Eiser pov
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The air in the private study was dense, heavy with the scent of old parchment and the faint tang of polished wood. The Prime Minister, an imposing figure with an unnervingly steady gaze, slid a yellowed, handwritten document across the desk. It crackled faintly as it shifted, as if whispering the secrets it held.
"You must have been unaware of this, since you haven't been married to Miss Serenity for long," he said, his voice a low rumble that resonated against the walls.
Before I could reach for it, the paper was snatched back, and my hand jerked instinctively. Annoyance flared briefly, but I swallowed it quickly. The gravity of what was happening demanded attention.
"We've obtained evidence… that unauthorized military forces were mobilized and trained at the Serenity Hotel."
My mind seized on the words. Unauthorized military forces. The implication alone sent a chill down my spine. I glanced at the scattered papers around the desk, each one a thread from a vast web of secrecy and manipulation.
"…and in the process, actually used the weapons stored in the hotel armory."
The weight of it hit me. The Holy Agreement—the untouchable covenant that entrusted the Serenity family with the kingdom's most dangerous armaments—was being subverted under the guise of security.
"It is a clear and undeniable fact that the contents of the Holy Agreement are untouchable," I murmured, my voice trembling despite my efforts to steady it. "But the Prime Minister and Victor wouldn't have undertaken something of this magnitude without a plan."
I pieced it together. The Serenity family's security detail—the so-called "Elite Guards"—was more than it seemed.
"Just as I suspected, there used to be a separate security team called the Elite Guards," I said aloud, forcing the words into the tense silence. "It's a larger unit than expected, so there's a high chance it will be framed as a private militia."
The aide in the room shifted uneasily, confirming my deduction. "Right after the Serenity family entered into a secret agreement with the Kingdom and took custody of the weapons, Iansa Serenity created and trained a private militia in partnership with Major Chedfern, a former military officer…"
The scale became clear. These weren't ordinary guards—they were a paramilitary force, trained to handle, transport, and defend the kingdom's most dangerous assets.
"This appears to be on a scale of a paramilitary organization, far beyond standard security measures," I admitted, scanning the records that detailed weapon inventories and tactical protocols.
"Yes. It would have been impossible, not to mention dangerous, to guard the armory with a standard security detail," the aide explained. "We needed personnel who understood the weapons, their handling, transport, and strategic deployment."
I stared at the Prime Minister, whose impassive face betrayed nothing. The Serenity family had built an army, justified it as a necessity to protect the kingdom's armory, and kept it hidden for years. Now, it was a weapon in the political arena.
The Elite Guards were both the Serenity family's shield and their vulnerability. The Holy Agreement may have been untouchable—but a private militia, unaccounted for and unauthorized, was grounds for intervention.
I exhaled slowly, processing the scope of what the documents revealed. The past actions of the Serenity family, once noble in intent, were now being twisted into accusations of conspiracy and treason. The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of politics pressing down, and I knew that understanding the truth was only the first step in defending it.
---
I straightened, letting the weight of my presence settle over the room like a gathering storm. Prime Minister Rufer watched me from his high-backed chair, his posture rigid, the illusion of authority wrapped tightly around him.
"Given the gravity of the matter, I cannot give you much more time. You must provide an explanation for this as soon as possible," he declared, his voice sharp enough to cut. "This is the last chance I am giving you."
A final chance. A corner with no room to maneuver.
I inhaled slowly, letting his words echo in my mind.
This is going to be more difficult than I expected.
There was no solid evidence to prove Serena's innocence. Worse, her isolation—imposed and prolonged—meant her account would not match mine. And unlike me, Serena might truly have had no idea what the Elite Guards once were.
Just as I had lived my life unaware of this truth.
Serena had likely believed, all this time, that the hotel's security team was simply that: security. Their name had changed, their structure reorganized, their military history quietly buried under new administrative terms. She had signed off on them with the same innocence I once had.
To someone like Rufer, however, innocence was merely a convenient angle to exploit.
The Prime Minister will surely try to twist this into an advantage.
I exhaled quietly, then lifted my chin.
"All right, I shall," I said, allowing the faintest tremor of concession into my voice. Let him think he had me cornered. Let him feel victorious. "But before that… let me ask you one question."
I stepped closer to his desk, lowering my voice to a whisper that slithered across the polished wood.
"Eiser Grayan."
