The ground vanished beneath my feet.
One dizzying heartbeat later—SPLASH!!
Cold, silken water swallowed me whole. I gasped, kicking instinctively. The pool was enormous, too deep, too clear, too bright. And too… occupied.
I burst to the surface, sputtering. My eyes stung with water, but even through the blur I could see him.
A man.
A devastatingly beautiful man.
Broad shoulders, hair as dark as obsidian, eyes burning like smoldering embers.
He was staring at me.
No—glowering.
My breath caught. Heat flooded my face. Gods—why did it have to be now? Why did it have to be him? My nakedness weighed on me like chains. I hugged myself, trembling.
"I—I can't get out," I thought desperately, sinking lower, hiding my body beneath rippling water. "What do I do? I'm not wearing anything!"
My heart slammed painfully in my chest.
BA-BUMP.
BA-BUMP.
The man's expression twisted sharply, anger flaring like fire.
He stepped toward the edge of the pool, muscles flexing, water cascading down the inked patterns snaking over his back. He snatched a cloth and knotted it around his waist with a violent tug.
Then—
"What was that?!" he barked, thunder rumbling in every syllable.
I froze.
His eyes swept the area—walls, pillars, the surface of the pool—even the mist suspended in the air—before snapping back to me.
His glare sharpened.
"STRIDE."
He advanced, each step slicing through the water with authority.
"I made it clear I don't need a maid," he growled, voice low, dangerous. "How dare you come in here without my permission?"
Maid?
MAID?!
My mouth fell open in mute horror.
I covered my mouth, shrinking back. He thought I belonged here—worse, that I'd come on purpose.
His jaw tightened, hatred flickering behind his eyes.
"Did Turan ask the maids to try and seduce me again?" he muttered, voice thick with disgust. His scowl deepened, tension knotting his shoulders. "FUME."
Seduce him?!
My soul nearly left my body.
He looked ready to burn the world down.
"Is there a woman…" he murmured under his breath, suspicion lacing every word.
This is a nightmare. A terrible, terrible nightmare.
My limbs refused to work. My mind was a blank field of panic. I was a trespasser in his private bath, naked, vulnerable—and he believed I was part of some plot.
---
Hakan
The moment the woman fell into my bath, I knew Turan was behind it.
The water still churned where she'd landed. BUBBLE BUBBLE. She ducked beneath the surface like a panicked creature, only her trembling fingertips visible.
Pathetic.
What new trick was Turan playing?
I let out a bitter laugh—humorless, wounded.
I had endured his schemes before.
"Your Majesty, we must secure an heir!"
"Show more initiative with women—seduce them if you must!"
"You have no interest in women, so let us help you."
Disgust curled in my stomach.
I married Lucina to escape Turan's relentless meddling, yet he continued to shove women at me like offerings. I couldn't bear another attempt.
The woman thrashed under the water—FLAIL FLAIL TAP TAP—trying to sneak away.
Pathetic. Infuriating.
"Did you really think I would let you off the hook just because you tried to hide?" I snapped, stepping closer.
She scrambled. WHOOSH.
"AHHHHH!" Her muffled scream echoed beneath the surface as she covered her mouth with both hands.
Enough.
I plunged my arm into the water and grabbed her, hauling her up. Water sheeted off her hair—white as frost—and down her trembling shoulders.
SPLASH.
SPLASH.
BUBBLE BUBBLE.
Her face broke the surface, pale, terrified, eyes round as moons.
"How dare you try to run away from your—"
I stopped.
I finally, fully looked at her.
Not the trembling silhouette.
Not the wet hair hiding her expression.
Not the imagined seductress Turan sent to vex me.
Her eyes…
They weren't cunning.
They weren't sultry.
They weren't manipulative.
They were wide. Innocent. Frightened.
I hadn't properly looked at her.
---
Lucina
I tried to sink into the water again—anywhere, anywhere but here—but his hand shot forward too fast.
WHOOSH!
BUBBLE BUBBLE BUBBLE—
My heart leapt into my throat.
"AHHHH!"
My muffled scream barely escaped before he seized my arm.
His grip was firm, unyielding, hot despite the cool water.
Then—
"HOW DARE YOU TRY TO RUN AWAY FROM YOUR KING?!"
His voice crashed over me like a thunderclap. The world shook. My body jerked as he yanked me up, water exploding around us.
SPLASH! SPLASH!
I gasped, coughing, eyes widening as I met the face of the furious Emperor—my husband—but in that moment, he was nothing but a nightmare coming to life. I flinched, ready for whatever horrible misunderstanding would come next.
