98 - Distracted
The moment Zafiel stepped away from the library doors, the air around him seemed to shift. The softness—the quiet, almost fragile gentleness that lingered when he was with Mariana—vanished.
What remained was the Crown Prince. Cold. Precise. Unyielding. The doors to his study shut with a low, heavy thud. Inside, two figures already waited.
Grand Chancellor Keiran stood near the long table, posture straight, hands clasped neatly behind his back. His expression was composed as always, sharp eyes betraying nothing—but the tension in his shoulders said otherwise.
Beside him, Sir Leonhard stood in full uniform, back rigid, his presence firm and grounded like a wall that could not be moved. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword—not out of threat, but habit.
They both bowed the moment Zafiel entered.
“Your Imperial Highness.”
Zafiel walked past them without pause, removing his gloves slowly as he approached the head of the table. “Raise your heads.” They did. Silence lingered. Then, “I kidnapped her.”
The words fell plainly. No hesitation. No embellishment. Keiran’s expression did not change. Leonhard’s grip tightened ever so slightly.
“… I see.” Keiran said calmly.
Zafiel leaned lightly against the table, gaze steady. “I assume you already suspected as much.”
“Given the sudden relocation of the Vernon family and the… containment of the Grand Princess,” Keiran replied smoothly, “it would be difficult not to.”
Leonhard exhaled slowly through his nose. “… may I ask why, Your Imperial Highness?”
Zafiel’s eyes flickered. “Protection.” A pause. Then, more quietly, “Romance and obsession came second.”
Silence. Even Keiran’s brows twitched—just barely.
Leonhard blinked once, as if recalibrating. “Second…?” He repeated under his breath.
Zafiel ignored that. “There are things moving beneath the surface of this empire.” His tone sharpened. “Faster than anticipated.”
Keiran nodded slightly. “We have detected unusual movements among several minor houses. Communications that don’t align with their declared loyalties.”
“Rebels.” Zafiel stated.
Leonhard’s jaw tightened. “So it’s true.”
“It is.” Zafiel straightened. “And the Grand Princess is a target whether she knows it or not.”
Neither man questioned that. Because if Zafiel said it—then it was already too late to doubt.
Zafiel’s gaze shifted between them. “Keiran.”
“Yes, Your Imperial Highness.”
“You rose to your current position with my support.” His tone wasn’t threatening. It was simply a fact.
Keiran inclined his head. “I am well aware.”
“Then you’ll handle administrative affairs in my absence.”
A brief pause. “… absence?” Leonhard asked.
Zafiel didn’t look at him. “I will be dealing with the rebels personally.”
The room stilled.
Keiran’s eyes narrowed slightly—not in defiance, but in calculation. “That will leave a significant gap in court stability.”
“You will fill it.” Zafiel said.
“… understood.”
Zafiel’s gaze shifted. “Leonhard.”
The knight straightened further. “Your Imperial Highness.”
“Assign only the most competent knights around the Crown Prince’s Palace.” His voice lowered. “No one enters without my permission.”
Leonhard’s expression hardened. “Understood.”
A pause. Then, Zafiel’s eyes darkened slightly. “And don’t even think about breaking her out.”
Silence dropped like a blade. Leonhard froze. Keiran didn’t move, but the air around him sharpened.
Zafiel’s voice was calm. Too calm. “If either of you entertains that thought…” A faint smile touched his lips. “… you may begin writing your last will in advance.”
No one spoke. Because they both understood, he wasn’t joking.
“… as you command.” Keiran said quietly.
Leonhard bowed his head. “We will not interfere.”
Zafiel watched them for a moment longer. Then, “Good.” He turned. “I’ll leave the rest to you.” And just like that, he exited.
—
The Empress’s Palace was quieter than usual. Not peaceful. Controlled. Every servant moved with precision. Every sound felt measured.
Zafiel walked through the halls without slowing. “I request a personal audience with Her Majesty.”
The message carried ahead of him. And within moments, “Granted.” He was led inside.
Empress Lilith stood near the window when he entered. She didn’t turn immediately. “You’ve caused quite the disturbance, Zafiel.” She said calmly.
Zafiel bowed. “My apologies, mother.”
She turned then, her gaze sharp. “Speak.”
Zafiel straightened. “The rebels have accelerated their movements.”
Lilith’s expression stilled. “Explain.”
“They’re no longer hiding.” Zafiel said. “Their influence has already reached key positions within the empire.” A pause.
“Earlier than expected.” She murmured.
Zafiel’s jaw tightened.
Yes, earlier because of... me.
His mind flickered—Mariana. Her smile. His decisions. His distractions. His carelessness.
Idiot.
His fingers curled slightly at his side.
You let it happen faster. You got distracted. You let your emotions dictate your actions. Pathetic. If anything happens to her—
His chest tightened.
Unacceptable.
He forced his thoughts still. “I request permission to engage,” he said evenly. “To uproot them completely.”
Lilith studied him. Long. Carefully. “You intend to handle this yourself?”
“Yes.”
Silence. Then, “You always were like... this.” She said quietly.
Zafiel didn’t respond.
Lilith sighed softly, walking past him. “Very well.” He looked up. “You have my permission.”
Relief didn’t show on his face—but it settled somewhere deep. “Thank you.”
“But—” Her voice sharpened slightly.
Zafiel paused.
Lilith turned to him fully now. “Do not cage that girl under the guise of protection.” His gaze flickered. “She is not something to be locked away like a treasure.” Lilith continued. “You may think you’re protecting her…” A pause. “… but you may suffocate her instead.”
Silence. Zafiel didn’t answer. Because part of him already knew that. “… I understand.” He said finally.
Lilith watched him for a moment longer. Then waved her hand dismissively. “Go.”
He bowed once more and left.
—
Far away. Hidden. Unseen. A dimly lit room. A chessboard sat at the center of a table, pieces already in motion. A man cloaked in darkness rested his chin against his palm, watching. Amused.
“How interesting.”
One piece moved. A knight.
“Zafiel… Zafiel…” He murmured, voice low with quiet delight. “You’re moving faster than I expected.”
Another piece. A bishop.
“You’re disrupting my plans…” A pause. Then a soft chuckle. “… but it doesn’t matter.” His fingers hovered over the board. “I’ll take everything.”
A rook slid forward, cornering. Trapping. A final move. Checkmate. The king piece toppled—cracking against the board, splitting cleanly into two.
The man smiled. Then slowly, he reached forward and picked up the queen. “This is the only piece that matters.” His grip tightened slightly. “And she will be mine in the end.”
The candlelight flickered. His laughter echoed softly in the darkness.