"You did a great job earlier," Roen said with a calm smile as he guided Eren through the hushed corridors of the grand hotel. The party was still in full swing below, but the night had grown long, and Adriel had decided Eren should retire to the suite prepared for him. With Adriel surrounded by guests and directors, it fell to Roen to escort him.
"I didn't do anything but stand there," Eren muttered, his voice edged with unease. His gaze dropped to the ornate box in his hands. "And I still don't understand why the President made me wear this brooch."
The weight of it lingered even now, even though he'd removed it as soon as he could. His chest still felt heavy, as though the Crimson Fate's fire-red gem was burned into his skin.
"He has his reasons," Roen replied, the same unwavering smile on his lips, though his eyes carried a glint of something unreadable.
Eren exhaled sharply. "I hope that reason is a good one." He held the box out toward Roen. "You should return it to him. Honestly, I'm scared to even keep it near me. That thing belongs to history, not me."
Roen accepted the box with a slight bow of his head. "Understood. Get some rest. The President may not return for a while."
Eren nodded, grateful for the excuse to retreat, yet unsettled as silence closed in around him. He watched Roen disappear down the hall, the sound of his polished steps fading into nothing.
Alone now, Eren turned toward the suite doors. The handle was cool beneath his fingers. The hallway seemed too quiet—luxurious, yes, but also cavernous, every shadow stretching long under the golden sconces. He felt the stillness press against him, broken only by the faint echo of distant laughter from the ballroom.
Then—
"We meet again."
The voice cut through the quiet, low and cold.
Eren froze. His pulse spiked as he turned slowly, his throat tightening.
There, half in shadow at the end of the corridor, stood Kairen. The artist's beauty was undeniable, but it was sharpened by the frost in his gaze, his posture radiating a quiet, dangerous disdain.
Eren's breath caught. Whatever calm he had found shattered in an instant.
"Looks like you're staying here for the night," Kairen remarked coolly, his gaze flicking to the door of the VVIP suite. His voice carried the kind of casual disdain that cut sharper than a shout. "Some secretary you are. Tyler and James told me you were ordinary. Yet here you are—pampered, hidden away in luxury."
Eren stiffened, the weight of Kairen's stare pressing down on him. The air between them vibrated with hostility, thick enough to choke on.
"I was supposed to wear the Crimson Fate tonight," Kairen continued, his eyes narrowing as they swept over Eren's chest, where the brooch had shone earlier. "I'm the model. The centerpiece. Everyone was expecting me to unveil it. But instead…" His lip curled. "…Adriel handed it to a nobody. A secretary. Do you even realize what you've done? The Crimson Fate is history. Legacy. And thanks to you, it's been cheapened."
Eren's breath caught. He wanted to speak, but no words came.
"I don't even know where Adriel found you," Kairen pressed, voice dropping lower, sharper. "But the moment I saw you—your ridiculous red hair—I knew I didn't like you. And then you had the audacity to wear that brooch." His gaze locked with Eren's, hard as ice. "Do you even know who I am? I'm Kairen, the one everyone expects Adriel to be with. The one who belongs at his side. And you? Who are you, really?"
Each word felt like a blade sinking into Eren's skin. He flinched under Kairen's sneer, shame prickling across his chest where the brooch had once burned like fire.
"Even someone like you can be dressed up and made to look valuable," Kairen added with a mocking laugh. "But that doesn't make you worthy. So tell me—what trick are you using to fool Adriel? Ah… or maybe you don't need one. He loves charity cases, doesn't he? Is that what you are? His little project?"
Eren's fists clenched at his sides. Anger boiled beneath his ribs, colliding with humiliation and fear. The suite's opulence—its velvet drapes, its glittering chandeliers—suddenly felt suffocating, like the walls themselves were pressing in on him.
Don't react. Don't let him see how deep it cuts.
But Kairen's words struck true, echoing his own doubts. For the first time all night, Eren wasn't sure if the brooch had made him shine—or if it had exposed just how small he really was.
"Why do you care so much about a brooch?" Eren asked, his voice steadier now, though his hands still trembled against his sides.
Kairen's eyes narrowed as he stepped closer, the sharp click of his heels on marble echoing like a countdown. He stopped just shy of Eren, his shadow stretching long in the chandelier's cold light.
"Care?" Kairen hissed. "That brooch is status. Power. Legacy. Every omega in this room would kill for the chance to wear it. And you—" his gaze swept over Eren with deliberate disdain, "—a secretary dragged in off the sidelines? You make it look cheap."
Eren forced himself to meet Kairen's piercing stare, squaring his shoulders though his chest burned with unease. "Maybe I don't have your fame or your stage lights," he said firmly. "But Adriel trusted me with it. That trust is worth more than your jealousy."
For a beat, Kairen was silent. Then, with a low, mocking laugh, he leaned in close enough for Eren to feel his breath. "Naïve little omega," he whispered. "Adriel's 'trust' is nothing more than a game piece on his board. And pawns? They're always replaced."
Kairen straightened, his smile as sharp as broken glass. He brushed past Eren, his shoulder grazing deliberately against his, before striding toward the door without another word.
The silence that followed was suffocating. Eren's heart pounded, the brooch's phantom weight still heavy on his chest even though it was gone. He knew then—this wasn't the end. It was only the opening move.