(Two Months Later)
It had been two months since Eva last stood before Emperor Eyan. Since that day—since her return from the palace—Eva had made a single, silent decision.
She told Kyel nothing. Not about the Emperor. Not about the Silver Crescent Guild. And Kyel… never asked too.
Their married life passed in a strange, fragile peace. Days folded into one another gently, without arguments or confessions, without questions that demanded answers.
Until today.
A cream-colored envelope arrived in the afternoon, sealed with a familiar crest.
Eva's fingers froze the moment she saw it. Lady Aranel Delyss.
Her breath caught.
Aranel—her first friend. Her only friend.
The girl who had grown up beside her since childhood.
Daughter of Marquess Calren Delyss. Normally, a letter from a dear friend would bring warmth, excitement—perhaps even joy.
But Eva felt none of that.
Her heart sank as she unfolded the letter, dread coiling tightly in her chest.
Two months. Two entire months had passed since her marriage—and Aranel knew nothing.
Eva pressed the letter to her chest, her thoughts racing.
"What am I going to tell her about my marriage…?" she whispered.
Her lips trembled. "I hope she doesn't go crazy."
Eva grew restless the more she thought about it. The image of Aranel's reaction alone was enough to make her chest tighten.
For years, Eva had lived almost entirely on her own—without anyone she could truly rely on.
And during all those years, it had been Aranel who stood beside her without question
Aranel had done everything she could. She dragged Eva to blind dates she didn't want to attend. She introduced her to men she carefully chose. She scolded her, encouraged her, and worried over her like an elder sister.
All because she wanted Eva to find a good man. A man who would protect her. A man who would take care of her for the rest of her life.
Eva lowered her gaze to her hand. The wedding ring glinted softly in the light.
Slowly, she slid it off her finger and held it in her palm, her thumb brushing over the cold metal.
"If she finds out suddenly," Eva murmured, "she might actually die from a heart attack…" A faint, nervous smile tugged at her lips.
"Knowing Aranel, I already know how she'll react." She closed her fingers around the ring.
"It's better if I find the right moment," she decided quietly. "A good opportunity… and then I'll tell her."
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(Royal Palace — Velmoria)
King Thalor Therald (Eyan's Father) had not taken a single meal outside his chamber in years. His health had long since confined him within those walls, and though the throne had been passed to Eyan, the weight of a king's authority still lingered in his presence.
Time had taken much from Thalor. Strength. Vitality. Years Now, he had only one wish left. To see his son married. To see him settled—before his own time ran out. That wish was the reason Eyan had been called today.
The chamber doors opened quietly as Eyan stepped inside and bowed deeply.
"Father," he said respectfully. "How is your health?"
King Thalor, seated near the window, slowly raised his head and regarded his son with tired eyes. "I'm doing fine," he replied dryly. "As you can see."
With effort, the king pushed himself up from the chair and walked toward the window, his steps measured, deliberate. he gazed out over the palace grounds.
"Is everything going well in Velmoria?" he asked.
"Yes, Father," Eyan answered without hesitation. "Everything is stable. The empire is doing well."
Thalor turned back to him. Without another word, he picked up a sealed letter from the table and held it out.
"Eyan," he said firmly, "go there today."
Eyan accepted the letter, confusion flickering across his face as he examined the seal. "What is this?" he asked.
King Thalor exhaled slowly. "It's an invitation to a gathering," he explained. "For unmarried nobles. Many suitable candidates will be there—noble ladies from distinguished families," Thalor continued. "This event is being held by my orders." His gaze sharpened. "Especially for you."
"Go," the king said. "Look carefully. If you find someone suitable… choose her as your wife."
Eyan's jaw tightened. "Father, I'm not going," he said firmly. "I've already told you. I don't want to get married. Not now. Not ever. So please—stop pushing me."
King Thalor's expression hardened.
"Eyan, you have to get married," he replied.
"Whether you want it or not. You're already twenty-seven. You need to produce an heir as soon as possible."
He took a step closer. "Our bloodline must continue. The legacy our ancestors entrusted to us cannot end with you."
Eyan looked at his father—and then, unexpectedly, he smiled. A hollow smile.
"What if I don't want to carry on this damn legacy?" he asked quietly. "Father… do you truly wish me to suffer the same pain you did?"
King Thalor inhaled sharply.
"Eyan," he said, his voice low, "we have a duty. We must protect the Dragon King—Zeradros."
That was when Eyan snapped.
"You lost your wife," he shouted. "And I lost my mother because of that dragon!" His fists clenched at his sides.
"Do you really think it was worth it?" his voice cracked. "I don't know about you, Father—but I hate him. I hate that dragon who took my mother away from me."
Silence crashed between them.
King Thalor closed his eyes. "I regret it too, Eyan," he said softly. "Every single day."
His voice trembled as memories surfaced.
