In the Eastern Empire, while daylight still ruled the skies, Rehena decided it was time to return the books she had once borrowed from Max. They had served their purpose well—volumes filled with knowledge of herbs, remedies, and quiet wisdom, most of which belonged to him. Those pages had guided her hands and sharpened her understanding, and now she felt a sense of duty to give them back.
When she reached Max's chamber, she paused and knocked softly on the door. A moment later, permission was granted, and she stepped inside.
Max stood within the room as he always did—composed, distant, and unreadable. He wore his usual attire: a white open-collared shirt with loose, puffed sleeves, layered beneath a burgundy double-breasted vest adorned with a fine chain. Black trousers and polished shoes completed the look. His black hair fell freely, framing a face made sharper by crimson eyes—eyes that so often seemed cold, yet endlessly observant.
He leaned against the desk with one leg crossed over the other, a book open in one hand while the other rested lazily on the polished surface. He looked calm. Untouched. As though nothing in this world could disturb him.
Rehena approached and placed the book gently upon the table.
"I'm here to return this," she said softly. "Thank you… my lord." She lowered her head in a respectful bow, her voice quiet, almost hesitant.
Max closed his book and set it aside, finally lifting his gaze to her.
"How was your study of herbs with my aunt?" he asked. His tone was cool, restrained, yet there was curiosity beneath it.
"I did my best," Rehena replied, offering a faint, polite smile. "I tried to learn as quickly as I could."
Max studied her for a brief moment. "Is there something you need?"
"No, my lord. I'm already fine." She waved her hand lightly, stepping back. "I should be going now. Goodbye—"
Before she could finish, a furious voice thundered from beyond the door.
"YOU INSOLENT BASTARD! WHERE ARE YOU?"
The sudden roar shattered the calm.
Both of them froze.
Rehena's eyes widened as she instinctively turned towards the door, her brows knitting in confusion and alarm. Max, however, did not look afraid. Instead, his gaze snapped to her—sharp, urgent, almost panicked.
"Who was—" Rehena began.
"You must hide. Now!" Max hissed, his composure cracking. Frustration and fear bled into his voice as he seized her wrist without warning.
Her breath caught as he pulled her towards the wardrobe beside his bed. His grip trembled. His hands were shaking.
Before she could question him, he opened the wardrobe and ushered her inside, closing the door just enough to leave a narrow gap. Rehena's heart pounded violently against her chest as darkness enveloped her. She could still feel the echo of his unsteady touch.
~Why was he trembling? Who was that voice?~
She barely had time to steady herself when—
BANG!
The door to the chamber burst open with a deafening crash.
Rehena flinched, pressing herself deeper into the wardrobe. Through the small opening, she dared to look.
A man entered—elderly, imposing, and unmistakably powerful. He wore a golden crown that gleamed beneath the light, an ornate necklace heavy with colourful jewels resting against his chest. A long golden robe, patterned and trimmed with fur, flowed around him, green embroidery lining the sleeves. His white hair spoke of age, yet his crimson eyes burned with fury.
They were the same eyes as Max's.
~"Could it be…?"~ Rehena whispered to herself, clamping both hands over her mouth.
"You fool!" the man roared. "What nonsense have I been hearing? That you are harboring people from the North—begging them to become your allies!"
It was King Malvorn—the ruler of the Eastern kingdom, and Max's father.
"Yes, Father—"
Slap!
The sound cracked through the room.
"Do not call me that," the king snarled. "It disgusts me."
Max staggered slightly, his head snapping to the side as pain burned across his cheek. He lowered his gaze immediately.
"I apologies, Your Majesty," he said, his voice subdued, even as the sting lingered.
"Where are they?" the king demanded, jabbing a finger into Max's chest. "Where are they hiding? Did you conceal them here?"
Max's fists clenched at his sides. His head remained bowed, his body trembling despite his efforts to stay still. Fear crawled beneath his skin, yet something heavier restrained him—something that made his chest ache.
He could betray them. He could offer Rehena and Barron to his father. He could finally gain approval.
But then an image surfaced in his mind—an innocent girl, frightened yet trusting.
Rehena.
"I rejected them, Your Majesty," Max said quietly, his voice deliberately subdued. "They have already left. Perhaps they have fled back to the North."
The king scoffed. "You'd better hope so. Remember your place. Do not ever dare betray me." His eyes narrowed. "And where is that bitch?"
Max's hands tightened until his knuckles whitened.
"She is resting in her chamber," he answered carefully. "Please refrain from insulting my mother. She was once your wife, my king."
Max lifted his gaze and glared at his own father. In response, King Malvorn stepped forward, rage contorting his features as he raised his hand to strike.
"You fool!"
Smack!
Max's head snapped forward.
