A Touch of Shadow: The Duke's Obsession

Inside the Imperial Prison, every corridor blazed with torchlight.

The two hired thugs were bound tightly to wooden pillars, trembling so violently their legs could barely support them. Their terrified eyes darted around the chamber toward the torture instruments hanging nearby, each one stained with dark reddish-brown traces that no amount of scrubbing had ever fully erased.

Rhaegar sat across from them, lazily twirling a blade in his right hand.

Slowly, methodically, he wiped it clean with a cloth.

Without saying a single word. He simply continued wiping the knife in silence.

Again.

And again.

The silence itself became unbearable torture.

At last, one of the thugs finally collapsed. "My lord! My lord, I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything!"

Only then did Rhaegar slowly lift his eyes.

The man burst into tears instantly.

"It was Lucas Ostenton! The Young Master who owns the Ostenton Embroidery House! He paid us five hundred taels of silver and ordered us to abduct Miss Emberlyn and deliver her outside the city—he said he wanted to flee with her forever..."

Rhaegar’s hand paused. "Flee together?"

"Yes!" The man cried desperately. "He said we were to bring her to the Ten-Mile Station outside the city gates. He prepared a carriage there himself. He said he wanted to take her south to Liuden and never return to the capital again..."

For one brief moment, the room fell utterly silent again.

Then, Rhaegar rose slowly to his feet. He slid the blade back into the sheath at his waist before turning toward the door.

Lance hurried after him, his brows drawing together with worry.

"My lord... where are we going?"

Rhaegar did not answer, but Lance had seen that look before.

The last time Rhaegar wore such an expression, an entire gambling house in the eastern district had burned to ashes overnight.

***

Back at Firefly Pavilion, Caelith was tending to Erian’s wounds.

Erian sat silently upon a wooden stool, his upper body bare and covered in injuries. Old scars overlapped with fresh wounds, creating a sight so brutal it made one’s chest tighten painfully.

Caelith’s hands remained steady as she cleaned the blood away, applied medicine carefully, and wrapped fresh bandages around his shoulder.

Yet her eyes had remained red the entire time.

Erian refused to look at her. He lowered his head and stared silently at the ground.

"Does it hurt?" Caelith suddenly asked.

Erian shook his head.

She looked at him once more. "Why did you fight so recklessly?"

The young man remained silent for a moment, then, he answered softly,

"Sir Osvald ordered me to protect you. I did what I could."

Fresh tears slid down Caelith’s cheeks once more. She drew in a trembling breath and continued wrapping the bandages.

Suddenly, the courtyard gate burst open violently. Lady Lian stumbled inside, her face pale as death.

"Miss Caelith! Hurry! Lord Thorne went to Ostenton Embroidery House!" Her voice shook with terror. "He brought his sword with him!"

Hearing that, Caelith shot to her feet without even realizing it.

"What? When?"

"Just now! He stormed inside—no one could stop him! He looked like he had gone berserk!"

Without another word, Caelith turned and ran toward the door.

Erian immediately rose as though to follow her, but the movement tore at his wound. A low groan escaped him as he stumbled down.

Caelith turned back and ordered sharply, "Don’t move! Stay put!"

Then, she ran out.

The rear courtyard of Ostenton Embroidery House had already descended into chaos.

Two guards lay sprawled upon the ground, groaning in agony, blood covering their bodies. The servants huddled trembling in corners, too terrified to move, not one of them daring to step forward.

Lucas stood outside his own chamber, staring at the man standing in the center of the courtyard.

Rhaegar Thorne––a beast in human disguise.

Murderous intent radiated from Rhaegar like a living thing as blood was still dripping from the blade in his hand.

Step by step, he walked forward, each footfall landing like a hammer against the hearts of everyone present.

Lucas’ expression finally changed into the realization of terror.

"Lord Thorne..."

Rhaegar said nothing, stopping directly before him. The tip of the blade lifted slowly until it rested right against Lucas’ throat.

"What else do you have to say?"

Lucas looked at him steadily, and strangely, there was no fear in his eyes.

Only something hollow and unreadable—something that almost resembled relief. Or perhaps... madness.

Then, suddenly, he laughed.

"Lord Thorne," he said softly, "you came too late. If she had ended up beside me, you would never have found her for the rest of your life."

Rhaegar’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Beside you?" His voice turned colder than ice. "Do you think you deserve her?"

The blade moved forward another inch. Skin split instantly beneath the sharpened edge. A thin line of blood slid slowly down Lucas’ neck, staining the collar of his robes crimson.

His face paled even more, yet he was still smiling.

"Then kill me." His voice grew quieter. "If I die, she’ll remember me for the rest of her life. And she will remember that it was you... who killed me."

Rhaegar’s hand paused.

