Finally, Margot opened the greenhouse door for her.
"Allow me to brush off your gown, Your Highness."
"Thank you, Countess."
This place was familiar to Asella. She had spent time here several occasions with Mariel, wandering among the exotic blooms and breathing in the heady perfume of rare flowers. But tonight, unease coiled tight in her chest. Nevertheless, she left Margot at the entrance and continued on alone.
Her steps were quiet, her gait graceful as flowing water. In the mysterious silence of the greenhouse, only the soft rustle of her skirts broke the stillness.
Suddenly, Asella stopped.
Two figures stood in the shadow of the tall palms ahead.
"I believe this arrangement will be best."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Even now, the Archduke was apparently still working—a heavy folder of documents clutched in his hands. Asella didn't wish to disturb the men, so she simply stood in place, silent and still.
Raizen noticed her first. The Count greeted her with a polite bow.
"Your Highness, you've arrived."
Only then did Calix look up from his papers.
His eyes widened.
"...Asella?"
The man's face went rigid, as though something had struck him speechless. His ruby-red gaze fixed upon her with an intensity that seemed to obliterate everything else in existence.
Asella felt heat rise to her cheeks. She lowered her head shyly.
*What's wrong with me?*
Uncertain what to do with her eyes—or her hands, which trembled with nervous energy—she stared unconsciously at the fabric of her gown. It was precious satin of the highest quality, the color of pale moonlight. Asella felt distinctly awkward wearing it; the dress, in her opinion, was far too revealing, shamelessly exposing her fragile shoulders and the delicate architecture of her collarbones.
But Margot had refused to listen to her protests, declaring it the latest fashion trend sweeping the capital.
*Lady Roman assured me everything would be fine.*
Asella clung to this thought, trying not to look at the man's frozen face—whose unwavering gaze seemed to burn straight through her.
"She came after all..."
Asella bit her lip nervously when she heard his voice directly above her head.
Fear crept through her veins.
*Right now. He's probably angry.*
*"What kind of vulgarity is this! Go and put on something decent. Immediately!"*
Philippe's furious shout echoed suddenly through her memory—a ghost from another life.
"Asella."
But there was no anger in the voice that spoke her name now. On the contrary, it sounded... *gentle*.
She opened her eyes carefully and blinked in confusion when she saw his large hand extended before her.
"Allow me to accompany you."
Only then did she finally dare to raise her head and meet Calix's gaze. The man smiled at her—actually *smiled*—and inclined his chin toward his open palm.
"Please, my lady. Join me."
For a long moment, Asella hesitated to accept his hand. The man simply waited in silence, patient as stone, allowing her to overcome her uncertainty at her own pace.
Finally, she gathered her courage and carefully placed her fingers against his palm.
---
They strolled slowly among the exotic plants—towering palms, flowering vines that cascaded from trellises, orchids in colors she had no names for. But Asella was not simply admiring the beauty surrounding her. Her entire being remained on high alert, sensing some intangible danger lurking just beyond perception.
At first, the prince had simply held her hand—a light, proper touch.
But at some point, naturally, almost imperceptibly, he had intertwined their fingers.
Caught off guard, Asella nearly gasped aloud. Fortunately, she regained her composure quickly enough that she didn't betray her confusion.
*This is how Mariel and I used to walk through gardens*, she realized. *Hand in hand. Without even noticing.*
But now... this touch felt different. *Meaningful*. Asella became suddenly aware of a strange tingling sensation spreading through her fingertips. It was both painful and gentle at once—like pressing on a bruise that somehow didn't hurt.
"Is this your first time here at night?"
Calix was the first to break the silence.
Asella, lost in her strange sensations, didn't immediately register his question. She shuddered and froze in place. Then, finally processing his words, she replied quietly:
"Yes. This is the first time."
"And? Do you like it?"
Asella found the question peculiar. *Why ask such a thing of someone whose feelings hold no particular importance?*
"I heard you often came here with your sister."
"Yes." She glanced around at the luminous foliage. "It's very beautiful here."
And truly, at this midnight hour, the greenhouse was nothing short of magical. The air hung heavy with the intoxicating fragrance of night-blooming flowers. Rare buds had unfurled their petals in the darkness, revealing colors that seemed impossible in daylight. Drops of dew glistened in the soft blue glow of magical lanterns that floated weightlessly above their heads, drifting like captive stars.
"It's simply incredible here at night."
She had no idea, of course, that mere minutes before her arrival, an army of servants had crawled through this space—spending hours cleaning, tidying, and arranging every bloom and leaf to create the enchanted scene through which they now strolled.
Asella gazed around her, momentarily mesmerized by the otherworldly beauty. Then, as if waking from a dream, she suddenly remembered her companion. She turned her head—and immediately met his eyes.
Calix was staring with equal fascination.
But only at *her*.
The girl pressed her lips together in embarrassment and quickly looked away.
For some reason, she couldn't hold his gaze. But this was an unfamiliar sensation—not fear, not anxiety. Something else entirely.
"Let's sit over there." The man gestured toward a gazebo that stood nearby, draped in flowering vines and illuminated by soft golden light.
Inside, he seated Asella on a small, cushioned settee and took the armchair across from her. They sat in silence, facing each other across a delicate table laden with tea things that neither of them touched.
