The Duke of Carlisle left the commotion behind and returned to his chambers.
A thin stream of blood traced down the back of his left hand, but he paid it no attention whatsoever.
Servants—shocked by the sight—rushed toward him clutching towels.
"Your Grace—wait! You're bleeding!"
"Get out."
The attendants froze momentarily, startled by his unusually low, depression-laden tone.
But after quickly assessing the situation, they retreated silently, unwilling to risk provoking their master's wrath.
Without sparing them a glance, Lennox strode directly toward his chambers to draw a hot bath. As he walked, he tore at his tie with agitated fingers, loosening it and letting it fall carelessly to the floor.
The servants had already prepared everything for his return from the banquet. The moment Lennox reached the bathroom and shed his clothing, he plunged into the steaming water.
***Crash!***
A crystal bottle filled with amber liquid—perched beside the tub—shattered with a violent sound.
No trace of blood marred the sleeve of his black formal robe, but the wound beneath ran deeper than appearances suggested. Deep enough that using his left arm would cause considerable discomfort for some time.
"That bastard..."
At the final moment—when his blade had struck Roy—the werewolf's sword had simultaneously pierced his left forearm.
But that wasn't what enraged him.
When Lennox had aimed for Roy's throat, as he always did in genuine combat, the wolf hadn't dodged. Even though Roy clearly understood where the blade was headed, he hadn't evaded.
Instead, he had *leapt* directly into the sword's trajectory.
If Lennox hadn't reflexively twisted the blade at a different angle, he would have severed the wolf's throat instead of grazing his eyelid.
Yet even this outcome had been part of Roy's calculated plan from the very beginning.
Fully confident in the enormous regenerative powers of his kind, the wolf had staged this entire spectacle—performed for Juliet's benefit.
"Puppy... how *dare* you..."
Lennox clenched his jaw so tightly the muscles along his cheekbones began to twitch.
*How dare you touch her?*
The wolf cub's target had never been Lennox. It had been Juliet. From the very start.
He had orchestrated this childish performance to capture Juliet's attention—to impress her, to draw her gaze toward himself.
Given the monstrous regenerative capabilities of werewolves, Lennox felt certain that even if he'd slit Roy's throat instead of merely cutting his eyelid, the wolf would have survived without lasting harm.
---
## — Roy's Wound —
"Oh—ow!"
The room where Roy and Juliet had been taken for treatment of his secondary injury remained quiet.
Except for Roy's occasional yelps of pain.
"So you don't feel like smiling anymore, do you?"
Juliet glared at him.
Only after the priest had finished treating the cut above Roy's eye did he reveal the wound on the back of his hand. It was merely a small laceration—but Juliet's fury knew no bounds.
*Why the hell did he keep silent about it when there were healers swarming around him?*
After the first priest had arrived in the banquet hall, several more healers—having learned what transpired—came rushing in. Everyone had crowded around Roy, offering assistance.
Juliet's anger burned so hot that without inspecting the injury closely, she poured half a bottle of antiseptic directly onto his hand. She wanted it to hurt—to teach him a lesson for his reckless stupidity.
"If you ever do something like this again, then—"
"Then what?"
"Our friendship ends."
"...What do you mean?"
"Don't you understand? We won't be friends anymore."
"Alright... I understand..."
Roy's shoulders slumped, his expression turning somber.
"What the hell were you thinking?"
Juliet still radiated displeasure. But Roy merely shrugged and spoke quietly:
"It seems my mind was... preoccupied with someone at that moment."
Hearing this cryptic remark, Juliet scrutinized him carefully, frowning.
"Let me examine the wound on your hand."
"Fine."
Roy extended his hand carefully, palm upward, allowing her to inspect the injury.
In truth, such a cut would disappear without a trace in less than half a day. He wasn't remotely concerned about it.
Juliet, on the other hand, seemed to vastly underestimate the regenerative capabilities of his kind. She treated the wound with utmost gravity.
