Orla:

  I could feel the bile rising in my throat with every step I took toward the king’s chambers. The rich scent of incense hung heavy in the air, making it even harder to breathe as we moved through the palace’s courtyard. My stomach churned violently, and I swallowed back the nausea, focusing instead on the rhythmic sound of our footsteps echoing against the stone floors. I had to keep my head clear.

  Gyeong walked beside me, her expression as impassive as ever, though she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “This is unusual,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “The king rarely requests a consort two nights in a row. He must have taken quite a liking to you.”

  The words made my skin crawl. I forced a smile, nodding as if I understood, but the pit in my stomach only grew deeper. The king’s liking wasn’t something I wanted, nor was it something I could stomach—not when I could still see Logan’s face every time I looked at him.

  Gyeong continued. “You have a duty to the kingdom, my Lady. Your role is to provide the king with an heir. That is the only way to secure your position and survive here.”

  My fingers tightened into fists at my sides, scrunching the sides of my skirt. The nausea surged again, threatening to overwhelm me, but I couldn’t afford to show weakness. Not now. I was doing this for a reason—one that had nothing to do with producing heirs or securing favor with the king. I needed to know the palace routines, the guards’ shifts, and everything that could help me find a way out of this nightmare.

  I just had to survive a little longer.

  The plan was simple—study everything, memorize every detail. If I could figure out the guards’ schedules, maybe I could slip away unnoticed. Disguising myself was an option, but I’d need someone on my side for that. Gyeong? No, she was loyal to the palace, her mind fixed on tradition and duty. Someone else, then. But who?

  I swallowed hard as we rounded the corner and approached the royal chambers. My heart pounded in my chest as I spotted the general standing by the doors. General Sakai Haruto, his imposing figure cutting a sharp silhouette in the dim light. His hand rested on the hilt of his katana, his expression unreadable, but I felt his eyes linger on me for a moment as I approached.

  He bowed as we passed him. “My lady.”

  A strange sense of unease rippled through me. What was he doing here? A man of his rank had no business standing guard like a common soldier. Was this some kind of punishment? Or was he watching for something—or someone?

  I had no time to ponder it. Gyeong gave me a gentle nudge, urging me forward. “Go on,” she whispered. “Remember your duty.”

  My stomach lurched as I stepped through the heavy doors, my mind spinning with questions. But all of that vanished the moment I saw him.

  The king—Logan, but not Logan—was sprawled on the floor amongst a plethora of pillows, a half-empty wine pot in his hand, his robes disheveled. He looked up at me with bleary eyes, a slow smile creeping across his face as he pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly as he approached.

  “Ah… there she is,” he slurred, his voice thick with alcohol. “My beautiful… consort.”

  My heart pounded in my chest, my skin prickling with fear as he moved toward me, his steps uneven but determined. His hands reached for me, strong and unrelenting. I tried to step back, but he grabbed me by the arm, pulling me toward him.

  His grip tightened, his breath hot and sour with wine. The scent was overwhelming, making my stomach churn. My pulse thundered in my ears as I struggled, but he only pulled me closer, his strength impossible to fight.

  He held my gaze, his unfocused eyes narrowing as he mumbled, “Those eyes...”

  “Let go!” I cried, trying to wrench myself free. But he was strong, his fingers digging into my skin like a vice.

  A sickening smile spread across his face, his lips curling as he leaned in closer. “No need to be coy,” he slurred, his voice thick with arrogance. “I know what you really want.” His other hand gripped my neck, firm and possessive. “All women do. They pretend to resist, but I see through it.” He pulled me tighter against him, his breath hot against my ear. “It’s all just a game, isn’t it?”

  My stomach twisted in disgust, bile rising in my throat as his words poisoned the air around me.

  And suddenly, I was somewhere else.

  The sun had been warm on my skin, and for a fleeting moment, I had let myself relax into the soft beach towel beneath me. The sound of waves rolling gently onto the shore, the laughter of children playing nearby, and the seagulls cawing above had blended together in a perfect, peaceful lullaby.

  I remember thinking how lucky I was to be here. With Logan. I’d never had a boyfriend like him before—so attentive, so charming in the beginning. He’d swept me off my feet in a way I never expected. Everything about that day should’ve felt perfect.

  But it didn’t.

  His arm was draped over my waist, pulling me close, but not in the way that used to make me feel safe. His touch felt different. His hand rested on my side, the pressure just a little too firm, as though he was testing me. I shifted, trying to get comfortable, but his grip tightened, and that unease—the one I’d been ignoring—started to settle in my stomach.

  “Relax, babe,” he murmured into my ear. “You’re all tense.”

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  “I’m fine,” I whispered, trying to convince myself as much as him.

  Logan had always been affectionate—touchy, even. But something about it felt… off that day. His fingers slid down my back, pressing too hard, not leaving room for me to move. My body was tense, but I told myself not to make it a big deal. He was just being close, right?

  Still, I shifted again. “Maybe we should sit up for a bit?” I suggested, trying to sound casual.

  Logan chuckled, but it wasn’t his usual playful laugh. It was lower, darker. “Why?” he asked, his voice almost mocking. “Don’t you like feeling me close to you?”

  I had hesitated. There it was—that edge to his words. Something sharp that made my heart beat a little faster. “It’s not that, it’s just… I need to stretch a bit.”

  Then, without warning, his grip on my waist moved into a grip on my neck. His fingers weaved through my hair, not gently, but possessively. “Stop playing games,” he said, his tone cutting through the sound of the waves like a cold breeze. “You and I both know this is what you want.”

  “Logan, I—“ My heart had stuttered in my chest. His grip tightened. “Logan, I—”

  “Don’t act like you don’t want this,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “I know you do.”

