The next morning, Rin woke up with a dull, throbbing ache crawling across his body, every muscle stiff and sore as though he had been dragged through stone. His eyelids fluttered open, the early morning light filtering through the grand curtains of the guest room. The ache was bearable—he had been through worse—but what made his stomach drop was the strange stickiness on his skin, particularly lower, where it shouldn't have been.
He sat up slowly, the blanket sliding off his shoulders, and stared down at himself. His hands clenched the sheets so tightly his knuckles went pale. Wait last night… did we—? His thoughts clawed against the edges of denial. I thought it was a dream. It couldn't have been real. Could it?
His jaw tightened as his serious gaze swept the room. Kai was nowhere to be found. The silence of the villa pressed against Rin's ears, and he could almost hear his own pulse pounding. No footsteps, no faint hum of his voice, no smirk lurking in the doorway. Just absence. Did he leave me like this on purpose? Of course he did. That bastard…
Rin swung his legs off the bed, forcing himself to stand despite the weight dragging at his body, and rushed to the bathroom. The mirror above the sink showed a pale, exhausted reflection—hair damp with dried sweat and seawater residue, skin faintly bruised, eyes shadowed and bloodshot. He stripped off his clothes quickly and stepped under the shower, letting the hot water run down his sore body. It stung, every droplet waking up nerves he wished were numb.
And then—he froze.
As he reached behind to scrub his back, his fingertips brushed against something foreign etched into his skin. He turned sharply, twisting to catch sight in the mirror. His breath hitched.
A tattoo. Small, intricate. A miniature version of the one carved into Kai's chest.
For a second, the world tilted. Then Rin's face hardened, jaw locking. He clenched his fist so tightly under the stream of water that his nails cut into his palms. That son of a bitch. His mind was a storm, but his seriousness forced him into clarity. He marked me. Like property. Like some prize he owns.
Rin's breathing grew heavier, but his expression didn't break—it hardened. Fine. If this is his game, then I'll learn the rules and I'll play it better.
When he finally left the shower, steam clinging to him like smoke, the house still drowned in silence. Rin descended the sweeping staircase, his bare footsteps echoing faintly. The villa seemed more hollow without Kai inside, yet Rin couldn't shake the feeling that Kai was still watching somehow. That his absence was deliberate. That even silence was part of the manipulation.
In the kitchen, on the polished marble island, breakfast was already laid out. Eggs, black bread, smoked fish, slices of cheese—arranged with surgical neatness. Next to it, a small folded slip of paper. Rin picked it up with steady fingers, unfolding it slowly.
"I will come by tomorrow. – Kai."
No flourish, no explanation. Just those words.
Rin stared at the note for a long moment, then exhaled slowly through his nose and shrugged as if dismissing it, though his mind was far from calm. Even his absence feels like control. He leaves me food so I won't starve, a message so I won't wonder. It's like being locked in a cage where the door is wide open but you know better than to step outside.
He sat and ate, mechanically chewing, letting the silence of the villa wrap around him. Each bite felt hollow, tasteless. His eyes never left the note.
When he was finished, restless energy drove him elsewhere. He moved through the corridors until he found himself in the vast library. The scent of old paper and dust lingered thick in the air. He pulled a book from the shelves, only to frown—Russian. Another one—Swedish. Another—German. Every spine he touched was a foreign language. He placed them down with a small shake of his head, irritation burning low in his chest. Even the library rejects me. Nothing here is meant for me. This place wasn't built for my hands or my eyes.
Leaving the heavy silence of the library, Rin wandered down a familiar hall—the one where he had once stumbled upon the necklace. His steps slowed. His eyes sharpened. He knelt by the safe, fingers tracing the edges before opening it.
Inside, photographs.
Rin froze.
He pulled a handful out carefully, his expression hard but eyes betraying something deeper. There she was—Kai's mother. The famous Swedish model. Beautiful didn't even begin to describe her—her smile was radiant, her eyes clear as glass, her golden hair catching light even in the faded photographs. In some, she was all glamour, a woman made to be admired. In others, she was softer, caught in candid moments—laughing, holding a book, sipping coffee.
