022

A little past evening, Nathaniel returned home, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. The viscount’s hospitality had been impeccable, but his daughters were by far the most obnoxious women he had ever encountered. Their relentless fawning and desperate, simpering smiles only solidified his disinterest in them.

He reached for the doorknob, twisting it open, and stepped inside. Sarang sat on his bed, arms folded, gaze sharp with anger. Nathan quietly shut the door behind him.

Without a word, Sarang lifted the crumbled paper in his hand and read aloud. “It is without a doubt that this season’s finest bachelor is an enigma from the household of the Grand Duke of Eldoria, Prince Nathaniel Blackwell. A young alpha whose presence has ignited a grand stir in the ton and fervent passion in the hearts of hopeful youths. But why now, and more intriguingly, for whom? Whispers travel that this mysterious gentleman seeks one thing–a diamond. A princess, no less. Should yours truly believe his diamond is none other than the First Princess of Eldoria? Will we witness a match between the most dazzling pair of the season, or is this merely a grand display of interest meant for to others?”

Sarang lowered the paper, his eyes locking onto Nathan. “This was yesterday’s front page.”

Nathan sighed and licked his lower lip. “I wish you had not read it.”

Sarang’s grip tightened on the paper. “To hide this from me. We promised–no secrets between us. And yet, after everything, you kept this from me.”

"It’s hardly a secret if everyone knows.”

“Everyone but me!” Sarang snapped. “You made a fool of me. People talk, Nathan, and I was the only one ignorant about something this important when I should have been the first to know.”

Nathaniel pinched the bridge of his nose. “It wasn’t important. We both know this article is nonsense. I didn’t want to burden you with more concerns about Princess Lysandra. I thought it best to spare you from—”

“I will be the judge of that!” Sarang interrupted. “The princess is the least of my worries because of my love and trust in you! You are not even sorry or remorseful.” “I will be the judge of that!” Sarang interrupted. “The princess is not my concern because I love you, and I trust you. That’s not what this is about.” His voice lowered, but the anger didn’t fade. “You’re not even sorry or remorseful.”

“Sorry?” Nathan’s tone sharpened. “For fighting for our marriage?”

“We!” Sarang corrected firmly. “Should be fighting for our marriage. It takes two to tango, Nathan. I can’t understand what’s wrong or help you if you don’t tell me.”

“There is nothing wrong.” Nathan muttered, looking away.

Sarang took a step closer, his voice gentler. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Nathan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He paced around the room, folding his arms and glancing at Sarang who watched him. He stopped and faced Sarang. Nathan exhaled heavily, pacing the room with crossed arms. He stole a glance at Sarang, who stood unwavering, waiting. Finally, he stopped and faced him.

“The article was one of father’s schemes.” He admitted.

Sarang frowned. “Master’s scheme? How so?”

Nathan scoffed. “How not? This is exactly the kind of game he plays—stirring conflict, planting doubt between us.”

“That is a serious accusation against your father. What is your proof?”

“I confronted him, and he did not deny.”

Sarang’s frown deepened. “Did he confirm it?”

Nathaniel clenched his jaw but said nothing.

Sarang exhaled, his frustration mounting. “So, he neither denied nor confirmed it—and yet, you insist he’s behind this.” He shook his head. “You’re being absurd.”

Nathan snapped. “I’m absurd? If I am then you’re blind! In your eyes, my father can do no wrong, and I can do nothing but wrong. He’s brainwashed you into believing he’s some noble, faultless man. Maybe you even wish I were more like him.”

Sarang’s expression darkened. “I have never ever compared you to Master because you are not him! You and master are two different individuals, just as I am different from any other lunari! No man is born without flaws! Time and time again, you have treated Master with hostility! He is not an enemy! He’s your father.”

“I have treated him with respect and honour as a son should!” Nathan shot back. “He has everything to satisfy him but the one person I want–he stands as an obstacle. He will never give his blessings to our marriage.”

Sarang parted his lips to argue but Nathan’s next words cut deeper than a blade.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Nathan’s voice was quieter, but still sharp. “Because you have no parents.”