The reaction was instant. Rufer flinched violently, eyes widening with an old, buried fear. Even the stout frame of his chair seemed unable to shield him from the name's weight. The document in my hand—harmless on its own—felt like a blade as I held it between us.
"Are you still afraid of my father?"
The color drained from the old man's face. For a heartbeat, the great Prime Minister was nothing more than a trembling subordinate, pulled back into years of subservience under Dustin Grayan.
"How dare you—"
"Do not fear the Grayan family, Prime Minister Rufer," I cut him off, my voice slicing through his protest. "Do not confuse shadows for threats."
Because that was what he was doing—seeing Victor, and imagining Dustin.
"The Prime Minister is probably working with Victor because there is something he wants out of all this… Dustin Grayan, who placed you in that seat, is now powerless." My tone hardened. "So don't see Dustin in Victor."
A warning—and a reminder of how frail his political crutch truly was.
My gaze slipped past him, into the darkened hall beyond, where the real threat moved unseen.
My first priority is to keep those two apart.
I leaned forward, delivering my final blow, each word dipped in the authority of a lineage Rufer had never truly escaped.
"Since the dire straits the Grayans are in are being carefully concealed, you may not be able to see the truth clearly yet… But you must not trust them."
Silence settled. But it wasn't calm. It was tense—stretched thin, ready to snap.
Rufer's jaw worked soundlessly, but his knuckles told the truth. His grip on the armrest was white and strained, tendons bulging, as though the past itself was crushing him.
I didn't let up.
"I promise you…" I whispered, letting the chill of the words sink into him, "The Grayans will self-destruct before long. So simply take a step back and watch from afar, and you'll be free of them soon enough."
The message landed. He stiffened, breathing uneven, trapped between fear and reason.
The Prime Minister won't be able to easily shake off the memories of the years he spent under my father's thumb.
It was embedded in him—fear engraved through repetition and obedience. Not even ambition could erase that.
I had bought us time. Not much, but enough for the next move.
I turned away from Rufer, his contradictions swirling behind me like a storm I no longer needed to observe. He wanted liberation from the Grayans, yet clung to the fantasy that power still flowed from us. You cannot reason a man out of a contradiction he depends on.
I focused on what mattered.
"Also, regarding the matter of having my wife taken to the torture room, I will certainly—"
"JOLT—! W-wait!" Rufer lurched upright, voice cracking. Fear—raw and unfiltered—finally surfaced. "What do you mean, the torture room? Who's in the torture room right now?"
I barely had time to answer.
The study door burst open with a violent BANG.
A man strode in—handsome features ruined by a deep, jagged scar, his smile twisted with sick delight.
Victor.
"Prime Minister! How many times do I have to tell you that there is physical evidence of Serena's treason, so we have every reason to keep her in the underground prison—"
He stopped.
His eyes found mine.
The triumph on his face melted into something darker—hatred sharpened into a blade. Before I could move, he drew a pistol. Cold metal gleamed as he raised it, aiming straight for my skull.
"Quite an aggressive way to greet someone you haven't seen for ages," Victor sneered. His finger tapped lightly on the trigger. "That happy to see me, eh?"
His face—my burden, my regret—looked back at me.
If he weren't my brother… my insides wouldn't twist… and my heart wouldn't burn with this seething hatred.
And if I hadn't spared him years ago—if I had destroyed him when I had the chance—Serena would not be suffering now.
Victor saw the fire in my eyes and laughed softly.
"At last, you show your true colors. How unfortunate that after maintaining your holier-than-thou, gentlemanly act all this time, your ugly thoughts are now out in the open." He gave a slow, venom-filled smirk. "How amusing it is to see Eiser so agitated."
The cold muzzle pressed harder against my temple. But fear was the last thing inside me.
Only clarity.
And dread.
Victor leaned in, his voice dripping with manic certainty.
"Seeing such a spirited reaction only makes me more certain."
A pause.
A spark of madness.
"At the end of all this, I must kill that girl."
A smile—monstrous, satisfied, cruel—spread across his face.
"I can't wait to see the face you'll make, Eiser… when I throw her cold, lifeless body in front of you."
Victor's words—those final, deliberate syllables promising Serena's death—broke the last fragile threads of my restraint.
"I can't wait to see the face you'll make, Eiser… when I throw her cold, lifeless body in front of you."
