Evangeline couldn't process the word this charming man had said.
Perfect?
What was perfect? Her mind refused to catch the rest of his words. All she could hear, echoing inside her chest, was that single word—perfect.
She watched him, more mesmerized than she liked to admit.
Despite how menacing Hades appeared, there was something almost boyish in the way he toyed with the lace ribbon, rolling it between his fingers as though it were a priceless treasure. His violet eyes softened as he studied it, fingertips caressing the fabric with such care that Evangeline's own breath caught.
For a wild, reckless moment, it felt as though those same calloused fingers, warm and rough, were brushing against her skin instead —teasingly wanting to elicit a reaction from her, or perhaps even a moan.
Flustered, she swallowed hard and forced herself back to reality. "Th–The lace... does it match your expectation, Sire?"
"No."
Her heart sank. "W– What?"
His eyes lifted, locking onto hers with a smile that disarmed her at once. A low chuckle followed, the kind that could coax anyone into lowering their guard.
"I'm joking," he said, and her tension eased. "It's far above what I imagined. So much so that I plan to keep it locked away, hidden from every other eye. I have a terrible habit of locking away the things I love, keeping them only for myself."
Eva blinked at him, startled by the frankness of his words. Yet the thought didn't feel strange— it made sense. To treasure something so deeply, to keep it away from greedy hands. Her chest tightened with memory.
Everything she had once adored had been stolen by Serena, until she learned to stop loving anything at all.
"I'm glad you like it that much," Eva murmured, her voice sincere, touched that a man of his stature could value her effort.
"I can see how hard you worked, I am not a man who praises easily. But this—" his gaze lingered on her, not the ribbon, "—is truly gorgeous."
Heat rushed to her face as though the compliment had struck her directly. Her hands pressed against her cheeks, desperate to cool the blush rising there.
"The red string of fate you spoke of earlier..." she ventured, clinging to curiosity, perhaps to distract herself— or perhaps because she craved any excuse to keep speaking with him. "Is that why you asked me to make the ribbon in red?"
"Yes." His answer was simple, but it was more meaningful than it seemed. "I find the thought of the red thread of fate enchanting. I wanted to hold it in my hands... to feel it for myself."
"Oh." She spoke, her voice softer than a whisper. Then, almost without meaning to, she let slip, "I thought it was... for a lady."
"A lady?" His finger stopped playing the lace while repeating her word.
Hades's eyes fixed on her with such unflinching seriousness that Evangeline felt her stomach twist. For a dreadful second, she wondered if she had just stepped on the tail of a beast far too dangerous to provoke.
Her breath caught, unsure of how to respond—until she saw him move. Hades leaned forward, one hand covering his mouth as his shoulders shook. His laughter filled the room, startling in its suddenness.
"Must have been how I look that made you think so," his violet eyes bright with amusement. "But unfortunately, I have no lady to fancy. Though..." His tone lowered, "It does interest me. I want to see whether this red lace could act as a red string of fate— perhaps one that might connect me to the person I am meant to be with, for the rest of my life."
Evangeline's throat tightened. It was something, something about the way Hades spoke. Each syllable he whispered pressed closer to her heart, leaving her dry-mouthed and unsteady.
She forced herself to wet her lips, only to realize too late that his eyes seemed to follow the movement, lingering there with a weight that made heat bloom under her skin. She blinked rapidly, convincing herself she imagined it, though her pulse betrayed her— racing with giddiness.
"Then... I suppose I should go now," she blurted clumsily, escaping her in a rush. Rising to her feet, she tried to retreat gracefully, but her nerves betrayed her again.
Her shoes caught the hem of her dress, tugging it underfoot, forcing her to stumble. Flustered, she turned her back on him, bending quickly to fix her shoes, cheeks aflame with humiliation.
Behind her, Hades's gaze lingered not on her, but on the teacup that still rested on the table. Thoughtfulness shadowed his features, and then, with deliberate ease, he stretched out a single finger. A small nudge—and the porcelain tipped.
And the cup fell.
The shatter struck the air like dropping a coin in an empt box, startling Evangeline who hadn't seen the sign of the cup falling to its demise earlier.
She spun just as the pieces scattered at her feet, breaking like her heart upon the sight.
Her heart lurched into her throat. "Did I knock it over—? Oh, God. I'm so sorry, S–Sir—"
"Hades," he corrected smoothly, reclining back into his chair as though nothing had happened. A smile curved his lips, easy, almost indulgent. "You don't have to apologize. It's just a teacup."