Sarang’s anger shrivelled, replaced by something unreadable. A dull ache pressed against his chest, as if something deep inside had splintered.

Nathan breath hitched, realization dawning too late. He said nothing.

Sarang turned, his movements slow, deliberate. He reached for the newspaper resting on the bed and picked it up. Then, without another word, he walked to the door. He paused as he opened it, glancing back at Nathaniel.

“You’re right, I have no parents, no home, nothing but a name.” A humourless smile ghosted his lips. “A name your father let me keep.”

Nathaniel’s stomach twisted.

Sarang met his eyes one last time. “Maybe we should reconsider this engagement.”

“Sarang I–”

But he was already gone.

Nathan stood frozen, staring at the empty doorway.

“…didn’t mean it.” He whispered to himself.

Sarang marched into Lucian’s study, his steps firm with purpose. Without hesitation, he placed the newspaper on the desk before Lucian.

Lucian, who had been writing, set his pen aside and picked up the paper. He skimmed through it before lowering it back onto the table.

“Nathan said this was one of your schemes.” Sarang stated.

Lucian’s eyes lifted to meet his, calm and unreadable. “Do you believe him?”

“He believes you released this news with an indisputable motive.”

“What of your opinion?” Lucian asked, locking his fingers together. “Do you believe I am responsible for the paper?”

“It matters not what I think. I stand for the truth.”

“And what is your truth, Sarang?”

Sarang sighed, placing both hands on the desk as he leaned in then stabbed his index finger on the paper.

“My truth… You did not do it. It is not a scheme neither do you play a part in it, but you know who did this. We both know.”

“I have a motive to release this, yet, your truth is that I did not.”

“The press holds the power of thought,” Sarang countered. “That power can be a man’s greatest weapon—or his downfall. Their duty is to influence public perception. It can be argumentations, suggestions, interrogations, or an outright declaration. A good press speaks the truth. A better press twists ridicule into fact. A powerful writer plants ideas. You told me that when we studied Zhen Kahn the Conqueror. I was sixteen.”

Lucian leaned back in his chair. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

“If you had done this, the princess would have never been mentioned as his bride,” Sarang said. “You benefit from the article no matter how it’s written, but you also understand my presence in Nathan’s life is a strong standpoint. Your best strategy would’ve been to present him as an easy catch to anyone willing to risk it all.”

Sarang exhaled. His voice softened. “But you wouldn’t do that. Because you love him.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then, Lucian tilted his head back, eyes closing briefly as he tapped his foot against the floor. When he opened them again, a faint, knowing smile curved his lips.

“It is unfair you can read me,” he admitted, stroking his chin. “It was the king. A harmless attempt to direct Nathaniel’s attention toward his only sister. The timing, however, was poor.”

“I thought as much. Thank you for the truth.”

Lucian merely watched him as Sarang rubbed his hands together, shifting his stance.

“Master,” Sarang said, his tone careful. “Convince Nathan that you had no part in this.”

Lucian raised a brow. “Is that a request?”

Sarang shook his head. “A request implies a choice. I am trading my victory for this.”

Lucian hummed thoughtfully.

Sarang balled his fist and knocked lightly on the desk. “Master, I have a question.”

Lucian hummed again in acknowledgment.

“In today’s game, you could have destroyed my queen and shifted the game in your favour, but you willingly dismissed an effective tactic that I would struggle to counter. Why?”

“Because it wouldn’t have mattered. You would have won regardless

Sarang parted his lips slightly, nodding in understanding. He bowed his head and left before turning halfway toward the door.

“Master,”

“Hmm.”

“Earlier, you said it’s unfair that I can read you, but you’re wrong. I can’t doubt you.” Sarang admitted. “Even if there was evidence against you, I would believe you–unless you say you did it.”

“Why?”

“I…” Sarang’s gaze drifted into the distance, lost in thought. Then, his eyes refocused. “I don’t know,” He murmured. Maybe it’s…loyalty. A servant should be loyal to his master.”

He flashed a smile at Lucian, bowed, and shuffled out of the room.