The dining room lingered heavy after Dylan's retirement words. No one dared to break the silence until Dylan himself rose, his chair groaning against the stone floor.
"Rodey," Dylan said, his gaze sharpening, "from this night until your marriage, you will not see Alikae."
The words struck like a hammer. Rodey's jaw clenched, eyes darting toward Alikae—her lips parted in protest, but Dylan silenced her with a single gesture of his hand.
"You must learn," Dylan continued, his tone cutting but measured, "that power does not bend to desire. If you cannot endure distance, you will never endure the throne."
Rodey wanted to argue, to shout, to throw the table aside. But Dylan's stare held him like chains. After a long, burning pause, Rodey only muttered through gritted teeth:
"…Yes. Sir."
Dylan gave the faintest nod. "Then go. Tonight is over. Tomorrow begins your trial."
The Next Day.
The morning was too quiet.
Rodey sat stiffly at the dining table, staring at a slice of bread he couldn't bring himself to eat. His thoughts circled around Alikae, her worried face, the sudden wall Dylan had built between them.
Then—clack, clack, clack.
Footsteps.
Deniz strolled in, white hair messy, robe hanging lazily from his shoulders. Without asking, he sat at the other end of the table. A servant immediately slid a bowl toward him—simple cornflakes with milk.
Deniz grabbed the spoon, stirred casually, and began eating as if nothing else in the world mattered.
Crunch… crunch… crunch.
He looked up at Rodey between bites, grin tugging at his lips.
"Morning, buddy."
Rodey narrowed his eyes. "Don't call me that."
Deniz raised a brow. "Relax. You'll need a friend today." He scooped another spoonful, chewed slow, then smirked.
"Because today's your first day of training… and your opponent—" he jabbed the spoon at his own chest, milk dripping—
"—is me."
Rodey blinked, tense, caught between disbelief and irritation.
Deniz leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand while still holding the spoon with the other. His voice dropped, playfully sharp.
"Finish your bread, prince. You'll need the energy. I don't go easy on anyone. Not even Dylan's golden boy."
Then he went right back to eating his cornflakes, loud and careless.
Crunch… crunch… crunch.
After Breakfast
The clatter of spoons and the crunch of cornflakes finally died down. Deniz stretched his arms wide, yawning as if he had just finished some grand task.
"Alright, rookie," Deniz said, tossing the empty bowl back onto the table with a smirk, "lesson one. Before you learn power, before you learn blood and politics—" he stood up, sweeping his coat dramatically over his shoulder, "—you learn pleasure."
Rodey frowned, standing as well. "What do you mean by that?"
"You'll see." Deniz winked and motioned for him to follow.
They walked through the marble halls until Deniz pushed open a tall silver door that shimmered with the crest of the Diamond ward. Inside was a lavish lounge filled with velvet couches, golden lamps, and perfume-heavy air that stung Rodey's nose.
And waiting there—arms crossed, eyes blazing—were Hera, Mira, Sarah, and Mia.
The moment Deniz stepped inside, all four women stormed forward.
SLAP!
The crack echoed off the walls. Hera's handprint blazed red on Deniz's cheek.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
Mira, Sarah, and Mia followed, each strike sharper than the last.
Rodey froze, wide-eyed.
Deniz didn't flinch. He actually chuckled, rubbing his stinging face with mock tenderness. "Ladies, ladies, one at a time. You'll make Rodey think I'm some kind of cheater… or a playboy."
"You are a playboy, Deniz!" Mira snapped.
"You told me I was your only diamond," Sarah shouted.
"You left me waiting for three hours at the club," Mia hissed.
"And you promised to take me on a trip to Venice," Hera growled, "but you took her instead!" She jabbed a finger at Mira.
The women turned on each other, arguing, while Deniz simply leaned back against the wall, smirking like a cat watching its prey.
Rodey pinched the bridge of his nose. "This… this is your routine?"
"Of course," Deniz said, laughing. "Pleasure first, chaos second, power third. Welcome to the Diamond ward, buddy."
The women finally stormed off in a cloud of perfume and curses, leaving Deniz with red cheeks and an amused grin. He dusted his jacket and straightened his collar as though nothing had happened.
"Well," he said cheerfully, "that was refreshing. Now—time for the real deal."
He walked down the corridor with Rodey trailing behind, until they stopped before a crystal door. Inside was a quieter lounge, candlelit and velvet-draped. At the center, sipping wine with cool elegance, sat Marie—Deniz's present girlfriend.
She looked up with a sigh, already weary.
"Deniz, how many times will I tell you—you'll die one day from the wrong slap."
Deniz only laughed and leaned down to kiss her hand. "But until then, I live beautifully, my Marie."
Rodey's fists clenched at his sides. The whole display turned his stomach. Finally, he couldn't hold back anymore.
"You suck as a human," Rodey muttered, his voice sharper than steel.
Deniz paused, blinking, then raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Do tell."
Rodey stepped forward, his eyes burning. "Women aren't your toys, Deniz. They aren't some… passing thrill. They're alive. They feel, they hurt, they bleed. And if all you see in them is pleasure—then you're not living beautifully. You're just wasting the gift of being human."
The words cut deeper than any slap.
For once, Deniz didn't smirk. His grin flickered, something colder slipping into his eyes. Then, slowly, he leaned back, letting out a short laugh—forced, brittle.
