Since that night… everything changed.
Sleep was no longer restful.
Laughter no longer sincere.
Sera wasn't afraid for herself… but for them.
She feared that man might come back.
That prince she saw in his palace, with his terrifying smile and eyes that lacked anything human.
That's why, one quiet morning, she sat her companions down and said simply:
"I'm going away for a while."
Peter narrowed his eyes.
"To where?"
"I'm going back to my herb shop."
He frowned. "That place? You left it ages ago. It's in the middle of nowhere—no one buys from you anymore."
She responded with a soft, careful voice:
"I'm not going to sell. I just… want to work on a few things."
Marcus gave her a long look.
"Everything alright?"
She nodded with a weak smile.
"Everything's fine. I'll be back soon."
But the truth was…
She wasn't sure she would.
She was afraid that if she stayed, that creature in royal clothes might come for them next.
And if he was hunting her… she'd rather be alone.
The path to the shop was just as she remembered it—
narrow, shaded by twisting branches, overgrown with weeds.
She finally reached the old wooden door.
It creaked open. Dust danced in the beam of light.
It smelled of lavender, ginger, mint…
the scent of a place that once felt like home.
She lit a candle and sat at her table.
Her hands moved mechanically, sorting dried herbs,
trying to drown her thoughts in routine.
But then—
Creeeaaak.
The back door.
Slow.
Cold.
Deliberate.
Her hands froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
She looked up.
He stood at the doorway.
Prince Ilarious.
Leaning casually against the frame,
wearing his luxurious robe,
holding a fan of peacock feathers in one hand.
A quiet smile curved his lips—
but it wasn't warm.
It wasn't kind.
It was the kind of smile you give when you've already won.
He spoke, voice smooth and teasing:
"Are these the herbs you used to put my guards to sleep~?"
Sera's heart stopped.
Her eyes widened.
How did he find me? When? Has he been following me since that night?
After a long pause, she stammered;
"I… I don't know what you're talking about…"
His smile deepened.
He raised the fan, covering the lower half of his face—
but his eyes still smiled.
Still dangerous.
Still knowing.
"I heard one of you can change their face," he mused softly.
"Yet… that doesn't seem to be you.
If it were, you would've changed your appearance the night you broke into my palace, hmm~?"
He stepped forward.
The floor creaked under his slow, deliberate step.
"We know all about you.
How many of you there are…
Where your little hideout is…"
Sera's heart thundered.
Not for herself—
but for Peter. For Marcus. For all of them.
This is my fault… He followed me. He found them because of me…
His voice was velvet soaked in venom:
"Why not surrender?
The punishment would be… lighter."
She didn't reply.
Her hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles went white.
"I—"
"I have an excellent sense of smell," he interrupted smoothly.
"You left your scent behind."
He raised the fan a little higher, almost playfully,
but that smile still gleamed in his gaze.
Then came the blow:
"Do you know what's happening right now?"
She didn't answer.
"Your friends… are suffering."
Something shattered inside her.
A twitch in her eye.
A quiver in her lip.
She hadn't known.
But now—she was sure.
It was her fault.
Wasn't it?
If she hadn't shown her face.
If she'd finished the job.
If she hadn't run—
Then came the whisper.
Soft.
Meant only for her:
"Fear is beautiful…
Especially when it's not for yourself,
but for others."
He stepped closer to the table,
his voice like silk drawn across knives.
"How about I make you a deal?"
"Turn yourself in… and I might overlook the rest."
But she didn't speak.
For the first time…
She didn't know what to do.
(To be continued…)