Roy deliberately refrained from correcting her misconception. It allowed him to admire Juliet's face at close range for as long as he wished while she examined his hand with absolute seriousness.
Watching her frown and wrinkle her nose slightly, he decided she probably did this habitually when concentrating hard on something.
*I never meant to fall in love with you this deeply.*
His golden eyes grew melancholic at the thought.
Unlike humans, Lycans were known to remain loyal to a single companion for their entire lives once imprinted.
But finding a partner with whom one could successfully imprint was extraordinarily rare.
Most werewolves were solitary creatures, far removed from concepts of family or lifelong commitment. They chose temporary mates during peak mating seasons, which occurred only every few years.
Roy had been the same.
Until a certain point...
"Roy."
"Yes?"
He gently captured Juliet's hand and pressed his lips to the back of it.
Her human body was delicate. Fragile. If he applied even modest pressure, he could easily harm her.
Roy was inherently contemptuous of weakness. Like all his kind, he despised the frail, the cowardly, the cunning.
Yet this fragility—which he had always scorned—now seemed beautiful beyond measure.
Simply watching the vivid expressions crossing her face, feeling the trembling pulse beneath skin so delicate that carelessness could prove fatal... it was intoxicating. Mesmerizing. He could devote his entire existence to this.
Still, Roy decided her current vulnerability didn't matter.
Even though Juliet was fragile now—even if she grew weaker with age, as humans inevitably did—that posed no real obstacle. All she needed was to become as strong as him.
Meanwhile, Juliet glanced at Roy, who continued kissing the back of her hand, and asked:
"Roy... do you like me?"
"...Will you run away if I say yes?"
Juliet regarded him silently.
As it turned out, Roy understood her better than she'd realized.
"It's only natural to want to be kind to someone you care for. Even if those feelings aren't returned, I don't think that's such a terrible thing."
But strangely, Juliet felt no excitement at this candid confession.
*Perhaps something is broken inside me.*
Lennox Carlisle's affection corrupted everything it touched. She'd remained with him so long that it couldn't help but affect her—no matter how desperately she'd tried maintaining distance between them. Of all Lennox's lovers, she could be considered the one most thoroughly tamed by him.
"Roy, I..."
He had been kind to her. She didn't want to offer him false hope—doing so would be too cruel.
"I've been through too much. I'm not the same anymore. Having warm feelings for someone has become... simply impossible for me."
And it wasn't only Roy.
Juliet suspected that even if she fell in love with Lennox again, the feeling wouldn't possess the same intensity and sincerity as before.
After everything she'd endured, she was thoroughly exhausted by hopeless, unrequited love.
"It's alright."
"Roy..."
"I'm not asking you to love me right now. And I won't burden you with my feelings."
Roy swiftly grasped Juliet's intentions and didn't allow her to finish. Then, resting his cheek against her palm, he asked in a hushed voice:
"You don't hate me, do you?"
His keen gaze studied her expression, searching hopefully for some crack in her impenetrable defenses.
Noticing this, Juliet decided it was time to end the conversation. She withdrew her hand from his face.
"Alright. That's enough."
Roy smiled brightly at her response.
Lycans possessed lifespans three times longer than humans. And Romeo Baskal—being an exceptionally patient predator—was willing to wait as long as necessary.
---
## — The Eastern Baths —
Juliet was utterly exhausted. She had endured far too much today—both mentally and physically.
The day had stretched so long it seemed it would never end.
Her limbs felt weighted with lead from fatigue. She desperately wanted to return to her room and collapse into bed—but her hands and dress remained covered in blood.
"Um—miss!"
As Juliet struggled up the staircase, a priest called gently from behind.
"Yes?"
Turning, she recognized him as one of the healers who had examined Roy's wound hours earlier.
The moment he reached her, he began speaking in a conspiratorial whisper—as though sharing an invaluable secret.
