It was now the dead of night. All the nobles had departed for their homes, and only a handful of maids remained, making their way slowly toward the servants' quarters. Elira was still being carried in Sylas's arms, her face completely hidden beneath the folds of his coat. She could still feel the warmth of his body against hers, and though she had no idea where he was taking her, she heard the soft click of a door opening a moment later.
Sylas gently lowered her down and settled her onto a soft, comfortable bed. Only then did Elira push his coat aside to uncover her face. Glancing around, she realized immediately that this was clearly someone's private chamber.
"W-where are we?" she stammered.
The room was mostly dark, lit only by silvery moonlight streaming through the windows. Sylas said nothing at first, moving around to light one candle after another until soft, warm light filled the space.
"We are in my room," he replied, his voice steady and cool.
It was far larger than the room he kept at his mother's estate, and Elira's eyes went wide in shock—she had never imagined he would bring her here. Sylas moved to sit in the armchair opposite her, his posture calm but serious.
"I apologies for bringing you here," he said, "and I promise I have no improper intentions. It is simply that if the other maids had seen me carrying you toward the servants' quarters, it would only add to the rumors already circling about you."
His words made Elira's chest ache, and she could not help but recall the moment Lady Vanessa had caught her in Cassian's embrace. Overcome with embarrassment, she quickly looked away, her cheeks burning with shame. She felt terrible that even Sylas was now drawn into this scandal. Her fingers tightened anxiously around the bedsheets.
"So tell me what happened," Sylas said, his tone growing sharp and serious.
Elira froze, fearing he was angry with her.
"I-I am so sorry!" she cried out, squeezing her eyes shut.
Sylas was taken aback by her sudden reaction.
"Have I frightened her?" he wondered to himself.
"No—please, it is not your fault!" he said quickly. "I did not mean to sound harsh—"
But Elira's voice began to tremble and break, as if her anxiety was rising rapidly. Old memories and fears from her childhood right up to the present came rushing back all at once. Her breathing turned shallow and difficult; she pressed a hand to her chest, feeling as though her vision was beginning to blur. Seeing her struggle, Sylas moved closer at once, sitting beside her and gently rubbing her back in slow, soothing strokes. He knew she was not to blame, and suspected Cassian's actions had left her in this state. He could not fault either of them yet—he needed to hear the full truth.
"Stay calm… I am not angry with you," he said, his voice remaining cool yet gentle.
The sound of it helped steady Elira. When she looked up at him, she felt a strange sense of safety wash over her. It struck her suddenly—every time she found herself in trouble, Sylas was always there to help. Her heart began to beat faster and harder, and she could not quite understand what this feeling meant.
"I-I just… I don't know how to explain it properly," she said, lowering her head as she tried to gather her thoughts. "All I remember is that Cassian found me and my friends hiding behind the curtains. It is a long story, but afterwards, he asked me to walk with him into the gardens."
Sylas listened closely, his curiosity growing.
"When the fireworks began," she continued, "he seemed so happy… and then he just hugged me. That is all there was to it."
Hearing this, Sylas felt a heavy weight lift from his chest. He had feared Cassian might have said or done something foolish to compromise her. It also puzzled him—Cassian never paid much attention to any other girl, yet with Elira he acted so differently.
"Even so," Sylas warned, "you are not free from suspicion. The scandal has already begun."
Elira's eyes widened in realization. She gripped the fabric of her skirt tightly, filled with guilt.
"Elira," Sylas called her name, and she looked up, surprised by how firm and serious his tone had become—something she had rarely heard from him before.
"Here in the palace, there is a great divide between common folk and nobles like us. You must be far more careful with your actions, or you will find yourself tangled in gossip and disgrace. Knights and maids are of lower standing; they are not meant to mix freely with high society, and certainly not with those of royal blood."
He went on, while Elira listened intently.
"You may think of Cassian only as a friend, but others will see it differently. To them, you will look like lovers."
"Lovers? No—we are nothing more than friends!" Elira protested, startled by his words.
Sylas let out a long breath and stood up.
"I believe you, but you must keep your distance from him, Elira. He is a prince, and you are a maid. Such closeness is forbidden. I hope you understand—from now on, you must limit your time together and your bond."
His voice was calm but firm, and Elira's fingers clenched even tighter around her skirt as she realized how foolish and reckless she had been. Though it might have sounded harsh to her ears, Sylas only meant to protect her.
"You may stay here tonight," Sylas said, turning toward the door.
"Wait—!" Elira began, but her words trailed off as he stepped out and closed the door behind him.
Left alone in his room, she had no choice but to lie back down once more. Staring up at the ceiling, she waited anxiously, wondering what the next day would bring—especially since the Queen herself had summoned her for an audience.
******
It was already dawn by the time Elira quietly left Sylas's chamber.