Just a teacup?
To Hades, perhaps. But to her—it was a teacup that might have cost the price of a month's lacework, maybe more. An object so fine she could never dream of affording one, let alone replacing it. The sight of its shattered porcelain pieces by her feet made her stomach twist.
How could she possibly repay him?
Her hands trembled as the weight of it sank in. Just when she thought she had managed to keep herself composed, just when she thought this meeting hadn't gone entirely awry—she had to ruin it. Why did she always find a way to spoil things? Why couldn't she allow herself one day, just one day, without creating a mess?
It's her fault again.
It's always her fault.
Her nails pressed against her skirt as if she could squeeze her shame into silence. Almost without thinking, she pinched her own thigh over the fabric, punishing herself for her clumsiness.
"Stop it."
The tone that had spoken to her with mirth earlier had turned cold, warning her to stop.
Evangeline froze and at once her eyes lifted to meet Hades's.
Startled, she realized he wasn't chastising her for the broken cup—he was speaking to her, telling her to stop what she was doing, for pinching her own thighs in panic. Her breath caught, her lips parted in confusion.
How had he seen? The movement had been so small, so subtle that no one was supposed to notice. But he had. It was as though his gaze had been trained, as though nothing—especially not her pain—could slip past his notice.
Hades shifted from the chair, standing up to his feet which immediately tower her with his shadow. The sound of wood scraping echoed in the quiet room as he pushed the table aside and stood. The motion sent her pulse racing. Her body stiffened, dread coiling tight in her chest.
For the briefest moment, she was no longer here, in this grand chamber filled with velvet curtains and gilded walls— she was back in her father's house, staring at the shadow of a man who came toward her with the belt wound around his hands. Her breath shortened; her arms lifted on instinct, shielding her head in a defense that had become muscle memory.
But instead of the sharp sting she braced for, she felt the air stir differently.
Hades had instead bent down. Slowly, his tall frame lowering until his face was level with hers.
"It's only a teacup," he said again, his voice no longer cold but firm, steadying. "As I told you, I have many. One less teacup will not destroy this castle."
His violet gaze lingered on her pale, trembling figure before slipping toward the folds of her skirt that had a splotch of tea splattered to it. "Instead, we should do something about your dress."
Still unnerved, Evangeline stared at him in silence. She still questioned with her heart if this was calm before storm, if he wasn't going to hit or yell at her at all. Until it was certain to her that Hades wasn't about to punish her for a cup.
"Just a cup," Hades replied with a smile as he looked up, his violet eyes catching her nervous green ones. His tone was unbothered, as though he didn't see the cup shattered at all. "You don't have to break into a cold sweat. I'll call a maid to fetch you a new dress."
"That won't be necessary, I'm really sorry for my mistake and I promise I'll repay for it—"
"Are you going to make someone who owns an entire castle force you to pay for a single cup?" Hades interrupted, his joking tone laced with mirth. His eyes crinkled, glowing crescents of laughter as though the shattered porcelain amused him rather than annoyed him. "It will ruin my reputation," he added, almost mock-serious.
Her cheeks burned hotter. How could he take it so lightly? Usually all Seraphs would have flared in anger.
"Change into the new dress," Hades continued, "and my butler will see you out—with the payment for the lace, of course."
Before she could protest again, he had risen to his full height, and took the lace to his hand, walking toward the door while she still watched him, stunned.
Evangeline could only watch, rooted to her spot, her breath shallow. Her heart felt as though it were reaching out, tugging painfully against her ribs. She couldn't just let him leave, not like this—not when he had been unexpectedly kind, not when she hadn't even managed to express what swelled in her chest.
"T–Thank you," she tried to call, but the words escaped softer than a whisper, trembling.
Hades smiled at the sound, though he did not turn. He gave her nothing—no acknowledgment, no reply—only the faintest curve at his lips as his hand closed around the doorknob.
Then he stepped out.
His footsteps faded into the corridor, the silence replaced by something stranger, something haunting. A low tune slipped from him, a melody carried on the air—romantic yet threaded with sorrow, a song that seemed to belong to the very bones of the castle.
His fingers curled tighter around the red lace, winding it about his hand as though he were binding it to himself, tying it tightly.
In that simple act, it became more than lace, as though he had transformed it into a red string of fate, one he seemed intent to carry with him, whether she realized it or not.