Snow-white doves, prepared for the wedding ceremony, soared noisily into the sky above the temple.
The air thrummed with anticipation, engulfed in the bustle of the upcoming celebration.
The ceremony itself had been scheduled to take place days ago, but everything had fallen through due to the scandal involving the Marquis of Guinness—which had erupted the very day before the wedding. The union between the Second Prince and Fatima had been postponed.
Now that everything had finally been settled and the guests had been summoned back, the atmosphere in the temple remained tense. People couldn't stop discussing the recent conspiracy.
"Have they already assigned punishment to the Marquis?"
"What's there to think about? It's *treason*."
"If they strip him of his title and lands..."
"The Duke of Carlisle's power will only grow stronger."
Juliet walked slowly through the crowd, weaving between clusters of nobles immersed in idle chatter.
Thanks to Silica's strictly enforced confidentiality laws, people merely nodded politely in her direction. The accusation of the Duke's murder—and rumors of his supposed "death"—remained virtually unknown to the public.
On her way to a secluded courtyard away from the main temple building, Juliet suddenly stopped.
Someone blocked her path.
Looking up, she was surprised to recognize the man standing before her.
It wasn't who she had expected to see.
"Roy... it's been a long time," Juliet greeted with a smile.
*It feels like an eternity since we last spoke.*
Today, Roy was dressed soberly and elegantly, like the other wedding guests. His ash-gray hair, golden eyes, and subtle, predatory grace made him look like a prince from an old fairy tale.
He was undeniably handsome—yet somehow *alien*.
Perhaps it was the overly serious expression on his face.
"Juliet," Roy began without preamble. "Do you remember when I said I'd invite you to Katya?"
"I remember. But you said *later*."
"What if I told you: let's go *now*?"
Juliet blinked.
"So suddenly?"
"It's safer there."
"It's safe here too," she replied with a hint of humor.
But Roy didn't smile.
"Being drawn into a case of treason is not particularly safe."
Juliet's eyes narrowed.
"Were you... following me?"
"Not at all. I don't need to. I already know everything."
Roy looked straight at her, his gaze steady and calm.
"Your butterflies are dangerous, Juliet. No less than *he* is."
"I know."
"No," Roy said firmly. "You *don't*. That's exactly why I'm telling you. You have no idea how dangerous Snowdrop and the other artifacts truly are."
She flinched.
*He said it so definitely: Snowdrop.*
"How do you know that name, Roy? Did Elsa tell you?"
"Didn't you find it strange why such a fragile flower was given such a name?"
Roy smiled faintly.
"A monster from another dimension, one that devours human emotions... isn't that too *soft* a name for such a being? Have you ever wondered?"
Juliet paused.
*Snowdrop.* The name *did* sound almost poetic.
"That's because the first artifacts capable of summoning demons were created in the **Silver Forest**."
This was new to Juliet.
*So the origin of the artifacts is somehow tied to the Silver Forest—the homeland of the lycanthropes?*
"Your butterflies aren't from here," Roy continued, his voice low and matter-of-fact. "They're from *outside*. From another dimension. Long ago, foolish human kings summoned them into this world."
Juliet listened in silence.
"To subdue such creatures, special names were needed. And so, people chose the names of the most fragile flowers that grew in the Silver Forest."
"Flowers?" she repeated carefully. "Why plural?"
*Until now, only one artifact had been known—her own.*
Roy chuckled softly.
"Interesting, isn't it?"
*It truly was.*
"Thank you," Juliet said gently. "But no."
"I can't leave right now."
"Because of your contract with *him*?"
Juliet turned sharply, astonished by how much Roy seemed to know.
His expression grew serious.
"He will put you in danger. You will not be happy with him."
Juliet laughed—light, almost warm. Despite his bluntness and the gravity of his words, she wasn't angry.
"How do you know that?"
Roy's voice took on an ironic edge.
"Did he tell you about his kind's *madness*?"
"Madness?"
"A cursed bloodline. Like a snake that is born by killing its mother. Such is their race."
"Born by... killing their mother?" Juliet froze.
"So he *didn't* tell you," Roy said with a cold, bitter laugh.
"Do you know what vipers are?"
Juliet blinked in confusion. She didn't know how to respond to such a strange question.
"Juliet," he whispered, his voice suddenly tender—almost pleading.
"Come with me. I can take care of you."
---
## — The Courtyard —
Meanwhile, Lennox dismounted from his horse and immediately spotted the one he had been searching for.