And then—photos of her with Kai.
Rin's throat tightened despite himself. There she was, holding him as a baby. A younger Kai, still with that sharp, aristocratic face but softened by youth, nestled in her arms. The way she smiled at him—it was pure, unguarded, the smile of a mother who adored her child.
Rin's fingers trembled faintly as he held the photos, but his face remained set, unreadable. So this is her. The one whose shadow he lives under. The one whose beauty and fame echo in every room of this house. No wonder he's broken. No wonder he clings to control like a lifeline. He was born from scandal, raised in the cracks of power, and yet loved fiercely by her. That explains nothing… and yet everything.
He slid the photos back into place, closing the safe with deliberate care and took one of those Russian books and walked out.
The reception was already in full bloom when Kai finally arrived—late enough to be noticed, but not so late that it would be unforgivable. The grand ballroom glittered with chandeliers, the air heavy with champagne and laughter, satin gowns sweeping across polished marble floors. All around, relatives, politicians, and foreign dignitaries mingled under the guise of celebration, though everyone knew a Romanov wedding was as much a political theatre as it was a family affair.
The doors opened, and Kai stepped in.
Heads turned instantly—he had that kind of presence, the kind that carried weight no matter how quiet his entrance was. Tall, broad-shouldered, a black suit tailored with surgical precision, his hair slicked back in a manner that sharpened every angle of his aristocratic face. His expression was unreadable at first, cool and composed, until—
"UNCLE KAELIRIAN!"
A pair of shrill voices cut through the crowd like bells. Two little missiles came running, identical in their wide-eyed excitement and bouncing curls—Olga and Tatiana, the six-year-old twin daughters of Vseslav.
Kai's composure cracked into something warmer, though no less deliberate. His lips curved, arms spreading wide as he lowered himself slightly. "My princesses."
The girls launched into his arms, giggling, and he caught them both effortlessly, lifting them high as though they weighed nothing. His smirk softened into a facsimile of affection, and he kissed each of their cheeks in turn. "Oh my," he drawled with a low chuckle, "look at you two. How big you've grown. Did someone put fertilizer in your milk?"
They laughed, clinging to his neck. Olga leaned back, fixing him with a serious pout. "Uncle Kaelirian, you promised us a pony. Our birthday is next week!"
Kai chuckled again, his eyes glinting with amusement—and calculation. "And do I ever break my promises?" he murmured, tapping the tip of her nose. His smirk widened. "Of course, you'll have your ponies. Two of them. White ones, like snow. Only the best for my princesses."
The twins squealed in delight, kissing his cheeks before wriggling out of his grasp. He set them down gently, watching them run back to their governess with smiles plastered on their faces.
The warmth faded from his face instantly, like a curtain dropping. Vseslav, their father, approached then, tall and solemn, his expression caught between suspicion and courtesy. Kai's lips twitched into something polite, though the glimmer in his eyes was mocking.
"I should go greet the newlyweds," Kai murmured smoothly, brushing past him without waiting for a reply. His tone made it clear: You don't matter. They do.
The crowd shifted as he approached Sasha, his half-brother—the man of the hour, beaming beside his new husband, champagne in hand. Kai slipped through the well-wishers like smoke, the kind of presence people instinctively parted for.
"Congratulations, brother," Kai said silkily, drawing Sasha into a quick, firm embrace. His lips quirked into that half-smirk again, eyes cold even as he smiled. "On your third—or was it fourth marriage now? You'll have to forgive me, I lose track."
A ripple of awkward laughter passed through the surrounding guests. Sasha forced a chuckle, swatting Kai's arm as though the jab was all in good fun. "Still sharper than ever, Kaelirian. I thought you wouldn't come."
"Oh, come on," Kai said, turning his gaze toward Sasha's new spouse—a graceful woman dressed in white satin—and smoothly bent to kiss her cheek, holding her arm just a beat longer than necessary. From behind his back, he produced a slim, glossy briefcase and handed it to her.
