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In the omega wing, Sarang slapped his cheeks red in frustration. He exhaled hard, pondering why he had said those words to the man who owned him yet raised him with love, clothed and educated him, and given him dignity.

He crouched down and noticed a strange green plant waiting patiently at his doorstep.

His stomach churned.

If Lucian had sent this, he would feel horrible.

Then he saw the note and the tension in his brows softened. He could recognise Nathan’s jagged but neat cursives on any note.

A cactus from the drylands in the southern continents. It is tough and can survive without water. I hope you love it. Nathan.

A smile curled on his lips. He pricked his finger on one of the tiny spikes and hissed.

Sharp little stingers—likely to ward off predators. He tilted his head, wondering if it was edible or simply decorative.

No. He wasn’t going to experiment on an unfamiliar plant. Especially one with no known antidote.

It was a gift.

He picked up the flowerpot and brought it inside, placing it on a tabletop near his stack of novels. He admired the cactus for a moment, fondness blooming quietly in his chest.

Nathan must be nearby. If he’d brought a gift, he must’ve returned to the estate.

Sarang decided to go find him.

A young man covered in armour sat on a great throne with his left hand gripping a spear. The grand sculpture of the male god Kaelvar—another god worshipped in Eldoria—was a benevolent sight from the stone pavilion.

A white pawn was placed on a black square as a beautiful, pale hand withdrew from the board. Lysandra touched her lips.

“Are you certain of your move?” Nathaniel asked, relaxed and attentive. He gave her time to reconsider her move, but she declined.

“You are too considerate. Uncle Lucian is merciless. He says it’s more effective.”

“He’s not wrong.” He cleared her rook. “You can play.”

“My play is clumsy compared to your friend.”

“When you’ve gathered five years of experience, you might beat him on a good day.”

“Just one?” She asked, frowning.

He nodded, to her displeasure. She cleared a bishop and smiled meekly.

“I could perfect this game if I had you as my playmate.”

“It makes no difference with me as your playmate. Sarang hates to lose in a game of wits.”

“Every time you speak of him, there’s an undertone of gentleness, admiration, and praise in your voice. I envy him,” She murmured, gaze fixed on the board. “Sometimes I wonder how our present would be if we’d been close as children. Maybe you’d speak of me with others or hold me in the same regard.”

For a moment, he ruminated on her words. Nothing much would change—he had loved Sarang from the moment they had met. The only difference was Sarang wouldn’t be his lover if the princess had shown any interest in him.

After all, Sarang never coveted. He set firm boundaries and rarely crossed them, believing fate had been kind to offer him a master like Lucian.

That ideology frustrated Nathaniel to his spine. Sarang’s quiet acceptance of the societal hierarchy, felt like shackles Nathaniel couldn’t break. Ashton had once said: Property is property, even if you humanize it.

“Sarang,” Lysandra said, diverting Nathaniel’s attention to the lunari standing behind him.

Sarang stared at Nathaniel, silently disregarding the princess who watched them. Nathaniel heart dropped. He had committed no infidelity, body and mind, but the disdainful disapproval in his lover’s gaze pierced his conscience like the guilt of an adulterer.

To Lysandra, the foul silence stretched unbearably.

“Would you like to play?” She asked.

“Thank you for your offer, Your Highness, but I must decline. Another day.” Dispelling his bitterness, Sarang composed himself and bowed with stiff grace. He said nothing to Nathaniel and ran.

“Pardon me for ending the game like this.” Nathaniel muttered and bolted from the chair, knocking some chess pieces onto the concrete.

He abandoned her in the mess.

“Nathaniel,”

She lowered her head, shoulders tight with frustration. Silently, she retrieved the black queen from the cold stone floor. Biting her lip, she rested her head on the table.

Nathaniel raced after Sarang, closing the gap between them fast. He yelled Sarang’s name every breath, but the smaller male ran, desperate to outrun the alpha on his heels. He failed.

Nathaniel caught his wrist and stumbled, landing above Sarang on the soft grass. Their chest heaved, breath hard and loud, face equally flushed. Their eyes locked, tension rising between them, until Sarang averted his gaze.

“Get off me.” Sarang demanded, but Nathan was unyielding.

“You ran.”

“Yesterday… You ate lunch with her. Alone.”

“Is that why you treated me coldly all week?”

“After what happened two nights ago, how do you expect me to be anything but cold?” Sarang’s voice cracked. “The only thing special about me is what I am—a lunari. Beyond that, I’m no one. I have nothing to offer you, not even a dowry. You can’t even touch me, no matter how desperately I crave it, because of this sickness I don’t understand, and I don’t know how to stop it from getting worse.”

He trembled. “Then there’s her. A woman who wants you. A lunari, like me. But she’s royalty Influential. Wealthy. A diamond the whole country whispers is your perfect match. She might be untouched by any alpha… and certainly suffers no abnormality.”

His voice thinned, trembling. “The world could see us hold hands and assume we’re just close friends. But she follows you. And you… you’re prospective lovers.”

Sarang swallowed hard, tears shimmering in his eyes. “Can I not be jealous? Even if it’s wrong?”

Tears shimmered and breath quivering, he shoved Nathan off him. He smudged the tears on his cheeks and sniffed. It triggered Nathan’s protective instinct, to cradle his arms on the omega, engulf him with his soothing pheromones and kiss him until their bodies were feverish but Sarang rejected. His breath hitched. He shoved Nathaniel off him, scrubbing the tears from his cheeks with a frustrated swipe. This triggered something primal in Nathaniel—the urge to cradle him, to hold him in his arms, to soothe him with his scent and kiss him until they both burned. But Sarang rejected him.

“Even if it is wrong,” Sarang said, voice trembling but resolute, “I love you. I want you. And I decided to pick a side.”

Nathan’s brows furrowed. “What side?”

Without a word, Sarang reached up and broke the necklace from around his neck. He slid the engagement ring free from the broken chain and slipped it onto his finger. “I can’t lose you.”

Nathan broke.

He collapsed onto the grass beside him, laughing through a sob, tears streaking down his cheeks. Sarang, stunned, reached toward him. Nathan caught his hand, then cradled Sarang’s face in both palms and kissed him. Warm, salty tears mixed between them as they held each other, mouths meeting again and again in soft desperation.

Their pheromones spilled into the air, soothing and affirming each other. Sarang melted in his embrace, their kiss breaking only so Nathaniel could hold him tighter.

“You are everything that I am not” Nathan whispered, his voice raspy and vulnerable. I adore you.”

Hidden behind the trees, Lysandra plopped to the ground and yanked a flowering weed from the earth. She sobbed softly, pain knotting in her chest until it became unbearable to watch a moment longer.

I lost him.

How could I lose him… if he was never mine?

A Princess does not cry for people to see, her mother’s words echoed in her mind.

But this moment, she felt it was all she could ever do.

Cry.