Lucas was smiling, but what exactly was hidden beneath that smile? How long had he managed to fool everyone around him with that fake expression?

Suddenly, the courtyard gates burst open, and Caelith rushed in, barely breathing from running so fast.

The moment she saw the scene before her, her blood went cold.

Rhaegar stood with his back facing her, a bloodstained blade in his hand, the tip pressed against Lucas’ throat. Blood trickled steadily downward, soaking into the pale fabric at his collar.

Caelith parted her lips, but no words came out.

Rhaegar never turned around.

Yet the blade did not move any further forward.

Drawing in a long breath, Caelith started walking toward him. One step at a time. Until she finally stopped beside his imposing figure.

She looked at his hand and realized that it was trembling.

Slowly, she reached out and gently wrapped her fingers around his wrist, gasping at the gleaming of the sword.

"Rhaegar."

He did not move.

"Don’t kill him."

Rhaegar’s grip stiffened instantly. Then he finally turned his head and looked at her.

He was furious.

"He tried to take you away from me," he said calmly, but his voice was dripping with anger and pain.

"I know," Caelith breathed out, her entire body trembling.

"He nearly had you abducted."

"I know."

Caelith looked directly into his eyes and softened her voice. "But... he just made a mistake. He has loving relatives and a woman who loves him deeply. Please do not take his life away from them."

Rhaegar fell silent while Caelith tightened her hold on his trembling hand.

"Rhaegar..." Her voice became almost pleading. "Don’t let him die in front of me."

He could not tell why, but his arm began to move down, until the tip of his sword finally touched the ground. Fury was raging in his chest like a contained storm, yet his head took over, preventing him from unleashing its destructive power.

"Lord Ostenton," Caelith finally sighed in relief, her eyes moving toward the pale, trembling man. "Could I talk to you alone?"

Rhaegar flinched, but Caelith gently touched his arm again, shaking her head.

"Go to the reception room," he ordered, jerking his chin at the main entrance of the building. "Say what you have to say and come back to me."

Caelith nodded and looked at Lucas, silently inviting him to follow her. The man nodded, throwing one final frightened look at Rhaegar before turning around.

Rhaegar stood motionless in the courtyard with his back facing the door, silent as a blade buried beneath ice.

Caelith first looked at Lucas’ face, then at the wound upon his throat where blood still seeped slowly downward.

"Why did you do this?"

Lucas looked back at her, a sickening smile tugging at his lips.

This smile was different from all the others before it. Gone was the gentle refinement. Gone was the frightening madness.

What remained was only exhaustion and... readiness to die.

"Because I couldn’t accept it," he finally replied, his voice cold and steady.

Caelith was speechless.

Lucas then lowered his eyes, still smiling.

"You saved my father’s life. I never forgot that." His voice was calm now, almost strangely peaceful. "Later, when you came to the embroidery house, I saw you every day." He laughed softly under his breath. "I kept thinking... if enough time passed, eventually you would look at me too."

He slowly lifted his gaze toward her again. "But your eyes only ever held him. I simply... couldn’t let it go."

Caelith felt her throat tighten with a painful spasm.

"Lord Ostenton..." 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Don’t." He interrupted her gently. "You begged him not to kill me. I already owe you enough."

He rose to his feet and walked slowly toward the window. Outside, the night hung deep and silent. A pale moon rested upon the treetops, cold and distant.

"At first, I thought..." His voice softened. "If I could take you away. South of the capital. Somewhere no one knew either of us..." A faint smile touched his lips again. "Eventually, you would forget him. Eventually, you would learn to look at me. You would... get used to it."

He lowered his eyes briefly. "But when you rushed in just now..." He laughed quietly to himself. "I understood. This life... it was never possible. Nothing was possible if it wasn’t him."

Caelith did not know what to say. The more he talked, the more bizarre it all seemed.

Lucas turned back to look at her again. "If Lord Thorne will be gracious enough to spare me, I will leave forever. I will go now, as I am, taking absolutely nothing with me. I can’t bear to remain a dirty stain on my family’s honor. And... on your memory."

Caelith parted her lips as though wanting to say something, yet in the end, no words came.

Lucas looked at her expression and smiled faintly. For a brief moment, that smile became astonishingly clean and gentle—exactly like the young man she had first met long ago.

"Miss Caelith," he said softly, "I am truly sorry."

Then he pushed open the door and walked out. As he passed beside Rhaegar, he paused, waiting for his final verdict.

Rhaegar glared at him for a long, torturous time before finally jerking his chin at him, commanding the man to keep walking.

Moonlight spilled across his back, stretching his shadow long across the stone courtyard.

Caelith stood at the doorway watching that shadow grow farther and farther away... Until it finally disappeared completely into the night.