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The twisting knot of anxiety in her chest had grown too unbearable, suffocating her like the ash-laden air she now breathed. It wasn't the usual kind of stress that had driven her back to this vice.

No, she had weathered worse storms after quitting—her family's downfall, their betrayals, the frustration of her unwanted marriage—but none of those compared to this.

This was the kind of stress that turned her bones to lead and made her heart ache with every beat. Knowing that the love of her life, the one person she couldn't imagine living without, might only have a few more weeks to live… it was a cruelty that no one should endure.

She thought she had a whole lifetime to look forward to with him, but having the expiration date on it… on him…

All of that knowledge came from that damned novel, that cursed tale that seemed to play out pieces of their lives with eerie accuracy. Not everything lined up, no. But enough of it did—enough of the major events. Enough to make her mind spiral into an abyss of 'what ifs.'

What if Vyan really did die? What if she was powerless to stop it? What if fate couldn't be changed? What if everything fell apart, and there was nothing left but emptiness where he had once been?

She hadn't been able to face Leila after hearing the dreadful news. Her mind had been spinning, her heart too raw.

She had run. Called off everything for the day, shut herself away in her private quarters, and let the smoke curl around her. As if the toxic tendrils could numb the sharp edge of her fear.

But even now, standing here with a window to the outside world, the pain gnawed at her insides, and she still had no idea what to do.

She did know that she was going to do anything to stop it. But how? And what if she still failed to save him—

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A few slow knocks on the door snapped her from the downward spiral of her thoughts.

"Who could it be?" She frowned as she stubbed out the cigar in the ashtray. She gathered her composure and opened the door, only to get the air knocked out of her chest at the sight of the man standing at her doorsteps.

Vyan.

"Hey."

He stood there, looking pale and far too sick for her liking, but he smiled at her—the unadulterated, happy smile that spoke volumes of how happy he was to see her. And it always melted her defenses.

However, this time, instead of melting, her stomach twisted and panic flared within her. Without thinking, she grabbed his wrist and yanked him inside, slamming the door shut behind him.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed, eyes blazing with a mix of anger and desperation. Her grip on his wrist tightened, but he didn't even seem to take notice of it.

"What, aren't you happy to see me?" Vyan tilted his head obliviously, a soft chuckle escaping his lips despite the clear strain on his face.

"Just answer the question. Why are you here?" she insisted.

"Wow, someone is really not happy to see me," he commented playfully, feigning to be hurt. But at her serious look, he sighed and finally answered properly, "I was worried. You said you would come see me tonight, but you didn't. So, I got worried. I wondered if something was wrong. And I couldn't stop myself from coming to check on you."

Her heart slightly melted at his reasoning, but she decided to stay firm and questioned, "Does Clyde know about this?"

Vyan averted his eyes, a sheepish look on his face. "I may or may not have sneaked out after he left."

Iyana pressed her forehead with her hand, starting to pace the room. She could feel her temper rising as many things went through her mind.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked skeptically.

"No, Vyan, I am not okay!" she burst, spinning to face him, her voice trembling with an edge of hysteria. "What were you thinking, coming here with all this security? What if you got caught? Do you know what could happen if they find out you have been sneaking in and out of the palace as you please? They are going to put the tag of a traitor on you and blame everything on you!"

Vyan gave a soft shrug, as though the very idea of being caught was absurd. "But I wouldn't be caught in the first place. I always take on someone else's appearance. You know metamorphosis? It's really usef—" he coughed in the middle of his sentence, the sound dry and raspy, which made her anger double.

Here I am, worrying about his death, and look at him, taking risks like he has got a ticket to immortality, she thought, biting her lip to stop the angry tears threatening to spill.

Her hands clenched into fists, trying to reign in her 'monster vice-commander' personality and not raise her voice at him like she sometimes tended to do with her subordinates when they got the whole troop in trouble with their recklessness. She didn't want to yell at Vyan. Never. But he was really making it hard not to. By pulling the same reckless stunt for which she rebuked her subordinates.

But why? Why didn't Vyan understand? Didn't he see how fragile his life was? Sure, his magic was powerful, but he was still human. Even a fever could most likely kill him, especially with his weak immunity to diseases. Not to mention, the deadly effect of black magic on him.