For a fleeting moment, she could scarcely believe that she had actually managed to spend the night there. The room was still enveloped in Sylas's familiar scent, lingering softly in every corner. Despite everything that had happened, an unexpected sense of tranquility settled over her heart. Rather than feeling frightened, she found herself strangely at peace.
Yet deep down, she knew she could not hide forever.
Sooner or later, she would have to face the consequences of everything that had happened.
"Perhaps... I should tell Her Majesty how I truly feel," Elira murmured quietly to herself, lowering her gaze as uncertainty clouded her gentle features.
Before leaving the chamber, she allowed her eyes to wander around the room one last time.
As expected of the Imperial Captain, Sylas's chamber was impeccably neat. Everything was arranged with remarkable precision, each belonging resting exactly where it ought to be. The room reflected its owner perfectly—disciplined, orderly, and unwavering.
However, there was one small detail that caught her attention.
A thin layer of dust had settled upon a corner of the bookshelf.
Unable to ignore it, Elira instinctively stepped closer. As one of the maids serving within the Imperial Palace, tidiness had long since become second nature to her. She carefully retrieved her handkerchief before gently wiping away every trace of dust from the wooden shelves. Her movements were slow and delicate, ensuring not a single book was disturbed from its place.
Once she had finished, her gaze shifted towards Sylas's study desk.
She quietly dusted its polished surface as well, taking equal care with every corner until everything appeared spotless once more.
Only then did she tuck her handkerchief away and straighten herself.
Taking a slow breath, Elira smoothed the creases from her uniform before composing herself once again. Satisfied that everything was in order, she carefully opened the chamber door and slipped outside.
Fortunately, the palace corridors remained dim.
The sun had yet to rise above the horizon, leaving the hallways bathed in the soft blue hues of dawn. It was the perfect opportunity to move unnoticed. Keeping her footsteps light, Elira quietly made her way through the corridors, relieved that no one was there to witness her emerging from Sylas's chamber.
"I wonder... where did Sir Sylas sleep?" she whispered to herself, genuine curiosity flickering across her face as she made her way back towards the maids' quarters.
When the sun finally began to rise, its gentle golden rays streamed through the office window and settled across Sylas's closed eyes.
The warmth gradually stirred him from his sleep.
His eyelids twitched faintly before slowly opening, and for several silent moments he simply stared ahead, struggling to comprehend that morning had already arrived.
His head still rested upon his folded arms atop his office desk, facing the window where the first light of dawn illuminated the sky with soft shades of gold and amber.
The reason Sylas had spent the entire night asleep at his office desk was painfully simple.
He could not bring himself to sleep beside Elira.
"...Damn it," Sylas muttered beneath his breath.
A weary sigh escaped him as he stretched his entire body, every muscle stiff after spending the night in such an uncomfortable position. His shoulders rolled backwards before he leaned heavily against the back of his chair, closing his eyes for a brief moment as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with quiet frustration.
Before long, his thoughts drifted back to the previous night.
He remembered the moment Elira had called out to him.
Yet before she had even managed to finish speaking, he had already turned around and hurried out of his own chamber.
It had not simply been because he was upset over the scandal surrounding her.
There was another reason.
One that even he could not fully explain.
Her scent.
Although there had been some distance between them, Elira's delicate fragrance had quietly filled the room. It lingered in the air so naturally that Sylas found himself becoming strangely restless. Every instinct within him warned him that remaining alone in the same room with her any longer was dangerous.
Dangerous... not because of Elira.
But because of himself.
Without allowing himself another thought, he had fled from the chamber almost immediately.
Even now, Sylas could not understand why he had reacted that way.
The very instant he stepped outside, his heart had begun pounding violently against his chest, each heartbeat louder than the last. No matter how desperately he tried to compose himself, Elira's gentle scent continued to linger in his mind as though it refused to fade.
Then came her face.
That innocent, utterly endearing expression.
Her delicate cheeks, flushed a soft crimson after crying.
The tears glistening in her beautiful eyes.
Every single image from that moment remained vividly engraved within his memory, replaying over and over without mercy.
Sylas frowned deeply.
"What on earth has gotten into me...?"
The words escaped him in little more than a whisper.
He tightened his jaw before firmly shaking his head, determined to drive those troublesome thoughts from his mind before they could take root any further.
He drew in a slow, steady breath.
No.
He refused to dwell on it.
Pushing himself to his feet, Sylas straightened the creases in his uniform before adjusting the sword fastened at his waist. His expression gradually returned to its usual composed indifference, every trace of inner turmoil carefully concealed beneath the calm exterior expected of the Imperial Captain.
Without another thought, he stepped out of his office and made his way towards the training grounds to begin his usual early morning training alongside the Imperial Knights, just as he did every single day.