"For you both," he said, his smirk widening as she opened it just slightly, eyes widening at the contents. Inside, neatly arranged, glittered a trove of red diamonds, cut so perfectly they caught the light like flames. "A little wedding gift. You'll find they're far rarer than anything on the market. Very difficult to obtain."
"Kaelerian…" Sasha muttered, half suspicious, half grateful, though the diamonds dazzled his new bride's eyes into silence.
"I'm very happy for you," Kai said smoothly, his voice warm but his smirk betraying nothing but control. "Truly. May this one last."
The couple thanked him, though everyone could sense the tension humming beneath. Kai, as always, played the dutiful brother and the dangerous shadow all at once.
As he turned away to greet other guests, champagne flute in hand, his smile never faltered. He shook hands, kissed cheeks, exchanged witty comments, every movement smooth as water. But beneath it all, his mind ticked elsewhere.
I didn't want to come. Wouldn't have, if Father hadn't summoned us for the meeting. All this glitter, all this theater—it's nothing but noise. But family is a stage, and even I must play my role when Father calls.
Rolling his eyes faintly as he lifted his glass, he muttered under his breath in Russian, "Чёрт возьми." (Damn it.) His smirk returned a second later as another guest approached, as if the slip had never happened.
The ballroom faded behind him, its laughter and chatter muffled as Kai followed the guard down the long marble corridor. His polished shoes echoed against the floor, each step slow, deliberate, like a predator walking into a cage it knew it already controlled.
The guard stopped before the heavy oak doors of the study. Kai didn't wait to be announced. He pushed the door open himself, slipping inside with a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Oooh… a family meeting," he drawled, shutting the door with an audible click. "What's this about? Couldn't wait until the champagne stopped flowing?"
Inside, the air was already thick with tension. His three elder brothers—Vseslav, Yaroslav, and Sasha—stood in different corners, their father Dmitri seated at the head of the long mahogany table, his presence alone casting a heavy shadow.
Yaroslav wasted no time. His voice was sharp, impatient. "Where is Persephone? We need it."
Kai only raised a brow, strolling leisurely to the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a glass of whisky, the liquid catching the lamplight like molten gold. He swirled it slowly, savoring the aroma before taking a sip.
"You," Kai said finally, his tone velvet-smooth but razor-edged, "should be the last person asking about Persephone, Yaroslav." He set the glass down with a soft clink, his smirk widening. "Why don't you stick to playing Daddy's little heir at Gazenergo, hm? And leave the grown-up work to those who can actually handle it."
Yaroslav's jaw tightened, his hand curling into a fist. "Father, you see? This is exactly what I warned you about. You never should have given him Persephone. A bastard child from an affair—he isn't worth it. And now you've armed him with something as dangerous as that."
Kai burst into laughter, sudden and loud, the sound echoing off the walls like a gunshot. He leaned forward, eyes glittering with malicious amusement.
"And who would've been 'worth it' then, hm?" he said, voice dripping with mockery. "You?" His grin widened into something feral. "You, who couldn't even pass university without bribing the dean? Don't make me laugh, Yaroslav. You're entertaining, but never that useful."
His laughter died off into a smirk, his eyes gleaming with prideful cruelty. "Persephone is mine. Mine alone. And when I complete it, I won't be handing it to anyone. Not to you, not to Father, not to the government. If I get bored, maybe I'll just destroy it. Leave no trace it ever existed. And you know what?" He raised his glass in a mock toast. "No one would ever know."
"Kaelirian," Sasha finally spoke, his voice calm but tinged with frustration. "We gave it to you for a reason. To finish it and deliver it back to the state, where it belongs. That was the deal."
Kai tilted his head, sipping his whisky like the world was his stage. "And so? Do I look like a man who cares about deals? No, Sasha. I care about leverage. About control. About power. Persephone doesn't 'belong' to anyone but me."
His father's voice, roughened with age but still commanding, finally cut through. "You take everything as a joke, Kaelirian. Not everything in this world is your game. You need to grow up."
