The air in the room seemed to grow heavy and still.
The moment Astria's lips parted from Lane's, an unknown tremor shot through her skin.
She recoiled with a sudden jerk, her face flushed crimson from the unexpected impulse.
She could not comprehend how the proximity of this innocent boy had rendered her so defenseless.
Lane remained sitting exactly where he was.
His slender fingers gently grazed his lips, right where he had felt Astria's touch moments ago.
There was a vacant curiosity in his golden eyes that made Astria even more restless.
To mask her turmoil, she turned toward the vampire guards standing nearby and barked a sharp command.
"Take him. Clean the filth and blood from his body and dress him in clean clothes."
The guards stepped forward, but Lane did not budge.
He remained rooted to the spot like a stone statue, as if refusing to go with strangers.
Astria looked at him and let out a long, weary sigh.
She walked forward and took Lane's small hand in her own.
The moment he felt her touch, Lane's body relaxed, and he began to follow her.
Astria herself led him to the door of the bathchamber and released his hand there.
Looking at the guards, she said sternly, "Take him in and bring him out only when he is properly cleaned."
On the other side, Astria commanded the maidservants present in the room.
"Go quickly and bring something to eat for this... this human child."
By the time Lane emerged from the bathchamber, the maidservants had already spread a feast of fruits and delicacies on the table.
Lane looked entirely different now.
He wore a fitted white military coat with black contrast on the collar and sleeves.
His white trousers and knee-high, polished black boots gave him a regal appearance.
The guards had knelt to tighten the white laces of his boots firmly and tied them with precision.
Once ready, the guards brought him back to the main chamber.
Astria was still sitting on the edge of the bed, but her face was turned away.
"Queen, we have cleaned him," the guard reported with a bow.
"Seat him at the table," Astria said, averting her eyes.
Lane was seated in a chair by the table, which was laden with food.
His golden eyes watched Astria incessantly, without so much as a blink.
In her frustration, Astria held her head for a moment.
She stood up and sat in the chair directly opposite Lane on the other side of the table.
The guards and maidservants filed out of the room.
Astria picked up an apple and sliced it into small pieces with a knife.
She picked up a piece with her hand and brought it close to Lane's mouth.
Lane looked at it, but he did not open his mouth.
He simply continued to stare at Astria with a steady, unwavering gaze.
Astria's impatience flared; without waiting, she gently gripped Lane's face with her hand.
And forced the piece of apple directly into his mouth.
Lane continued to watch her.
That fixed, mysterious gaze was making Astria profoundly uncomfortable.
She felt as though she couldn't stay there for another second.
She stood up abruptly and, without looking back, hurried out of the room.
Only after she had gone did Lane move on his own for the first time.
He reached for the apple slices that Astria had just cut and began to eat them in calm silence.
As the heavy chamber door slammed shut behind Astria, a faint ripple of movement crossed Lane's golden eyes.
He remained seated in his chair, but his mind was still anchored to those fleeting moments.
When Astria's fingers had brushed against his face.
He touched the piece of apple she had forced into his mouth.
Its sweet yet slightly tart flavor still lingered on his tongue.
Slowly, Lane rose from his chair.
The grandeur of the room meant nothing to him.
With footsteps as silent as a ghost, he moved toward the other side of the table where Astria had been sitting moments ago.
He sat down in her vacant chair.
He placed his small palms upon the cold wood, exactly where her hands had rested.
Her face flickered before his eyes—the strange glint in her gaze, her restlessness.
And the crimson flush that had crept onto her cheeks when she became uncomfortable.
Lane did not understand the meaning of those expressions.
But the images were etched into his mind like vivid portraits.
He picked up another slice of apple from the plate, one that had been cut by her hands.
He examined it closely before placing it in his mouth.
He wasn't just eating; he was tasting the lingering essence she had left behind.
There was a feast spread across the table, yet Lane did not touch anything else.
He had had enough.
With slow, deliberate steps, he returned to the vast, regal bed.
He climbed onto it and moved toward the shimmering book that lay discarded in a corner.
Much like a forgotten memory.
Lane crawled across the silk sheets on his hands and knees, his gaze locked onto the book.
He gathered it into his arms and moved toward the pillows.
For a few moments, he sat there, simply feeling the cool texture of the cover.
Then, he laid the book open in the center of the bed.
He lay down on his stomach, his face positioned directly over the pages.
His legs kicked idly in the air as he stared at the strange symbols and illustrations.
But lying flat felt somewhat incomplete.
He reached out and pulled a soft, velvet pillow from the foot of the bed, tucking it under his chest.
Now, propped up by the pillow, he gripped the book with both hands.
The dim light of the room danced across the pages.
And Lane became entirely lost in that silent world—
A world where the words remained a mystery, yet Astria's face seemed to appear behind every single one of them.
For a long while, Lane stared intently at those mysterious pages.
As if searching for some lingering reflection of Astria within them.
A significant amount of time had passed, yet she had not returned.
The silence of the room began to feel heavy upon him.
Slowly, he set the book aside, sat on the edge of the bed, and let his small feet dangle.
Without making a sound, he slid off the bed and moved toward the massive door like a silent shadow.
He placed his palms against the cold wood and pushed with all his might, but the door did not budge.
Not a single word escaped Lane's lips; he did not complain.
He simply leaned his back against the locked door and sat down on the cold floor.
In that vast chamber, he was utterly alone, and Astria's absence filled his mind with questions.
It was then that his gaze fell upon an open window.
Lane stood up and moved toward it.
Outside, the night sky was scattered with countless shimmering stars.
He rested his hands on the window frame and peered down.
Somewhere far below, a faint glimmer of light caught his eye.
Driven by a quiet curiosity to see that light more closely, Lane leaned out just a little too far.
Suddenly, his balance shifted, and he plummeted from the height of three or four stories.
Even as he fell through the air, there wasn't a trace of fear on Lane's face.
In the blink of an eye, he showed incredible agility.
Twisting his body mid-air to align his feet with the ground.
When he landed, both feet hit the earth firmly, and one hand dug into the soil to maintain his balance.
He stood there, slightly crouched like a predator.
He immediately looked down at the pristine clothes he had been given by Astria's command.
His mind didn't conjure an image of an angry Astria, but rather, he remembered her specific instruction—
"Make him clean."
He recalled how filthy and blood-stained he had been before, and how she had chosen this new, clean image for him.
His gaze fell upon the hand that had touched the ground; it was now smeared with dirt.
He wasn't afraid of her temper; he simply remembered the 'cleanliness' she had desired for him.
He quickly tried to wipe the dirt away with his other clean hand, attempting to brush the soil off.
However, in his effort to clean them, both of his hands became completely covered in dark earth.
Lane stood in silence, staring at his two soiled hands, his mind still tangled in the memories of her words.