But then—
Something changed.
His fury faltered.
His breath hitched.
And he stared at me—not with anger… but stunned disbelief.
D A Z E D.
"Who is this beautiful woman?!" he thought, the words flashing unguarded across his expression. His gaze locked on mine, tracing them like he recognized something sacred.
"Her eyes sparkle like the moonlight… they remind me of someone…"
His grip loosened as if the strength had drained from him. He almost stumbled, and the shift in his weight pulled me with him—
SWISH—
THUMP!
We collapsed against the slick tiles at the pool's edge, his body partially braced above mine. Our faces were so close I could feel his breath on my cheek, ragged, disbelieving.
His eyes widened.
His lips parted.
"C-Could it be…?!"
And then—
"I-is that you… Lucina?!"
The words hit me like the strike of a gong.
My husband.
The Emperor.
He finally recognized me.
I scrambled back instantly, every nerve in my body screaming for distance. He threw a towel at me almost reflexively—a flash of white fabric I caught in shaking hands.
I wrapped it around myself, clutching it like armor.
My knees buckled.
"I—I'm really sorry!" I cried, collapsing onto the wet tiles. Tears blurred my vision. "P-Please don't hit me! I-I didn't mean to come in! Please—please don't hurt me!"
I bowed low, trembling so hard my shoulders shook.
I couldn't look at him.
"Please… I'll do anything you say… just don't hit me…"
His shadow loomed, water dripping from his form, but he remained utterly still.
Then—
"Why are you apologizing, Lucina?" he asked quietly, his voice no longer drenched in fury but shaded with confusion… and something else I couldn't name.
I dared to lift my face.
He wasn't even looking at me anymore.
His jaw clenched. His eyes burned—but the fire wasn't directed at me.
His thoughts had already shifted.
To Turan.
To the schemes.
To the humiliation and manipulation.
To the endless attempts to force an heir onto him.
His voice cracked like a whip as he spoke into the empty air:
"TURN."
His tone dropped to a deadly, dangerous rumble.
"Tell Turan… that if he tries something like this again—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Couldn't.
Because his anger now had a new target, and it wasn't me.
The Emperor was distracted—furious at Turan, stunned by my appearance, and shaken by the misunderstanding.
And I… I didn't know what to think anymore.
The robe clung to my damp skin, the coarse fabric a jarring reminder of where I was—
and who stood beside me.
I kept my eyes down, unable to lift them, unable to meet the weight of his presence.
"I-I'm… sorry…"
The words slipped out before I could stop them, a soft, trembling whisper.
Immediately, a warm hand wrapped firmly around my arm.
A deep, controlled sigh left him—nothing like the anger from earlier, but something heavier, something threaded with concern.
"I just told you not to apologize," he murmured, his baritone voice reverberating through me.
He gently turned me toward him, his grip steady but careful, as if afraid I might shatter.
His dark red eyes studied my face—my flushed cheeks, my trembling lips, the way I couldn't stop fidgeting. He took it all in with a quiet intensity that made my breath catch in my throat.
And then I remembered what he had said moments earlier, the words still echoing inside my chest:
"Lucina, if you bear my child, you will become my Queen.
You shouldn't be submissive."
Those impossible, suffocating words wrapped around me like invisible chains.
A promise… or a warning?
I couldn't tell.
He noticed my silence—my hesitation—and unexpectedly, a soft chuckle escaped him. It wasn't mocking. It wasn't cold.
It was warm.
Gentle.
Dangerously disarming.
"I-I'm sorry—no, I mean—"
I stumbled over my own tongue, mortified as my thoughts scattered like startled birds. My cheeks burned hotter.
That's when he smiled.
A real smile.
Slow, breathtaking, the kind that transformed his entire face and made my heart thud painfully loud against my ribs.
He lifted a hand and patted my head lightly, almost awkwardly—yet the gesture was so tender it made my throat tighten. Then his fingers slid to my chin, tilting my face upward.
His thumb brushed the delicate skin beneath my eye, wiping away the faint trace of a tear I didn't realize I'd shed.
"No… I'm fine," I whispered, my voice barely audible.
I wasn't fine, but I wanted him to believe it.
I wanted myself to believe it.
Silence settled between us—thick, charged, and filled with unspoken fears neither of us dared voice.
His eyes lingered on me with a seriousness that made my stomach twist.
It felt like he could see every secret, every insecurity carved into my bones.
Unbidden, my thoughts drifted back—
back to the firelit memory of a woman in a red hooded cloak, standing over me in the dead of night.