"Father, relax. Didn't your doctor say you shouldn't raise your blood pressure?" Sasha said
"Father, don't strain yourself," Vseslav said quickly, putting a steadying hand on Dmitri's arm.
Kai's smile turned cruel again, a glint of teeth flashing. "Oh my… the almighty Dmitri is dying. How tragic."
"He isn't dying," Yaroslav snapped, his voice rising. "Watch your tone, Kaelirian!"
The smirk sharpened, eyes narrowing just slightly. "My tone?" Kai echoed, his voice dipping into dangerous territory. He set the glass aside, stepped closer to Yaroslav. "Funny you should mention tone, because I'm starting to lose mine."
Yaroslav sneered. "And what about that spy? After he destroyed our house, witnesses saw you carrying him away. Where is he now? Hesitating, Kaelirian? Afraid to do your job as an assassin?"
The air shifted. The smirk stayed, but Kai's eyes darkened. He reached for the bottle of whisky, his movements smooth, almost lazy—until he suddenly hurled it across the room. It crashed against the wall just beside Yaroslav's ear, shattering into a hundred jagged pieces. The scent of alcohol rushed out sharply, mixing with the tension.
Yaroslav flinched violently, his bravado crumbling.
And Kai laughed. Full, rich, merciless laughter.
When he finally caught his breath, he leaned back against the table, arms folded. "How many times," he said, voice calm but lethal, "have I told you not to meddle in my business?" He leaned forward slightly, his smirk cutting like a blade. "Next time, I won't miss. And you know I never miss."
Vseslav, ever the peacemaker, broke the thick silence with a sharp clap of his hands. "Alright. Enough with all this." His voice carried the weight of authority, but there was an edge of exhaustion, like he already knew wrangling his brothers was a futile effort.
Yaroslav was still shaking, fury and embarrassment warring in his eyes. He jabbed a finger toward Kai. "He tried to kill me! Right here, in this very room!"
Kai didn't even bother standing straighter. He lounged against the edge of the table, one hand stuffed casually in his pocket, the other holding his half-empty glass. His lips curled into a slow, lazy smirk.
"But I didn't," he said smoothly, his tone silk hiding steel. He tilted his head, eyes glinting with amusement. "Let's not dramatize, dear brother. I simply… demonstrated my aim." He leaned in just enough for his voice to drop, all mock sweetness. "And you should be grateful for that. Because if I ever truly want you dead…" His smile sharpened, shark-like. "…I won't miss."
Yaroslav's face went red, his fists trembling at his sides. He opened his mouth, but Kai was already moving on, rolling his shoulders as if bored of the entire conversation.
"God, is this it?" Kai yawned deliberately, stretching his arms above his head in exaggerated exhaustion. "The great family meeting? All this secrecy, guards whispering, Father glowering, brothers hissing like snakes… and it's just another round of 'We hate Kaelirian, let's all cry about Persephone'?" He chuckled under his breath, sharp and humorless.
"Kaelirian —" Dmitri started, his voice stern, but Kai cut him off with a raised hand, eyes glittering with mock innocence.
"No, really, I'm tired," Kai went on, feigning weariness like a performer milking his audience. He set his glass down with a soft clink, then leaned back against the table again, completely at ease, like the room full of enemies were just background noise. "If there isn't anything new, gentlemen, I'd rather not waste my evening babysitting your paranoia."
He paused deliberately, his gaze sliding over each brother in turn, lingering on Yaroslav just long enough to twist the knife. "Unless, of course, someone here is bold enough to actually do something about me, instead of whining like children behind closed doors."
The room bristled at his words. Yaroslav's jaw clenched, Sasha exhaled slowly through his nose, Vseslav pinched the bridge of his brow, and Dmitri sat silent, the weight of his authority dimmed but not gone.
Kai smirked wider, enjoying the tension like it was fine wine. "No? Nothing?" He spread his hands mockingly, his tone dripping with faux disappointment. "Then I'll take that as my cue to leave. Next time, brothers, try harder to entertain me."
