"You are not taking this seriously, Isaac. By now, I should be seeing preparations for the wedding on your end."
King Draven Deema stormed into the cage late into the night, his voice already sharp with irritation before the iron door had even finished sliding shut behind him.
His eyes swept through the room, searching for proof of obedience, but he found none.
The decorative pieces he had personally selected to "soften" the space for Isaac's future bride remained untouched in their boxes near the wall, layered in a thin veil of dust. Silk curtains still sat folded in packaging; expensive lamps remained dismantled. Even the vase of imported flowers had withered, unopened.
The room looked exactly as it always had.
Cold and dull.
"Preparations like what?" Isaac asked calmly from the bed.
The king's yelling had woken him up.
And somehow, that only made him more unbearable to look at.
His pale hair was messy from sleep, falling carelessly over his forehead in soft, disheveled waves; his shirt hung loose over his frame, exposing the sharp line of his collarbone and part of his chest. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, carried that lazy, detached beauty that looked so ethereal under the dim light.
Even sitting half-awake, he looked like something sculpted specifically to provoke envy.
And King Deema envied him deeply.
It was a truth the king had always tried to hide, one he would never confess aloud even under torture.
He hated Isaac's face.
Hated how effortlessly perfect he looked.
Hated how the son eclipsed the father without even trying.
He would have won over all the women in Surbrind if he weren't locked up.
The unfairness of it burned inside him like acid.
"Preparations like using the household decorations I sent," the king snapped. "To add life to this miserable room."
"Oh," Isaac said flatly. "You also think the room is miserable?"
The king's eye twitched.
"I've lived here all my life," Isaac continued. "I'm not interested in changing it for anyone."
He said it so calmly.
Like the king's anger was nothing more than background noise.
The king took a threatening step forward, his voice dropping into a chilling tone.
"Isaac, you know me better than anyone." His jaw tightened. "I can have you executed at any moment under the justification that you are a threat to humanity. I can erase you and replace you with someone else entirely. Your life exists because I allow it to."
Isaac nodded casually.
"Yeah yeah, I know what the gracious king can do," he replied, his voice holding a hint of mockery.
That struck the king hard, and his fists clenched violently at his sides.
But before he could explode, Isaac added quietly,
"I should also inform you that I will not marry someone I do not know."
The king's breathing deepened.
For a moment, rage nearly overtook his reasoning completely.
But even in his fury, he understood something very clearly:
Isaac was not someone he could simply crush through force. He would find his way and escape completely from his grasp.
"I'll bring her to you," the king said stiffly. "You can spend time together. Cohabit and learn about each other before the wedding."
Isaac lay back down without another word, pulling the thin blanket over himself.
Conversation over.
"Suit yourself."
The king stared at him for several long seconds, his expression twisting darker and darker.
Then he turned sharply and stormed out.
The iron door slammed shut behind him with a deafening clang that echoed through the corridor.
---
Silence returned.
For nearly a full minute, Isaac remained motionless beneath the blanket.
Then slowly, he sat up again.
All traces of sleep had vanished from his face.
He reached for the dark robe hanging over his study chair and slipped it on smoothly. Afterward, he crouched beside the bed and retrieved a small wooden box hidden beneath the frame.
Inside, wrapped carefully in folded cloth, was Sienna's pink handkerchief, and he slipped it carefully into his pocket like something precious.
He rose and walked toward the bathroom.
The space was so very ordinary. It housed just a sink, a mirror, and a narrow shower.
Isaac didn't stop at any of those.
Instead, he stopped before the eastern wall and pressed his palm flat against the metal surface.
There was a low mechanical tremor.
Then the wall split apart silently.
A hidden passage revealed itself beyond it.
Isaac stepped through without hesitation.
On the opposite side, armed guards immediately dropped to one knee in total reverence.
"Your Highness."
Isaac acknowledged them with a single nod before continuing forward.
He moved through the palace grounds with frightening familiarity.
Like someone who had memorized every weakness this palace possessed years ago.
The night wrapped around him quietly as he walked beneath moonlight and shadows alike, his expression calm enough to make it seem as though he were merely taking an evening stroll.
He didn't look suspicious, and he didn't stand out, so no guards stopped him.
