The West Drawing Room was quiet, too quiet. The kind of silence that pressed against your ribs like a vice.
Xu Meilin sat on the edge of the long velvet seat, her spine as straight as a rod and her hands clutched tightly in her lap. Her pale pink sleeves shimmered under the golden light of the chandelier, delicate and out of place in this grand, grim chamber of portraits and brooding wallpaper.
Across from her, Lord Elias von Blackwood stood like a shadow carved into marble.
Gone was the amused stranger from the garden—the one who crouched beside her and spoke like a man with warmth hidden in his voice. Now, his posture was stiff, regal, distant. His sky-blue eyes, once curious, had returned to their usual state: unreadable.
She didn't dare look at him directly.
It was too much.
Too much knowing. Too much embarrassment. Too much of everything she didn't know how to handle.
He spoke first. His voice, low and calm, barely stirred the air.
"They said your bloodline held generational power. That your magic could break what none of us could."
Meilin blinked.
His words sank in slowly—like stones into still water.
Power?
Magic?
Her?
She swallowed. "I don't… I don't have any magic."
A beat of silence passed.
Then another.
When she dared to glance at him, his expression had changed ever so slightly.
Not with anger. Not even surprise.
But realization.
Quiet and bitter.
"So that's why," he said, almost to himself.
"Why what?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
"Why your family handed you over so easily," Elias replied, turning away from her to look out the tall window, his tone detached. "No struggle. No negotiation. Just signed and sealed, like discarding a broken pawn."
His words cut more deeply than he likely intended.
Meilin lowered her gaze, her throat tightening. It wasn't as if she hadn't thought the same thing—many times. But hearing it aloud, from the man she was supposed to be married to…
She took a breath.
And another.
"What is this curse?" she asked softly, eyes on the carpet. "The one you wanted me to break."
He didn't answer.
Only the ticking of the mantle clock replied.
"I don't even know why I'm here," she murmured. "No one told me anything. Not about you. Not about this house. Not even the reason I was chosen. Just that I was going to be someone's wife, and that I'd be sent far away."
She waited, hoping—foolishly—that he'd explain. That maybe he'd still be that man from the garden.
But the silence thickened.
Then, he spoke.
"You should return to your room," Elias said flatly. "You're not needed here."
Meilin flinched.
That was it?
She opened her mouth. Closed it. Then stood quietly, nodding once.
"As you wish."
Her hanfu fluttered as she turned, delicate silk catching the light like a whisper trying to be heard. She moved toward the door with her eyes fixed straight ahead.
But just before she reached the threshold, his voice stopped her.
"You're afraid of the dark," Elias said quietly. Not a question. A statement.
She stiffened.
"…Yes," she said without turning. "I am.
He said nothing else.
And so she left.
Her heart was a storm behind her ribs, quiet but relentless.
She didn't know what kind of curse plagued the Blackwoods.
But perhaps, she thought as she closed the door behind her, the coldest curses weren't made of spells or magic.
They were made of silence.