"Strong words, rookie," Deniz said quietly. "Maybe you'll change the throne. Or maybe… the throne will change you."
Marie studied Rodey curiously, her gaze flicking between the two men. For the first time, her lips curved into the faintest smile—not for Deniz, but for Rodey.
Deniz tilted his head, his smirk returning as if Rodey's words had never touched him. He clapped a hand on Rodey's shoulder.
"Keep your morals, Flash. I'll keep my pleasures. That way the world stays balanced, eh?"
With that, he turned back to Marie, bent low, and whispered something in her ear before pulling another girl closer from the corner of the room. She giggled as he slid an arm around her waist, already escorting her out of the lounge.
Marie sighed, closing her eyes in quiet exhaustion. "You'll never change, Deniz…" she muttered, but there was no fire in her voice—just weariness.
Rodey, however, didn't have time to dwell on Deniz's carelessness.
Two girls drifted toward him, smiles sly, voices honeyed.
"Hey, handsome… you don't have to be so serious."
"Yeah, we can show you fun you won't forget."
They leaned closer, perfume clouding the air. Rodey's chest tightened—but not with temptation. Alikae's face flashed before his eyes. Her laughter, her stubbornness, the way she cursed him between her tears.
Rodey shook his head firmly, stepping back. "No. I don't belong to you. I already have someone… and I don't need anything else."
The girls pouted, exchanged glances, then wandered off with mocking giggles. But Rodey stood his ground, his heart steady.
Alikae. Only her.
From across the room, Marie watched him with an unreadable look. For the first time, there was a flicker of respect in her eyes—something Deniz never managed to earn.
Rodey stood by the lounge's tall windows, arms crossed, waiting. Deniz had disappeared with his latest "choice of the morning," and all Rodey could do was listen to the muffled laughter and moans leaking through the door down the hall.
At first, he tried to ignore it. He told himself he didn't care. But every echo sharpened his irritation until his jaw ached from how hard he clenched it.
He muttered under his breath, "Pathetic…" and finally pushed himself off the wall.
Enough.
If Deniz wanted to waste time drowning in pleasure, that was his business. Rodey wasn't going to sit in that suffocating place another second.
He shoved the door open and stepped outside into the crisp morning air of the Diamond Ward's courtyard. The sky stretched wide and open above him, free of the stench of perfume and lies. He breathed deeply, grounding himself.
The garden here was eerily quiet compared to the noise behind him. The flowers glistened with dew, fountains bubbling softly. For the first time since entering Dylan's world, Rodey felt a brief peace—only for it to be crushed by the reminder that Alikae was still trapped inside these walls, bound to a marriage neither of them had asked for.
He sat on the stone steps, running a hand through his hair. His heart thudded. Every decision from here on out mattered.
Behind him, the laughter continued. And Rodey swore to himself—he would never become that man.
Hours dragged by. The sun had already climbed high, warming the courtyard where Rodey still sat in silence. He had almost dozed off when the lounge door creaked open.
Deniz stumbled out, shirt half-buttoned, hair messy, his usual cocky grin still plastered across his face—though his steps were slower, drained from indulgence.
"Ahh…" Deniz stretched, yawning like a cat. "Now that's what I call a morning routine."
Rodey didn't answer. His eyes narrowed, sharp and unblinking.
Deniz chuckled, walking closer. "What? Jealous, Flash? You sit here looking at flowers while I—"
A faint zing cut the air.
Deniz froze. He hadn't even noticed when Rodey moved—but there it was. A scalpel had sliced so close to his cheek that a hair-thin line of red welled across his skin. Just enough to sting. Just enough to mark.
He blinked, touched his face, and his grin faltered for the first time.
"…Tch. Nearly ruined my cute cheek," he muttered, trying to play it off, though his voice lacked its usual bite.
Rodey leaned back on the step, twirling the scalpel between his fingers with practiced ease. His voice was calm, almost mocking.
"Guess you didn't see that one coming, huh? Keep wasting your life, Deniz. But don't mistake me for one of your toys."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. The birds sang. The fountain bubbled.
Then Deniz suddenly laughed, a low, broken laugh that spilled into something wild. He slapped his thigh, shaking his head.
"Damn… You really are different, Flash. Fine. Lesson one—maybe you aren't as boring as I thought."
His grin returned, but this time his blue eyes gleamed sharper, more dangerous.
Deniz wiped the thin line of blood from his cheek with his thumb, then licked it, smirking like the cut was nothing but a tease.
"Lesson two," he said, his voice dropping into that sharp, mocking tone. "Deniz Loadargo is always ready to fight."
Rodey tilted his head, scalpel glinting between his fingers.
But Deniz raised his hand, wagging a finger. "Hold up, rookie. Don't get too excited. Here's the deal—keep that scalpel tight, and let's see if you can make another scratch."
Rodey narrowed his eyes. "And if I do?"
"Then maybe you're worth calling 'Flash,'" Deniz replied with a grin. "But—" he leaned closer, whispering like it was a secret challenge, "—if you can't touch me in the next fifteen minutes, then I'll stop holding back… and you'll really learn what it means to fight."
He stepped back, loosening his shoulders, almost lazy in stance. His body said relaxed, but his eyes burned with razor-sharp awareness.
Rodey's breath steadied. His knuckles whitened around the scalpel's handle.
No flashy taunts. No wasted words. Just silence—waiting.
The clock was already ticking.
And Rodey knew: one more cut, or the storm would come.