Six

When Lucien arrived at the house with David, he paused and looked up at the large building in front of him.

His eyes widened slightly.

The structure was grand, though different from the palace he once knew. It had its own style, its own quiet charm.

With David’s help, he stepped out of the car and steadied himself.

He glanced back at the vehicle with interest. That strange metal box had brought them here quickly, and he had not even been touched by the rain.

The rain had stopped, but the scent of wet earth lingered in the air. He took a slow breath, letting the fresh smell fill his lungs.

Then he followed David inside.

The moment he stepped into the house, his gaze moved everywhere at once.

Everything was unfamiliar.

Everything was new.

Though it was smaller than a palace, the house was filled with things he had never seen before.

In the living room, he stopped again, staring openly.

David patiently began explaining everything to him.

There was something called a television, where people moved inside a screen, visible yet untouchable.

Lucien found it astonishing.

In the kitchen, there was a refrigerator that kept food fresh, and a device called an air conditioner that produced cool air.

Each new thing left him surprised.

He listened carefully as David explained, trying to understand this strange world.

The servants gathered nearby, watching him in silence.

They stared as he moved from one thing to another, asking questions, observing everything with open curiosity.

He looked nothing like the man they knew.

He seemed more like a child discovering the world for the first time.

After some time, Lucien finally went to his room.

Lyra was still at the office, and even if she were home, there was nothing he wished to say to her.

The moment he entered the room, he lay down on the bed.

Exhaustion quickly took over.

His mind had been working nonstop, trying to process everything he had learned.

Before he realized it, he had fallen asleep.

…

By evening, Lyra returned home.

The head butler greeted her and took her coat.

“He came?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” the butler replied. “Master returned in the afternoon. He is currently asleep in his room.”

Lyra frowned slightly.

“Still sleeping?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

She hesitated for a moment, then went upstairs.

She told herself it was only to check on him so her grandfather would not worry.

Nothing more.

When she reached his room, she knocked.

There was no response.

She pushed the door open slightly and stepped inside.

Lucien was lying on the bed, fast asleep.

The blanket had fallen to the floor, and his body was curled up, as if trying to protect itself.

He looked small.

Fragile.

Like a child.

Lyra’s expression softened without her realizing it.

She walked closer and picked up the blanket, gently covering him.

As she did, he began to mumble softly in his sleep.

There were faint tears at the corners of his eyes.

She frowned.

At first, she thought he was pretending.

But the tears were real.

Something about it felt strange to her.

Without thinking, she reached out and touched his forehead, smoothing the faint lines there.

His skin was warm and smooth.

It was the first time she had looked at him this closely.

His eyes were closed, his lashes resting lightly against his skin, making his features appear softer.

She studied his face for a moment.

He looked calmer like this.

More bearable.

Her fingers slowly moved from his forehead to the bridge of his nose, then down to his lips.

She paused.

His lips were soft under her touch.

A strange feeling stirred within her.

For a brief moment, a thought crossed her mind.

She stared at him, lost in it.

Then suddenly, his eyes opened.

He caught her wrist.

She froze.

Caught off guard, she quickly pulled her hand back and turned away.

“Why are you still sleeping?” she said sharply. “It’s already evening. Everyone is waiting for you downstairs. Do you think you are some prince, making everyone wait for you? So lazy.”

Lucien blinked, still half awake.

Her words did not fully register.

Prince?

He almost corrected her.

If anything, he had once been a king consort.

But before he could say anything, she had already turned and walked out.

The door shut behind her with a loud sound.

As she walked downstairs, she muttered to herself.

“This is ridiculous. I must be losing my mind. Why would I think he looks… like that?”

She paused briefly.

“But what did his lips even do? He may be impossible, but that has nothing to do with…”

She stopped herself, shook her head, and exhaled.

“I really need to see a psychiatrist.”

…

Back in the room, Lucien stared at the closed door.

A moment ago, he had felt something in his sleep.

A light touch.

On his face.

On his lips.

He touched his cheek slowly.

It felt warm.

He frowned slightly, then shook his head.

“I should stay focused,” he murmured to himself. “I am Lucien Morningstar, not Lucien Crossel.”

His expression steadied.

“I was the king consort.”

He exhaled softly.

“Besides, she does not even want to stay in this marriage. Why would she touch me? It must be a misunderstanding.”

With that, he got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom to freshen up.