"I have no idea what you mean." Ena didn't look at him, her attention fixed on the flowers she tended, her fingers gliding over delicate petals, steady and precise.
"You sure?" Ren's voice was lower now, a whisper against her ear.
She froze—just for a moment. "Ren…" she murmured, barely audible. "What are you doing?"
Ena exhaled, controlled but sharp, refusing to let the moment shake her.
"Someone is watching, Talia's maid. She might tell Talia," she said, her tone measured but firm.
Ren was silent for a beat, then mused, his words laced with something deliberate—something careless. "She could. But would Talia even care if I took you as my woman?"
Ena's grip tightened around the flower stem. Her pulse remained steady, but her mind was unsettled.
"This isn't you," she said at last, her voice quiet but unwavering. "The Ren I know has restraint. He doesn't test boundaries like this."
She turned slightly, measured and deliberate. The soft petals brushed against her fingertips, grounding her, reminding her of control.
Ren remained too close, his presence pressing into the space between them, but his expression was unreadable, as if weighing something unspoken.
"You think I've changed?" His voice carried amusement, but beneath it, something darker—something she couldn't quite name.
Ena met his gaze then, her own steady, unyielding.
"I think you're acting like someone else," she said, voice calm yet sharp. "And I don't know if that someone is you, or something else entirely."
The air between them thickened, heavy with the weight of words neither was ready to name.
And yet, for a moment, neither stepped away.
Unshaken Loyalty: Unyielding Power
"Who are you to tell me you know me?" Ren's voice was quiet but edged with something sharp. "You thought you knew Raiden—look how well that ended. He hurt you. He had no faith in you.
"If I were him, I would have had undying faith in you. You thought he understood you, but I knew you better than he ever did. I have more faith in you than he did. Like I said, I meant every word the last time we spoke.
"He was a fool. A fool, I almost pity you for leaving a woman like you. So unwavering. So loyal."
Ren's gaze held something dangerous—a certainty, a conviction that could not be shaken.
Ena's breath hitched. She turned away, trying to steady herself, but the words cut deep, reopening wounds she had long since tried to bury.
"Please stop," she whispered, voice barely holding. "I beg you—I don't want to think about it anymore. The more I do, the more my heart breaks."
Ren stilled. The sharpness in his posture faded as he studied her, his expression shifting. For a fleeting moment, he hesitated—then softened.
The Ren she knew. The one she respected. Her best friend.
Carefully, he wiped the tears from her face, his touch lighter than she expected. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I've been struggling with my restraint lately. I don't know what's getting over me." He exhaled slowly. "But—part of me still believes what I said. Raiden was a fool. I wish I had helped him understand—so he wouldn't have misunderstood you."
Ren pulled her into an embrace, one arm wrapping around her, his hand brushing lightly against her hair.
Ena stiffened at first, a fleeting instinct to pull away. To rebuild the walls cracking under the weight of everything she had refused to acknowledge.
But his grip was steady, firm, but not forcing her.
She hated this. Hated how easily he unravelled her defences.
Her walls were meant to protect her, keep her safe, and prevent her from breaking again.
But now—now they were crumbling.
Completely, irreversibly.
"Ren… I'm so alone," Ena whispered, her voice barely holding. "I miss Raiden so much. I would have been loyal for eternity."
Ren's expression softened, his conviction shifting to something quieter, something steadier.
"I know," he murmured. "Raiden knew that, too. He let his emotions get the better—he overthought everything."
He paused, studied her, and added gently, "I'm always here for you. We all are. Even Raiden… even your brother."
Ena closed her eyes, willing herself to breathe, to steady the ache pressing into her chest.
"You don't have to forgive them," Ren continued, his voice grounding her. "That's for you to decide."
"I won't," Ena said, voice steady despite the turmoil beneath the surface. "I made that decision a long time ago. I shouldn't be the one to apologise."
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Raiden has. But my brother—my older brother, the one who always protected me as a child—he made me lose faith in people."
Her grip tightened unconsciously. "After what he did… both of them, behind my back."
The others—she could ignore them. They meant nothing. Strangers, faceless and distant. She could cope with that.
But him? But her brother?
She had tried so hard to prove her loyalty, to show Raiden she loved him no matter what.
And then—she saw them.
Her brother. Raiden.
Together.
In the bed she shared with Raiden.
The memory resurfaced with vicious clarity, twisting like a blade inside her.
Disgust.
It flooded through her, raw and consuming, poisoning the air around her.
"I wish I could kill them," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "Erase their existence."
She forced herself to breathe, pushing back against the rage clawing at her chest, threatening to retake hold.
Her gaze flickered toward Ren.
He wore his mask, as always. Concealed. Detached.
Why?
What was it he couldn't do?
Maybe he had his reasons. Perhaps it was something more profound than she understood.
But she wished desperately that she could see his face.
She didn't know why.
She could see his eyes, though—those crimson-black eyes.
They were different. Not like before.
She thought about the way he used to look—the Ren she had once known.
His hair and eyes changed the moment he became what he was now.
Something irreversible.
Something beyond humanity.
She removed his mask, and his long white hair fell around his face—handsome, unchanged, yet unfamiliar.
She remembered when they were teenagers, when she had often seen his face unhidden, without the barrier of the mask.
It felt like a lifetime ago.
She tried to recall when he first started wearing it and when the concealment became a part of him.
But, honestly, she didn't care to remember.
Ren met her gaze normally, his expression unreadable. But in his mind, irritation flickered. He could feel it—the quiet frustration threading through his thoughts. The Emperor's Shadow had pushed too far, his relentless flirtations leaving their mark on Ena.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to keep the irritation buried.
Later, in the domain, he'd take it out on him, without holding back.
Ena thought about it—the teasing, the confidence in both versions of him.
For just a moment, she hesitated, then leaned in, trying to kiss him.
Ren flicked her forehead before she could.
He laughed, low and amused. "What happened to your wall? I like it when you act all bossy—it gives you even more charm."
That was coming from the Ren she knew.
Somehow, that made her feel good; both versions of him found her attractive.
She shook her head. She was being too easy.
"Leave," she said coldly, forcing herself to regain control.
Ren didn't hesitate. "Okay. See you some other time, Ena. I have to take Guinevere somewhere—to see Stella and talk about something."
Ena watched him leave and sighed, then scowled.
All that flirting, the teasing, the proximity—if he was going to push her like that, he should at least
She sighed again.
"Forget it," she muttered.
She was making it too easy for him to do this to her again.
But then, her thoughts betrayed her.
She recalled the moment: Ren leaned in near her ear, his grip tightening around her waist, his hand dangerously close to something more.
Her breath faltered.
She almost blushed but forced herself back into focus, turning toward her plants, willing herself to forget.
Or at least—to pretend.