* * *

The orchestra’s music swelled, signaling the official start of the banquet.

After the Emperor and Empress finished their dance, it was the turn of the high-ranking nobles.

Felix and Lowell prepared to take the floor.

“Please, lead me well, Grand Duke.”

Thankfully, the group setting diluted the attention they drew.

The problem is that we’re still the main point of interest for most of them.

Lowell entrusted himself entirely to Felix, who guided him with even more expertise than before.

During turns, Lowell practically floated off the ground, leaving no room for missteps.

It’ll look more like Felix is overflowing with strength than like I can’t dance.

The outcome was satisfying, though Lowell’s relief was short-lived.

Near the end of the piece, an unexpected wave of dizziness struck.

I feel faint.

It wasn’t just the fever or the exertion.

The air was thick with the pheromones of Alphas trying to flaunt their strength or allure Omegas.

Normally, such lack of control would be considered disgraceful, but in this setting, it was seen as a mark of dominance. For Lowell, it was unbearable.

I think I’m going to be sick.

It felt as if he were trapped in a perfume store, the cloying scents overwhelming his senses.

Pregnant and sensitive, Lowell’s body rejected any pheromones that didn’t belong to his mate.

When the dance ended, Lowell practically collapsed into Felix’s arms.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

Felix, noticing Lowell’s lack of focus during the dance, looked at him with deep concern.

He guided Lowell to a chair, fussing over him, touching his forehead and rubbing his arms.

Too drained to respond, Lowell weakly shook his head.

“I’ll get you some water.”

The nearby tables only held alcohol, so Felix hurried off to find water, not even thinking to delegate the task to a servant.

“Are you alright?”

While Felix was away, a man with an orange scarf draped over his arm approached Lowell.

Curling in on himself, Lowell shook his head.

“I’m trained in medicine. May I take a quick look?”

Lowell tried to wave him off, but the man closed the distance faster.

In his hazy vision, Lowell caught a glint of something metallic.

Is that…!

The man drew a concealed dagger from his thigh and aimed it at Lowell’s stomach.

Though no one else noticed, the Emperor, seated high above, wore a wide grin.

Lowell knew he had to dodge, but his sluggish body wouldn’t respond quickly enough.

If only I weren’t feverish, this wouldn’t be happening.

Just as the dagger neared, a dark barrier materialized in front of Lowell, forming a protective shield.

Undeterred, the assailant swung the blade, attempting to break through.

Though hastily constructed, the shield held firm for a few crucial moments, buying Lowell time to move.

“Lowell!”

Felix’s voice rang out as he sprinted from the far end of the hall.

He closed the distance quickly, but not fast enough to beat the attacker’s strike.

A sickening sound of flesh being pierced echoed through the hall, and blood began dripping onto the polished floor.

The grand music ceased abruptly, leaving the banquet hall in stunned silence.

“Ugh…”

Thanks to a quick twist of his body, Lowell managed to shield his abdomen, but a dagger buried itself in his shoulder.

The one silver lining was that Felix’s intervention prevented the blade from sinking too deeply.

Even so, the shock of an attack occurring during a banquet was no less staggering.

“How dare they, and to whom…”

Felix’s voice, low and ominous, served as a signal.

The imperial palace guards finally sprang into action, albeit a step too late.

The man who had stabbed Lowell didn’t resist as the knights apprehended him.

Meanwhile, Lowell resisted the urge to clutch his wound, scanning his surroundings with sharp eyes.

This was all a performance.

The imperial palace’s security couldn’t possibly be this lax.

Either the emperor or one of his close confidants had deliberately allowed this attack on Lowell to happen.

They wanted to see how Felix would react if I were hurt.

Still kneeling on the ground, Lowell raised his head to look at the emperor.

The man’s expression was a perfect mask of indifference, like a flawless poker face.

But in that cold visage, Lowell detected a spark of delight.

