The winter sun pierced the high windows of the Imperial Wing, casting pale beams across the marble floor. Henri awoke to the rhythmic sound of heavy boots outside his alcove. He was no longer in the Orchid Pavilion among sobbing tributes; now, he lived in the belly of the beast. The room next to the Emperor's was a golden cage, draped in silks that would cost entire northern villages, but the air was heavy, thick with ash that lingered from Yan's chambers.
Henri sat down, feeling the weight of the dagger against his thigh. The icy steel was the only reminder of his sanity. He reached for the inhibitor vial, but stopped. The dose from the previous night still coursed through his veins like lazy poison, but the burning sensation in his wrist—the exact spot where Yan had touched him—was a pain that no alchemy could erase. It was a rhythmic throbbing, a pulse that seemed to respond to the man's heart sleeping a few meters away, separated only by a stone wall and secrets.
He dressed in the gray silk tunic, the color of the betas, and tied his dark hair back with a simple ribbon. The bronze mirror reflected the image of a young man with delicate features and an empty gaze, the perfect mask for an assassin who needed to become invisible.
The door opened without warning. General Lucius entered, accompanied by two guards whose black armor made not a single sound. The General's face was a mask of granite, carved with distrust. He did not smell of flowers or luxury; he exuded the odor of old leather, dried sweat, and the severity of one who had survived decades of carnage.
"Get up," Lucius ordered. His voice was a restrained thunderclap, designed to intimidate subordinates.
Henri obeyed, keeping his shoulders slumped and his gaze fixed on the wolfskin rug.
"The Emperor made an impulsive decision yesterday," the General said, circling Henri like a wolf sizing up weak prey. "He called you 'shadow.' He thinks your scent, or lack of it, is useful. I don't believe in anomalies, lad. I believe in threats."
Henri remained motionless. He felt Lucius's gaze piercing his disguise, searching for any flaw in his posture, any sign that this "beta" was something more.
"I am merely a servant, General. If my presence offends you, I may return to the pavilion," Henri said, his voice soft and devoid of emotion.
Lucius stopped in front of him, so close that Henri could see the scars that cut across the soldier's eyebrow.
"You're not going anywhere. If the Emperor wants you around, you'll stay where he can see you. But know this: I'll be watching your every breath. If you move a finger suspiciously, if I detect a scent that doesn't belong in this palace, I'll cut off your head myself before Yan even has time to notice. The northern clan sent you as a peace tribute, but we all know that peace is just a truce for the losers."
"Understood, General," Henri replied, maintaining his submissive tone. Internally, his mind calculated the distance to Lucius's jugular. Three seconds, he noted. That would be enough time to draw his dagger and finish the job. His resolve never wavered, but he forced himself to dismiss the impulse. What would be the point? He reminded himself: not yet, not here. He couldn't afford such a waste. Every move meant survival—he had to stay invisible, even to himself.
"Great. Now, come along. Doctor Sun is waiting. He wants to understand why the monster calmed down in his presence."
They walked through the galleries, a labyrinth of opulence closing in on Henri. The palace was absolute power but profound solitude. Wherever they passed, servants cowered, the fear of the 'Berserker' coloring anyone tied to the Imperial Wing.
Doctor Sun's laboratory contrasted with the palace. Marble and gold outside gave way to dark wood, glass bottles, and the scent of herbs, mixed with the metallic tang of surgical tools. Sun, thin with long, nervous fingers, had eyes gleaming with near-fanatical curiosity.
"Ah, the anomaly!" Sun exclaimed upon seeing Henri. He completely ignored Lucius, approaching the young man with an oil lamp in his hand. "Come closer, boy. Let me see what's so special about you."
The doctor began examining him with a clinical efficiency that bothered Henri more than Lucius's aggressiveness. Sun checked his pupils, measured his pulse, and finally leaned in to sniff the scent gland on his neck.
"Nothing," Sun said, frustrated. "An absolute void. The inhibitor is strong, but it shouldn't erase everything. A beta should still smell like... beta. You smell like cold metal. As if there's no life in your veins."
"It's the dosage, Doctor," Henri lied. "My body has always reacted extremely to medication."
Sun narrowed his eyes, picking up a thin silver needle.
Let's see what your blood tells us.
The doctor pricked the tip of Henri's finger. A drop of ruby blood emerged. Henri didn't blink. Sun placed the sample on a white ceramic plate and mixed it with a bluish reagent. The liquid bubbled slightly, but remained stable.
"Strange," Sun said, scratching his chin. "The General says you stopped the Emperor's rage. Yan destroys everything in a fury until he collapses. But yesterday... he stopped. He slept. Lucius says he smelled jasmine."
"Perhaps it was the garden," Henri suggested, feeling cold sweat break out beneath his robe.
"In the middle of winter? With snow covering every petal?" Lucius interjected, his voice thick with skepticism. "Don't joke with us, boy."
"Jasmine and Metal," Sun murmured, ignoring Lucius's interruption. "It's an interesting combination. If you are what I suspect you are, your biology may be the key to keeping the Emperor alive a little longer. The pure bloodline of the Dominant Alphas is self-destructing. Yan's brain is cooking in its own power. He needs an anchor."
Henri felt the weight of those words settle over him, colder than any steel. He was no longer just a murderer, he realized; now, he was seen as a remedy. Bitterness curled in his chest. In this moment, he understood how it felt to be needed only for utility. And a remedy is something that is consumed until nothing remains—a fate almost worse than death. Did he want that? Did he even have a choice? He wasn't sure.
"The Emperor summoned you to the library," Lucius announced, receiving a message from a guard at the door. "Sun, finish your experiments later. Yan is getting impatient, and an impatient Yan is a problem for all of us."
