"You look tensed, Young Master," Butler Marcus says while serving tea to Kayros in his study.
Surrounded by books, lamps, and documents that contain information capable of making or breaking empires. A large black wooden table stands in the middle of the shelves, a black leather chair behind it.
Four leather couches sit around a coffee table, red roses placed beautifully at the center.
Kayros's study says a lot about his personality—and everything else.
"What do you think about Ophelia's proposal, Marcus?" Kayros's careful, low-pitched voice doesn't hold its previous certainty and dominance.
Marcus looks at Kayros with a faint smile. Pushing the teacup forward gently, he gets Kayros's attention.
"Your heart already has the answer, Young Master."
Kayros's eyes flutter in surprise for a moment, lips parting to deny it, but he pauses.
"Young Master, she was promised to you when you were fourteen and she was seven. I know you kept your distance due to your age, but she is an adult now—"
"She is just twenty." Kayros growls. Marcus freezes for a moment before letting out a nervous laugh, realizing Kayros is still conscious about her age.
"But she is considered an adult—"
"It's just two years since she turned adult. What makes her a grown woman, huh? She looks like a small rabbit. I feel like a fucking monster in front of her."
Kayros's distress makes Marcus sigh. "I understand it, but you like her—"
"I don't hate her!" he presses on. Marcus rubs his forehead, unsure how to talk to his stubborn, mule-like Young Master.
"Yes, you don't hate her—but you feel territorial."
Kayros nods, crossing his arms over his chest, eyes closed. "She was my fiancée for so long before that bastard Dimitri came in between," he scoffs angrily, "and now he dared to cheat on her."
Kayros sits up straight, his face contorted in anger. "Can you imagine cheating on Ophelia Blackwood!" His voice rises, frustration dripping from every word. "That little girl rejected me—ME! For that failed lab-experimental rat— and that ugly ass has the audacity to cheat!!"
Marcus presses his lips tight, trying not to laugh.
Vincent isn't ugly; Kayros is just too handsome.
"In that sense, it makes you and me in-laws?" Czar suddenly sits up from where he'd been lying on the couch, his hair disheveled from sleeping.
Kayros's skin crawls at Czar's smug smirk. "Oh please! I made sure you didn't marry my sister yet you still end up being my in-law!"
Czar wiggles his eyebrows, pouting, "You should show me some respect." He flips his invisible hair like a diva. "I'm your older brother-in-law now."
Kayros's jaw clenches at Czar's implication. His hands itch to strangle Czar, but he stops himself.
"You are still my subordinate, Czar."
"Correction. We are best friends helping each other." Czar wiggles his finger, making Kayros groan.
Marcus's stomach hurts from holding back his laughter. Snow starts falling again, covering the street and garden with a thin layer of white sheets. The fire cracks inside the room.
Kayros throws his head back, his gaze fixed on the ceiling like it holds the answers he wants.
"Did Father say anything about the engagement?"
Marcus's subtle smile falls, his shoulders stiffen at what he is about to say.
"Yes. He agrees to the proposal, though he expects you to avenge the humiliation the Natheniel family had to face because of Young Lady."
Czar's eyes narrow. "By avenge, what did he mean?"
Marcus sighs heavily. "There won't be any grand marriage ceremony, and Young Lady won't be introduced to the world as your wife until she… publicly gets on her knees to kiss the shoe of Young Master—"
CRASH!
The teacup shatters against the wall. Czar's eyes widen seeing Kayros's hand bleeding, his body trembling, breathing ragged.
"This isn't happening," Kayros says coldly. Marcus feels chills down his spine. "But Master said—"
"I don't give a fuck about my father." Kayros stands up, his height imposing dangerously, his pupils shaking with too many emotions. "Ophelia is mine. And nobody touches mine!"
Marcus's body goes still. Fear creeps through his bones and soul as he nods vigorously. "I will tell Master."
"Two weeks later, Ophelia will marry into the Natheniel family. I won't forgive a single mistake."
Marcus nods and hurriedly leaves the room. Blood drips from Kayros's palm onto the wooden floor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He looks exactly like a territorial wolf who wouldn't mind turning everything upside down for someone he considers his.
Czar walks over and starts bandaging Kayros's palm. "You will get into hot water with Uncle again."
"As if we shared a good relationship in the first place."
Kayros mocks, but his chest feels heavy. He doesn't remember a single moment where he was treated as anything more than an heir, a weapon, a… mistake.
His throat wobbles as he looks away, back to the window framing the snow-covered garden like something mystical.
"Ophelia is mine, Czar. Nobody insults her, hurts her, or makes her feel small."
Czar's eyes soften, the corner of his lips lifting in a small smile of understanding.
******
"WHO ARE GETTING MARRIED?" Vincent screams at the man standing with his head down, shoulders trembling.
"Young Master Natheniel and Young Lady Blackwood." His voice shakes in fear of Vincent's anger.
Elosia, naked under the bedsheet, gasps in pure shock. "Kayros and Ophelia are getting married!"
Her body is covered in love bites, and the dirty secret shared between her and Vincent catches the morning sunlight filtering through the window.
Vincent's face drains of blood, going pale like a corpse. His hand trembles.
Fear? Anger? Hatred? Pain—hard to say, when an animalistic scream tears from his throat as he overturns the wooden table. Elosia covers her mouth in panic.
Vincent's chest rises and falls rapidly, fury painting his vision red.
"Call Ophelia. I have to fuck some sense into her."
The man gulps. "It's impossible to reach Ms. Ophelia."
Vincent frowns.
"She is at the Natheniel Mansion. And in two weeks, the marriage ceremony will take place."
Vincent feels a chilling pain stab through his chest…
Because according to him—
Ophelia always belonged to him as his lover, toy, and someone who saw him, accepted him and loved him enough to turn against the world.