Difference

The King pinned Luxe at the wall, gripping her dress. The ball has ended and everyone bid a farewell before departing. The King was enraged, they knew very well that the King is hypersensitive when it comes to human contact, and for what cause Luxe did that? The King didn't seem to understand exactly why Luxe kissed him in front of the crowd.

Enraged, he asked angrily, "Why did you kiss me?"

Luxe met the King's intense gaze with a mixture of defiance and frustration. She had her reasons for her actions, and she wasn't going to back down easily.

"Because I can't stand seeing you dance with that commoner," she retorted, her voice filled with a hint of jealousy and possessiveness, "You were practically enamored by him, and I wanted to remind everyone that you are mine."

The King's grip on her dress tightened, his anger flaring, "That was unnecessary, Luxe," he growled, "I've told you countless times that I do not love you."

Luxe's eyes narrowed, and she pushed back against his chest, her tone defiant, "You love me or not, I won't allow anyone, commoner or not, to come between us, Kaiser." Her tone was comparable to a whisper, her eyes widening in jealousy and frustration she was feeling, "Even if you don't love me, I am still the Queen and I have the right to feel this, even if you want it or not."

The King's jaw clenched, his frustration mounting as he struggled to find the right words to respond to Luxe's impassioned declaration. He had never wanted this marriage, but the circumstances had forced his hand, and he had hoped to at least maintain a civil relationship with his Queen.

"Luxe," he began, his voice softer but no less firm, "We have a duty to the kingdom. Our marriage is a political alliance, and I need you to understand that. Love or possession won't change that fact."

Luxe's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she refused to break down in front of him. Instead, she nodded, a mix of resignation and determination in her gaze, "I understand," she said, her voice steadier, "But you must also understand that I won't be invisible in your life, Kaiser. I won't let you forget that I'm your Queen."

"I am never yours and you will never be mine." He replied.

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the distance between them. Luxe's shoulders slumped slightly as the weight of the truth settled in. She had hoped for more, for a connection beyond duty, but it seemed that Kaiser was resolute in his stance.

With a resigned sigh, she turned away from him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, "Very well, Kaiser," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "I will fulfill my duties as your Queen, even if it means living in a loveless marriage."

But the situation changed unexpectedly. As if Luxe was bargaining her life with the Tyrant, she pulled the King's clothes for him to forcefully lean, then she forcefully kissed the King.

The sudden, forceful kiss took Kaiser by surprise. Luxe's lips pressed against his with an intensity that bordered on desperation. For a moment, he was too stunned to react, his mind racing with confusion and anger. He tried to pull away, but her grip on his clothes was surprisingly strong.

As the seconds ticked by, the King felt a strange mixture of emotions. There was anger at Luxe's audacity, frustration at the situation they were in, and a lingering sense of guilt for not being able to give her what she desired. He could taste the salt of her tears on his lips, a bitter reminder of their loveless union.

Finally, he managed to break free from her grasp, pushing her gently but firmly away. He raised his hand to slap Luxe, which met her gaze. The King's hand hung in the air for a moment, frozen in its intended motion. The tension in the corridor was palpable, and Luxe's tear-filled eyes stared at him, her face red from the force of her emotions. She had expected anger, but she hadn't anticipated him actually striking her.

For a brief moment, they stood there, locked in a gaze that conveyed a complex mix of emotions—his anger, her defiance, and the painful truth of their loveless marriage. The slap seemed to hang in the air as a symbol of the growing distance between them.

Finally, The King's hand dropped to his side, and he turned away from her, his chest heaving with frustration, "Go," he said, his voice low and weary, "Just go, Luxe."

Without another word, Luxe turned and walked away, leaving Kaiser alone in the dimly lit corridor, his hand still tingling from the contact. The echoes of the slap lingered in the air, a harsh reminder of the cracks in their carefully constructed facade.

The King didn't actually hate or love the Queen, it is just that, he asked for a genuine love but not a forceful one, he never wanted to marry his own cousin after all. And he knew what kind of a man he was, he didn't deserve Luxe's love. He was violent, and a tyrant, a man like him doesn't deserve having a partner, especially his fragile Queen. He wanted Luxe to hate him, but Luxe is doing the opposite and he was instead hating Luxe.

The King paced the corridor, his mind filled with a tumultuous mix of emotions. He knew that he had been harsh with Luxe, but it was a necessary cruelty in his mind. He couldn't bear the thought of her clinging to him out of desperation, of living in a loveless marriage where she was constantly pining for affection he couldn't give.