Henri was escorted to the vast Imperial Library, shelves reaching the ceiling and packed with centuries of knowledge. At the massive black oak table sat Emperor Yan, crownless, his dark hair disheveled and golden eyes ringed by exhaustion; last night's sleep, though better, was still lacking.
Ashes and burnt wood filled the air. Yan's aura hit Henri like a bonfire. His pulse throbbed in sync with the Alpha.
"Get out," Yan said, without taking his eyes off the scrolls in front of him.
Lucius hesitated.
"Your Majesty, the security precautions..."
"Get out. Now". Yan's tone rose an octave, and the air in the room seemed to vibrate.
The General clenched his teeth and bowed, signaling the guards to follow. Henri was alone with the monster.
Silence reigned, broken only by the fire. Yan wrote for several minutes, the quill nearly tearing the paper. Henri stood still, waiting.
Finally, Yan put down the pen and leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes.
"Come closer," he ordered.
Henri took slow steps, stopping two meters from the table.
Closer.
He advanced until only the table separated them. Yan opened feverish golden eyes, studying Henri not as Sun or Lucius did, but with a thirst born of desperation.
"You don't smell like anything today," Yan observed, his voice hoarse. "The metal has gone all over again. It's disappointing."
"The inhibitor is necessary for my safety, Your Majesty," Henri replied, keeping his voice low. "An omega in your presence without protection..."
"So you admit it," Yan interrupted, a slight, bitter smile spreading across his lips. "Yesterday, you pretended to be a beta. But jasmine doesn't lie. Why would the northern clan send an omega undercover as a beta? They know I detest fragility. They know I have no patience for court dances."
"The clan sent what we had best to serve you," Henri said, each word a carefully chosen half-truth. "If I were presented as an omega, I would just be another prize in your gallery. As a beta, I'm useful. I can be your shadow, as you said."
Yan stood. He was much taller than Henri, seeming to fill the library. Walking around the table, he stopped before Henri. The smell of an approaching storm overwhelmed him. Henri's legs trembled—not from fear, but from overwhelming instinct.
"Useful," Yan repeated, testing the word. He reached out and, for a moment, Henri expected a blow. Instead, Yan's fingers grazed Henri's ribbon. "You have no idea what it's like to carry this fire. Every thought is a struggle. Every sound is an attack. But in the garden… the world went silent for a second."
Yan tilted his face, drawing closer to Henri's neck. The assassin felt the emperor's warm breath against his skin. His fingers clenched into fists inside his sleeves. The dagger was there. One movement was all it took. He could end Yan's suffering and fulfill his mission. The emperor's throat was exposed, throbbing with the rhythm of his tortured life.
But Henri hesitated.
It wasn't the fear of the guards outside. It wasn't Lucius's distrust. It was the indescribable feeling of belonging that washed over him—the destined pair. The clan had always taught that this was a weakness, a flaw of nature that bound murderers to their victims. But there, feeling the weight of Yan's presence, Henri realized that the connection was real.
"Help me," Yan whispered. It was so low that Henri barely heard it. The emperor of the world, the Berserker who destroyed nations, was asking for help from a tribute from a fallen clan. "The fire is rising again. I feel the blood boiling behind my eyes. If you are the remedy Sun speaks of, prove it now."
Yan gripped Henri's shoulders, the force of his fingers almost crushing his bones. The gold in his eyes began to pulse, a wild, uncontrolled light taking over. The outbreak was beginning. The ashes in the air became suffocating, and the smell of burnt wood transformed into the acrid odor of battle smoke.
Henri knew he needed to act fast. If Yan lost control there, the library would be the first place to burn, and Henri would be the first to die.
He ignored his assassin training. He ignored his mission of revenge. Henri brought his hands to Yan's face, forcing the emperor to look directly at him.
"Look at me, Yan," Henri said, using the emperor's name without titles, an offense that would cost anyone else their life.
He closed his eyes and focused on the fire in his own veins. He forced the alchemical inhibitor to recede, fighting the silvery substance with the strength of his pure will. He opened the floodgates of his own biology.
The scent of night-blooming jasmine filled the room. It was no longer the subtle note of the garden; it was a symphony of icy freshness, the smell of snow-capped northern mountains, the purity of metal newly forged in ice. It was the perfect antidote to Yan's ashes.
The Emperor let out a deep sigh, a sound that seemed to rip all the pain from his lungs. He buried his head in Henri's neck, inhaling the jasmine as if it were the very air of life. His hands, once ready to crush, now held Henri with an almost childlike desperation.
Henri felt Yan's warm tears against his skin. The monster was crying.
They remained like that for a long time, two broken souls finding an impossible balance amidst the chaos of an empire. Henri felt the dagger against his leg, a silent reminder that he was meant to be the end of that man. But, as he held Yan in his arms, offering the only cure that existed for his madness, Henri realized that his mission had just become infinitely more complicated.
He wasn't just the executioner. He was the anchor. And, in the Empire's game of blood and power, being a Berserker's anchor was a far more dangerous fate than any execution.
Outside, the snow continued to fall, but inside the library, Yan's fire had been contained by Henri's ice, for now.
"You can't tell anyone," Yan murmured, still hidden in Henri's neck. "If Lucius finds out you have this power over me... if the council finds out... they'll use you to control me. Or they'll kill you to destroy me once and for all."
Henri squeezed Yan's shoulders.
"I know."
"You are my shadow now, Henri. Mine and no one else's."
Henri gazed at the bookshelves, feeling the weight of the secret they now shared. He had come to the palace to kill the Emperor, but now, he was hiding his own life from the monster to protect it. Vengeance was dying beneath the scent of jasmine, and in its place, something far darker and more intense was beginning to blossom.
He was the assassin. He was the bride. He was the cure. And, above all, he was the only thing keeping the Empire from total abyss.