All Chapters of His Contractual Luna: Bought by the Beast: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

The grand doors of the High Assembly Palace swung open with a muffled, heavy thud, parting like a velvet curtain to reveal the staggering opulence of the Winter Gala. Above, colossal chandeliers wrought from silver-alloy and glowing Aether-crystals cast a brilliant, diamond light across polished marble floorboards. Below, the room was a glittering sea of dark suits, silk gowns, and shimmering jewelry. The elite of the High Spires were out in full force—corrupt syndicate bosses, ancient house elders, and predatory socialites, sipping champagne while quietly negotiating the rise and fall of whole sectors over the rim of their crystal flutes. Then, the herald’s voice echoed down the sweeping marble staircase: "Announcing Champion Rhys Stormfang... and Miss Agnes Vance." A sudden, sharp hush rippled outward from the grand entryway, cascading across the three-tier ballroom like a falling wave. At the head of the stairs, Agnes took a quiet, measured breath. The emerald silk gown clung t

The double glass doors swung closed, muffling the polished marble echoes and artificial laughter of the grand ballroom into a dull, distant hum. Outside, night had fallen hard over the High Spires. Fresh, powder-white snow drifted down from a dark indigo sky, dusting the dark stone balustrade of the palace's private overhang. The air was razor-sharp, freezing cold against Agnes’s bare shoulders, but the moment she stepped onto the snow-draped terrace, the sheer, radiating heat of the Alpha standing beside her kept the frost completely at bay. Rhys released his grip on her waist, though he didn't step far. He stood at the edge of the stone railing, his broad back framed against the glowing, distant skyline of the upper city. His jet-black suit jacket was unbuttoned now, his tie loosened just enough to reveal the thick pulse beating at the base of his throat. Agnes walked over to the edge, resting her hands against the cool stone. The contrast between the freezing air and her burning

The medical bay in the lowest level of the Starfall Citadel was stripped of high-society pretension. Here, there were no silk gowns, fine wines, or polished marble—only the sharp scent of antiseptic, bio-salve, and cold steel. Rhys sat on the edge of a heavy titanium examination table, shirtless, his head bowed as he rested his forearms on his knees. Now that the adrenaline of the underground pit and the cold performance at the Winter Gala had burned out, the terrifying physical cost of his fighting style was laid bare. Agnes stood behind him, a high-frequency diagnostic scanner in her left hand, her dark hair tied back in a messy knot. Her amber eyes tracked the deep, purplish bruising spreading across his massive ribs, tracing the inflamed, raised tissue over his spine where the residual neural poison had spiked mid-bout. She pressed the warm optical lens of the scanner against his lower shoulder blade. A red warning chime hummed softly from her slate: > BIOMETRIC READOUT: RHYS

The mineral-charged waters of the thermal spring lapped gently against the dark obsidian walls, sending tiny ripples of turquoise light across the rising veil of steam.Agnes rested on the broad submerged stone ledge, the warm water reaching her waist. In her hand, she held a small ceramic bowl of high-grade thermal healing salve, its herbal, silver-leaf scent mingling with the rich, mineral atmosphere of the cavern.Rhys sat just below her on a deeper step, his broad back turned toward her, submerged to his chest.In the dim, ambient crystal light, the severe physical reality of his life as an Apex Champion was laid bare across his skin. Broad, jagged lines of scar tissue crossed his powerful shoulders and spine—trophies of bone-crushing cage battles, black-market syndicate ambushes, and years of fighting without a proper Relic Keeper to protect his core."This is going to sting," Agnes warned softly, dipping her fingers into the cool, thick salve."Do your worst, Little Wolf," Rhys

The private medical wing of the Starfall Citadel felt less like a clinical hospital and more like a quiet sunroom in an elevated estate. Warm morning light streamed through reinforced glass, illuminating polished wooden floors and fresh white lilies resting on the bedside table.Agnes pushed open the door softly, her heart hammering against her ribs with an anxious, fluttering rhythm.Reclining against a mountain of plush white pillows was Maeve. Though her nineteen-year-old face was still pale and thin, the terrifying grayish tint that had haunted her skin during her coma was gone, replaced by a faint, healthy rose flush. A sleek, silent monitoring band rested gently around her wrist, pulsing with a steady, reassuring green light.When Maeve turned her head and her pale amber eyes locked onto Agnes, a weak but radiant smile broke across her face."You look ridiculous in that sweater, Aggie," Maeve croaked softly, her voice raspy from disuse, though her trademark dry humor was intact.