The sun had long dipped below the horizon, leaving streaks of amber fading into indigo. Across the capital, lamps flickered to life one by one, casting warm halos against the gathering dusk.
At Lorvil Manor, Lethia sat alone on the terrace.
A soft breeze drifted through the air, just cool enough to stir the loose strands of her hair and send a shiver down her spine. She wore a light silk wrapping gown over her linen shift, its neckline was modest yet low enough to catch the chill. Her hair was loosely tied, though the wind insisted on freeing it strand by strand.
A book rested in her lap. The world seemed distant and quiet in that fragile hour between day and night.
Serik approached without haste, a dark cloak draped over his arm, the very same one he had wrapped around her at the hunting grounds. He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her, and gently placed the cloak around her shoulders.
For a long moment, neither spoke, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the garden below.
Lethia broke the silence, her voice a mere murmur. "Did you read the papers?"
Serik gave a low hum in response and walked toward the balustrade. He leaned against it, staring into the illuminated gardens below.
"I knew Aunt Ophelia was ambitious," he said quietly. "Cunning, even. But I didn't know she was involved in illegal dealings."
A soft chuckle escaped Lethia's lips.
The lamps below glowed brighter as darkness deepened.
She studied him carefully before asking, "What will you do now?"
Serik did not hesitate.
"I will submit the papers to Lord Kalon."
Lethia's brows lifted, a spark of genuine surprise flickering in her eyes. "The Grand Chancellor?"
"Yes."
She tilted her head, watching him with a curious intensity.
"Are you certain about this?" she asked. "Ophelia is your aunt. This could damage House Sidereon."
Serik's jaw tightened.
"If she has done wrong," he replied steadily, "then it can't be helped."
The wind shifted.
"You don't mind?"
"No."
He finally turned to look at her.
"Sympathy for the immoral is a waste."
Silence fell between them again but this time it felt heavier.
"I am immoral too, Lord Serik," she said calmly. "And yet… you still wish to hold onto me."
Her lips curled into a smirk.
"Why is that? What are your intentions?"
Serik's breath caught in his throat. The night seemed to still around them, the lamps burning steadily, the wind quieting as though waiting for his response.
Serik's voice, when it came, was quieter than before.
"In the beginning," he said, "my only intention was to protect you because I felt responsible for you... for many reasons."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"One of them… being that you are the granddaughter of my mentor, who I respect more than anyone."
Lethia stilled.
She had not expected this. She had only been teasing him.
Her smirk faded slowly as his eyes locked into hers, unwavering.
"And I have always admired your courage."
The breeze lifted a loose strand of Lethia's hair, brushing it across her cheek. She did not brush it away.
"I cannot imagine what it feels like to stand in your place," Serik continued. "But seeing you endure it all… seeing you stand so strong… it made me want to shield you all the more."
He exhaled slowly, glancing toward the sky.
"At first, that was all it was. But when I saw you at the Dowager's palace that day… you were smiling at me again."
A faint warmth softened his voice.
"It warmed my heart. And I found myself wishing to see that smile more often."
Lethia's eyes softened, her fingers tightening slightly around the spine of her book.
"But every time I tried to reach you," he went on, "you seemed to drift further away."
Lethia wondered, why?
He let out a quiet breath as his eyes shifted back to her.
"You have a way of standing before someone while already preparing to walk away," Serik said, answering her unspoken thought. "I could never shake the feeling that if I looked away for too long, you would disappear."
His voice lowered.
"And I did not understand why that thought unsettled me so deeply."
Something, perhaps guilt... flickered in Lethia's eyes.
"You speak as if I am mist," she said lightly, turning her face away.
"You are," he said as his gaze fell upon her once again. "You stand before me… and yet you feel as though you belong somewhere far beyond my reach."
Lethia looked back at him, her eyes clouded with hesitation. She could feel the ache in his words.
Serik was her polar opposite... he was transparent, his heart as clear as mountain water. Her own words were always calculated, her emotions measured behind a thousand masks. It was exactly why she avoided him, his sincerity was a blade that threatened to rip her pretenses apart.
She was speechless, trying to find a way to divert the conversation, but his gentle voice drew her eyes back to his face, which seemed to glow brighter than the moon itself.
"In the entire empire, the capital is the place I despise most," he said with an ironic, fleeting smile. "And yet, when you were here. I wished to reach the capital as quickly as possible."
He paused before speaking. "I wanted to know why I felt that way and why my heart was so uneasy."
Lethia felt her heartbeat surge, breaking through her usual icy composure. The unrest was mutual, Serik had ignited a spark of longing that she couldn't extinguish.
The lamps flickered as a stronger gust of wind passed.
"When I saw you in the hunting grounds that day," he said, his voice dropping to a vulnerable whisper, "my heart was finally at ease. But you looked so fragile, as if you would dissipate if I did not hold onto you. So I walked toward you as fast as I could."
"At that point, I didn't know what it was anymore."
The night went still again. The cloak felt heavy on Lethia's shoulders, a warm weight in a world of cold shadows.
"Later," Serik whispered, his restraint finally snapping, "when I heard about the wolves... and that you were unconscious..."
He stopped, his composure cracking for the first time. "My heart sank. I did not understand the sensation then. But I know now. It was the terror of losing something one cannot afford to lose."
Lethia's heart ached as the sincerity in his voice sank in. It was terrifying to realize he truly valued her. She felt the same desperate pull toward him. But she had no confidence that a future together was possible. She was afraid that she would only drag him down and ruin everything.
"You have built a saint out of a sinner," she said quietly, her words designed to sting. "I am not precious, Serik. You would be wise to find someone who doesn't require you to ruin yourself."
His gaze met hers fully, refusing to let her go.
"At this point, even if you push me away a thousand times," he admitted, "I do not think I have it in me to leave you."
Lethia looked utterly defeated. She had spent her life mastering the art of keeping people at a distance, but Serik had just rendered her speechless.
He caught his breath, the words a quiet struggle. "And if this feeling of being unable to walk away... is what they call love…"
Lethia's eyes widened as he smiled softly, the devastatingly beautiful smile of a defeated warrior surrendering his sword to his fate.
"Then, my lady, I am utterly ruined. For I have fallen for you."
The world beyond the terrace seemed to vanish. Lethia felt as if time itself had stopped as she felt her heart beating, one she had long believed to have ceased to exist.