Eventually, he entered the main palace through a hidden rear corridor and headed straight for the Queen's quarters.
---
Queen Meredith was preparing for bed.
She sat before a mirror framed in gold, brushing long strands of white hair that flowed over her silk night robe like silver snow.
Age had not softened her features; if anything, it had sharpened them.
Everything about her looked controlled, disciplined, and immaculate.
Except her eyes.
Her eyes had looked exhausted for years.
She had just dismissed her attendants when the chamber door opened unexpectedly.
Her hand stilled immediately.
Those footsteps were unfamiliar.
She turned sharply and paused.
A tall young man stood in the doorway, wrapped in black robes, half his face shielded in the shadows.
But the other half that she could see clearly was so beautiful in an unnatural way that he looked dangerous.
Something about him made her deeply uncomfortable.
A strange familiarity prickled beneath her skin.
"Who are you?" she demanded. "Who allowed you into my chambers?"
Isaac walked past her unhurriedly.
He crossed the room and sat on the sofa near the fireplace, one leg folding over the other as his dark fabric pooled around him like spilled ink.
"You don't even recognize your own son, Queen Meredith?"
The room went completely still.
For one long second, nothing moved.
Then recognition hit.
And horror followed immediately after.
Her face twisted violently.
"You."
Hatred flooded her expression so intensely it almost distorted her features.
"You monster." Her voice cracked with fury. "You devil-born creature. How dare you show your face here?"
She snatched her phone from the bedside table with trembling fingers, but Isaac didn't react.
He sat there with complete certainty that she would not make the call she intended to make.
Her thumb hovered over the screen.
But slowly her hand lowered again.
Because the truth was simple.
There was no one she could call.
No one cared enough about her anymore.
"Aren't you supposed to be locked away?" she hissed instead. "How are you here?"
"I came to clear an uncertainty," Isaac replied.
"That answers nothing."
"My real answer wouldn't benefit you."
And she went quiet.
"Whose child am I?" Isaac asked.
The queen went rigid immediately.
Every trace of color vanished from her face.
For several seconds, she could not speak at all.
"You should remain where you are kept," she finally said. "Stop asking questions that don't exist."
"I didn't expect you to continue hiding it," Isaac said, "after gaining absolutely nothing from doing so for over twenty years."
Something inside her snapped.
"You devil!" she screamed.
Years of bitterness exploded out of her all at once.
"He brought you into this palace smiling like he had discovered the greatest treasure in the world!" Tears filled her eyes instantly. "Did he care about me? About his wife who had nearly died trying to give him a child after years of infertility?"
Her breathing became uneven.
"I gave birth to a daughter that year." Her voice cracked violently. "A daughter."
She laughed bitterly through tears.
"And he never came to see her."
"Not once," she whispered. "Not once did he come to see us. But he brought you home immediately. Held you like you were something sacred."
Her hands trembled uncontrollably now.
"I tried." Her voice broke entirely. "I tried to tolerate you. I tried to be what he wanted. Your mother."
Tears spilled freely down her face.
"And then you killed her."
The words shattered through the room.
"She was just a baby, Isaac."
Her knees gave out beneath her.
"She knew nothing… she had done nothing…"
She collapsed to the floor, sobbing so violently it seemed to tear itself directly from her lungs.
"And you killed her."
Silence followed.
Isaac stared at her quietly; he didn't offer her any apology or defense.
Because he couldn't remember anything about that and his apology wouldn't change anything.
He finally understood something.
His guts had been right; she really wasn't his mother and had even suffered because of his existence.
But something still felt off about her explanation; he didn't pursue it though, because it didn't seem like she was in the right state of mind to say more if he asked.
Casually Isaac reached into his robe and retrieved his phone.
He typed a single message.
'Proceed with the DNA test between the king and me.'
Then he sent it to Craig.
Because now he was certain.
King Deema was most likely not his biological father either.
The signs had always existed, and he wanted proof to back up his suspicion.
He rose from the sofa without another word.
The queen remained collapsed on the floor, crying into trembling hands while Isaac walked toward the door calmly.
He already had the answers he came for.
And he knew she would never tell anyone about tonight because she hated the king too much to hand him the satisfaction of knowing that the "perfect treasure" he had caged so carefully had long since learned how to walk freely beyond his leash.