"I still remember your mother's face… the last time I saw her."
He opened his eyes, pain etched deep within them. "But our bloodline must bear the burden," he continued. "We must make the sacrifice—to protect this world… and to keep Zeradros sealed."
The king stepped forward and placed a hand on Eyan's shoulder.
"If you don't want to suffer as I did," he said quietly, "then marry anyone. Produce an heir." His grip tightened slightly. "And do not fall in love."
Eyan's hands curled into fists.
"You're out of your mind, have gone crazy?" he muttered.
"Call me whatever you wish," King Thalor replied calmly. "But this will happen.You are going to that gathering—whether you like it or not."
Eyan lifted his head. "And what if I refuse?"
King Thalor met his eyes without hesitation.
"Then I will not hesitate to take the throne back from you," he said coldly. "And if necessary, I will cast you out of the royal palace."
For a long moment, Eyan said nothing. Then he looked straight into his father's eyes.
"Fine," he said at last. "I'll go."
He turned away. "But not because of your threats," Eyan added quietly. "I'm going because I promised Mother… that I would never disobey you."
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The door burst open without warning. "Eva, my love—I'm here!"
Aranel swept inside the room like a storm, laughing as she spun across the floor, her skirts fluttering as if the world itself had been waiting for her arrival.
Eva froze for only a heartbeat.Then her face lit up. She hurried down the stairs, her steps light, and the moment she reached Aranel, she wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace.
"Aranel," Eva breathed, smiling. "How have you been?"
Aranel pulled back immediately, lifting her chin with pride. "Still beautiful," she declared. "As always."
Her gaze dropped to Eva's simple, modest dress, and her smile slowly faded. "Don't tell me you didn't receive my letter," Aranel said.
"I did," Eva answered.
"Then why," Aranel said, grabbing the fabric of Eva's dress between her fingers, "are you still wearing this?" She raised a brow.
"Do you plan to go on a date dressed like this?"
"No," Eva said quickly.
"Good." Without hesitation, Aranel turned her toward the stairs and gave her a gentle push.
"Go get changed. Wear something beautiful," she said cheerfully. "We're finding you a good man today."
Eva forced a small, awkward smile and went upstairs. Inside her bedroom, she closed the door quietly and sat down on the edge of the bed, burying her face in her hands.
"Oh God…" she whispered.
"I have no choice but to go." Her voice trembled.
"Forgive me, Kyel," Eva murmured. "Please don't hate me."
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(The Gathering)
The grand hall shimmered with candlelight and quiet ambition. Eva and Aranel stepped inside together .Noblemen from across the empire filled the space—sons of dukes, marquesses, and counts—all gathered for a single purpose.
Aranel's eyes lit up. She scanned the room eagerly, her gaze darting from one man to another, evaluating them with sharp interest. Then—she stopped. A slow, pleased smile curved her lips.
"Eva," Aranel said, her tone suddenly conspiratorial, "wait here. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Before Eva could protest, Aranel had already turned away, gliding toward a man standing near the center of the hall.
Left alone, Eva felt a familiar knot tighten in her chest. She glanced around, searching for somewhere—anywhere—to sit. Spotting an empty seat near the edge of the hall, she began walking toward it, careful not to draw attention.
Just then— She bumped into someone.
"Oh—!" Eva stumbled, quickly steadying herself.
"Please forgive me—" Her words died on her lips.
She looked up.
Eyan stood before her.
For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. He looked just as stunned as she felt.
Eva's breath caught. Instinct took over before fear could fully settle in.
She lowered her head immediately and bowed. "Greetings, Your Majesty," she said softly. "Please forgive me for bumping into you."
Eyan blinked, then smiled faintly. "It's all right, Lady Eva," he replied gently. "You don't need to apologize."
His gaze lingered on her—"What are you doing here alone?" Eyan asked quietly.
Eva swallowed."Well, Your Majes—"
"Eva!" Aranel's voice rang out. Eva turned just as Aranel returned—dragging a man along with her by the sleeve.
Aranel froze the moment she noticed Eyan standing there. The color drained from her face.
Both Aranel and the man immediately bowed. "Greetings, Your Majesty," they said in unison.
Eyan nodded politely, a practiced smile on his lips. Then his eyes moved back to Eva—questioning.
Eva cleared her throat. "Your Majesty," she said, forcing calm into her voice, "this is my friend, Lady Aranel Delyss. I came here with her."
Eyan turned to Aranel. "Lady Aranel," he said, his tone measured, "are you here to find a suitable partner for marriage?"
His gaze shifted to the man beside her. "This gentleman must be your marriage candidate then."
Aranel laughed lightly. "No, Your Majesty," she replied cheerfully.
"Lord Eric here isn't for me." She smiled brightly—far too brightly. "He's Eva's marriage candidate."
The words struck like a blade.
Eyan froze.
"What…?" he breathed.