Following Ella's instructions, Diana slipped through the quiet palace corridor until she found the garden corner where Cayn usually smoked.
He stood there exactly as described, leaning against the stone wall, cigarette between his fingers, the twilight outlining his features.
His eyelashes are so long… she thought before hiding herself quickly behind the wall like an assassin ambushing her own crush.
She inhaled sharply.
She laughed at herself softly.
A princess who can kill without blinking… yet trembling like a fool before a man. Ridiculous.
She steadied her breath.
Checked her dress.
Sprayed the perfume Ella gave her.
"Even as a princess," she muttered, "I'll never get used to these fancy dresses."
She stepped out… and found the corner empty.
He was gone.
She sighed, disappointed.
"Already…?"
Turning to leave, she bumped into something firm.
"What the—?"
A strong scent overwhelmed her senses, smoky and warm, with something she couldn't place, something that felt like him.
A tall figure stood in front of her.
Her instincts flared; she should've sensed him. She didn't.That realization shook her more than the scent.
He snapped his fingers; the scent faded instantly.
She froze.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Golden eyes. Calm. Watching her.
Cayn.
He studied her quietly, and a thought crossed his mind:
The warrior whose eyes didn't tremble even when facing death… is now fidgeting because I'm staring at her, fear, again?
He remembered her standing in the forest, pale, barely able to breathe, but still smiling at him while shielding the children.
He remembered her eyes.
Her movements.
The warmth in her voice.
The smile she used to reassure the little ones.
Now, up close, he saw her flushed cheeks… and her lips.
He stared too long for someone who had no lust.
She turned her head away, suddenly shy.
To break the silence, she whispered, "How… did you know I was here?"
"Your heartbeat was loud," he answered calmly.
She blinked in shock and turned back toward him.
He was closer than before.
Too close.
"And it's getting faster," he added.
Her whole body ignited with embarrassment.
"Are you scared?" he asked.
His tone wasn't mocking, just curious.
She met his eyes again. Behind the cold gold, she saw fatigue, deep, buried, old.
"Yes," she said honestly.
But then she added softly,
"But not of you. Don't misunderstand."
He stepped closer.
"Then why?"
Her breath hitched.
His face was inches from hers.
"Why is it beating faster?" he murmured.
"And why use a perfume I like?"
Her mind blanked.
She pushed him.
Or, tried.
He didn't budge at all; she only succeeded in pushing herself back against the wall.
"Stop teasing me, you bastard," she muttered.
His lips curved into a genuine smile.
She called me a bastard…
She mentally buried herself.
Great. Perfect. Bury me alive. I'll dig the hole myself—
He suddenly laughed.
A real laugh, not a sarcastic exhale.
A full sound, warm, unfamiliar, beautiful.
She stared, mesmerized.
"Beautiful…" she whispered.
Her hands flew to her mouth too late.
He stopped laughing.
"You were saying?"
He stepped closer again.
Flustered, she shook her head.
"I just… didn't think you could laugh like that."
His expression softened.
Then his voice lowered,
"Why aren't you afraid of me?"
Diana took a slow breath.
Her honey-colored eyes settled into calm confidence.
"Because you're an amazing person," she said.
"Amazing?" he repeated quietly.
"You're a good man, Cayn."
The words hit him like a strike.
A good man.
He had never called himself that.
Not as a king.
Not as an emperor.
Not as a ruler drenched in blood for the sake of his people.
And yet, she said it so simply.
He smiled faintly. "It's too soon to say that."
She stepped closer, unafraid this time.
"I saw what happened with Daciel. And what you did in the forest. But throughout the day… I also saw you. Heard about you. Watched you enough to feel like I've known you forever."
Her voice steadied, growing firmer.
"My father taught me something long ago:
A good man is a very dangerous man.
Disciplined. Civilized.
A monster you choose to keep caged…
until you need him."
Cayn watched her closely.
She spoke without fear.
Without insecurity.
He met many strong women before, but none like her.
None who stayed strong standing directly in front of him.
And her heartbeat... He could feel and hear every blood vessel in her body.
Her speech just now was of confidence, one true to itself.
Not faked, and not arrogance, true.
Confidence in her words, in her thoughts.
She truly found his strength admirable, his actions right, his protection commendable, and his care preciously portrayed through his actions.
He remembered the forest:
Her knees shaking, breaths uneven, magic depleted—
yet she evacuated the children first.
Smiled at him.
Challenged him.
Not a martyr.
Not a fool.
A survivor.
"And I'm not afraid of the things you did," she continued softly.
"I know you don't regret them. Or… do you?"
He chuckled. "I don't."
They both laughed.
She looked up.
"Hey… Cayn?"
He hummed in acknowledgment, for now.
"I think I want—"
"I will send a letter of engagement to your father by the end of the week," he said simply.
Diana froze.
"Wait—what? You already decided?!"
"I have," he said with an expression so calm it made her want to die.
"If we are to see each other often, I prefer it to be official. And I want your father's approval to spend time with his precious daughter."
She stared at him.
This is romantic bullying.
This is a crime.
"You… you're too much."
He chuckled as he saw her blush reach her ears.
In this world, marriage was usually decided before knowing each other's faces.
To her, this felt like a small miracle.
She couldn't stop the quiet smile forming on her lips.
He noticed.
"Your brother is probably worried," he said.
"Oh—right! I should head back."
She paused.
"Um… can you show me around the city? This week?"
"No."
She didn't flinch.
Didn't look disappointed.
Didn't complain.
"It's okay, then—"
"Why aren't you disappointed?" he asked, her lack of disappointment unsettled him more than anger would have.
She blinked.
"You must have a reason."
"…And you're not asking what it is?"
"You'd tell me if you wanted to," she shrugged.
"You're the calculative type. Everything you say, you say deliberately. You're mature—too mature. You don't do petty things. If you say no, it's because you genuinely don't want it, or something is stopping you. And that's enough for me."
He stared at her.
She smiled warmly.
"And also… you're simple."
He raised a brow.
"No—wait—not simple simple—"
She panicked.
"You're just… strong. Unbothered. You don't need to explain yourself to feel justified. Your eyes, they say a lot about this unfiltered strength of yours. It feels like even if life gets over you or if an opponent wins over you, you would still stare the same. Eyes steady in their stare, in your character. You don't feel many emotions, do you, as if everything is fleeting, as if there is no care to give?"
He didn't realize when he bent forward.
He just did.
He took her hand gently.
His hand was cold at first… then warm.
She gasped softly.
Without breaking eye contact, he kissed her hand.
Her heart almost stopped.
She stared at him speechless.
Her knees briefly threatened to give out.
"I dislike crowds," he murmured.
"Let's have dinner tomorrow night."
Her lips slowly curled into a smile.
He leaned in, whispering against her ear,
"Wear something comfortable this time."
Her whole face went red.
She nodded, too stunned to speak.
"Be ready," he said.
"I… will."
She stepped back, stealing one last glance at him before leaving.
Cayn watched her small figure fade into the hallway.
He reached for his cigarettes.
He placed one between his lips, ready to light it—
—but the image of Diana's pink lips flashed in his mind.
He stopped.
Sighed.
And put the cigarette back into the pack.
He looked one last time toward the path she took before walking away, the faintest smile tugging at his lips.