Are you so overjoyed you can’t even pretend to be shocked or angry?

Lowell forced his hazy vision to focus on Felix.

While Lowell’s shoulder was bleeding profusely, the magic coursing through him ensured the wound wasn’t life-threatening.

Yet Felix’s face was pale as a sheet, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

He couldn’t even bring himself to approach Lowell.

It was a stark contrast to how startled Felix had looked on that rainy day—this was far worse.

This could get dangerous.

Despite the searing pain, Lowell’s attention was fixated on Felix.

It was impossible not to notice the black magic swirling ominously at Felix’s feet, a sign that he had lost control over his immense power in his agitation.

Archmages, with their vast reserves of magic, became exceedingly dangerous when their emotions compromised their control.

While Felix’s rage wasn’t the kind that would cause him to rampage uncontrollably, the threat to those around him was real.

It was enough to give the emperor an excuse to twist the situation to his advantage.

“What have you done?”

The man who had so boldly wielded his sword earlier now found his smile fading as he was engulfed by Felix’s black magic.

Before he ascended to the title of Demon King, Felix had rarely flaunted his power, despite his infamous reputation.

Unlike his younger, more reckless self, Felix as an adult had remained composed outside the battlefield.

Few had ever encountered his terrifying magic firsthand.

“I asked, why did you do this?”

A sword materialized in Felix’s hand, forged from pure magic.

The pressure in the air made it clear he wouldn’t hesitate to strike unless given a satisfactory answer.

The blade pressed against the neck of the man wearing an orange scarf, drawing blood that dripped to the floor.

Felix scowled in disgust as though even the sight of the man’s blood mingling with Lowell’s was intolerable.

“Your Grace, matters within the palace…”

A knight standing nearby began, attempting to remind Felix that palace matters fell under their jurisdiction.

However, the knight trailed off, realizing that continuing might cost him his life.

“Are you telling me to step aside right now?” Felix’s voice was dangerously low, his presence radiating pure hostility.

To him, everyone in the hall appeared as an enemy.

“Duke Felix.” The emperor rose, his tone sharp yet laced with hidden glee. “I understand you’re upset because your Omega is hurt, but sheath your sword. This is the imperial palace.”

Only the most perceptive in the room could detect the undercurrent of amusement in the emperor’s voice.

“I will ensure this matter is dealt with thoroughly, but for now, obey my orders. This is an imperial decree.”

Despite the emperor’s words, Felix didn’t lower his blade.

His focus remained solely on Lowell, who was bleeding on the floor.

It was taking all of Felix’s self-control not to act on his impulses.

Lowell, struggling to stay conscious, realized he couldn’t let Felix openly defy the emperor.

Mustering what little strength he had, he spoke hoarsely.

“Felix…”

But Felix didn’t respond.

Or perhaps he couldn’t hear.

When the emperor began descending the steps toward them, Lowell grew more desperate.

“It hurts… Duke Felix.”

Those softly spoken words finally seemed to penetrate Felix’s rage.

His arm twitched, and with a pained groan from Lowell, Felix dropped the sword.

He stumbled forward, collapsing at Lowell’s side.

Yet even then, Felix hesitated, his trembling hands reaching out only to pull back repeatedly.

“Your Grace.”

Lowell extended his uninjured arm, silently urging Felix to hold him.

It wasn’t out of a need for warmth—it was a calculated move to prevent Felix from reaching for his sword again.

“Are… are you alright?” Felix finally managed, his voice trembling as he cradled Lowell.

Though his aura still bristled like a beast protecting its wounded mate, he tried his best to speak gently to Lowell.

Seeing the faint calm returning to Felix’s magic, Lowell sighed in relief.

“Summon a priest,” Lowell murmured, his voice barely audible.

He wanted to stay conscious to monitor Felix, but his body had reached its limit.

“Stay… stay with me.”

For some reason, he felt that if he asked Felix to stay, the man would oblige without question.

* * *