In truth, Kaiser was a complicated man. He carried the weight of his responsibilities heavily, and his reign had required him to be ruthless and unyielding. He had accepted long ago that his actions would earn him enemies and make him unlovable, but Luxe's persistent affections only served to remind him of the love he had lost—a love that had been torn from him by the cruel hands of fate.

As he continued to walk, his thoughts turned to Elias, the commoner who had unknowingly stirred something within him. Someone like Elias… would be great.

Deep down, The King yearned for something he had never truly experienced—a genuine connection, a love that wasn't marred by the complexities of his position. But he knew that such a love was a luxury he could never afford.

That young man… There was something about the young commoner that had ignited a spark within him—a spark he had thought long extinguished. Elias represented a different world, one where he could shed the heavy mantle of his responsibilities and simply be himself.

Lost in his thoughts, he leaned against a cold stone wall, the weight of his crown and responsibilities pressing down on him. In the dimly lit corridor, he closed his eyes, seeking solace in the darkness.

The weight of his crown and the expectations of his position had always kept him at a distance from others. He had grown accustomed to the solitude, the isolation that came with being a ruler. But now, the memory of Elias's ocean-blue eyes and the fleeting moments they had shared haunted him.

The King yearned for a love that transcended social status, a love that saw him for the man he was beneath the title of Grand Duke and a King. He knew that such a love might never come to pass, but the desire for it burned within him like a forbidden flame.

Lost in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance, however slim, to find someone who could love him for who he truly was—a complicated man burdened by power and responsibilities, yet yearning for the simple warmth of genuine affection.

He sighed, and pulled the crimson colored rose tucked in his lapel. He removed his gloves and gently caressed it with his fingers. His lavender eyes are glistening through the moonlight which was reflected to the glass area of the corridor.

The crimson rose seemed to hold a silent secret, its petals soft and velvety under the King's touch. It had been a symbol of love and admiration, a message that had not gone unnoticed. The memory of the dance, of Elias's ocean eyes and the fleeting connection they had shared, lingered in the King's mind.

He murmured, "What could this might mean?" Then he stroked the petal to its side, "If it meant what I had in mind.. please don't.. Elias."

In the quiet of the corridor, bathed in the pale moonlight, The King whispered his deepest hopes and fears to the rose. It was a silent confession, a plea to a love that could never be. The complexities of his position and the expectations of the kingdom made such a love impossible, but that didn't stop his heart from yearning.

What if it was Elias's intention..?

He stood up with a rose in his hand.

The King walked through the dimly lit corridors of the palace, his thoughts weighed down by the complexities of his feelings. The burden of his responsibilities as the Grand Duke of Landroich pressed heavily on him, and he couldn't afford to let his heart lead him down a treacherous path.

He couldn't deny the pull he felt toward Elias, the commoner who had unwittingly stirred something within him. Yet, he understood the harsh realities of their circumstances. The significant age gap between them was a glaring obstacle that could not be ignored, especially in a society as traditional and judgmental as Landroich.

He couldn't afford to tarnish the reputation of the Dämonisch lineage with a scandalous affair. To do so would be to dishonor his ancestors and undermine his position as the ruler of the kingdom. 

The next day, the mysterious rose was put in a vase, and was placed in the King's study. 

Nery, the King's butler, couldn't believe his eyes when he entered the King's study that morning. There, on the desk, stood a single red rose in a crystal vase. He blinked several times, as if trying to dispel the illusion before him.

His heart raced as he considered the implications of such a daring act. Who would have the audacity to present the King with a red rose, a symbol of love? It was a gesture that could not be taken lightly, especially in the context of the royal court.

Nery approached the vase cautiously, his eyes fixed on the crimson petals.

The palace was abuzz with rumors about the recent events at the ball, and this mysterious rose only added fuel to the fire.

In the Marquis' Manor.

Matthew stood in front of the guest, his silver hair hanging carelessly and he pushed his half-framed glasses onto the tip of his nose bridge. He crossed his arms, "Your Highness, what could I do for you?"

His tone clearly lacked formality, but Luxe didn't mind. She sipped the tea that the servant served her and replied, "What happened to the task I gave you? What did the little commoner say?" 

Matthew sighed, "He'll never give up on loving the King."

Luxe leaned forward, her expression a mixture of frustration and determination. She couldn't allow Elias to continue meddling in her marriage, and she needed Matthew to find a solution.

"I don't care about his feelings," Luxe said, her voice cold and calculating, "I need you to make him understand that he should stay away from the King. If he continues to pursue him, it will only create problems for both of us."

Matthew nodded, his silver hair shifting slightly as he did so, "I understand your concerns, Your Highness. I did my best to pass the message to him as cruelly as possible. But he didn't seem to be swayed, The commoner seems quite smitten with the King."

