Solen could feel his heart breaking, piece by piece, like shattered glass falling from grace. Breaking into shards too fine to ever put back together.
There was no visible wound, yet his chest ached like it was bleeding from within.
And yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from what he saw.
'How long has it been since Caelum ever laughed like that... because of me?'
Realization struck him hard as he clutched his chest. His fingers gripped the fabric over his heart as though that could somehow stop the pain. It didn't.
'Can't he feel this?'
They were soulmates. Weren't they supposed to feel each other's emotions? Then why… why was Caelum still smiling with her like nothing was wrong?
He couldn't understand if what he felt was mutual. Caelum's words and actions constantly contradict each other.
He spoke like Solen was his entire world, his sun—the only thing keeping him from falling apart. But his actions said otherwise.
After all, if he truly loved him, why would he bring his wife here?
Solen closed his eyes. He knew from the beginning that their relationship was doomed.
That's why he attacked him at the wedding, hoping—desperately—that Caelum would end it all. That it would all end there.
But instead, he was alive and trapped here.
"I need to leave," he whispered, barely able to breathe as he turned away from the garden, running blindly into the halls—anywhere, anywhere out of sight.
Meanwhile, Caelum's gaze shifted to the fountain. He caught a glimpse of a familiar white gown fluttering in the wind, disappearing around a corner.
He smirked, recognizing Solen instantly. His chest clenched sharply.
That telltale pull in his bond ached like a snapped string, and he instinctively reached toward it before pulling his hand back.
"Oi, Caelum, what are you looking at?" Layla groaned, snapping him back.
"Didn't you hear my grand plan to escape the palace?"
Caelum sighed, already exhausted from pretending to be interested in her schemes—whether it was killing the king or humiliating her father, and putting her brother on the throne.
Still, he offered a half-hearted suggestion on how to punish the "bastard," and Layla burst into laughter.
"Tch. Men are all the same," she grumbled.
"He actually had the nerve to call us defective. Just because me and my brother are betas? And taking as many concubines to produce the perfect heir?" Her parasol trembled in her grip.
She grinned, eyes sharp. "At least now, all his other children turned out just like him. Betas, every single one—some worse than I and my brother put together."
"Well, yeah. He really is despicable," Caelum said simply.
At least they had one thing in common—they both hated the king.
He paused. Then: "As the legitimate princess… could you call off this marriage?"
Layla blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "Why? Marriage with me isn't that bad, is it?" She shrugged, ever casual.
"Besides, I need the status. It's the only reason he hasn't sold me off to some wrinkled bastard with a title."
Caelum took a deep breath, his face growing cold. His mood had already soured, and he didn't have the patience to keep up this conversation.
"I'm leaving," he said abruptly. "Do what you want here—just don't mess things up."
He turned and dashed off, leaving Layla behind.
"Ugh, you moody bastard—wait! What about your mate? You promised I could see him!"
But of course, Caelum wasn't listening anymore. He only had one thing in mind.
He needed to see his mate.
***
Solen was hiding in the library, in the most secluded spot at the back, surrounded by shelves of old books. He curled up in the narrow space between two bookcases, hiding like a cat in a box.
He clenched his jaw, swallowing the lump in his throat. Crying wouldn't change anything. He was a man—he was a demon lord, once. And men like him weren't supposed to cry.
But the tears burned anyway, stinging behind his eyes like acid, and he hated himself for it.
'If I had been born a prince in this kingdom…
A human… not some cursed existence rejected by God…'
'Would our story have had a happy ending?'
His thoughts wandered to one of the fairytale books he'd read before—where the shining hero ended up with the clever, sarcastic princess. They were perfect for each other. A story meant to be.
Footsteps echoed faintly between the tall shelves. Solen stiffened. He didn't want to be found—especially not now.
But before he could move, a familiar voice pierced the quiet.
"What are you doing here, Sol? Are you crying?"
Solen's eyes widened. Caelum's face was right in front of him, silver hair falling over his sharp features, bathed in golden sunlight. He looked just like the hero in that story.
And the princess in that tale... wasn't him.
"Don't disturb me. I want to be alone," Solen said, turning his eyes away, unwilling to meet Caelum's gaze.
"Why? Are you jealous of me and the princess?" Caelum asked casually, his smile still in place.
The audacity of that smile made Solen snap.
He pushed Caelum to the floor and grabbed him by the collar. His whole body trembled, all of his emotions pouring like a waterfall.
"What do you want from me?! Why are you trapping me here?!" his voice trembled.
"Can you just... please, please let me go..." His voice broke as tears slid down his face.
"You've taken my dignity, my crown—what else do you want that'll satisfy you?"
"Is it my suffering? Is that what you enjoy? Watching me fall apart?"
His grip tightened as rage swelled inside him—rage at the world, at fate, at the unfairness of it all.
Rage at the man who claimed to be his soulmate yet toyed with his heart like it meant nothing.
"Sol." Caelum's eyes widened.
He gently reached up, taking Solen's hands and guiding them to his own throat.
"Then kill me," he whispered, guiding Solen's hands to his throat.
His voice trembled—only slightly—but it was enough. His expression was anguish, but his smile was always there as if he really gave his life to Solen.
"If that's what it takes to set you free… then do it. Crush my throat. I won't stop you."
"If you go, I'll die anyway. My heart only beats because you exist."