Kayona slipped silently through the long corridors, the faint glow of lanterns stretching her shadow across the marble floor. Sleep had abandoned her; her mind was restless, caught between fragments of dreams and the weight of memory. Her bare feet carried her with no clear destination, only away from the suffocating stillness of her chambers.
The chill air outside greeted her, tossing her silver curls across her face and shoulders. She let it guide her steps through the gardens, past the hedges, until the pond came into view. Its still surface reflected the moonlight like a trembling mirror, promising escape.
She stopped at the edge, gazing into the dark water. Her reflection quivered with the ripples, her face drained of hope, her eyes hollow. Slowly, almost without realizing it, she leaned forward. The silence of the night pressed in, heavy, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Hands seized her shoulders.
"Your Grace!"
Kayona screamed, twisting violently in Maxwell's iron hold.
"No! Stop! Take your hands off me! My parents are down there—they're waiting for me!"
She writhed, kicking and clawing, tears streaking her caramel cheeks.
"They need me! I heard them calling—I need to be with them!"
Maxwell's jaw clenched, but he didn't loosen his grip.
"No, Your Grace. You're not going anywhere."
Her strength ebbed away as despair swallowed her resolve. Finally, she sagged into his chest, shoulders shuddering, sobs wracking her body.
"I… I just want to be with them…" Her voice was fragile, almost swallowed by the night.
He drew her closer, steadying her trembling form.
"I know, my lady. I know. But you can't leave us like this. You're still here. And I won't let you go."
Her cries echoed through the gardens, raw and unrestrained, until the night seemed to mourn with her. When her sobs finally dulled into a quivering hush, she lifted her face, streaked with grief. She's finally calm.
"Take me to their chambers, Maxwell… I will spend the night there," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
Maxwell exhaled slowly, relief flooding him.
"Of course, Your Grace. Let's go inside."
***
Back to the present—
The memory clung to him like a shadow. Maxwell stood before the same chambers, the weight of that night pressing into his chest like a stubborn thorn.
"To this day…" His voice was low, troubled. "I still wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone out on night patrol."
His eyes lingered on the door.
"You wouldn't be here with us, Kayona."
Stepping closer, he pressed his ear lightly to the wood. The silence within made his heart hammer.
"Has she stopped crying?"
He knocked gently.
"Your Grace, it's Maxwell. May I come in?"
Nothing.
His hand hovered at the handle.
I need to calm down. She didn't harm herself, he mulled.
He pushed the door open. The room was cold, still—only Kayona's soft, steady breathing broke the silence.
Crossing to her bedside, he paused. Kayona lay on her back, silver curls spilling across the pillow, her face softened in sleep though her eyes still bore traces of dried tears.
Maxwell tucked the covers gently around her shoulders.
"Sleep peacefully, Your Grace," he whispered, bowing slightly before stepping quietly out of the room.
***
The night air outside the Obregón estate was heavy with silence, but across the capital, the Diamond Griffin pulsed with laughter, smoke, and the scent of expensive liquor. Behind its velvet curtains, in the secluded VVIP chamber, Alissia lounged like a cat who already knew she owned the room.
Her midnight silk dress clung to her curves, the slit falling just enough to expose a teasing length of thigh as she straddled Count Jydin on his velvet chair. His hand fumbled clumsily at her waist, but she only smiled, tilting her head, silver earrings brushing against her bare shoulder.
When he reached for his cigarette case, she intercepted with a smile.
"Allow me, Count," she purred, plucking the cigarette and holding it to her lips. The flame from the silver lighter kissed her face in gold before she drew a slow puff. She leaned forward, pressing it between his mouth and watching him inhale what she'd already tasted.
The Count exhaled with a smirk, eyes hazy.
"Lady Alissia… what is it you really want?"
Her fingers slid into his hair, nails grazing his scalp — just a scratch was enough. She let the silence stretch as the poison began its slow work, a faint flush rising on his neck. Then she leaned in, her lips brushing his ear.
"What I want…" she whispered, "…is the truth about my dear brother."
Count Jydin blinked, his pupils struggling to focus.
"Y-your… brother? You mean—what brother?"
He tried to cover the stammer with another drag of his cigarette, puffing smoke through a smirk.
Alissia's lips curved as she pressed a soft kiss to his neck. His eyes widened in hungry approval, his hands wandering up her thigh, but she caught his wrist firmly.
"No touching," she said sweetly, tilting her face back up to his, "not until I get answers."
"And what if I don't have the answers you're looking for?" His voice slurred, but the arrogance still lingered.
Annoyance tugged at her smile.
The poison should've been clouding his mind by now. Matteo's too much of a regular here… it'll look suspicious if he finds me alone with one of his closest investors, Alissia pondered.
"Are you sure, Count?" she murmured.
He nodded lazily, and she slipped her index finger between his lips.
This dose should do it,
She thought,smirking.
His body stilled, hands tightening around hers as he sucked greedily at her finger. Heat flared in his eyes, but behind it—hesitation, a flicker of confusion.
"Good boy," she murmured, dragging her thumb across the corner of his damp mouth before slipping it free. "Now… tell me. What does my brother pay you for?"
Jydin gave a lazy chuckle, the kind of laugh men think makes them sound dangerous.
"Your brother pays for everything. Loyalty, silence, betrayal. Depends what mood he's in." His cigarette trembled between his fingers. "Always whispering about crowns, about… who doesn't deserve one."
Crowns. Enemies.
The words slid into her ears like needles. Alissia's smile never cracked, but her nails tightened ever so slightly against his chest.
"And if…" she tilted her head, lips brushing close to his jawline, "…I happened to be one of those enemies?"
That got him. His eyes gleamed, some instinct struggling through the poison's fog. His lips moved, dragging out the words like stone through mud.
"Then… he'll… cut you down… like the rest."
Alissia exhaled slowly, the sound almost a purr.
Good enough. I have something to work with but…
She leaned in again, mouth grazing his ear—ready to press for more—
The door clicked.
Her smile froze.
Bootsteps crossed the marble, slow, deliberate, the kind of steps meant to be heard. Alissia slid off Jydin's lap with the same languid grace, smoothing her skirts as if she hadn't been straddling him a breath ago.
When the shadow filled the threshold, her fingers curled against her skirts.
"Enjoying your little games, sister?"
Mateo's voice.