering glass rang out sharply. The bright sky outside seemed to darken in an instant. Vincent's imposing frame loomed in front of the window, blocking my view entirely.
His face, shrouded in shadows, looked terrifying. His eyes blazed with fury. Beneath him, shards of glass scattered across the floor, and water from the shattered cup soaked into his pants. But Vincent paid no mind to these trivial things.
He was angry, very angry.
He probably couldn't understand why I kept trying to leave over and over again. Just moments ago, he had wanted nothing more than to destroy all those who had robbed me of my life, to do everything to bring justice back to me. How aggrieved he must be, right?
Now, I was back by his side, and he was no longer the powerless man of five years ago. He possessed power, status, and wealth. All I needed to do was say the word, and he would willingly offer the entire kingdom in exchange for my smile.
But all I wanted… was to leave.
He had changed! He was no longer the same person from five years ago!
"You'd better get that thought out of your head before I completely lose my temper!"
Vincent grabbed my face, his voice a low, dangerous growl. He had very little patience left; clearly, he could not tolerate my rejection.
He could give me everything—everything except what I desired most: freedom.
I wasn't surprised by this outcome. It was just that the disappointment in my heart deepened. The image of the man I once knew was being destroyed piece by piece by his own hands, making me feel helpless from within.
"If it's not about this, then there's no need for us to discuss anything else. It's all just meaningless words."
Vincent glared at me, his eyes bloodshot with rage. He pushed my face away, sneering coldly.
"You're so eager to leave me—just like you did five years ago? Is it because of Brian?"
The question hit the air like a gunshot, filling the room with an oppressive, deadly tension.
Hearing that name, I froze, like a character in a paused film, trapped in a moment of suspended animation. Memories from long ago resurfaced abruptly.
That man named Brian...
He was once Vincent's best friend, and now, he was my living nightmare.
But I could never reveal that to anyone.
It was a secret I would carry to my grave.
Thinking about it made my heart ache. All these years, Vincent had always thought I was that kind of person.
I smiled bitterly, but I accepted it. I didn't bother avoiding his gaze anymore and looked at him with cold, detached eyes, curling my lips into a weak smile.
"Your Majesty, you can think whatever you want."
My reaction only fueled Vincent's anger. I offered no explanation. Some things were simply unspeakable.
I wanted to cry, but I couldn't shed tears in front of him. My hands, hidden beneath my oversized sleeves, clenched tightly, my nails digging painfully into my palms.
But it seemed that only through pain could I remain clear-headed. Clear-headed enough not to break, clear-headed enough not to spill everything and collapse into Vincent's arms, sobbing like a child.
I had a desire to tell him everything, but I also feared that it might actually happen.
All these years, he had been tormented by the thought that I had left him for Brian. That was why, when he saw my unmarked neck, he had been so shocked.
But my response…
Was as if I couldn't care less about his reaction.
Vincent was taken aback. There was suspicion, jealousy, and rage—emotions that I could see, emotions that made me ache, but I pretended not to notice, pretended not to care.
As I had said, it was all in the past. Now, we were merely a benefactor and a debtor—nothing more, nothing less.
Vincent shoved my face away. His initial intent to inquire about my past, his sadness, his yearning to help me seek revenge—all of it transformed into an indescribable sense of helplessness.
What good was being a king if the person he loved didn't even care?
I could only muster a mocking smile.
Vincent stood up, his expression conflicted. Everything he had wanted to say was swallowed back down, unable to find words.
In the end, he could only let out a weary sigh:
"Rest well. Don't strain yourself."
Vincent wouldn't let me leave.
I understood the hidden meaning in his words, and, feeling utterly drained, I closed my eyes, unwilling to look at him any longer.
...
That night, Vincent drank himself into a stupor.
He had no drinking companions, no loyal servant like Marcus, nor any royal relatives to join him. The King of Fugari sat alone amidst a lavish feast, one strong drink after another being brought to his table.
Vincent downed glass after glass. He had never been a heavy drinker, nor had he ever used alcohol to relieve stress. For a person of his status who needed to remain vigilant at all times, since ascending the throne, he had never allowed himself to become so inebriated.
But tonight, he granted himself the right to fall into this pit of indulgence.
As sorrow welled up within him, the more he drank, the clearer the image of the old Majori became. The beautiful memories of their youth resurfaced, tormenting him with countless questions.
He felt utterly helpless and profoundly lonely.
Leaning his chin on his hand, Vincent stared blankly at the glass in his grasp. A figure suddenly appeared in his blurred vision, moving seductively closer and snatching the glass from his hand. Vincent didn't react; he simply let the other person drink from his cup. The sight of those full lips mingling with the dark red wine made for a deadly temptation.
It was Dane, Vincent's fiancée.
Yes, he had a fiancée. When he became king, every relationship surrounding him represented immense benefits, marriage being no exception. Dane was the daughter of a powerful noble family, a figure of significant influence in the military whom even Vincent had to show respect.
He didn't love Dane, that much was obvious. But Dane, on the other hand, was hopelessly enamored with Vincent. Rumors had spread like wildfire that the king had brought home a lowly woman whom he was excessively doting on.
All the servants could see Vincent's attitude toward this woman, protecting her as if afraid she might be harmed. How could Dane sit idly by?
The identity of this woman was a mystery. Dane couldn't understand why Vincent would go to such lengths to shelter her. Tonight, she had intended to discuss their upcoming engagement, only to find the king drowning in alcohol all alone.
Having known him for so long, this was the first time Dane had ever seen Vincent in such a state of vulnerability. Surely, it had something to do with that woman.
Dane seized Vincent's glass, and he made no move to stop her. She refilled the cup, then handed it back to him.
"I'll drink with you."
He remained silent, took the glass, and drained it.
This marriage was set to take place by the end of the year; sooner or later, they would become family. The appearance of this unknown woman made Dane uneasy. She knew the fickle nature of royal affections—what if he annulled their engagement for her?
She was a high-born lady, yet standing before the man she adored, she couldn't help but feel insecure.
If he was already this drunk... she might as well take advantage of it!
Beauty accompanying wine, glass after glass, and soon Vincent was thoroughly intoxicated. Dane called for the servants, and they helped him to his private chambers. She dismissed everyone, leaving only the two of them alone, a seductive smile playing on her lips.
Dane pushed him onto the bed, each layer of her clothing slipping off. She straddled Vincent, her delicate fingers tracing his chiseled features. He looked at her, eyes glazed and lustful, a sight that even made Dane tremble with anticipation.
The atmosphere grew increasingly heated. Dane teased Vincent, her full lips brushing against his, her tongue darting out to trace his mouth. Vincent didn't shy away; he accepted her bold advances. His mind was now an indistinct haze, his actions driven purely by instinct.
Just as they were about to become one, the last shred of Dane's clothing about to fall away, Vincent shifted on top of her, taking control. She shivered with excitement, thinking she was finally going to become one with the man of her dreams.
But then, he suddenly stopped.
Vincent's gaze turned confused. He blinked, and then spoke abruptly:
"You... you're not Majori?"
Dane froze.
He thought she was *that woman*?
The realization hit her like a slap. She was yanked off the bed, Vincent tossing her aside without a second thought. She yelped in pain, looking up at him with disbelief.
Vincent's sharp gaze burned with clarity, the previous heat gone in an instant. His voice was low and rough as he roared:
"Get out! Now!"
Dane, clutching her exposed body in humiliation, fled the room in shame and fury.