Her voice echoed in my mind:
"BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY, IF LUCINA WAS THE GIRL WITH THE HEALING POWER,
SHE COULD'VE HEALED HER RASH AND WOULDN'T HAVE BEEN MISTAKEN FOR HAVING AN INFECTIOUS DISEASE."
A bitter chill crept through me.
If I had the healing power…
If I were the girl they believed me to be—
Would everything have been different?
Could I have saved myself from the isolation that nearly broke me?
Could I have avoided the terror and shame that branded me as cursed?
Or… was I simply a mistake?
A girl chosen by accident?
A girl who survived by chance—
only to be thrust into an Empress's fate she never deserved?
I could feel the Emperor's hands on me—warm, grounding—yet his expectations were a crown too heavy for my trembling shoulders.
He wanted a Queen.
A woman with power, with confidence, with purpose.
But all I felt like was the frightened girl from my past—
the one who had always bowed her head,
who apologized for breathing,
who lived in fear of punishment.
The girl who was still, even now—
forever apologizing for simply existing.
The heat from the bath still clung to my skin, seeping into the white robe that felt far too thin, far too revealing under his gaze. I clutched the fabric tight around me as if it could shield me from him—from his presence that seemed to swallow all the air around us.
"Um… I'll… get going…"
My voice trembled, slipping out like a fragile thread. I took a tiny step back, hoping the distance—any distance—might help calm the wild thundering in my chest.
But he moved first.
His shadow fell over me, a dark veil that made my breath hitch. A slow, dangerous smirk lifted the corner of his mouth, and my stomach dropped.
H-HE'S TOO CLOSE…
My heartbeat pounded violently in my ears.
I tried to slip to the side, to escape before he could react, but his hand closed around my wrist—firm, warm, and unyielding. The grip wasn't painful, but it held a possessiveness that froze me in place.
"Where do you think you're going?" he asked.
That low rumble in his voice vibrated through me, sending a tremor down my spine.
"I… I don't think you've finished bathing yet," I blurted, pointing awkwardly toward the water, hoping the excuse might distract him.
It didn't.
His amber-red eyes narrowed, amused—predatory, even. Before I could blink, he swooped in, lifting me effortlessly into his arms.
"Ah—!"
The world tilted, my robe fluttering helplessly as he held me against his bare chest. His skin was warm from the bath, his scent clean and intoxicating. I grabbed onto him instinctively, my fingers curling into the fabric draped loosely over his shoulders.
"Um…" I whispered, dizzy. "Where… are we going?"
His smile deepened—bold, wicked, breathtaking. Sunlight danced on the water behind him, framing him like some untouchable deity.
"Where do you think?" he replied smoothly. "To my bedroom, of course."
"Y-YOUR BEDROOM?!"
My voice cracked in shock.
He only tightened his hold, as if he relished the way I jolted in his arms.
"Isn't it obvious that a married couple should sleep together?"
His tone was teasing, but the heat in his eyes made my breath falter.
When he finally set me down, it was with disarming gentleness. His hands lingered on my shoulders, warm and steady, guiding my gaze toward him. The bathwater glittered behind him, and his features—those sharp, impossibly handsome features—seemed even more intense up close.
"Now answer me, Lucina," he murmured, leaning in.
"Are you still afraid of me?"
My lips parted, my lungs tightening, but nothing came out. I could only stare. My heart betrayed me, beating faster and faster, loud enough to drown everything else out.
The gardens blurred around me—the soft petals, the shimmering blue flowers, the white blossoms drifting in the breeze. All I could see was him. All I could hear was that single question, echoing through every terrified corner of me.
Are you still afraid of me?
BA-BUMP.
My hands trembled as they rose to my mouth. His eyes searched mine with a tenderness I wasn't prepared for—deep crimson, dark and warm, a stark contrast to the cold fear I'd always associated with him.
The question struck something old and vulnerable inside me.
Afraid? Of course, I was.
But he was looking at me like he already knew, like he could read every trembling part of my heart.
BA-BUMP.
His fingers lifted slowly, hesitantly, brushing beneath my chin. The gentle touch was electric. My breath hitched, my body reacting before my mind could make sense of anything. It wasn't fear alone that made me tremble. It was the dangerous flutter of something else—something warm, something treacherously soft.
BA-BUMP.
My lips parted, but still… no answer. My pulse was too loud, too frantic, too exposed.
He didn't need my words. My trembling hands, the widening of my silver-blue eyes, the erratic pulse in my throat—every piece of me was answering him without permission.
In that moment, the true terror wasn't the Emperor standing before me.
It was the thunderous, undeniable rhythm of my own heart,
forever apologizing for simply existing.