Luxe's frustration grew, and she clenched her fist around the teacup. She couldn't believe the stubbornness of this commoner. Her possessiveness and jealousy were driving her to desperate measures.

"Then, we must escalate our efforts," Luxe said, her eyes narrowing with determination, "If he won't listen to warnings, we will have to take more drastic action. Find out everything you can about him—his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities. We need something that will make him reconsider pursuing the King."

Matthew raised an eyebrow, his silver hair framing his face as he considered her request, "Your Highness, I understand your concerns, but we must tread carefully. We cannot afford to be too aggressive and draw unwanted attention. The King's reputation is at stake."

Luxe's gaze was unwavering, "I don't care. I won't let anyone jeopardize what I have. Do what you must, Marquis, but make sure it's discreet and effective."

Matthew's brows narrowed, he's becoming irritated to this woman, she had the audacity to show up in the Manor in the morning and demand for him to do actions even if he doesn't work for her at all. Matthew intended no harm for the commoner and what happened to the ball will be the last.

He wouldn't risk a single drop of a copper coin for the King to hate him. Even if he wanted to kill Elias, even if he wanted to claim the King as his, without Elias, he wouldn't be seeing the King's smile.

"Your Highness," He spoke solemnly, "I'm afraid we have to cut the conversation here, I have matters to attend to at the Royal Palace and discuss something important to the King."

Luxe placed the teacup down with a sound, "Oh, you mean, flirting with the King?" followed by a laugh, her words are laced with mockery, "Just how thick is your face to be the King's concubine? Don't tell me that you've fallen for your best friend?"

Matthew's patience was wearing thin, and he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of Luxe's taunts. He had no desire to engage in petty arguments with the Queen, but her insinuations had struck a nerve.

"My relationship with the King is none of your concern, Your Highness," he replied curtly, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance, "I suggest we focus on the matter at hand—dealing with the commoner who seems to be causing you so much distress."

Luxe's laughter continued, a cruel glint in her eyes, "Oh, Marquis, don't pretend to be so noble and righteous. I've seen the way you look at the King. You're no different from that commoner. But remember, he will never be yours."

Matthew clenched his jaw, his patience running out completely. He straightened his posture, his silver hair framing his face, and his voice grew cold, "Let me get this straight, Your Highness. We are never on the same team. We may hate the same person, but my goal is different from yours."

Luxe's laughter came to an abrupt halt, "What do you mean Marquis, didn't we both despise the commoner, and we both love the same person."

"Yes, we do, but I love the King so much that I won't kill the commoner, likely from my selfishness." He fixed his glasses, "I won't go far just because I'm blinded by selfishness, and dirty my hands just because of that mere commoner."

Luxe's eyes widened in surprise at Matthew's words. She had assumed that he was as ruthless and determined as she was in removing Elias from the King's life. But his declaration that he wouldn't harm the commoner for the sake of his own selfish desires caught her off guard.

"You're saying you won't eliminate the commoner for the King's sake?" Luxe asked incredulously, her voice filled with confusion.

Matthew's gaze remained unwavering as he replied, "I won't harm him. The King cares for him, and I won't jeopardize my position by taking actions that would earn the King's anger."

Luxe frowned, her frustration mounting, "Then what do you propose we do about this situation, Marquis? If we don't remove the commoner, he will continue to be a thorn in my side."

Matthew smiled mockingly, "There is no 'we', Your Highness."

Luxe's frustration grew, and her eyes narrowed at Matthew's response. She had hoped that they could work together to eliminate Elias from the King's life, but it seemed that the Marquis had his own agenda.

"What do you mean, 'there is no 'we'?'" Luxe demanded, her tone sharp and confrontational.

Matthew remained composed, his half-framed glasses reflecting the light, "I mean that I won't be a pawn in your game, Your Highness. My loyalty lies with the King, not with your ambitions. If you wish to handle the commoner, do so on your own."

Luxe's face flushed with anger, and she rose from her seat abruptly, "You're a fool, Marquis. You have no idea what you're giving up by refusing my offer of assistance."

Matthew knew the risks of defying Luxe, but he was determined to protect his position in the King's life, even if it meant facing her wrath. He spoke for the last time, "Your Highness, if you have nothing more to discuss regarding your matter, I shall take my leave."

Matthew was passing by her in order to leave the Manor, so the Queen took the opportunity to mock him back, "You're nothing but a slut."

Matthew paused for a moment, his back to Luxe, before continuing towards the exit. He refused to let her provocations get to him, knowing that engaging in a verbal battle with her would only serve her purpose. With his usual calm demeanor, he replied without looking back, "Your Highness, you're entitled to your opinions. Good day."