Elias stood just inside the doorway of Izana's bedroom and did not move.
The room was unchanged.
That, more than anything, unsettled him.
The curtains were still drawn tight, heavy fabric sealing out the world beyond. The lights were off. The air was stale, thick with the faint scent of old fabric, dried sweat, and medication that had gone untouched for far too long. A tray sat on the floor near the door—cold food, untouched, the edges beginning to curl.
Izana lay on the bed, blindfold still covering his eyes.
He had not changed clothes.
Elias could tell immediately. The same dark shirt clung loosely to Izana's frame, stretched thin over sharp angles where muscle used to be. The sleeves hung awkwardly at his wrists. The fabric looked worn, slept in, clutched repeatedly by trembling hands. His hair fell messily around his face, longer than Elias remembered, unwashed and uneven.
Izana looked… hollow.
He had grown so thin that it startled Elias, even though he had been warned. His collarbones jutted sharply beneath his skin. His face had lost its structure, cheeks slightly sunken, jaw too prominent. He looked like someone who had been fading slowly, day by day, without anyone stopping it.
And then Izana laughed.
It was soft. Almost fond.
"There," Izana murmured, voice hoarse but strangely animated. "You hear that? You always notice things like that before I do."
Elias's heart clenched.
There was no one there.
Izana turned his head slightly, as though following movement beside the bed. His lips curved faintly, a ghost of a smile that did not belong on his face anymore.
"You shouldn't sit on the floor," Izana continued, a weak chuckle escaping him. "You'll complain later. You always do."
Silence answered him.
But Izana didn't notice.
"I told you it wasn't that cold," he said, frowning faintly. "You never believe me."
Elias took a step forward despite himself.
"Izana," he said quietly.
Izana didn't react.
Instead, he shifted slightly on the bed, one hand lifting weakly, fingers trembling as if reaching for something just out of reach.
"Don't look at me like that," Izana murmured. "I'm fine. You said it yourself. I just need rest."
His voice softened.
"You stayed this time," he added. "I knew you would."
Elias felt something crack inside his chest.
This was not anger.
This was not defiance.
This was a man who had retreated so far into his own mind that reality no longer held weight.
"Izana," Elias tried again, louder this time.
Izana paused.
For a brief moment, his brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.
"…Elias?" he asked uncertainly.
Relief surged—short-lived.
"Wait," Izana muttered, his expression tightening. "No. That's not right."
He shook his head weakly.
"You don't sound like that," he said to the empty air beside him. "You're quieter."
His breathing grew uneven.
"Stop," he whispered. "You're mixing things up again."
Elias took another step closer.
"Izana," he said firmly now. "There's no one else here."
Izana stiffened.
The curse reacted instantly—Elias could feel it in the air, a subtle shift, a tension that crawled beneath the skin.
Izana's expression darkened.
"That's not funny," Izana said sharply. "Don't say things like that."
"Izana," Elias said, keeping his voice steady, "look at me."
Izana's hands curled into the sheets.
"I can't," he snapped weakly. "You know that."
His breathing quickened.
"She's right here," Izana insisted, voice rising slightly. "You just— you don't see her because you're not listening."
There it was.
The delusion had teeth now.
Elias closed his eyes briefly.
This was the same look.
The same tone.
The same fractured certainty Izana had carried the night the curse first awakened—when he had screamed that the walls were breathing, that voices were crawling under his skin, that someone was standing in the room even when there wasn't.
"Izana," Elias said softly, "how long has she been here?"
Izana relaxed instantly.
"All the time," he replied without hesitation. "She never left."
His voice dropped to something almost peaceful.
"She sits with me when it hurts," he continued. "Talks when it gets too quiet."
He laughed softly again.
"You'd like her," he added. "She doesn't ask stupid questions."
Elias turned away.
He couldn't watch this anymore.
He backed out of the room slowly, closing the door with a care that felt cruelly ironic. The soft click echoed far too loudly in the quiet corridor.
Elias stood there for a long moment, his hand resting against the door.
He had failed.
He had waited too long.
And now Izana was slipping away.
Enough.
Elias turned and walked down the corridor with purpose, his expression set. The decision formed fully in his mind with every step.
He went straight to his study.
The door shut sharply behind him.
Elias crossed the room, picked up his phone, and dialed without hesitation.
The call connected.
"Yes?" Leah's father answered, irritation already present.
"This is Elias," he said flatly.
There was a pause.
"…What do you want?" Leah's father asked.
"The marriage," Elias replied. "I want it reinstated."
The silence on the other end was immediate—and then replaced with something sharp and eager.
"You've reconsidered?" Leah's mother asked, her voice sliding into the conversation.
"Yes," Elias said. "I want Leah returned to the mansion."
Her father didn't even try to hide his satisfaction.
"Well," he said, "that's fortunate timing."
Elias's jaw tightened.
"When?" he asked.
"Tomorrow," her father replied smoothly. "We'll have her ready."
As if she were an object.
As if she were a burden finally being lifted.
"See that you do," Elias said coldly and ended the call.
He set the phone down slowly and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.
Tomorrow.
At Leah's family home, the heat of summer pressed heavily against the tall windows.
Leah moved quietly across the living room, broom in hand, sweeping a floor that was already spotless. Sweat clung faintly to her skin beneath the long-sleeved shirt she wore—dark fabric that looked wrong in the heat, but she didn't dare remove it.
She kept her head down.
Kept her movements small.
Her father entered without warning.
"Stop."
Leah froze immediately, lowering the broom and turning to face him, her gaze fixed on the floor.
"You're returning to the mansion tomorrow," he said flatly.
Her breath caught.
"Yes," she replied softly.
"The arrangement is back on," he continued. "You won't embarrass us again."
She nodded.
"If you're sent back here again," he added coldly, "don't expect a bed waiting for you."
Fear curled tightly in her chest.
"I understand," she said.
He turned away without another word.
Leah remained standing there long after he left, her hands trembling slightly around the broom handle.
Tomorrow.
Relief washed over her—then dread followed close behind.
A month.
If Elias was bringing her back now, something had gone terribly wrong.
Her thoughts went immediately to Izana.
Too quickly.
Too instinctively.
Her chest tightened painfully.
Whatever had happened to him—it must have been bad.
Leah resumed sweeping, but her movements were slower now, distracted, her thoughts far away.
Tomorrow.
She was going back.
And she was terrified of what she would find.