His scar twisted as he smiled. The barrel of his pistol dug into my temple. Somewhere far away, Rufer's voice rose like a small, frantic alarm.
"WH–WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BOTH DOING?! LOWER YOUR GUN THIS INSTANT, EISER GRAYAN!" the Prime Minister shrieked, scrambling up from his chair. "DON'T YOU KNOW POSSESSION OF FIREARMS IS STRICTLY ILLEGAL? PUT IT AWAY BEFORE I CALL SOMEONE TO HAVE YOU LOCKED UP!"
I didn't even turn my head. Rufer's authority had never mattered less.
I saw only Victor.
Only the gun he held against me.
Only the unspeakable promise he had made.
A single, terrible resolution crystalized inside me.
My entire life, I had upheld my principles—my shield against becoming a monster like him. Or like my father. But that shield had shattered.
I moved.
My hand swept to my holster with a speed honed through years of training.
My pistol slid free in a clean, lethal arc.
TAP. TAP.
The sharp cocking of the hammer echoed through the now silent room.
The muzzle found Victor's forehead, pressing hard enough to whiten his skin.
Our standoff—barrel to temple, barrel to brow—was absolute.
"I will have to see that expression on your face… to settle the deep-rooted grudge between us that has plagued my whole life," I said, my voice low and dangerous.
Rufer stared, aghast, mouth open like a man drowning.
"AHEM… S-STILL… you can't do such a thing out in the open, and in the Royal Palace at that."
"Put it away before it becomes an issue," Victor hissed, still calm, still smiling, still aiming straight at my skull.
"I believe you keep one of your own in the top drawer of your desk, Prime Minister," I said coldly. Rufer could hardly pretend innocence now.
A strange, dizzying clarity washed over me. A freedom born of ruin.
My principles, the ones I had clung to my whole life… meant nothing if Serena was being tortured because of this man.
My grip tightened around the pistol, the decision complete.
"If it means I can keep my wife safe," I said, "I will cast those principles aside without hesitation."
Victor's smile widened. The scar on his cheek twitched with amusement.
"Seeing such a spirited reaction only makes me more certain," he whispered. "At the end of all this, I must kill that girl."
The last unspoken agreement between us—the one invisible boundary preventing this feud from becoming total annihilation—shattered.
This was no longer politics.
This was life or death.
Serena's life or Victor's death.
🖤 For You and You Alone
I stood nose-to-barrel with Victor, the palace, the Prime Minister, the laws of the realm fading into meaninglessness. Everything blurred except Serena's face—and the monster threatening her.
I spent my entire life clinging to my principles, desperate not to become like Dustin Grayan.
I cursed half the blood in my veins.
I tried to reject the shadow of the man who raised me.
But none of that mattered.
Not now.
Not compared to the thought of losing her.
The pain of betraying my principles…
was nothing compared to the pain of losing someone I loved.
A memory cut through me—my early days with Serena, before I understood the dangers that surrounded us. Before I understood the danger I represented.
There was a time when I couldn't even bear to look at her.
She saw me as a Grayan—no different from Dustin.
Every time she looked at me that way… it reminded me of everything I hated about my father. Everything I refused to become.
But now?
Now none of that mattered.
Her smile, her warmth, the way she held my hand beneath the sun…
What use is any of that if I lose you?
A truth settled over me like a dark, protective cloak.
My principles now exist for you, and you alone.
Which is why from this moment on, I will use any means necessary.
Even if those means make me into a monster.
Even if those means make me more like them.
I lowered my gun a fraction—not as a sign of surrender.
But as a declaration of war.
My gaze locked on Victor.
"I will protect what I must to the end… And if necessary, I will destroy whatever stands in my way."
The Prime Minister, still scrambling to regain control, tried to speak with authority he no longer possessed.
"AHEM… Victor Grayan, let me ask you a question. Where were you just now? Did you really take Miss Serenity to the torture room?"
Victor's lips curved.
A cold, damning smile.
Rufer's thin composure finally shattered.
"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS! HAVE YOU TAKEN COMPLETE LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES?! TAKING HER TO THE TORTURE ROOM WITHOUT MY APPROVAL?!"
His outrage—genuine, panicked—confirmed the truth.
Serena was in danger.
Victor had acted alone.
And this… this was my window.
Fredrick pov
"TAKING HER TO THE TORTURE ROOM WITHOUT MY APPROVAL?!"