Juliet stood in the courtyard, a short distance from the main temple hall. Her hair was neatly arranged, and in her hand she held a small bouquet of lilac flowers. She looked as though she were ready to enter the ceremony at any moment.
She didn't seem to notice him.
She was speaking to a man, her body slightly turned away. From where Lennox stood, the man she was conversing with was partially obscured by the trees.
Lennox walked slowly forward.
*He still didn't know what exactly he had seen that day. Was it a hallucination? A nightmare?*
But every time he closed his eyes, the same image appeared before him:
Juliet in white, covered in blood, slowly dying in his arms.
The black panther hadn't appeared since. But the nightmares haunted him even during the day.
He had tried to summon the demon, to demand answers, to understand. But the panther no longer responded to his call.
There were things he needed to be certain of.
The scars on Juliet's body, for instance—brutal marks, as though she had been savagely beaten with a whip.
At first, he had thought it was all an illusion, a cruel deception created to torment him.
*Demons don't lie.*
The panther had repeated that phrase often. But who would believe a demon?
Yet Juliet had dispelled his doubts with a single question:
*"Your Grace... how did you remember this?"*
With those words, she had made it clear: this was not a trap, not a hallucination, not a fabrication.
This was *real*.
The image of the girl who had once blushed shyly and laughed with youthful sincerity floated before his eyes. But the current Juliet looked at him differently—with an expression he had never seen before.
*I once loved you, Your Grace.*
The fool, blinded by his own feelings, hadn't even questioned why her confession had been spoken in the *past tense*.
Just that one phrase—and without thinking, he had launched into a desperate, ill-conceived plan. He thought he could fix everything. Bring it all back.
*But the love Juliet spoke of was farther away than he'd imagined. And there was an undeniable truth in those words: she no longer loved him.*
Her blind, naive devotion had ended the moment she lost the child.
Or perhaps when she lost herself.
He remembered fragments of the past now, even without clear images. He could guess how precious that child had been to her—because she never passed by the weak and defenseless without stopping.
And that was why he couldn't tell her the truth.
*The woman who lost her child.*
No matter what he said, it would hurt her. And if she learned the whole truth...
She would leave.
With that thought, Lennox stopped walking.
He heard Juliet's voice, soft and clear:
"I'm not going, Roy."
Just that simple phrase. But the ease between them spoke louder than words.
Juliet's tone was firm, calm—her gaze unwavering as she looked at Roy. Even when their eyes met across the courtyard, not a flicker of embarrassment crossed her face.
"I don't need a protector."
Her voice was gentle but resolute, and her eyes remained fixed on Lennox.
"I see," Roy replied quietly.
From over Juliet's shoulder, his golden eyes—gleaming with predatory menace—watched Lennox with sharp intensity.
"But if you ever change your mind, Juliet..."
He leaned down deliberately, brushing his cheek gently against hers in a gesture that bordered on intimate.
"Remember—you can always come to me. All right?"
Juliet responded with a faint, slightly melancholic smile.
Roy cast Lennox one last cold, lingering glance—and then departed.
---
## — Silence and Questions —
Silence settled over the courtyard.
Only a few white doves flew overhead, their wings beating softly against the air.
Juliet studied him carefully, her gaze sliding up and down as though assessing his appearance. The gray suit—slightly unusual for Lennox—stood out. The shirt beneath it, as always, was carelessly unbuttoned at the collar.
"Give me your tie," she said, as though it were the most natural request in the world.
Lennox silently handed her the bow tie.
He hated anything that constricted his neck. And he had never known how to tie one properly.
*Juliet probably knew that.*
*But she didn't know it any other way.*
While she concentrated on adjusting the knot, he couldn't tear his eyes from her—her smooth forehead, lowered lashes, the serene calm of her expression.
"What were you talking about?" he asked quietly.
"I thought you heard everything," Juliet said with a faint smile.
Lennox didn't answer.
*How strange.*
Just days ago, he had deliberately avoided her. And now she stood here, utterly composed—as though there were no shadow of tension between them at all.
No woman, even one weaker than him, could truly harm him.
But Juliet Montague was the only one who had ever taught him *fear*.
*In six months, I won't be able to keep her.*
He knew it. But the very thought made his chest tighten with dread.
"I have a question too," Juliet said, finishing the knot and looking up at him.
"Your Grace..."
Her blue eyes were calm, searching.
"What kind of race is it... that kills its own mother to be born?"
---