"I was thinking of… teaching you."
The voice sent a chill down my spine before I even turned. My husband, Eiser, stood in the doorway, the cold authority in his tone slicing through the quiet of the room.
I froze. His eyes—sharp, unreadable—were fixed not on me, but on Frederick, who had been gently tending to the scrape on my arm. The tension between them was immediate, heavy enough to make the air itself feel tight.
"What are you playing at?" I asked, though my voice sounded far calmer than I felt. My pulse was already drumming beneath my skin.
Eiser's gaze didn't waver. It was as if I wasn't even in the room anymore, only Frederick.
Frederick, to his credit, remained composed. His hands never faltered as he tied the bandage neatly around my arm. Then, in a quiet, steady tone, he said, "I'm afraid that's not possible."
He lifted his eyes to meet Eiser's. "As you can see, I'm dressing the wound on Lady Serena's arm."
A muscle tightened along Eiser's jaw. "...Frederick. What are you up to?"
Frederick didn't back down. "...Eiser. What are you up to?"
Their voices were calm—too calm. But the sharpness beneath their words was unmistakable. They were testing each other, circling like wolves.
"Enough," I said finally, breaking the silence before it could turn dangerous. My voice came out firm, though my hands trembled slightly. "Frederick… I'd like you to wait outside."
He hesitated just a moment—just long enough for me to notice the flicker of worry in his eyes—before bowing his head. "Yes, Lady Serena."
His footsteps echoed faintly as he crossed the floor. Step. Step. Step.
But before he could reach the door, Eiser suddenly moved.
His hand shot out, fingers closing tightly around my arm. Grab.
I gasped softly, the pain from his grip spreading through the freshly bandaged skin.
"Eiser—!"
The door slammed shut with a heavy THUD, sealing us inside.
And just like that, the room felt smaller—too small for the storm brewing between us.
He continued to wrap the bandage, seemingly oblivious to my protests. Wrap.
I clenched my jaw, glaring at the floor. His touch wasn't gentle — it was controlled, restrained, as if he was forcing himself not to let go… or not to lose control.
"Let go," I said quietly.
Nothing.
"Eiser, I said—let go!"
I raised my voice this time, but he didn't flinch. His fingers brushed my skin as he secured the final knot in the bandage, and I could feel my breath catch — not out of pain this time, but because of how close he was. His scent, his warmth, the quiet tremor in his hand — it all pressed against me like an unspoken truth.
Finally, he lifted his head. His eyes met mine — cold and dark, yet... something flickered there. Regret? Pity? No. It was something far more dangerous.
"I never hated you," he said at last, his voice low.
My heart skipped. "Then what—"
"I hated myself," he interrupted, his tone sharp, cutting off my breath. "Every time I saw you, I saw the part of me that couldn't protect what mattered. I saw my failure staring back at me through your eyes."
His confession struck like lightning, sudden and fierce.
I wanted to scoff, to throw those words back at him — but I couldn't. Because for the first time, Eiser didn't sound like the man who always towered over me with authority. He sounded… broken.
Still, I refused to let my guard down.
"So what?" I whispered, stepping back. "Now you're going to fix it by controlling me? By pretending to care?"
His eyes darkened. "You think I'm pretending?"
The silence between us thickened, heavy as rain.
And in that silence, I realized something terrifying — that whatever bound us together was far more twisted than hate.
He didn't even flinch at my accusation.
His expression didn't change — just that same calm, infuriating mask he always wore when I tried to provoke him.
But his silence… that was worse than anger.
I could feel the pulse pounding in my ears. "Say something," I demanded, though my voice trembled. "Isn't that what you're good at? Explaining everything away like it's all logic and strategy?"
He finally exhaled, slow and deliberate. His eyes softened, but only slightly — like a man restraining something dangerous inside.
"You think I'm pretending?"
The question lingered in the air, quiet but suffocating.
I froze. There was no arrogance in his tone this time — only a strange, unspoken ache.
He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the faint scar running along his jawline, the shadow beneath his eyes.
"I never intended to take Serenity," he said at last, his voice low. "What I wanted was to keep you from destroying it with your own pride."
My breath caught. "You—"
He cut me off. "You hate the Grayans because of what they took from your family. I understand that. But tell me, Serena…" His gaze hardened. "What have you done to protect what's yours?"
His words struck like a blade, clean and merciless.
I stared at him, my nails digging into my palms. What have I done?
The question echoed in my chest — and I hated him for asking it.
"Don't twist this on me," I hissed. "You don't get to judge me when you've done worse."
He tilted his head slightly. "You really think we're that different?"
That quiet, controlled voice — it infuriated me. He always spoke like that, as if he already knew I'd lose this battle before it began.
"Stop it!" I snapped, stepping forward, the distance between us gone in an instant. "You're just like them. You say you helped me, but every move you make has a motive. You think I can't see through you?"
He looked down at me then — and the look in his eyes made my breath hitch.
"I never wanted to be your enemy," he said softly.
The confession came like a whisper I wasn't meant to hear.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The air between us was heavy, full of all the things we'd never said — the betrayals, the unspoken truths, the lingering, painful familiarity.