The quiet stretched on.
Finally, the awkwardness became unbearable. Asella, still not daring to raise her head, carefully examined her own fingers as though they were objects of great fascination.
After a long moment, she gathered her courage and whispered:
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"For sending Lady Roman."
"Ah." Calix nodded with understanding. "That."
He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice carried an unexpected note of apology.
"I must confess my oversight. I should have immediately granted you all the rights due to the mistress of the Benvito household."
Silence descended again, stretching for several minutes. Throughout, Asella's mind churned through various possibilities, trying desperately to understand her husband's motives. But no matter how she turned the puzzle, she couldn't find an answer that made sense.
Finally, she could bear it no longer.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?" Calix's expression was carefully neutral, as though he didn't understand her question. Then he added, "At first, I thought you needed time to adjust to your new surroundings. I was simply waiting for the right moment."
"Is *now* the right moment?" Her voice dropped. "Aren't you angry?"
"Why would you think so?"
She wanted to pour out all her suspicions—every doubt, every fear that gnawed at her. But she was terrified of provoking his wrath again, and so she limited herself to the most obvious fact:
"Because I tried to escape."
"Well, that's understandable."
"...?"
"You don't like me."
Asella flinched as the memory of her own words—screamed in desperation when she had nearly lost her mind—came flooding back.
Cold water seemed to cascade over her.
*I must have been truly mad back then. How could I have so recklessly revealed a secret that should never be spoken aloud? How could I have been so careless?*
"To be honest," Calix continued quietly, "I'm still not entirely certain."
"Not certain? Of what?"
"Whether I can trust you." His crimson eyes held hers steadily. "And whether it was right to let you out of that room."
Asella's gaze flickered with barely concealed alarm as she realized what he meant.
"You're not going to lock me up again... are you?" The question emerged from bloodless lips.
In response, Calix fixed her with those blood-red eyes, and Asella felt herself go utterly still—bound by that dangerous gaze as though it were a bottomless abyss from which there was no escape.
"No." His voice was quiet but inexorably firm. "As long as you keep your promise."
She knew, in that moment, that she should stop. *You mustn't ask him anything more, Asella.* And yet, before she could even consider the consequences, the question had already escaped her mouth:
"What if... I still break it?"
Calix's face hardened instantly. The corners of his lips curled upward—not quite a smile, something far more dangerous.
"If you run away again and get caught..."
Asella realized, with sickening clarity, that she had asked a question she should never, *ever* have asked.
"You will never leave that room again."
The thick, visceral emotion that saturated his words was utterly sincere—not a single drop of pretense. This was not a threat calculated to frighten her. It was a *promise*.
An icy wave of indescribable horror crashed over her.
"But why did you ask that?" In an instant, Calix's eyes flashed like those of a predator that had spotted movement in the underbrush.
"You swore to me, didn't you? Unless you intended to deceive me." His crimson gaze had grown cold now, searching her face for the hidden purpose behind her question. "Are you thinking of running away again?"
"That's not true." Asella shook her head frantically. "I'm not going to run away, and I'm not going to harm myself again. The reason I asked Your Highness this question..."
"...?"
"I just... suddenly became curious. There is no other reason."
She met his eyes with the most honest expression she could summon—willing him to believe her.
"Let's say I believe you." Calix, who had been watching her with intense concern, finally relented. His eyes closed for just a moment.
But his words didn't sound particularly convincing. More like: *We'll see.*
Asella's nervousness intensified. She asked hesitantly:
"Will you keep your promise to help Mariel?"
"The process is already complete. She has been officially recognized as heir to the Loctrin title and fortune." He studied her face. "Haven't you seen the newspaper article? It was published by the imperial family's official press, incidentally."
But Asella only bit her lips with renewed anxiety.
"Anything else?"
"This..."
"It's all right. Just tell me."
She hesitated for a moment, then spoke slowly, choosing each word with care:
"Will you keep your promise to *spare* Mariel?"
Calix clicked his tongue—a sound of weary frustration.
"Again? What must I do to make you believe I have no intention of harming your sister?"
But Asella had no answer. Her mother's warning could not be false. Adele Charts had been one of those rare souls who could glimpse the future.
*These are her words. The words of a dying mother, fully aware that her two little daughters would be left alone to face a harsh and merciless world. A final, desperate attempt to protect them with a warning.*
*Be careful with Calix Benvito.*
*How could anyone doubt it?*
"Asella."
She flinched and looked at the man again.
His face was more serious than she had ever seen it.
"You are my wife. Grand Duchess Asella Benvito." His voice was low, absolute. "And I will never have another. *Never*."
Asella blinked, unable to process his words. Even though she held the title of Grand Duchess, her position felt like a sandcastle perched at the water's edge—destined to crumble the moment the tide turned. The instant the Archduke desired it, a single gentle wave would sweep her away, as though she had never existed at all.
*It's a lie... A beautiful lie... An obsession.*
"You don't believe me?"
"..."
"I don't know how to make you feel safe here."
She couldn't look him in the eye anymore.
In that moment, she understood with terrible clarity: she would never feel safe unless she could run and hide—somewhere far away, somewhere this man would never find her.
---