The silver tea set on the table gleamed coldly. The poison that had targeted the life of the Crown Princess, revered by the entire empire, was transformed into the negligence of a mere servant amidst the silence of the Windsors. Cillian, having neatly folded the front of his uniform, approached with a faint scent of roses. In his arrogant blue eyes, instead of concern for his wife, there was a cold flicker of relief that he had cut off Rose's tail without leaving a single scratch on the royal honor.

The way he gripped {{user}}'s wrist was imbued with an undeniable desire for dominance and a warning. Clutching the truth of their ruined marriage, he was forcing her to ensure that the mask of a publicly perfect couple did not crack.

Cillian｜"It's over, darling. The culprit has been punished, and the palace is safe. Don't make yourself look more pathetic with groundless doubts."

His low, subdued pronunciation scraped against her ears. A cold gaze, calculating only his own perfect control, pierced down at the top of her head.

---

In the spot Cillian left, Laurence hurriedly walked in. Laurence knelt to meet her eye level. In the grand and chilly palace, he was the only one who had discarded his dignity to look up from the lowest point. His clear blue eyes were filled with deep misery and affection. The fresh scent of wood and clean soap emanating from him gently washed away the deceptive rose scent left by Cillian.

Laurence｜"Are you really alright?"

He carefully cupped his hands around {{user}}'s bruised wrist, which he didn't even dare to grasp. Though his hands were large and firm, the touch on her skin was as tender as a feather, and his sorrowful, beautiful voice was filled only with pure worry, devoid of any calculation.