The night air was thick with mist, curling like smoke through the narrow alleyways of the capital.
A lone figure limped through the shadows—Marek—his left arm hanging uselessly by his side, his breath ragged with pain.
"Damn him… damn that bastard Emperor…" he spat, leaning heavily against the cold stone wall.
From the darkness ahead, a silhouette emerged—tall, graceful, and cloaked in silk as black as ink.
"You're late, Marek."
Marek looked up, forcing a strained smile. "Your Highness…"
Prince Velco stepped closer, the faint glint of a cruel smile crossing his lips.
Marek forced a weak grin. "I told the Emperor the fake story… just as you ordered."
Prince Velco stepped closer, his cloak brushing the wet ground. "Very good."
Marek let out a broken laugh, half triumph, half pain. "Your Highness, I did everything… just as you said. I approached the Queen, told her that fake tale about revenge and my brother. Then, I told the Emperor lies about the Queen having lovers."
Velco's smirk deepened. "And what did His Majesty say?"
Marek barked a laugh that sounded more like a cough. "That bastard Emperor—he's mad for that woman! Even after hearing about her so-called affair with Duke Malric Vane, he said nothing!"
Velco tilted his head slightly.
Marek continued, his voice turning hoarse. "Do you know what he said, Your Highness? He said… he'll keep the child. Because he's her child."
Velco chuckled softly. "The Emperor indeed loves his wife."
For a moment, silence filled the alley. The only sound was Marek's uneven breathing.
Marek lowered his voice. "Your Highness… tell me honestly. Is it true? That boy, Leo— is he really Duke Malric's son?"
"Because to me… he looks more like the Emperor's child," he muttered, half to himself.
From the darkness, Prince Velco's voice slid through the air—smooth, unhurried, dangerously calm.
"That boy is—"
He paused, a faint smile curling on his lips.
"The Emperor's child."
Marek froze. "But how can that be possible? The Emperor got married just a few days ago—how can he have a child that big?"
Velco stepped closer, his boots echoing softly on the wet stones.
"I was surprised too," he said, almost amused. "When I heard him call the Queen 'mother.' I was listening when she was with you… and I thought the same thing—how could this be possible?"
"That's… crazy," Marek breathed.
Velco tilted his head slightly, watching him with a predator's patience.
After a pause, Marek spoke again, his tone trembling with unease.
"Your Highness, one more thing."
"Speak."
"How did you know Master Luca would come to kill me first?"
Velco gave a quiet chuckle, low and dangerous. "Just a guess."
Marek's laugh came out strained. "That crazy lunatic would've killed me if the Emperor hadn't come to my rescue."
He groaned, gripping his arm tightly, the bones still aching from where they'd snapped.
Velco's eyes lowered to the injury. "The Emperor broke your hand, right?"
"Yes," Marek spat bitterly. "That bastard did."
Velco's tone turned colder. "You shouldn't have placed a knife to her throat. You're lucky you got away with only a broken hand."
Marek frowned, his voice thick with anger. "I want extra money for this, Your Highness."
Velco's lips curved into a slow smile. "Of course… I'll give you more than I promised."
Marek blinked, almost relieved. "Really?"
"Yes."
Velco raised a hand slightly—an elegant, effortless gesture.
—Slaash!
A wet sound tore through the air. Marek's body jerked as blood splattered against the wall. His eyes went wide, mouth opening soundlessly.
"Y-Your Highness… why—"
Velco stepped closer, his voice a whisper near Marek's ear.
"Because you know too much about me. And I don't let anyone walk away with secrets."
Marek collapsed, his lifeless eyes staring into the fog. The crimson trail beneath him.
Velco exhaled softly, as if nothing had happened.
"Dispose of him," he said flatly. "Anywhere. Let the dogs find what's left."
His man bowed. "Yes, Your Highness."
As Velco turned away, his cloak brushed through the blood, leaving streaks behind him.
----
(Royal Palace Velmoria)
The royal physician straightened after examining Leo's back.
"Your Majesty," he said respectfully, "I've applied the medicine. The wounds aren't serious—he should recover fully within a day or two."
Eyan exhaled, though worry still lingered in his eyes. "One or two days…" he murmured. "Alright."
Eva sat by Leo's side, her hands resting gently on the boy's blanket. Her face was pale with concern, and she hadn't spoken a word since the treatment began. Eyan's gaze softened as he watched her quietly brush her fingers through Leo's hair.
"You may go now," Eyan finally said to the physician.
The man bowed and left the chamber, closing the door behind him. The room fell into a soft, tense silence. Only the faint sound of the fireplace filled the air.
Leo shifted slightly, then sat up on the bed.
"Your Grace," he said politely, his tone faint but steady, "it's late. I should go to my room and sleep."
He stood and gave a small bow before turning toward the door.
"Leo."
Eyan's deep voice stopped him mid-step. Leo turned around, his eyes wide with uncertainty.
"Sleep here with us tonight," Eyan said quietly.
Leo froze—blinking once, twice—as if unsure he'd heard right.
Eva looked at Eyan in surprise, while the flickering firelight danced across his face, revealing the rare softness in his gaze.
Leo shook his head, stepping back.
"No, Mister… I'll go sleep in my room."
Eyan's gaze softened, but his voice remained firm.
"You're hurt. You need care."
Your mother's care… he thought silently, his eyes flicking toward Eva.
Leo hesitated, his small hands curling at his sides.
"No… I'm fine now…"
Eyan's voice stopped him. "It's because of me."
Leo paused, his hand on the doorknob, and slowly turned back.
"Because of me, you don't want to sleep here." Eyan's voice was gentle, almost teasing, yet full of quiet understanding.
Leo's cheeks flushed slightly, and he opened his mouth to protest. "No… it's not like tha—"
"You don't have to hide it," Eyan interrupted gently. "I know you don't like me."
Eva's heart ached as she watched Eyan speak, her gaze flicking between father and son.
Leo's gaze met Eyan's, steady and honest.
"You're mistaken. I don't hate you."
Eyan's smile softened. "If you don't hate me… then are you feeling uncomfortable around me?"
Leo hesitated, and Eyan continued, voice low, almost teasing.
"If that's the case… I can sleep somewhere else. You can stay here with Eva."
Eva's heart thudded painfully in her chest.
"Eya—" she whispered.
"No," Leo said quickly, shaking his head. "Mister, you don't have to leave. I'll sleep here."
Eyan's eyes softened even further, a rare warmth spreading through him.
"Are you sure?"
Leo nodded firmly.
"Yes."
Eyan reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Leo's shoulder.
"Then… let's sleep together tonight."
----