No added plot. No continuation. Only enhanced text up to your provided endpoint.
"YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS! HAVE YOU TAKEN COMPLETE LEAVE OF YOUR SENSES?! TAKING HER TO THE TORTURE ROOM WITHOUT MY APPROVAL?!" The Prime Minister's voice thundered through the gilded hall.
I stood firm, pistol lowered but steady in my hand, staring down Victor Grayan—the architect of this chaos. His expression was a mixture of shock and disbelief, not at the accusation itself, but at the fact that he'd been caught and confronted.
"Are you unaware of the serious ramifications your reckless actions will have if this ever becomes public knowledge?!" the Prime Minister continued, face flushed with fury. "This is completely unacceptable!"
Rufer didn't give Victor a chance to reply. "YOU ARE TO LEAVE IMMEDIATELY, AND ARE PROHIBITED FROM ENTERING THE PALACE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE."
Victor sputtered, mouth agape, contorting in disbelief.
I pressed the button on the old-fashioned desk phone. CLICK. The signal was sent. Guards would arrive. Victor's eyes widened as he sensed the finality of the order.
"EXCUSE ME?" he stammered, but it was too late. My voice, calm and cold, cut through the tension. "Escort Mr. Victor Grayan to his home. AND HE IS TO BE FORBIDDEN FROM ENTERING THE PALACE FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE."
The heavy doors BURST open. Uniformed guards marched in, precise and unyielding.
STEP. STEP. The guards closed in. Victor was too slow. He flailed as two men seized his arms.
"HOLD ON. FORBIDDEN FROM ENTERING THE PALACE? THIS IS PREPOSTEROUS!" he shouted.
"HEY! LET GO OF ME, YOU BASTARDS!" His attempts to reach for a concealed pistol were futile.
I watched impassively as he struggled.
"LET'S TALK ABOUT THIS! I CAN EXPLAIN! PRIME MINISTER!" His panicked shriek echoed as the guards dragged him away.
With the immediate threat gone, I turned to Serena. She was limp in my arms, utterly exhausted, eyes closed. Frederick—one of my most trusted men—had delivered her safely from the underground prison.
STEP. STEP. She stirred slightly, opening her eyes to meet mine. Recognition flickered, fragile but real.
"Frederick…" she whispered, her voice weak, grasping at what little composure remained.
"I'll do as you say, so you can put me down," she murmured. Her head fell against my chest, the adrenaline fading into complete collapse. She was safe, but barely.
I stepped closer, concern overruling formality. She needed care, protection, and swift justice.
"NO." My grip tightened as I carried her closer. Each STEP I took on the palace carpet was measured, in stark contrast to the fragility in my arms.
"She's completely exhausted… barely has the strength to stand," I thought. I couldn't risk letting her fall.
She spoke again, weak but insistent. "Put me down. I'll go to the detention room for nobles without complaint." Even after surviving far worse, she was ready to accept punishment.
"Let me walk on my own two feet. Please," she added, bare feet against the floor.
I slowed but did not stop. "If you stumble and fall, you could injure—"
She pointed with a slight nod. "It's the room at the end of this hallway."
I adjusted my grip and continued, setting her down carefully once we reached the room. She wavered but remained upright.
For a moment, she stood alone, frail in the long white gown, silhouetted against the large window. I couldn't leave her like that.
I bowed slightly. "You must be thirsty. I'll bring you some water… and the shoes you dropped earlier." I turned sharply to leave, intent on preparing her comfort before addressing the fallout.
Eiser pov
As I reached the door, I heard the faint stagger of her bare feet. I looked back to see her taking a tentative step or two, then halting.
She was trying to regain her balance, but her eyes were wild, lost. I moved quickly to offer support. GRAB. My hand closed around her wrist.
FLINCH. She recoiled instantly, terrified. Her eyes opened wide—a sharp, defensive motion, instinctive after her ordeal.
TURN. She whipped her head around, expression panicked. "Wh-what are you doing?"
Then her gaze darted beyond me.
"There's someone here!" she gasped, voice shaking but firm. "It's too dark to see who it is. WHO ARE YOU?!"
My jaw tightened. Someone had followed us. She was still in danger, and the threat was unknown.
"It's too dark to see who it is. WHO ARE YOU?!"
No continuation beyond this point.
As she became silent all of a sudden i resumed that she identified me . That I was the one who is hugging her right now .