The Zars garden was vast, lush, and deadly quiet at night. It sprawled like a labyrinth of perfectly trimmed hedges, crimson starflowers, and imported Evernight trees that glowed faintly under moonlight. A place of peace, on the surface.
But tonight, it was a hunting ground.
Deus moved along the gravel path with practiced grace. He had grown used to walking without noise — a habit carried over from his training and perhaps… something older.
He wasn't alone in the garden.
He'd followed the sound of voices — one low, one loud, one trembling. The latter belonged to a girl.
And not just any girl.
"I said don't walk away from me!" a voice snapped.
Deus turned the corner of a hedge wall.
A boy — maybe twelve, stocky, dressed in a House Velmara coat — had grabbed a girl by the wrist. Her posture was rigid, chin up, defiant.
Lizia.
Deus watched from the shadows.
The boy — Arven Velmara — squeezed her wrist harder. "You think you're better than me just because your family makes swords?"
"No," Lizia replied coolly, "I'm better than you because I don't need to grab someone to feel strong."
He slapped her.
Not hard enough to break skin, but enough to draw silence from the garden.
Lizia didn't flinch.
That was what made Deus move.
Not the slap. Not the insult. Not even the arrogance.
It was the way she didn't flinch — as if enduring pain had been practiced more than smiling.
Deus stepped into the light.
Arven turned.
"Who's—?" He froze.
Deus Zars. Maskless. Expression unreadable.
"Oh. I was just— She said something disrespectful and I—"
"You touched her," Deus said flatly.
Arven blinked. "W-What?"
"You touched her. That wasn't part of the conversation."
Deus stepped closer.
"Apologize," he said.
Arven looked around nervously. "Listen, I— I didn't mean— It was—"
"Apologize."
Lizia didn't speak. Her eyes remained on Deus.
Arven shifted on his feet. "Look, you're making this into something it doesn't have to be."
Deus tilted his head. "You're right."
Then he moved.
A blur.
Arven gasped as a knife — one of Deus's training daggers — pressed against his throat.
"I'm not doing this because I like her," Deus whispered. "I'm doing this because you thought you could get away with it."
He pulled the blade away and let Arven stumble backward.
"You'll remember this feeling," Deus said. "And every time you see her face, you'll think of how close you came to bleeding for it."
Arven bolted.
Silence returned to the garden.
Lizia finally exhaled. "You didn't need to do that."
"I know," Deus said.
"You weren't defending me, were you?"
"No."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Then why?"
Deus turned to leave.
"I was defending a boundary."
She smiled faintly. "You're dangerous."
He paused.
Then answered, "I intend to be."
Later – Deus's Tower
That night, Deus returned to his tower and opened his notebook.
Subject: Arven Velmara
Emotional trigger: Physical dominance
Reaction to resistance: Escalation
Reaction to direct threat: Flight
Weak point: Ego. Social reputation.
He flipped the page.
Subject: Lizia Al Gray
Reaction to fear: Resistance
Reaction to pain: Internalized
Reaction to rescue: Challenge
Weak point: Unknown
He paused, then wrote:
Observation: She does not act like prey.
He closed the book and stared at the wooden blades beside his bed.
The idea had begun to take root — that control wasn't found in strength alone.
It lived in timing.
Perception.
And the willingness to do what others feared.
Elsewhere – The Duke's Study
"Thesea," Stradar said, swirling his wine, "the boy cornered a Velmara heir in the garden."
She didn't blink. "Did he kill him?"
"No."
"Then it's fine."
Stradar smirked. "You don't worry he's… slipping?"
"Thesea stood from her chair. "Slipping into what?"
He stared at her.
She stared back.
Then turned away.