Chapter 106 · Oath Mark
Morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Rosehill Villa, laying long bands of gold across the dark carpeted hallway.
As always, Bernard carried a breakfast tray during his second-floor rounds, preparing to deliver the customary morning tea.
When he reached the master bedroom door, his steps paused—just slightly.
A thin fracture ran through the wood grain above the doorframe.
Fresh chips of plaster marked the corner of the wall, as though the room had endured a sudden, concentrated impact during the night.
Bernard’s brow drew together almost imperceptibly.
He straightened at once, returning to his usual low, composed tone, and knocked twice.
“Commander Caelestis. Miss Lin.”
“Are you both well? Do you require medical staff or a repair crew?”
Silence followed.
Just as he lifted his hand to knock again, a hoarse voice answered from within:
“…We’re fine.”
The words were accompanied by the faint rustle of fabric—and a cough, restrained with deliberate care.
Bernard lowered his gaze, as though he had heard nothing beyond the words themselves, and inclined his head.
“Understood. Breakfast will be prepared in the sitting room.”
As he turned to leave, he spoke quietly to the maid behind him:
“Once they come downstairs, summon the craftsmen. Reinforce the doorframe and the wall corner.”
A pause.
“Be gentle,” he added. “Do not disturb them.”
Morning light followed his retreating figure down the hall.
Within that soft gold glow, whatever concern flickered in the old butler’s eyes was already sealed beneath perfect decorum.
?
Elena woke wrapped in warmth.
It was the kind of heaviness that lingered after sinking too deep into water—limbs slow to respond, sensation returning only by degrees. She tried to turn instinctively, then found she lacked the strength for even that, managing nothing more than a quiet breath.
Her body felt numb.
Not pain—
but the profound fatigue of being completely spent, where even breathing seemed half a beat behind intention.
She blinked, vision clearing little by little. Morning light filled the room, pale and tranquil, the world holding its breath.
“Awake?”
The voice came from behind her—low, hoarse.
Only then did she realize she was cradled in his arms. The hold was light, careful—yet unbroken, as though he had not loosened it even once through the night.
Elena moved her fingers slightly, grounding herself in the sensation of being awake, before answering softly:
“…Mm.”
YiChen’s breath caught—for just an instant.
She felt his arms tighten almost imperceptibly, then ease again at once, as though he were checking her comfort, measuring himself, ensuring he had not crossed a line.
That restraint sent a quiet ache blooming in her chest.
“Are you feeling unwell anywhere?” he asked, his voice still carrying tension he hadn’t fully released.
She thought for a moment. Shook her head. Then nodded. And finally smiled despite herself.
“Just… a little tired.”
He fell silent.
His forehead came to rest lightly against the crown of her head. His breathing slowed—slow, deliberate—as if he were replaying the night in fragments, confirming what had happened, and what he had almost lost control of.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Elena lifted her hand and laid it over the back of his, the gesture gentle but steady, warm with intention.
“You didn’t hurt me, YiChen,” she said, her voice still softened by sleep.
“I wanted this.”
Outside the window, the light continued to brighten.
A new day unfolded without ceremony.
Elena closed her eyes again in his arms, allowing the last of the fatigue—and the lingering warmth—to settle, little by little.
——————
Meanwhile, on the other side of the city—
The West District.
An enclave of wealth.
Morning light was flawless.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Derek Vayne stood before Uncle Carter’s residence, lifting a hand to adjust the platinum cufflinks at his sleeves. The dark gray suit fit him impeccably, every line pressed into obedience.
Nine o’clock sharp.
The doorbell rang.
The one who answered was Diane—the housemaid who had served the family for over twenty years. Surprise crossed her face.
“Master Vayne? What brings you—”
“My father asked me to retrieve some documents,” Derek replied with a gentle smile.
His amber eyes were clear beneath the sunlight, calm to the point of disarming.
“Is Uncle Carter at home?”
He looked perfect.
The tailored suit.
The red hair combed neatly into place.
Even the faint trace of cedarwood cologne—the scent his sister had loved most.
At the funeral, Carter had stood on this very porch, arm around that woman, laughing as if nothing had been lost.
“He’s in the study,” Diane stepped aside to let him in. Then, hesitating, she lowered her voice.
“Master… my condolences.”
The curve of Derek’s lips did not change.
“Thank you.”
He paused, then added mildly, almost as an afterthought,
“You may take the afternoon off today. My uncle and I have some private matters to discuss.”
Diane nodded at once.
“Of course, Master. I’ll leave right away. Take your time.”
She turned and went to gather her things.
Derek watched her go, satisfied.
She was sensible.
People who understood when to leave tended to live longer.
His leather shoes echoed softly against the marble as he stepped inside. Unhurried, he reached into his inner pocket and slipped on a pair of leather gloves—
The same style Scarlett had given him for Christmas last year.
From upstairs came a woman’s coquettish laughter, tangled with Carter’s greasy, indulgent voice.
Derek stopped at the bend of the staircase.
From a nearby vase, he drew out a freshly cut white rose.
How fitting.
The same color as the wreaths at the funeral.
He lowered his head slightly and breathed in its scent—
Then let his fingers drift, slow and deliberate, over the sharp thorns.
————
Morning light filtered through the sheer curtains, scattering fine flecks of brightness across the bedroom floor at No. 112 Azure Radiance Street.