"There's a special bathroom in the basement of the east wing."
*A special bathroom?*
Juliet regarded him with confusion.
"It was originally intended exclusively for priests... but almost no one uses it now," he added with a knowing smile.
Understanding dawned. Juliet felt so grateful she nearly embraced him.
To spare her the need to return to her room for fresh clothing, the man handed her the spare robe he'd been carrying and advised her on a route that would allow her to reach the baths without being observed.
Before she could learn the priest's name or properly thank him, however, he had vanished without a trace.
"......"
Regardless, Juliet quickly located the bathroom in the east wing, exactly as the priest had described.
Unlike the cramped facility attached to her assigned quarters, this one was spacious and luxurious.
For someone who loved soaking in hot baths, conditions couldn't have been more ideal.
Since the hour had grown quite late, she could enjoy bathing in complete solitude.
After washing slowly and thoroughly, Juliet changed into the clean garments the priest had provided.
On her way back, she accidentally encountered two novices carrying dishes toward the kitchen.
*Oh—Onyx!*
She suddenly remembered the small dragon waiting in her room.
She had eventually named the baby dragon Onyx, though she usually called him Onyx. Since dragons were rather voracious creatures, Juliet had spent a considerable portion of her savings feeding him during his growth.
She'd even been forced to sell some jewelry she'd been hoarding for emergencies.
Among those items had been a beautiful onyx brooch that once belonged to her mother, Countess Montagu.
Juliet possessed no talent whatsoever for choosing names. But she'd thought the name of the gemstone from which the brooch was crafted would suit him perfectly.
Thus, the black dragon became Onyx.
After greeting the novices politely, Juliet—citing the fact that she'd missed dinner—asked if they might spare some food. Showing unexpected generosity, they handed her two apples.
Red apples were Onyx's favorite treat. She was delighted by such fortunate timing.
Juliet tucked an apple into each pocket and was preparing to leave when someone called out from behind.
"Miss, what are you doing here?"
*Oh...*
Hearing the cold voice, apprehension prickled along Juliet's spine.
Forcing herself to remain calm, she turned as naturally as possible.
"Yes, Father?"
The priest's face was unfamiliar.
From his arrogantly jutting chin and confident bearing, she concluded he must hold high rank within the temple hierarchy.
Juliet's nerves tightened.
*Don't tell me he stopped me because of the apples... Or perhaps he saw me leaving the bathroom?*
"Could you stay a moment longer? I'd like to speak with you."
"Right now?"
"Yes. I won't take much of your time."
*What could this be about?*
The priest who'd addressed her strode forward without awaiting her response—as though expecting her to follow.
*Why can't we discuss this here instead of going somewhere else?*
Still, Juliet trailed after him.
The unknown priest walked briskly ahead, offering no explanation.
*Click.*
Her unease deepened when he unlocked a door and they began ascending a narrow staircase.
Moreover, given the late hour, no one else was around.
*Where is he taking me? Is this about Onyx? Please let it have nothing to do with him.*
She hadn't originally intended to bring the dragon to Lucerne. But he'd secretly followed her again, hiding inside her luggage.
She dreaded imagining what might transpire if temple priests discovered a dragon—a species believed extinct—residing within their sacred walls.
If the conversation concerned the bathroom, she could claim she'd stumbled upon it accidentally, unaware it was restricted. Regarding the apples, she could apologize and plead hunger.
But if they'd found Onyx in her room... matters would escalate considerably. Apologies alone wouldn't resolve that situation.
While Juliet wrestled with these anxious thoughts, debating her best course of action, the priest halted abruptly before a particular door.
*Creak.*
"Wait here a moment."
With those words, he opened the door and shoved Juliet roughly into the room—then slammed it shut from the outside.
"What? Father...?"
It happened then.
***Flash!***
Just as Juliet moved toward the door, the geometric summoning circle hidden beneath the floor's surface began glowing with brilliant, otherworldly light.