Rory had originally planned to go find Xarion first. But as she passed by Vincent’s palace, she happened to see his assistant stepping out from within.
"Is Vincent still busy?" Rory asked.
The assistant imdiately replied, "His Highness has just finished."
Hearing that Vincent was done, Rory didn’t hesitate—she went straight into his palace.
"Rory, you’ve co at the perfect ti."
The mont he saw her, Vincent smiled and walked over.
"I’ve just finished my work. Wherever you’d like to go, I’ll accompany you."
"No rush." Rory turned first, gently closing the palace doors behind her.
At the sight of her shutting the door, a flicker of confusion crossed Vincent’s eyes—but even more so, anticipation.
He assud she had sothing... intimate she wanted to say.
As Rory secured the door and approached him with a soft, tender smile, Vincent naturally opened his arms, ready to pull her into an embrace.
Yet Rory slipped aside like a cunning cat, her body tilting just enough to evade him with effortless grace.
"Rory?" Vincent looked at his empty arms, a trace of confusion flashing through his gaze.
Why wouldn’t she let him hold her?
Rory smiled as she stepped closer. Raising her slender fingers, she lightly tapped his chest.
A faint, almost imperceptible red glow shimred at her fingertips. It seeped through the fabric and touched his skin.
In an instant, a tingling numbness spread across his chest, making Vincent’s tall fra sway ever so slightly.
"Rory..."
He caught her hand, his Adam’s apple bobbing sharply. His phoenix-like eyes locked onto hers, his voice rough beyond recognition.
"Vincent..."
Rory’s voice dropped low and soft, threaded with a subtle, alluring warmth. "...I only went a short while without seeing you, and suddenly, I missed you."
Her fingertips trailed upward from his chest, gliding over the sharp line of his collarbone. Then she hooked a finger beneath his chin, gently forcing him to lower his head and et her gaze.
Vincent looked down at the woman in his arms—mischievous, dangerous—and felt his heartbeat quicken.
"Rory... I missed you too."
He reached out, trying to catch the hand that was wreaking havoc across him.
But Rory slipped away again with ease.
Instead, she took his hand in hers, rising onto her toes. Her warm breath brushed against his ear—soft, teasing, sending a fine, electric shiver racing through every inch of his body.
"Vincent... your heartbeat is all out of rhythm."
Her words, light as feathers, stroked the taut strings of his restraint.
That single, candidly intimate remark beca the final thread snapping Vincent’s self-control.
He could no longer endure the sweet tornt.
His tall body surged forward as he cupped the back of her head, his burning lips descending, desperate to claim the softness he had longed for day and night.
In that mont, even the air within the palace seed to grow thick and heated.
Just as their lips were about to et—re breath apart—Rory suddenly tilted her head.
His burning kiss landed instead on her cheek.
Vincent froze.
The haze of desire in his eyes had yet to fade when a flicker of astonishnt surfaced, mingling with the heat that now had nowhere to go. The fire she had stirred in him raged restlessly, scorching his chest.
Holding her by the shoulders, his voice hoarse and unsteady, he asked, "Rory... what’s wrong?"
Since she ca in, she had already turned him away twice.
Had he done sothing wrong? Had he upset her without realizing it?
The thought sent his heart lurching. The desire in his gaze vanished, replaced entirely by tension and concern.
Rory didn’t answer.
She simply stepped back from his embrace, lifting her head to look at him in silence.
A faint sheen of moisture clouded her eyes, making her look fragile—almost wronged.
She sniffed softly, her voice trembling, airy and unsteady as she asked, "Vincent... do you really love ?"
The question hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water poured over his head.
Every trace of heat and longing within him was extinguished in an instant, leaving behind only panic—and a sharp, aching pain.
How could she ask that?
"Rory!"
Without hesitation, Vincent dropped to one knee with a heavy thud. He clasped her hands tightly, looking up at her with urgency and sincerity blazing in his eyes.
"How could I not love you?
I swear to the Beast God—if I, Prince Vincent, do not love Rory, then may the Beast God—"
"Then why did you lie to ?"
Rory cut him off before he could finish his vow.
As she looked at him, she forced herself to recall the loneliness and hardship she had endured when she first arrived in this star-bound world. Her eyes reddened instantly.
A few crystal tears gathered at the rims, trembling but not yet falling—each one enough to shatter Vincent’s heart.
"Lie to you?"
Vincent racked his mind, but he couldn’t recall a single instance where he had deceived her.
"When have I ever lied to you? Rory, tell —did I do sothing wrong without realizing it? Tell , and I’ll fix it imdiately."
"I’ve truly never lied to you. You have to believe ."
Seeing him so flustered—so desperate, as if he would rip out his own heart just to prove himself—Rory knew the mont had co.
At last, she let a tear slip down her cheek.
With a trace of accusation, a trace of heartbreak, she asked slowly, word by word:
"Then why did you hide money from behind my back?"
"... "
Hidden money? The words struck Vincent like lightning. He froze completely.
His face still held that earnest urgency, tinged now with confusion. His lips parted, but no sound ca out. His thoughts buzzed wildly—what had seed like a terrible misunderstanding a mont ago abruptly turned into one stunned realization:
How did she find out?
Guilt surged through him like a rising tide. He couldn’t even bring himself to et her tear-filled eyes.
He had hidden so... but that wasn’t... he just wanted...
Rory covered her face, her voice breaking into a soft sob.
"And you still say you didn’t lie to ?"
At the sound of her crying, Vincent completely unraveled.
His heart felt as if it were being clenched in a fist, so tight it hurt to breathe.
"No—Rory, listen to my expl—"
The mont the word left his mouth, he wished he could slap himself.
Damn it!
Why did his tongue betray him now of all tis?
"You still want to ’explain’?"
Rory instantly leaned into the act, covering her mouth, her eyes red and glistening as she looked at him—hurt, disbelieving, devastated.
"Vincent, is that what everything you say to is—just ’explanations’? So from the very beginning, you never intended to tell the truth!"
As if wounded to the core by those words, she staggered back a step, as though her heart might shatter at any mont.
"No! Not ’explanations’—I an—yes, explanations! Rory, I ant explanations!"
Vincent nearly lost his mind. Dropping to his knees, he shuffled forward in a panic, wanting to grab her sleeve but afraid she might pull away. All he could do was look up at her, his handso face filled with anxiety and regret.
"I was wrong, Rory—I really was! I shouldn’t have kept it from you. But the money I hid—it wasn’t for myself!"
Seeing that she only stared at him with reddened eyes, not yet turning to leave, Vincent seized the chance.
Like beans spilling from a split bamboo tube, he poured everything out in a rush.
"Most of that money was used to support the squad I’ve been training! And so of it went into building up forces under my command. They follow —I can’t leave them without security."
He spoke rapidly, afraid that if he hesitated even a second, she would condemn him outright.
"I didn’t tell you because... I was afraid. I was just afraid... Afraid that if I kept asking you for money—once or twice would be fine, but if it happened too often... I was afraid you’d grow tired of ."
His voice softened toward the end.
Kneeling there, unease and fear etched across his face, he lowered his head slightly.
"Rory... I was wrong. If you want... you can punish ."
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