Tession’s hope turned out to be completely in vain.

When he saw Irine’s face filled with pure anger, he finally understood the truth.

The shock wasn’t just from the slap on his cheek—it was Irine’s fierce glare and the danger in Edmund’s wolf-like eyes and sharp teeth that hit him hardest.

Tession whispered, stunned:

“You called him a savage beast?”

As Irine’s anger built silently, Tession realized just how badly he’d messed up—but it was already too late.

“Ir—Irine, it’s not like that—”

Silent in fury, Irine walked forward with slow, determined steps, then spoke in a cold, unwavering voice:

“You touched every woman, ended your engagement, and yet you still cling to me? You’re the real beast.”

Tession froze.

Irine’s eyes were empty of anything but ice as she spoke:

“Disappear from my sight right now, you filthy beast.”

Tession murmured, bitterly:

“Damn it…”

He never saw things going this way.

‘Should I have held her back?’
But he shook his head.

‘No. Even if I had, she still wouldn’t have made it into the Siliera Tournament.’

Only three days after their breakup, people found out that Irine suddenly joined the powerful Wolfgang family—it sparked rumors that she’d made a deal with Edmund after being banished by her own.

Then Edmund himself announced their engagement, and the word reached Tession.

He’d been bothered by how close Irine and Edmund were during the tournament, but knowing they were engaged twisted his insides.

He cursed silently:

“Of all people… Wolfgang…”

To Tession, Irine was a stepping-stone—nothing more. He never aimed to love her; marrying her would elevate him beyond his rank as a count. Becoming a Golden Named required tremendous power he lacked.

So when Irine was offered an engagement by the Bennomain Duke, he accepted. She looked captivated: silvery hair, amethyst eyes, polite and refined.

But she had acted purely and loyally—and he found her dull. When she broke the engagement, it stirred his interest… which faded once she lost her status. To him, she was expendable, and he ended it.

Yet he found himself haunted by her image: purple eyes like distant stars.

And then he heard she was happy with Edmund Wolfgang. It tore him apart—all because **Irine liked another man.

He believed he could lure her back, if she was unstable—so he agreed to the Duke’s request to bring her home.

But his plan failed: at the tournament, her two purple eyes did not seek him. She was walking forward with Edmund.

He didn’t understand… she was always supposed to only see him.

At dances, women fawned over Tession. Jewelry, glances, flirtation—luxury surrounded him. Yet their eyes never felt real.

Their desire was for his money, status, looks, body—anything but him.

All he wanted was Irine’s eyes again: those huge, water-like, amethyst-colored eyes that once looked at him.

So he fled the ballroom, yelling silently into the night:

“Irine…!”

He chased the echo of her name. Her face had sparkled like a star, then vanished like a dream.

He chased her hopes, shouting her name as if to stop her from disappearing forever.

He couldn’t believe Irine scolded Edmund with harsh words, or that she chose Edmund over him.

“Irine, why say those things?”

“Because you deserved it.”

Tession was stunned. Surely Edmund had poisoned her somehow?

“Please snap out of it. He’s bad for you.”

“Tession—”

But Irine cut him off:

“Do you know what color I like most?”

Her purple eyes shimmered, and Tession remembered: the engagement ring day. He’d asked if she liked red. She smiled with the red ring.

“Red.”

When Tession answered, Irine’s gaze turned cold:

“Wrong.”

It felt like a heavy stone hit his heart.

“But you said, back then—”

Irine calmly looked at Edmund and asked:

“Edmund, do you know my favorite color?”

Without hesitation:

“Lavender.”

Tession watched as Irine gently smiled—knowing completely that he had lost.

He whispered, choking:

“Why…?”

Irine spoke softly, steel in her voice:

“Do you know what you did? You never appreciated each thing I gave—my time, my effort, even who I am.”

She walked forward, every step wrapped in cold fury:

“I hate you. I want you to feel every hurt you gave me.”

Her words pierced him like needles:

“But your pain won’t change anything.”

“Let’s never see each other again.”

And she turned away. Tession watched in shock, knowing this was truly the last time.

One week later, peacefully in a tearoom with Reina, holding tea and chatting:

“Yes, I heard Bennomain’s fall.”

“Good. They needed it. Feels good!”

Reina joined his anger over Bennomain’s cheating.

“Even if we won the 21-and-under section, hearing that Piersen Bennomain might win at 31 or 41 would annoy me. His nasty behavior… ugh.”

“Yes—and she couldn’t even dream of winning.”

I stirred sugar into our tea, listening as Reina vented.

“Thanks, sis. I’d almost forgotten about my tea.”

We shared a peaceful moment. I felt thankful for Reina, like a dear little sister.

When Reina leaned toward me to ask about my weekend plans, the teacup slipped in her hands with a crash.

“Reina?”

I stared—she was badly wrong: her face had gone pale, blood was sliding from her nose and mouth. The teacup’s broken.

“Reina!!”

She pitched onto the table, white as a ghost, foam at her lips.

“Reina—”

She vomited scarlet blood onto my dress’s hem:

“Help… me…”

White-hot fear raced through me. I wanted this all to be a nightmare.

I caught a sharp, fishy smell—it came from the spilled teacup.

I held Reina in one arm and found the cup with my other hand.

It smelled like metal—and I knew that smell. It was poisoned with Bennomain blood.