Dawn was still an hour or two away.
The sky had begun to lighten at the edges, the deep blue slowly giving way to grey. Louis lay flat on the ground of the training yard, arms spread, chest rising and falling steadily. His body ached—not painfully, but heavily, like exhaustion had finally caught up to him all at once.
Belia stood over him, sword resting at her side, watching in silence. Just observing.
Footsteps approached.
Natasha came into view, stopping short when she took in the scene—Louis on the ground, Belia standing above him.
"Well," she said lightly, one brow lifting, "looks like I missed quite the night."
Belia glanced at her. "He lasted longer than I expected."
Natasha smiled. "I figured."
Louis let out a slow breath. "You know," he said, staring up at the sky, "I just realized I didn't sleep at all."
Natasha turned her head toward him. "That's still better than the alternative."
He frowned slightly. "Alternative?"
She tilted her head, considering her words. "Better than being treated like a gigolo."
Louis turned his head to look at her. "What does that mean?"
Natasha blinked.
"…You really don't know?"
Belia's attention sharpened.
Natasha stared at Louis for a moment, then asked carefully, "You never noticed anything strange? At night?"
Louis pushed himself up onto one elbow. "No. What are you talking about?"
Natasha hesitated, then said it plainly. "They used to put sleeping draughts in your food. Then send servants to your room."
Louis froze.
"…What?"
Belia looked at Natasha.
Natasha rubbed the back of her neck. "I honestly thought you knew. Or that you noticed and just… ignored it. I assumed your body was resistant. Poison, sedatives—something like that."
Louis shook his head slowly. "I never felt anything. I just went to sleep. Woke up normal. Refreshed."
Silence settled between the three of them.
Natasha stared at him.
Belia said nothing—but the way she looked at him changed.
Neither of them seemed to know what to say next.
Louis let out a slow sigh.
He turned his head toward Natasha. "Can you help me get to the bottom of this?"
Natasha studied him for a second, then sighed as well. She nodded once.
"Of course," she said, a faint smirk forming. "Though I have to say… for someone who apparently slept through all of that, you're surprisingly calm about it."
She leaned slightly to one side. "Guess ignorance really is bliss."
Louis returned to his room later than usual.
Dinner had been uneventful. Conversation measured. Nothing out of place. And yet, when he lay down, sleep refused to come.
Not because he was afraid.
Because anticipation made rest inefficient.
He stared at the ceiling for a time, then spoke quietly.
"Natasha."
There was a pause.
"I'm here," she replied, her voice coming from the far side of the room.
"You're calm," she said after a moment.
"So are you."
"That's because I already knew," Natasha answered. "You're the one who's supposed to be asleep by now."
Louis exhaled slowly. "It's hard to fall asleep when you know what's coming."
A soft scoff. "Then you should at least do a better job pretending."
He closed his eyes.
Footsteps came later.
Careful ones. Deliberate. There was a hesitation outside the door — brief, but noticeable — before it opened.
The maid entered quietly.
Louis did not move.
She approached the bed, her presence registering as a shift in the air more than sound. He felt the weight of her standing close, the faint scent that did not belong in his room.
"You should be grateful," she said in a low voice.
Her tone carried practiced certainty. Entitlement.
"A Count's favor isn't something offered lightly. Many would beg for this."
She leaned closer. Taking off her maid uniform before moving onto the bed and straddling him.
Louis kept his breathing even.
The sedative pressed more firmly now, dull but persistent. Not enough to overwhelm him. Enough to blur the edges.
His resilience responded automatically, dulling the effect without erasing it.
So this is how they're doing it.
The thought was calm. Almost distant.
Darkness crept in at the margins of his vision, blurring detail without stealing consciousness entirely.
He let it.
When clarity returned, it did so gradually.
The room had been restored too neatly. Sheets straightened. Traces erased.
Louis stared at the ceiling, unmoving, thoughts settling into order.
He hadn't expected the Empire to go this far.
Not because the act itself was shocking—nobles had always relied on bloodlines to bind power—but because it revealed intent.
They weren't observing him.
They were trying to anchor him.
Children were obligation. Heirs were leverage. A single successful birth would be enough to tether him permanently, whether he wished it or so the thought.
And yet—
Even when his mind remained silent, his body refused outcomes he did not want.
That realization settled without panic.
Without anger.
Just understanding.
"Natasha," he said quietly.
She appeared a moment later. "Yes?"
"How should I handle this?"
She considered him carefully. "Don't return here. Train longer. Sleep elsewhere."
"That only delays it," Louis replied. "They'll notice."
"Then stay awake."
"That's inefficient."
Another pause. Shorter this time.
"Change the schedule," she said. "Sleep early. Before they expect it. When you return, don't lie down. Read. Look occupied."
Louis nodded once.
"They won't interrupt what they think is discipline when a few days go by the will realize you have caught onto their tricks," she added.
"That should be enough," he said.
For now.
Author's Note
"I've updated the rating to 18+ to better reflect the harsh world-building and the realistic mature themes coming in future arcs. I'm focusing on the psychological and emotional weight of the Druid's Path, but I want to make sure the rating matches the intensity of the story."