Chapter : 0.42 Shadows Behind the Smile

The corridor stretched long and cold, lined with obsidian walls that caught the distant chandelier light in dull, moon-colored streaks.

Jin Rochey walked in silence, the soft thud of his bare feet on the polished floor echoing with a rhythm that sounded almost deliberate. His shirt still hung open, clinging slightly to his skin with the dampness of his training. The sword was no longer in his hand—he had left it leaning near the wall outside the sitting room—but its presence lingered in the way he moved, straight-backed, predatory, and poised.

He didn't look back.

But he knew she was following.

Rina's steps were slower, hesitant. She trailed behind him with a mix of reluctance and urgency, her fists clenched at her sides, her breathing still not entirely settled. She didn't know what she would say when she reached him—if she reached him—but her feet carried her forward anyway.

As they passed the arched entrance back toward the northern wing of the Rochey manor, Jin glanced sideways—not at her, but toward the sitting room where Amelia and Leona still sat.

His smirk hadn't faded.

It curved his lips like it had been born there, like it was part of his flesh rather than a passing mood. His crimson eyes, unreadable and calm, flicked toward the two women watching from the threshold.

He didn't nod. He didn't speak.

He simply looked. Just once.

A brief flash of recognition. Of control. Of power.

Then, without breaking stride, he turned into the darkness of the corridor ahead. His silhouette disappeared like smoke swallowed by the stone.

Rina stopped at the corner, her gaze locked on the space where he vanished. She didn't move for several seconds.

Then, slowly, she turned back.

---

Inside the sitting room, Amelia Amberhart had not moved an inch. Her posture was as poised as ever, her eyes still turned toward the place where Jin had cast that final glance. She hadn't missed it—none of it.

Leona, now seated properly again, looked at Rina the moment she re-entered.

Rina's eyes were downcast. Her hair had fallen slightly over her shoulders, and a faint trace of red still clung to her cheeks. She walked with a stiffness in her limbs, like something inside her had been wound too tight and was now refusing to relax.

Amelia didn't speak immediately.

She merely raised one brow and gestured toward the seat opposite her.

Rina sat.

There was silence.

Then—Amelia spoke, voice light as silk, yet laced with something unmistakably sharp.

"Well?" she said. "What did he say to you?"

Rina's eyes flinched upward, meeting her mother's gaze. "Why?"

"Because I asked," Amelia replied coolly. "And because I'm your mother. And because you followed a boy—your fiancé—down the hall like a moth to flame. So I'd like to know what that flame said to you."

Leona blinked. But she said nothing. She simply turned her head slightly, listening.

Rina looked at the floor. Her voice, when it came, was quiet. But it carried.

"…he said I was stronger than I think."

Amelia's eyes narrowed faintly. "Is that all?"

Rina shook her head.

"He said I don't have to like him," she continued, her voice tight. "That he knows I didn't choose this. But that I'm still expected to stand beside him. Publicly. No matter how I feel."

Leona frowned.

"And you followed him after *that*?" she asked gently, but incredulously.

Rina's jaw tightened. "I didn't plan to. My feet just… moved."

There was a long pause. Amelia leaned back in her chair, golden eyes gleaming with layered thoughts.

"He's not charming in the traditional sense," Amelia said at last, mostly to herself. "He doesn't flatter. Doesn't beg. Doesn't posture."

Rina swallowed.

"No," she whispered. "He doesn't."

"He doesn't apologize either," Leona muttered.

Amelia glanced sideways at her. "Of course he doesn't. That boy was raised by Naoko Rochey. Apologies are beneath him."

She sipped her tea again, then added with a faint smirk, "To apologize would be to stain his mother's pride. And from what I can tell… she's trained him well."

Leona sat in silence for a moment, then spoke again.

"There's something about him," she said. "He doesn't act like a seventeen-year-old. He carries himself like…"

"Like a prince from a darker age," Amelia finished for her. "One who already knows what the world owes him."

Rina didn't speak.

Her fingers clutched at her skirt as she stared at the floor.

"He didn't try to scare me," she murmured. "Not directly. Not like he wanted me to fear him. It was worse than that."

Leona's voice softened. "What do you mean?"

Rina's eyes rose, glassy with quiet conflict.

"It felt like he *understood* me," she whispered. "Like he saw everything… and decided none of it mattered. That I'd follow him anyway."

Neither Leona nor Amelia spoke for a long moment.

Then, with a sigh, Amelia stood.

"Well," she said coolly, brushing imaginary dust from her sleeve. "At least now you know what you're dealing with."

She turned her back and walked to the window, gazing out over the evening-lit gardens.

"You're not marrying a boy, Rina," she said, voice low. "You're marrying a Rochey."

"And the Rocheys," she added after a beat, "don't play games they can lose."