The boy disappeared into the shadows.
Gone as swiftly as he had come, leaving nothing behind but a trail of questions and the faint, lingering warmth of his presence.
Rina remained frozen in place, her breath shallow, her body still surrounded by flickering tongues of flame. The fire pulsed and shimmered across her skin—not in rage this time, but as if echoing the storm that had erupted inside her. Her crimson hair flowed behind her, alive with motion, cascading and curling like liquid flame. Her golden eyes sparked with residual heat, as though the very essence of her being was caught between fury and… something else.
A soft exhale escaped her lips.
She tried to steady her breath.
But it was too late—her heart was still racing, and her mind was far from calm.
That boy…
She had poured her soul out in front of him. Laughed. Raged. Cursed. Confessed.
And yet… he never told her his name.
He just listened.
Smiled.
And vanished.
*"He was… ridiculously handsome."*
The thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it. She blinked rapidly, cheeks flushing in the dim light. It wasn't just his face—though that was almost unfair in how perfect it was. It was his eyes, his voice, the way he looked at her like she was something fascinating… something real.
She shook her head sharply, trying to banish the thoughts.
Her gaze drifted to the small wall clock hanging above the kitchen stove.
*Midnight.*
A soft sigh escaped her lips.
She stood up slowly, brushing her hands against the now-cooled table, and turned toward the darkened hall.
It was time to return to her room.
---
The corridors of the Roché estate were deathly silent, as if the whole mansion was holding its breath. The black obsidian pillars shimmered faintly under the moonlight, each etched with strange silver runes that seemed to absorb the light and return it in twisted reflections. The walls bore paintings she didn't dare stare at too long—figures with eyes that felt too alive, shadows that crept along the corners.
The air was cool. Heavy.
Every footstep echoed faintly against the smooth floors.
This place was beautiful, yes—but it was also haunting. Like a cage made of polished glass.
Her cage.
Her prison.
The home of her future husband.
Her jaw tightened.
She walked on in silence until she reached the large double doors of her temporary room. Opening them slowly, she slipped inside and closed them behind her, shutting out the eerie stillness of the hallway.
---
Her room was lavish—of course it was. This was the Roché estate. The bed was a towering thing of carved wood and red velvet, with heavy curtains and silken sheets in deep crimson. The floor was lined with obsidian tiles, faintly warm from the underfloor heating enchantments.
Rina walked directly to the bed without a word.
She didn't bother lighting the chandelier above. Moonlight poured through the tall windows anyway, casting a soft glow across the room.
She collapsed onto the mattress, sinking into the warmth and softness, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.
And then—
*His words returned.*
> "What if your fiancé is a lustful man, Lady Rina? You know what I mean…"
Her breath hitched.
Heat rose to her cheeks, and her hands clenched the sheets.
How *dare* he?
How dare he make her imagine such a disgusting possibility?
The very thought made her stomach twist.
Sharing a room… a bed… with someone like *Jean Roché*?
*Never.*
She snarled to herself and yanked the crimson sheets around her body, wrapping herself tightly, as though shielding herself from the invasive thought. Her mind whirled, rage and disgust bubbling in her chest. The fire within her stirred again—though she fought to keep it at bay.
"I *hate* Jean Roché," she whispered fiercely into the darkness, her voice barely more than a breath.
She repeated it again, as if the words would make it more true.
"I hate him."
Her heart thudded.
Her eyelids began to grow heavy.
And yet…
She couldn't stop thinking about that smile.
Those red eyes.
That voice.
*Who are you… really?* she thought, just before sleep overtook her.
But the silence held no answers.
Only the distant, haunting beauty of the moonlight in the house of shadows.