He strolled toward the door, unhurried, every movement dripping with practiced arrogance. Just before slipping out, he glanced back over his shoulder, his grin sharp as a blade. "Oh—and Yaroslav? Sweet dreams."
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving the study heavy with the stench of whisky, glass shards glittering on the floor, and the undeniable truth that Kaelerian owned the room—even when he acted like he couldn't care less.
The mansion was quiet — suffocatingly so. The silence pressed on Rin's ears like cotton, too heavy, too still. He lay sprawled on the polished marble floor of the hall, one arm draped over his forehead, the faint taste of red wine still lingering on his tongue. He had finished some old Russian philosophy book earlier, tried to distract himself with heavy words and theories, but the unease in his body just kept gnawing at him.
It wasn't hunger. It wasn't fatigue. It was something else.
His stomach twisted in strange waves, his skin prickling as if something vital was missing. Every breath felt shallow. His thoughts grew unfocused. He wanted—no, he needed—something, but he couldn't name it.
Rin clenched his jaw, annoyed at his own weakness. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not a child. I've lived through pain, interrogations, worse than this. This is nothing. Nothing.
But it wasn't nothing. His pulse sped up, and his chest tightened. His instincts were restless, prowling inside him like a caged animal.
And then it hit him. That faint trace in the air, lingering on the edge of memory. Kai's scent.
It was maddening — that smoky, magnetic trail of pheromones that clung to the hallways, to the walls, faint and diluted but still present. His body reacted instantly, greedily. His lips parted, dragging in air, like an addict desperate for a fix.
Without realizing it, his feet carried him upstairs — to Kai's dressing room.
The moment he opened the door, it hit him like a wave. The scent was stronger here. The closet was filled with Kai's presence: suits hanging perfectly in order, fur coats, shirts with crisp collars, cologne still clinging to the fibers. Rin froze, staring at them.
Pathetic, he thought bitterly. Am I really about to…?
And yet, his body had already decided. His fingers twitched. His chest ached. His throat felt dry. He stepped inside, reached out, and pulled one shirt free, pressing it to his face.
The effect was immediate. Warmth unfurled inside him, tension leaving his shoulders. The harsh tightness in his stomach eased. His heartbeat slowed. Kai's scent wrapped around him like invisible arms, like being caught in an embrace he didn't want but couldn't fight.
Rin sucked in another breath, deeper this time. Then another. He buried his face into the fabric, inhaling like it was oxygen, like he couldn't breathe without it.
Disgust twisted in his gut, even as relief softened his muscles. What the hell am I doing? Why am I behaving like this? This is insane.
But his body overruled his pride. Soon he was tugging down more clothes, pulling out shirts, jackets, even a thick fur coat. He dragged them all into a heap, arranging them almost unconsciously, piling them together until it resembled something animalistic, something primal: a nest.
He lowered himself into it, lying in the middle, Kai's scent surrounding him in suffocating comfort. His hands clutched at the coat, dragging it over his shoulders, covering himself with it.
Rin closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. His body finally, finally, relaxed.
It felt shamefully good — too good. The scent of Kai's fur coat was strong, rich, almost intoxicating. It wrapped around him like Kai himself was here, looming over him, arms caging him in, that sharp voice mocking him but keeping him safe all the same.
Rin's fists clenched against the coat. This is humiliating. I'm a spy, not some… some omega crawling into a pile of clothes like a feral thing. His throat tightened. And yet… I feel okay now.
The truth burned bitter in his chest. He missed Kai. Or worse, he missed Kai's scent. His body craved it, needed it, as though Kai had already imprinted himself deep into Rin's instincts — deeper than Rin could claw out, no matter how hard he tried.
Wrapped in that stolen warmth, Rin let out a slow, shaky exhale, eyes narrowing at the ceiling. "That bastard…" he muttered under his breath, his voice low and rough.
But his grip on the coat tightened.
And despite himself, his body felt like it was being held.