YiChen drew Elena a little closer into his arms, resting his chin against the crown of her head, breathing in the faint, familiar scent lingering in her hair with open greed.
If he could, he would have stayed like this—wrapped around her beneath the covers—for the entire day, never letting go.
Reality, as always, refused to be so accommodating.
By the time they finally left the bedroom, the antique wall clock had already slipped past ten. YiChen canceled his City Hall itinerary without hesitation, pushing it back to an eleven-o’clock video conference. Nothing felt more important than remaining with her just a little longer.
That entire morning, his gaze kept drifting back to Elena—again and again—without conscious intent.
In the dining room, he watched the way she cut neatly into her fried eggs, the soft clink of cutlery against porcelain forming a gentle, almost soothing rhythm.
Looks like last night really took more out of her than I thought…
She had an endearing habit when she drank water—holding it in her mouth for a brief moment before swallowing, her throat moving lightly, as if she were tasting it first.
“…Are you chewing your water?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Elena flushed faintly.
“I just… let it pass through my mouth first. I like the taste of water after it’s been boiled…”
A smear of egg yolk clung to the corner of her lips. YiChen reached out instinctively to wipe it away.
The instant his fingertips brushed her soft lips, both of them froze.
Elena’s face bloomed crimson, while YiChen felt his heart sink into something warm and sweet—like being soaked through with honey until it swelled.
?
When the video conference began, Elena went to the Spirit Force training room.
The moment she left his side, an inexplicable hollowness settled in YiChen’s chest.
The meeting itself was the final confirmation for tomorrow’s expedition into Blackpine Forest.
“This time, each squad leader will be responsible for ten people—five more than last operation,” Leo said from the screen, pushing up his glasses.
“The medical unit has been reinforced by three additional members and will, as before, remain under Commander Caelestis’s direct supervision.”
YiChen nodded—then frowned slightly as the next item appeared.
“The city government has organized a civilian observation group of fifty people. They will remain at the outer perimeter of the Spirit Realm forest.”
Fifty?
His fingers tapped lightly against the tabletop before he realized it. This so-called compromise—allowing civilians to witness danger while showcasing governmental transparency—sounded clean on paper, but concealed too many variables beneath the surface.
Especially with last night’s dream still lingering at the edge of his thoughts.
“Commander?” Leo’s voice pulled him back. “Do you have any concerns?”
YiChen lifted his gaze, scanning the faces on the screen one by one—before it drifted to the window, toward the direction of the training room.
“No,” he said at last, voice low and steady.
“Proceed as planned.”
No matter what happens, he thought,
I won’t let anyone threaten her.
—————
Consciousness Sea · Star-Dome Temple
Shixi’s nine tails swayed gently through the void. Starlight flowed within his eyes, heavy with unease.
“YiChen’s nightmare was no coincidence,” he said softly.
“It was a warning issued by the laws themselves—malice is gathering. Someone is plotting to harm you.”
His fur suddenly bristled.
“Especially Elena—”
Shadowfang’s draconic pupils constricted sharply as black flames surged around his massive form.
“Let anyone lay a finger on the girl,” he snarled,
“and this sovereign will rip out his Spirit Meridians one by one and burn them for fuel!”
His tail swept across the temple floor, shattering fragments of starlight into drifting debris.
YiChen stood at the center of the Star-Dome Temple, divine power condensing into a cold gleam at his fingertips.
“The real problem,” he said calmly, “is that during the Blackpine Forest operation, I won’t be able to stay by her side at all times.”
“You are already bound by a Divine Pact,” Shixi said suddenly, lifting his head.
His silver fur flared like moonlight in full bloom.
“Life and death are shared. Danger is known the instant it arises.”
His nine tails trembled violently. Countless strands of silver fur shed into the air, dissolving into starlight before converging into a single, crystalline silver thread.
“With your current divine power,” Shixi continued,
“this thread will allow you to instantaneously traverse once to her side.”
Shadowfang snorted.
His jaws parted slightly, and a single droplet of inky, liquid-black essence rose into the air. Within it, dark-gold currents of flame revolved like a miniature galaxy.
“This is dragon-source essence refined by this sovereign over thirty thousand years,” he said coldly.
“The barrier it forms is sufficient to block any attack beneath the divine tier.”
The instant the silver thread coiled around the liquid droplet—
Clang!
Starlight detonated outward.
Within the halo of light, a necklace took shape.
The silver chain flickered in and out of existence like a cascading galaxy, while the obsidian bead at its center appeared to contain a sealed microcosm—dark-gold nebulae rotating eternally within.
YiChen reached out and caught it.
The moment the necklace touched his palm, the Pact Mark on his chest grew faintly warm.
“Put it on her,” Shadowfang said, his tail lashing irritably against the ground.
“This barrier will activate automatically in danger. Let this sovereign see who dares touch her—”
Shixi interrupted quietly.
“When someone touches the necklace, you will see it.”
He nudged the necklace gently with his nose.
“Including…”
A flash of silver light passed through the air.
The necklace suddenly projected a phantom image of Elena—
she was sitting on a garden bench, carefully trying to gather rose petals together using her Spirit Force.
YiChen clenched the necklace in his fist.
Elena…
I swear I will keep you safe.