Then, with deliberate calm, he took a step back. His hand brushed the edge of my bandage, his touch fleeting but burning like fire.
"Believe what you want," he murmured, turning away. "But remember this, Serena — I never needed to control you. You were already chained by your own fear."
Step. The sound of his boots against the floor echoed as he walked toward the door.
I stood there, frozen. The words cut deeper than any wound.
When the door finally shut behind him with a soft click, the silence was unbearable.
Only then did I realize — my hands were trembling.
And beneath all the anger… was something far more dangerous.
Doubt.
For a heartbeat, I couldn't breathe.
His words sliced through me — slow, deliberate, cruel.
I wanted to slap him. To scream. To do anything but tremble under that venomous gaze.
But my body refused to move.
The world had gone silent — no sound but the faint echo of my heartbeat, fast and uneven. Thump. Thump.
His hand still held my chin, his touch deceptively gentle, almost reverent.
I hated that it made me shiver.
"You…" My voice came out thin, shaking with anger I couldn't control. "You're a monster."
"Am I?" His eyes glinted, amusement flashing across them for an instant. "No, Serena. I'm just being honest."
He released me then, abruptly — as if disgusted by even touching me. Release.
I stumbled a little, the loss of contact more jarring than it should have been.
He straightened his collar, his composure immaculate once more. "If you truly hate me… then prove me wrong," he said quietly, turning his back to me.
"Stand on your own feet. Protect Serenity… if you can."
The door creaked open. Creak.
And just before stepping out, he added, without looking back —
"Or else… everything you've ever fought for will crumble under your own hands."
Click.
The door shut behind him.
I stood there, staring at the floor, my body trembling, my breath ragged.
The sting of his touch still lingered on my skin — hot, unbearable, humiliating.
Pathetic and useless.
His words echoed in my head like a curse.
I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to still the ache there. "You'll regret this, Eiser," I whispered under my breath, the faintest quiver betraying me. "I'll make sure you do."
Outside, the wind howled faintly against the windows — a low, mournful sound that filled the emptiness he left behind.
My chest was heaving, the pain of his hateful words compounding the physical ache in my arm. Ache.
He held my face, forcing me to look at him as he delivered his final, venomous strike.
"You should painfully watch yourself getting used by a Grayan... and falling apart after losing everything you love... with these pretty eyes."
His lips curled. "Don't you agree, I?"
In a surge of raw adrenaline, I slapped his hand away from my face. Slap.
I gasped for air, my lungs burning. Huff.
He didn't even flinch. His expression remained cold — detached.
"There's only so much I can take of your childish antics," he said, his tone stripped of any civility. "You're not in a position to be so stubborn."
He turned away and began to walk toward the door. Step. Step.
"Don't just say you're going to drive me out," I shot back, my voice trembling with fury. "Why don't you actually come up with a plan to overthrow your opponent?"
He stopped. Pause. His head turned slightly, just enough for me to catch the glint in his eyes — sharp, unbothered, cruel.
"You can think about saving your ego afterwards," I finished, glaring at him.
The air between us was thick, almost suffocating.
And then the word escaped before I could stop it — torn from the depths of my rage.
"YOU BASTARD!"
He left without another glance, the door shutting behind him with a quiet, final click.
My hand clenched the bedsheet, trembling. Clench.
My jaw locked, my heart pounding in my chest. *
Eiser turned his back on me and walked toward the door. I watched his retreating figure, my voice raw with venom and a new, searing resolve.
"You evil bastard."
My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat stoking the fire inside me.
"YOU BASTARD!"
Step.
He paused at the door.
Pain surged through my arm and foot, but I forced myself to stand. The bandage tugged, the floor felt cold beneath me — yet I took a step forward. Limp.
"I'll do it," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my body.
He turned his head slightly, just enough for me to catch the edge of his attention.
"You're going to pay for this one day," I swore. "I said I'll learn from you."
For the first time, a faint smile ghosted across his lips — sharp, mocking, dangerous.
He slid a hand to the door handle, the polished brass glinting under the dim light. Creak.
"I'm going to have that arrogant face… under my feet one day," he thought, his eyes glinting cold and blue as he stepped out.
The heavy mahogany door shut behind him. Thud.
The echo lingered long after he was gone — a sound that sealed the promise between us.
It wasn't just hatred anymore.
It was war.

Chapter 8
End
Tip's
AS THE KINGDOM'S SOCIAL cLASS SYSTEM GRADUALLY FADED, NOBLES EITHER REMAINED AT THE PALACE AS CIVIL SERVANTS OR CHOSE TO GO INTO BUSINESS. THE SERENITY FAMILY WAS ONCE A HIGH-RANKING ARISTOCRATIC FAMILY THAT MANAGED PART OF THE KINGDOM'S TERRITORY, AS THE SOCIAL CLASS SYSTEM WAS FALLING APART, IANSA GAVE UP HER NOBILITY AND QUICKLY TURNED TO BUSINESS. SHE FOUNDED THE SERENITY HOTEL, WHICH ACHIEVED GREAT SUCCESS, THE GRAYAN FAMILY FOLLOWED SUIT, AS THEY WERE A NOBLE FAMILY WHO STARTED A CONSTRUCTION COMPANY.