Thanks to Ruso's swift judgment, word of the incident did not spread through the palace. What little chaos there had been was quietly contained, folded into silence before it could take shape as rumor.
Kaisen went straight to the Emperor's study.
Heman was there alone. His face was already drawn—Mayora had told him everything. When Kaisen asked him to summon the Emperor, Heman nodded without question.
"His Majesty will be here shortly."
Not long after, Arvin entered.
One look at his cousin told him this was no trivial matter. Kaisen looked hollowed out, as though the night had drained something vital from him.
"What happened?" Arvin asked, his voice calm but alert.
Kaisen explained everything he could remember—halting, imperfect fragments of the night, the fear that followed, the state he woke to. He did not excuse himself, nor did he soften the truth.
When he finished, Arvin drew in a slow breath.
"How may I help?" the Emperor asked.
Kaisen did not hesitate.
"As a man of honor," he said firmly, "I must marry her. And I must do so now."
Arvin studied him carefully before replying. "It can be arranged," he said at last. "But you must ensure she is of the same mind. You cannot force her into this—not even with good intentions."
Kaisen nodded. "I understand."
"There is one more thing," he added. "Her father must hear this from me."
Arvin turned to Heman. "Send for Lord Vharin."
When Vharin arrived, the Emperor rose from his seat.
"I will give you privacy," Arvin said evenly, already moving toward the door.
The study fell silent as it closed behind him.
Lord Vharin and Kaisen were alone.
Kaisen sat rigidly opposite Lord Vharin, his hands clenched on his knees as he began to speak. He recounted the events of the night with careful precision, each word weighted with shame and responsibility. Vharin listened quietly, his expression unreadable, though inside, a storm of conflicting emotions churned. He felt sorrow for what had befallen his daughter, but deep down he also sensed something—an absence of malice in Kaisen, a careful restraint that told him the young man's intentions had never been cruel.
As Kaisen finished, he noticed the long silence and misread it. His chest tightened, guilt and panic swelling at the thought that Vharin might condemn him. Without thinking, he dropped to his knees and bowed deeply, forehead nearly grazing the floor.
"My lord, I vow to marry Kanha and spend the rest of my life atoning for my misdeed," he said, voice breaking, eyes glistening.
Vharin raised a hand gently, stopping him. "Please… do not be so harsh on yourself, young master," he said, his tone measured but kind. "It was a mistake, yes, but one misstep does not erase your humanity. Nobility of blood does not exempt any of us from being human. The fact that you recognized your error, took care of her, and acted responsibly—this is what matters. Do not punish yourself further than necessary."
Kaisen's guilt deepened, yet he could only nod, swallowed by the weight of his emotions.
Vharin leaned back slightly, his eyes softening. "I do not expect you to marry her…"
Kaisen's voice cut through, firm and unwavering. "I must."
Vharin studied him for a long moment, then finally nodded. "Very well. You have my blessing."
For the first time since entering the room, Kaisen allowed himself a small, relieved breath. It was a fragile victory, but it was enough to give him resolve.
Kaisen rose from his knees, his shoulders heavy with the weight of responsibility, yet there was a flicker of determination in his eyes. Vharin studied him carefully, sensing the young man's sincerity but still feeling that subtle unease he could not put into words. Something about the way Kaisen carried himself, so torn and remorseful, seemed almost too perfect, as if he were performing penance—but Vharin said nothing, choosing to wait and observe.
"I will go to her now," Kaisen said quietly, his voice low but resolute. "Whatever she needs, I will do."
Vharin nodded slowly, his eyes lingering on Kaisen's flushed, tense face. "Very well," he said, his tone controlled. "But remember—don't be hard on yourself and approach with care. The girl is shaken. You must not frighten her further, nor rush her. If she resents you… any wrong move now will make it worse."
Kaisen bowed sharply, gratitude and anguish mingling in his gaze. "I understand, my lord. I will be careful."
He moved to leave the room, each step measured, yet his mind raced faster than his feet could carry him. Every second brought him closer to Kanha, to the girl he felt responsible for, to the consequences of the night she had schemed. He could still see her pale, trembling, her body weak and bruised, the helplessness in her eyes burning into his memory. The image drove him forward, every instinct screaming to protect, to atone, to fix what had been done—even though he knew he could never undo it.
Vharin remained seated, eyes following Kaisen's retreating figure. Something about this situation gnawed at him—too many coincidences, too much desperation. Yet for now, he chose restraint. The young man before him seemed genuinely remorseful, and Kanha's fatherly instinct urged him to allow Kaisen the chance to make amends on his own terms.
As Kaisen reached the hall, he paused, taking a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly. He had rehearsed what he would say, how he would approach her, but words felt useless against the raw intensity of his guilt.
He stepped toward Kanha's chambers, each footfall echoing in the quiet corridor. The servants had already been instructed to keep distance, giving him privacy, and the heavy door loomed before him like a threshold between chaos and hope. He pressed his hand to it, then knocked softly, his voice catching as he whispered, "My lady… it's me, Kaisen. May I come in?"
Inside, Kanha stirred at the sound, her pale form wrapped in blankets. Her mind raced—this was all part of her plan—but she could feel the raw intensity in Kaisen's tone. She opened her eyes slightly, keeping her expression fragile, unsure whether to look relieved, frightened, or hurt.
Kaisen's voice softened, trembling as he spoke again, "I… I came to see you. To… to make sure you're all right."
"Please… don't be afraid," Kaisen said, stepping carefully into the room,
Kanha's lips trembled as she struggled to maintain the illusion of vulnerability. This was the moment her plan required—the moment Kaisen would fully commit to her, convinced he alone must repair what she had orchestrated. And yet, even as she feigned weakness, a small part of her could not ignore the weight of his sincerity, the depth of his guilt, and the raw devotion in his eyes.
The room fell into a tense, silent standoff—the girl broken and fragile in appearance, the young man on the edge of desperation, and the faint shadow of the father outside, watching, suspicious yet unwilling to intervene too soon.
Kanha's voice was fragile, almost a whisper, as she spoke, and the air between them seemed to thicken with unspoken emotion. Kaisen paused just inside the doorway, his eyes fixed on her pale, trembling form. He could feel the unspoken tension in the room, the weight of the night pressing down on them both.
Kanha shifted slightly, sitting up, and motioned for him to come closer. "Please," she said softly, "sit here," pointing to the chair beside her.
Kaisen obeyed, lowering himself gently, trying not to startle her. His chest ached with guilt, every muscle taut with the need to make things right.
Before he could speak, Kanha lifted a shaky hand. "There is something I should say," she murmured, her eyes meeting his, wide and pleading. Kaisen stopped, listening intently, his own voice caught somewhere between relief and fear.
"My lord," she began, "I… I realized that I was wrong for how I reacted this morning. I should have thought things through, but I was… overwhelmed, frightened… I could not see how scared you were too." Her voice wavered, thick with emotion. "I hadn't realized that you were a victim as well, and… I'm sorry for that. Please… forgive me."
Kaisen felt the weight of her words settle on him. His throat tightened as he shook his head slightly, reaching out to take her hands. "No," he said softly, "your emotions are valid. And… I'm the one who should apologize. I… I never wanted this to happen. I promise, Kanha, I will never hurt you again."
The room seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the two of them suspended in a fragile, trembling bubble. Kaisen leaned forward and pulled her into a careful, gentle embrace, letting her lean against him as if the world outside could disappear.
After a long, quiet moment, he pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. His voice was low, trembling with sincerity. "Please, Kanha… let me atone for this. Marry me. Let me spend my life making this right."