62 - Necklace
For a moment, time stilled. Not metaphorically. Not poetically. But in a way Mariana could feel.
The air between them thickened, stretched thin by something neither of them spoke aloud. Her back pressed lightly against the wooden shelf, the faint scent of old paper and ink surrounding her—but all of it blurred.
Because all she could see was him. Crown Prince Zafiel. And the way he was looking at her. Not as a noble. Not as a political piece. Not even as a “Demigod candidate.” Just her.
Zafiel didn’t move. Not immediately. His gaze traced her features slowly, deliberately—as if committing them to memory.
The curve of her eyes. The softness of her expression when she wasn’t guarded. The way her lips parted ever so slightly, caught between protest and breath.
“Yo-You…” Mariana started, her voice barely above a whisper. Then stopped. Because she didn’t even know what she was trying to say.
Why are you looking at me like that?
That was the question screaming in her mind. Because this wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. In the novel, he ignored her. Every time. Every chance he got.
The “original Mariana” had chased him endlessly, only to be met with indifference, cold dismissal, or worse—complete disregard. He barely spoke to her. Barely acknowledged her existence.
So why? Why is he here? Why is he this close? Why is he looking at me like I'm... important...?
Her brows knit slightly. “Your Imperial Highness…”
Zafiel’s eyes flickered. Then softened. “Zafiel... for now.”
Her breath hitched. That wasn’t right either. Nothing about this was right.
Before she could think further, he moved again. But this time, slowly. Deliberately. His hand slipped into the inner lining of his coat. Mariana tensed slightly. Then, he pulled something out.
A necklace. It caught the light instantly. Deep amethyst. Shaped like a spider lily in full bloom—each petal crafted with impossible precision, glowing faintly with a hue that mirrored his own eyes.
For a moment, Mariana forgot how to breathe. “Wha-What is—” She didn’t finish. Because he stepped closer.
And without asking, without hesitation, he placed it around her neck. The cool metal brushed against her skin. The clasp clicked softly behind her. Final.
Zafiel’s fingers lingered just a moment longer than necessary. Then he pulled back slightly. Just enough to look. Really look. His gaze dropped to the necklace. Then back to her face.
A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. “… it suits you.”
Mariana froze. Completely. Her mind blanked. Her heart was not cooperating. “Yo-You can’t just give people things like that...” she managed weakly.
Zafiel tilted his head slightly. “I just did.”
“Tha-That’s not—”
Her voice faltered again. Because his hand lifted once more. This time, to her chin. He tilted her face up gently. Not forcefully. But with undeniable intent. Mariana’s breath hitched sharply.
Because he was close. Too close. Her heart pounded violently against her ribs. Her thoughts scattered. Her instincts screamed.
And yet, she didn’t move. Didn’t push him away. Didn’t stop him. Because part of her wanted to know what would happen next.
Zafiel leaned in. Slowly. Deliberately. Their breaths mingled. The distance between them—gone. Mariana’s eyes widened slightly. Her lips parted. And for a split second, she thought—
He’s going to kiss me...!
But he didn’t.
Instead, his lips brushed softly against her forehead. Warm. Gentle. Lingering just long enough to leave an imprint. Then, he pulled back. “… sorry.” he murmured quietly.
Before she could even process that, he was gone. No shimmer. No sound. Just—gone.
Silence crashed down around her. Heavy. Overwhelming. Mariana stood there for exactly three seconds.
Then, her knees gave out. “… what… was that…?"
She slumped to the floor, back against the shelf, one hand pressed against her chest. Her heart was racing. No, pounding. Out of control.
“… why is my heart beating like this…?” Her fingers slowly lifted to her neck. To the necklace. She touched it lightly. “I should take this off…”
Yes, that was logical. That was the correct response. She reached behind her neck, felt for the clasp.
“… huh?” Her brows furrowed. “Where is it?” She tried again. More carefully this time. Tracing the chain. Feeling for the mechanism. Nothing. “… wait…”
Her mana stirred instinctively. Flowed toward the necklace. Attempted to interact with it. And then, nothing. No response. No reaction. It was like the necklace… didn’t recognize her magic at all.
“… you’ve got to be kidding me.” She pulled at it slightly. Not enough to break it. But enough to test. It didn’t budge. “… I can’t even take it off?” A pause. Then, “Is this some kind of… magical handcuff...?!” Her face flushed. “That’s insane...!”
And yet, her fingers lingered on it, longer than they should have.
---
Far from the library, in a narrow, shadowed alley, a figure stood. Calm. Still. A body lay at his feet. Headless, blood pooling silently against the stone.
Zafiel flicked his blade once. Clean. Efficient. The remnants of a foreign spy. Another one. Another piece removed from the board. He exhaled slowly.
Then, “… that was excessive.” His voice was quiet. Almost annoyed. At himself. He dragged a hand down his face. “… what were you thinking?”
Silence answered him. Because even he didn’t fully know. He hadn’t planned that. Not the necklace. Not the closeness. Definitely not... the almost kiss.
His grip tightened slightly. “… too fast.”
Way too fast. This wasn’t how he operated. He was calculated. Measured. Precise. Everything had timing. Everything had purpose.
And yet the moment he saw her standing there. Reading. Smiling faintly at something in a book. Unaware. Unprotected. Beautiful. His control... slipped.
“… troublesome.” He leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes briefly. “… she’s dangerous.” Not because of her power. But because of what she did to him. A quiet exhale left his lips. “… and yet…” His eyes opened again. Amethyst glinting faintly in the shadows. “… I can’t leave her alone.”
Not now. Not ever.
His gaze darkened slightly. “… not when they’re already moving.”
The rebellion. The organization. The unseen players pulling strings in the dark. All of them, closing in. And Mariana was right in the center of it. Zafiel pushed himself off the wall.
“… then it’s simple.” His voice steadied. Cold again. Controlled. “… I’ll just take everything before they can.” A faint smile curved his lips. Not warm. Not gentle. Possessive. Dangerous. “… especially her.”
And somewhere in Luxor, a girl sat on the floor of a quiet library. Heart still racing. Fingers resting against an unremovable necklace.
Unaware that she had just become something far more than a target. She had become... his.