They pushed through the banquet doors, stepping into the cool night air. The echoes of cruel laughter trailed behind them, fading into the distance as they walked down the dimly lit street. The glitter of the city lights bounced off the wet pavement, and Liliane's worn-out dress clung to her with every gust of wind.
Her fingers tightened around Elior's hand. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile, though her voice cracked when she spoke.
"Babe… I'm sorry this is all I could afford for you. A secondhand dress… and still, they mocked me. After all these years, I should've given you more."
Elior stopped abruptly, turning to her. His hands rose to her shoulders, steady and firm, making her look straight into his eyes. The faint glow of the streetlamps caught the sharp edge of his jaw, his gaze burning with something fierce.
"Don't you ever apologize for that again. You've already given me more than anyone ever could. You waited, Liliane. Through shame, through scorn, through five long years—you still waited. That's worth more than any crown or fortune. That's love, and that's all that matters to me."
Her chest trembled, tears threatening to spill, but she forced a shaky laugh. "Elior… I don't need you to explain yourself, but I need to understand. I know Darian poisoned Patriarch Godwin's drink to frame you—I know you endured hell on the Eastern front—but why? Why did you come back broken, like a madman wandering the streets? What did they do to you?"
For a moment, Elior's jaw clenched, the memory dragging a shadow across his face. His voice dropped low, gravelly, like every word was carved out of pain.
"A man came to me at the warfront, disguised as one of my own. He claimed he carried a secret message from Patriarch Godwin—good news, he said. But it was a lie. He struck when I least expected it. He injected me with something… a poison that rotted the mind. It tore me apart from the inside, left me wandering in darkness for years."
Liliane's breath caught, her nails digging into his sleeve. "Oh my God…"
His eyes softened, but there was steel in his words.
"There was… a way to hold it back. To fight the madness. All I needed was to… to sleep with someone. That would've dissolved the drug's grip. But, babe…" He swallowed, his gaze locking into hers, unwavering. "I couldn't. I wouldn't. Not with anyone but you. Even if it meant losing my mind, I'd rather go insane than betray the only woman I've ever loved."
The tears she'd been holding back spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. Without hesitation, Liliane pulled him down, crushing her lips to his. The kiss was raw, desperate, a storm of sorrow and devotion. Her voice trembled against his mouth.
"You fool… you beautiful, stubborn fool. You should've done whatever it took to survive. You know I would've understood, right? I'd rather have you alive—even if it meant…"
Elior silenced her with a thumb brushing her cheek, his forehead pressed to hers. His voice broke into a rare softness.
"It's over now. You found me. That's all that matters. Everything I lost… every shred of myself… I got it back the second I saw your face again. And I know how hard you've been grinding—scraping pennies just to keep me fed. I hate that I made you suffer through all that."
Liliane shook her head fiercely, tears brimming but her tone firm.
"Babe, don't you dare say that. We're in this together. Okay?"
Elior gave a single nod, determination flickering in his eyes as he turned his head. Across the street, the glow of a boutique supermarket spilled into the night, the kind of place that screamed untouchable luxury.
He tilted his chin toward it. "We're changing out of these rags, tonight. I won't let them see you mocked again."
"Elior, I don't—" Liliane began, but he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her with a soft grin.
"No excuses, babe. Trust me."
So they crossed the street together, hand in hand, and walked toward the boutique's glass doors. The place glittered like a palace, its entrance guarded by two massive men in tailored suits. The second Elior and Liliane approached, the guards stiffened, blocking their path like human walls.
The taller one—built like a damn linebacker—stepped forward, smirking.
"Hold up. Where the hell do you two think you're going?"
The other tilted his head, chuckling like it was a joke.
"Yeah… nah. This ain't your playground. Turn around now, or I'll personally drag your broke asses off this sidewalk."
Liliane's heart sank, but Elior's eyes hardened. His voice thundered, sharp and cutting.
"What did you just say to us? We're here to shop, and you've got the guts to disrespect customers like that?"
The guards exchanged a glance—then burst into laughter so loud it drew stares from inside the boutique. One slapped his knee, wheezing through the mockery.
"Holy shit—did this clown just say shop? Here? Dressed like that?"
The taller one stepped closer, his breath hot and arrogant as he jabbed a finger toward Elior's chest.
"You really think this place—this level—is built for stinky poor nobodies like you? Get the fuck outta here before I throw you both in the trash where you belong."
Liliane's cheeks burned, her fists curling at her sides as humiliation scorched her. She tried to step back, but Elior didn't budge. His jaw clenched, his shoulders squared. He let out a low, dangerous chuckle, the kind that didn't belong to a beaten man—but a lion waking up after too long asleep.
"Trash?" His voice dropped into a growl. "You just made the biggest mistake of your life."
The guards' laughter roared again, echoing across the marble steps.
Elior's eyes narrowed like steel. "What the hell is this circus? You really think we can't afford the so-called cheap rags you're peddling in there?"
One of the giants puffed his chest, stepping up with a sneer.
"Cheap? Did you just call us cheap, punk? The lowest tag in this boutique is a hundred grand. And look at you—mud-stained, ragged, stinking of the street. People like you only come here to snap selfies, fake flex on Instagram, and pretend you shop. We don't let trash like you through those doors."
Liliane's cheeks flushed red, her nails digging into Elior's sleeve. He could feel her trembling but still standing tall beside him.
"Maybe we should just leave, babe…" she whispered, her voice cracking under the humiliation.
Elior didn't move. He let out a low scoff, sharp and defiant.
"You think I walked all the way here to pose for a damn picture? You'll wish that's all I came for."
Before the guards could bark another insult, headlights washed over the entrance. A sleek Rolls-Royce Phantom purred to a stop, and instantly the guards straightened. The doors swung open, and bodyguards in black suits fanned out like shadows.
Frank stepped out. Louisa's golden boy. Her sugar-coated, city-wide notorious boyfriend. Turns out he owns the bouquet. His watch alone gleamed brighter than the boutique's chandelier. The moment his Italian shoes hit the pavement, whispers rippled through the customers.
"Oh, it's you again, Elior…" Frank's tone dripped with venom, his sharp jaw twisted in disgust. "What the hell are you doing here, embarrassing yourself in public again?"
The taller guard scrambled forward like a loyal mutt.
"Sir Frank, forgive us. These two gutter rats tried claiming they wanted to shop. We know the type—they come to snap pictures and fake receipts. We were just about to toss them out."
Frank held up a hand. "No… wait." His lips curled into a cold smirk. "They've already been a nuisance today. This lunatic even tried raising a hand against Louisa. Tonight, I settle the score."
He stepped closer to Elior, his cologne choking the air.
"Well then, Mr. Customer…" Frank's sarcasm cut like glass. "Tell me, how many outfits are you looking to buy tonight?"
Elior straightened, chin high, his voice calm but carrying that undercurrent of fire.
"Anything that suits. Let's say… five million dollars' worth."
The crowd gasped, and laughter exploded instantly. Guests from inside leaned to the glass to watch the show. Someone muttered, "Five million? Man can't even afford five bucks!"
Frank's smirk deepened, shark-like. He snapped his fingers at the guards.
"Perfect. Let's make this fun. You can shop to your heart's content. But here's the deal…" His voice hardened, ice dripping from every word. "If you can't pay every damn cent at checkout, these boys will beat the living shit out of you and your little wife right here on my marble floor."
"Do you dare accept the deal?"