"How dare you lecture me!," the king snarled, striking him again. "You are not my son."
Smack!
"You are nothing but a bastard!"
Smack!. Smack!.
Each blow landed with brutal force. Max endured it in silence, his body swaying as pain exploded through his skull. The gold ring on the king's hand cut into his skin, and warm blood began to trickle.
The assistant standing nearby could barely look, his face drained of colour as he witnessed the violence.
Inside the wardrobe, Rehena shook.
Her eyes filled with terror and disbelief as she watched everything unfold. She clutched her mouth, stifling any sound, her entire body trembling. She had never imagined Max endured such humiliation—such cruelty—from his own flesh and blood.
She wanted to rush out. To scream. To stop it.
But she stayed frozen, knowing that if she revealed herself, Max would suffer even more.
Now she understood. This was why he wanted them gone. Why he pushed them away.
When the beating finally stopped, blood stained Max's hair where the ring had struck.
"Do not ever do anything that displeases me again," the king said coldly. "Or I will burn your people alive." He turned his back, adjusting his wrist as though the threat he had just delivered meant nothing at all.
"Amando. We are leaving!," he commanded.
The king stormed out, his assistant hastily following.
Silence fell.
Max remained standing where he was, his fists clenched so tightly they shook. His head hung low, crimson eyes staring at the floor—burning not with fear, but with rage born from years of rejection.
And from the darkness of the wardrobe, Rehena watched—her heart breaking quietly, helplessly.
Rehena's feet trembled uncontrollably, uncertainty clawing at her from within. She didn't know whether to comfort Max, the eternally rejected second prince of the Eastern Empire, or to stay frozen in fear. Her gaze fell on him—he stood rigid, every muscle taut, hands clenched tightly in front of him, his head bowed. As she stepped closer, horror seized her; a thin trail of blood trickled from a wound on his head, staining the pristine floor beneath him.
"My lord, your—" she began, her voice trembling.
"Shut up, woman!" Max's voice cut through her words like a whip, harsh and raw.
Rehena froze, shock rooting her to the spot as Max suddenly seized her wrist, pulling her closer. Pain shot up her arm at his iron grip, and her eyes widened further as she saw the full extent of his injuries. Bruises mottled his face, each mark a testament to the King of the Eastern Empire's cruelty. Blood dripped down his cheek, his red-rimmed eyes blazing—not with anger alone, but with a searing, heart-wrenching pain that tore at Rehena's soul.
"Now you see!" Mas roared, his voice shaking with fury as he glared at Rehena. "You already know why I didn't want you here any longer! You are the one who will bring us misfortune!"
Max's grip on her wrist did not loosen. Rehena winced as his fingers bit into her skin, her face contorting from the sharp sting.
"I-I'm sorry!" she cried, trying desperately to free herself.
"Sorry?" Max barked, each word jagged with rage. "You Northern people are greedy and selfish! You have no idea what you are doing!" His anger erupted like a storm, scorching every corner of the room.
"GET OUT!" he bellowed, his voice cracking as he shoved her away. Rehena stumbled backward, her body shaking violently at the sheer terror etched across his face.
"If anything happens to my mother, I will kill you—all of you!" Max's scream split the air. "Now get out—NOW!" The sky above, once a gentle daylight, had darkened into a furious storm. Lightning slashed across the heavens, thunder rolled like a thousand drums, and Rehena's heart pounded with a fear that seemed almost physical. She had never seen such terror unleashed in human form.
Overwhelmed, Rehena turned and fled from the chamber. Each step carried her farther from the horror she had just witnessed, yet her fear only magnified. She didn't notice the tears streaking down her cheeks, hot and unrelenting. Her body trembled uncontrollably aside by sheer terror as she ran through the darkened hallway, the storm raging above reflecting the storm inside her.
"Rehena!?"
A soft, worried voice broke through the chaos. In front of her, Roselia, Max's mother, had caught her by the shoulders, steadying her. Her hands were gentle, yet firm, grounding Rehena in the only anchor she could find. Roselia's eyes, wide with concern, mirrored the fear she had felt when she had heard that the King had rushed to Max's again—but she had no inkling of the physical abuse her son had endured.
"What has happened, my poor child?" Roselia asked, her voice laced with worry.
Rehena's sobs racked her body. Words failed her; the trembling in her limbs made speaking impossible. She could barely form a sentence, her strength sapped by the terror she had just witnessed.
"I—I just wanted to go home…huhuhu…" she finally managed, collapsing against Roselia's shoulder in an unrestrained torrent of tears. Roselia wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight, offering comfort she could barely comprehend. She didn't yet know the full horror that had occurred—only that the girl before her had been utterly broken, her spirit shattered by the brutality of a prince's anguish.