Vyan finished coughing, muttering, "Sorry about that. As I was saying—"

"Vyan, what was the necessity of coming here when you are this sick?" she cut in, her voice now more disappointed than hysteric. "Yes, I agree I should have let you know that I was not going to be able to make it tonight. It's my fault. But didn't you know that I wouldn't appreciate you dragging yourself here with your ailing body?"

Despite her stern lecture, he smiled at her. He had a tired but endearing expression, his eyes soft in a way that tugged at her heart. "I told you, I was worried," he repeated, his tone almost puppy-like, as though that made everything okay. "And in that way, I wouldn't have been able to get any sleep, which obviously would have made my health worse. Don't you agree?"

Iyana could only stare at him, her mind screaming at the absurdity of his logic. "That's not… that's not even the issue. You coming to the palace, when it's in so much chaos, is the issue."

"Iyana, trust me, it's really not a big deal to me," he insisted.

She let out a frustrated groan, stomping her foot, and buried her face in her hands. Goodness, how in the world was she supposed to make this man understand the importance of precautions?! He didn't even seem to deem this place as a threat at all. Like this was his second home.

"Iyana, are you really okay?" Vyan asked again, this time sounding more concerned than skeptical. "You don't seem good."

"Yes, I am okay, Vyan," she forced the words out with a shaky breath. "You just need to go home and rest. You are not well, and if your condition gets worse, I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't even be able to get a doctor in here without exposing you.."

Undeterred, Vyan moved toward her. "No, I am not going anywhere," he said, his voice soft but resolute. His eyes were searching her face for the truth she was so desperately trying to hide.

Don't look at me like that, she said in her mind, looking away, I am not that strong—

His steps faltered, and another violent cough wracked his body. He pressed a hand to his chest, wincing, but his gaze never left hers. "I had a feeling something was wrong with you, and I was right. Iyana, you need to tell me what's going on."

Iyana's chest tightened at his words, her gaze dropping to the floor. She shook her head slightly, refusing to meet his eyes. "Nothing is wrong," she muttered, her voice betraying her. "I just hate seeing you sick and going the extra mile for me. I don't want to be a bother to you."

Vyan chuckled softly, though it quickly dissolved into another cough. "You are not a bother to me. Besides, I am not even that sick. That weird concoction from Benedict really worked like a charm."

Gathering her courage once again, she pressed her lips into a thin line and closed the distance between them. She placed her hand gently on his forehead. The heat of his fever met her palm, confirming what she had feared. "See? You are still burning up," she said softly, her voice laced with worry.

"I am blushing… I guess?" he suggested sheepishly, which made her chuckle lightly.

"Seriously?"

Vyan smiled widely, his expression tender despite the weariness in his eyes. "Well, the thing is, I wanted to see you," he whispered, his gaze locking onto hers, "Perhaps, it was reckless of me. Even stupid, I suppose. But if you want to blame someone, you can blame my fever. Although I perhaps would have done the same thing if I was in good health. Because I missed you.

So much. And I seem to be really bad at controlling myself when I miss you."

Iyana's chest tightened again, this time for a different reason. She could feel the intensity of his gaze, the depth of his feelings for her, and it made her stomach twist in knots. She recalled what Leila had mentioned—that unsettling part of the novel where Vyan's love for her had turned into an all-consuming obsession.

It had sounded ridiculous at the time, but now… She clicked her tongue, frustrated with herself for even thinking about Vyan's pure love like that, but the words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.

"It's really like you are obsessed with me," she muttered under her breath.

Vyan laughed, throwing his head back slightly. "Maybe."

Ah.

Hearing the sound of his strained, nasally laugh made her realize something.

"No, you are not."

Vyan was not obsessed with her.

Obsession was a selfish and possessive feeling that made one want to take control of the other. On the other hand, love was a pure, selfless emotion that arose from the bottom of the heart.

Vyan's feelings were definitely the latter. If they weren't, he would have never brought himself here, despite his health. He

Maybe it wasn't his obsession for Iyana that killed him in the novel.

It was…

She looked at his face, grinning at her, and recalled the dark expressions on his face—times he was talking about the people who screwed over his family.

Vyan's obsession for revenge—that's the cause of his demise.