  It was as if the world around me shrank. My body stiffened under his touch, and suddenly, everything—the warmth of the sun, the soft breeze, the sound of the ocean—became oppressive. I tried to push him back, just enough to give myself space, but he didn’t move.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I whispered, my voice shaky. “Logan, I think we should—“

  “Stop being so innocent.” His tone sharpened, frustration creeping in. “You always do this. Acting all shy, but I know what’s going on in that head of yours.”

  Panic rose in my chest. I scanned the beach, my eyes darting from couple to couple. People were everywhere, but no one was paying attention. To them, we were just another couple lying on a towel, enjoying the sun.

  The warmth of his hand on my neck should have been comforting. It had been once, back when Logan was the sweet, attentive man I thought I knew. But now, it felt like a weight. His grip loosened slightly, his fingers trailing down my back again, but the tension didn’t leave me. I pushed harder, trying to sit up, trying to breathe.

  “Logan, I need some space,” I said, my voice a little firmer this time, though I could still hear the tremble underneath. My body was stiff, every nerve on edge.

  He laughed, a cold, dismissive sound. “Space?” His hand slid to my hip, holding me in place as eyes bore into mine. “You don’t need space. You need to stop pretending.”

  Something in me shifted then. Logan wasn’t the man I recognized after this. His touch wasn’t affection anymore—it was something else.

  I wanted to scream, to run.

  But I didn’t. I thought this was love.

  And the next thing I knew, I was standing in front of a mirror at the Ashcroft Estate, staring at myself in a white gown, wondering how I’d ended up marrying the man who made me feel that way.

  I should have screamed.

  I should have run.

  But I didn’t scream then. That was a Logan I thought I wanted to make happy—a Logan I wanted to please. I stayed quiet because I believed, somehow, I was supposed to.

  But now, in the grips of this tyrant of a king, a man who was almost the spitting image of Logan in every way, I wouldn’t let that happen again. I wouldn’t let him control me.

  So I screamed.

  “Help! Somebody!” My voice shattered the silence, pulling me out of my daze.

  He flinched, then struck me across the face.

  “How dare you,” he slurred, his breath heavy with wine. “You’re the most defiant of them all.”

  He wobbled, barely able to stand. His anger should have scared me, but all I saw was a pathetic, drunken fool.

  No one was coming. I had to act. My eyes landed on a heavy porcelain vase nearby. If I hit him hard enough, I could end this myself.

  The door flew open, and General Haruto stepped inside, his sword unsheathed, the blade gleaming in the dim light. His expression was steely, determined. Without uttering a word, he raised the sword, gripping the hilt firmly, and struck the king across the back of the head with the pommel. The impact was swift and brutal, sending the king crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

  I gasped, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at the king’s motionless form. I couldn’t breathe, the shock of what had just happened coursing through me.

  “You need to leave,” he said, his voice low, calm—but there was an edge to it that made me hesitate. He sheathed his sword, his gaze never leaving mine.

  “Leave?” I repeated, still dazed. “What about the king? What’s going to happen to him?”

  “That’s not your concern,” he replied, his tone firm. “Leave it to me.”

  I blinked, my mind racing, trying to understand. “But why—“

  “Go back to your quarters,” he interrupted, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto mine. His expression softened for just a fraction of a second, his gaze lingering on me a moment too long. It made my cheeks flush, the heat creeping up my neck. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how close he was standing. The tension in the room was palpable, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his.

  “Wh-why are you helping me?” I stammered, my voice barely more than a whisper.

  His jaw clenched, and he glanced briefly at the unconscious king before looking back at me. “Go,” he repeated. “Before anyone sees you.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, to ask more questions, but he gripped my wrist and the intensity in his eyes stopped me.

  “Go!” He wasn’t giving me a choice.

  My heart still pounding, I nodded slowly, taking a shaky step backward. He let go, his gaze followed me as I turned feeling the weight of it even as I moved toward the door. My hand trembled as I reached for the latch, my mind still spinning.

  Before I left, I stole one last glance at the general. He was already hovering over king’s limp body, his expression unreadable once more. But something had shifted between us—something I couldn’t quite understand.

  As I stepped out into the courtyard, the cool air hit my flushed skin, and I exhaled a shaky breath. What had just happened? Why had General Haruto intervened? And why had his gaze lingered on me like that?

  My thoughts swirled as I hurried back to my room, the image of his dark eyes—sharp and intense—burned into my memory. I had no answers, but one thing was certain: something was going on between the king and General Haruto.

  I was halfway to my quarters when a wave of nausea suddenly crashed over me. My stomach twisted violently, and my head spun. Something wasn’t right.

  I staggered, clutching the outside wall of the nearest pavilion for support as the bile rose in my throat. The ground seemed to sway beneath me, and the once-stable surroundings blurred into a dizzying haze. I took a few more shaky steps, trying to focus on the door to my chambers just ahead, but it was no use. My body had other plans.

  Before I could stop myself, I doubled over, vomiting onto the stone floor. The retching made my head pound, and I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the nausea to pass. But the world around me kept spinning, faster and faster, until I couldn’t tell which way was up.

  My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the cold, graveled ground of the courtyard just beyond my room. The rough stones bit into my palms, but my mind was swimming, unable to focus.

  The next thing I knew, I was dreaming. General Haruto was there, his strong arms lifting me from the ground, holding me tightly against his chest. I could feel the warmth of his body, the firmness of his grip as he cradled me effortlessly.

  I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn’t move. His face hovered above me, blurred and distant, and before I could make sense of anything, everything went black.

  ?Sky Mincharo