The kitchen of the ducal palace was never truly silent. Even in the earliest hours of the morning, when the sky still lingered in soft shades of grey and the sun hesitated beyond the horizon, life moved within its stone walls—fire crackling in the hearth, knives tapping rhythmically against wooden boards, and the quiet murmur of servants beginning another long day.
Sera Vale stood near a wide stone counter, her sleeves rolled just above her wrists, her hands lightly dusted with flour. The scent of apples and cinnamon filled the air as she carefully arranged thin slices over a golden crust—apple pie, a simple thing, a small comfort.
She worked quietly, almost invisibly among the others. No one paid her much attention, and she preferred it that way. The less she was seen, the safer she felt.
From outside came the distant clash of steel, faint at first, then clearer—the soldiers had already begun their morning training. The sound drifted through the open windows, sharp and rhythmic, carried by the cold air.
Sera paused for a brief moment, her fingers hovering above the pie, before letting out a soft breath and continuing.
"Sera!"
The voice broke through her thoughts as Hailey rushed into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"What are you doing? Don't tell me—you're making that again."
"It's almost done," Sera replied calmly.
Hailey leaned against the counter, lowering her voice with a playful grin. "You're wasting your time in here. The soldiers are training. Real soldiers. Strong, handsome… and very available."
Sera raised an eyebrow without looking at her. "And?"
"And we should go watch them," Hailey insisted. "At least one of them might fall for us. Imagine it—marriage, a way out of this place."
Sera's hands slowed slightly at that. This place—cold, beautiful, suffocating—had never truly felt like home.
The palace once belonged to Duke Aureole Richard, a man whose death remained wrapped in whispers. No one spoke openly of what had happened, only that it had been sudden… and wrong. Now his son ruled in his place—Michael Aureole, a man born of a servant yet seated on a throne that did not fully accept him.
Sera had never seen him, and she had no desire to.
Hailey nudged her. "Don't tell me you want to spend your whole life in this kitchen."
Instead of answering, Sera's fingers brushed lightly against the necklace resting at her collarbone, silver, cool against her skin. The moonstone caught the faint light, glowing softly as if something lived within it.
For a fleeting moment, her mind drifted.
A field stretched endlessly beneath a warm sky, covered in yellow flowers swaying gently in the wind. Laughter echoed faintly.
Then her mother's voice came—shaking, desperate.
"Forgive me… please… you have to run."
The memory shattered as quickly as it came.
"Sera?"
She blinked. "I'm fine."
Hailey studied her, then sighed dramatically. "You're twenty-three, Sera. If you don't get married soon, you'll become a spinster."
"Let them," Sera replied softly.
"You're beautiful," Hailey insisted. "You could have anyone… especially him."
Sera frowned slightly. "Who?"
Hailey grinned.
"Steven."
Sera's fingers stilled for just a fraction of a second.
Steven.
Her childhood friend.
Her only constant.
They slipped out of the kitchen moments later, unnoticed, moving like shadows through the corridors until they reached the training grounds.
The courtyard was alive with movement. Soldiers clashed in controlled combat, their blades ringing sharply as they struck and parried. Commands echoed, boots struck stone, and the air was thick with sweat, effort, and iron.
Hailey's eyes immediately lit up.
"There," she said, grabbing Sera's arm.
Sera followed her gaze.
And found him instantly.
Steven stood among the soldiers, taller than most, his posture relaxed yet precise. His golden-blond hair caught the sunlight, almost glowing, while his blue eyes—clear and sharp like the sky—remained focused on his opponent.
He was undeniably handsome.
Too handsome.
His fair skin, refined features, and effortless presence made him stand out even among trained warriors. It was no wonder the others envied him.
And they did.
Sera could see it clearly.
Because despite everything—
Steven lost.
Again.
His opponent disarmed him with a final strike, sending his sword clattering to the ground.
A few soldiers laughed.
"Too slow."
"Pretty face isn't enough, huh?"
Steven said nothing.
He simply picked up his sword.
Calm.
Unbothered.
As if losing meant nothing.
Sera frowned slightly.
Because she knew.
He was stronger than them.
Much stronger.
She had seen it before—brief moments, flashes of something hidden beneath his calm exterior. Speed. Precision. Power.
So why…?
Why did he always lose?
"Isn't he amazing?" Hailey sighed dreamily. "Look at him… even when he loses, he looks perfect."
Sera didn't answer.
"He's kind too," Hailey continued. "And strong. I just know it. You're so lucky, Sera."
"Lucky?" Sera repeated.
"He's your childhood friend," Hailey said, nudging her. "Imagine if he fell in love with you."
Sera looked away.
She didn't think about things like that.
Not with Steven.
Not with anyone.
But still…
Her gaze returned to him.
And lingered.
Then everything changed.
A sudden heat surged through her body.
Her breath caught.
Her vision blurred.
The sounds around her sharpened unnaturally, the clash of swords twisting into something harsher, more violent—like claws scraping against bone.
Her heart pounded.
Too fast.
Too loud.
"Hailey…" she whispered.
But her voice was lost.
Her eyes shifted—
And locked onto something.
Blood.
A thin red line trailing down a soldier's arm.
Her body reacted instantly.
A violent pulse of energy rushed through her veins, wild and uncontrollable. Her stomach twisted, nausea rising sharply.
Something inside her awakened.
Something wrong.
Something dangerous.
"Sera?" Hailey turned, alarmed. "What's wrong—"
But Sera was already moving.
Running.
She didn't know where.
She just needed to get away.
From the noise.
From the blood.
From herself.
Her steps were uneven, her breathing ragged, her thoughts spiraling into chaos. The world blurred around her as she stumbled forward, escaping something she couldn't understand.
Then—
She hit something.
Hard.
A solid body that didn't move.
She staggered back slightly, dizzy, disoriented, before slowly lifting her gaze.
And froze.
He stood before her, tall and immovable, his presence overwhelming. His dark hair framed sharp, striking features, his bronze-toned skin contrasting against the cold light.
And his eyes—
Brown.
But for a brief second—
Red.
Glowing.
Terrifying.
A chill ran through her.
Who… is he?
There was something unnatural about him. Something heavy in the air around him, suffocating, commanding.
And yet…
He was beautiful.
Dangerously so.
She tried to speak, but the world faded.
Darkness took her.
"Sire, are you alright?"
A knight's voice broke the silence as he approached quickly, glancing between the man and the unconscious girl.
"What about this servant girl—"
He stopped.
Because of the look he received.
The duke lifted his gaze slowly.
And in that moment—
His eyes were no longer brown.
They burned red.
"Leave."
The word was quiet.
But absolute.
The knight stiffened, then bowed immediately. "Yes, my lord."
He left without another word.
Silence returned.
The duke looked down at the girl in his arms, his expression unreadable as his eyes slowly returned to their natural brown.
His gaze lingered on her necklace.
The moonstone glowed faintly.
Recognition flickered in his eyes.
"…Finally," he murmured.
Then, almost thoughtfully—
"It seems things are beginning to move."
In his arms, Sera's fingers twitched slightly.
Her breath hitched—uneven, fragile.
Then slowly… her eyes opened.
For a brief moment—
they were not hazel.
They glowed.
A deep, unnatural yellow… almost golden, yet far too bright to be normal.
Then they dimmed again.
As if nothing had happened.
Somewhere across the courtyard, Steven suddenly froze.
His grip tightened around his sword, knuckles whitening.
A strange, suffocating feeling wrapped around his chest.
"…Sera?"
His voice was low.
Uncertain.
For the first time—
Steven felt it clearly.
Something… was terribly wrong...