The capital woke to chaos once more. At dawn, a body was found—this time the mistress of the third prince—hanging lifeless from the iron gates of the royal fortress. Her pale figure swayed with the morning wind, the crimson stains at her throat glistening like macabre jewels. Panic spread like fire through the city, and whispers filled the halls of the palace: "It must be him again… the dreame family."
When the news reached Leonardo, he froze for a brief moment before a twisted grin tore across his face. Then, laughter erupted—raw, uncontrollable, hysterical. He laughed until his chest burned and his eyes watered, his voice echoing through the cold stone chamber.
"Not me…" he gasped between broken breaths, clutching his stomach. "Not this time."
The irony was sharper than any blade. For once, the bloodshed wasn't his doing, yet the crown still pointed their trembling fingers at him. As if to appease a monster they could never tame, the royal family sent carts overflowing with gold, silver, and precious stones. A bribe disguised as tribute.
Leonardo stood before the mountain of wealth with empty eyes. The gems sparkled, but to him, they were nothing more than dust. "Trinkets," he muttered, brushing his hand across a pile of coins. What others would kill for meant little to a man drowning in treasures of his own. With a snap of his fingers, he ordered the wealth to be sent to Meliny. At least she would find joy in them… a diversion in her endless darkness.
⸻
Meanwhile, Meliny sat quietly by the window of Drovik's chamber, her pale fingers tracing the wooden frame as the morning light filtered in. A chorus of birds had gathered on the sill, chirping sweetly, their small bodies fluttering against the glass.
"They sound so cute," she said softly, tilting her head toward the melodies. "Their voices… they make me imagine colors I've never seen. Sometimes I wish I could see them, just once… to understand their beauty."
Her blind eyes glistened faintly, reflecting a longing she rarely voiced.
Drovik watched her, his chest tightening. He reached out, his rough, clawed hand cupping her cheek with surprising gentleness. His thumb brushed her skin as if she were made of glass.
"You don't need to see them," he murmured, his deep voice carrying an unfamiliar warmth. "I am your eyes. If the world denies you sight, then I will be the one to show it to you. You… you lack nothing."
For a moment, silence lingered—only the flutter of wings outside filled the air. Then Meliny's lips curved into a tender smile. She let out a soft laugh, leaning forward until her arms wrapped around him. Her embrace was light, fragile, yet it sank into Drovik like a blade piercing through layers of armor.
He froze, his massive frame stiff, then slowly lowered his head against her shoulder. His thoughts tangled in turmoil. What is happening to me? I am a ghoul. I should despise humans—their chains, their cruelty, their endless thirst for power. I should hate her, too. But why… why can I not bear the thought of her pain?
The warmth of her body against his felt like a curse and a salvation all at once. Her laughter echoed in his ears, weaving through his hardened soul like threads of light in a cavern of darkness.
What magic is this… that turns hatred into tenderness? That makes a monster long to protect the very creature he was born to despise?
And as she held him, unknowing of the storm within him, Drovik closed his eyes and wondered if this—this fragile, forbidden bond—was the true spell that had chained him.