Whispers filled the grand halls, slithering like unseen serpents through the courts and corridors. Servants exchanged wary glances. Ministers debated behind closed doors. The King—their cold, untouchable ruler—had become obsessed with an unknown phantom.

For days, his orders had been the same: Find him.

And yet, no one knew who he was.

The rumors had taken on a life of their own. Some claimed the King had fallen under a river spirit's curse, enchanted by an otherworldly beauty. Others swore he was searching for a spy—an enemy infiltrator who had dared tempt him.

But those closest to the throne knew the truth.

The King was hunting a phantom lover.

---

The Queen Intervenes

The Queen sat in the grand chamber, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her face an unreadable mask. When the King entered, she did not rise, nor did she bow. She was the only one in the kingdom who did not have to.

"My son," she said coolly. "Sit."

He did not. His jaw tightened. "Why have you summoned me, Mother?"

Her gaze swept over him—assessing, calculating. She saw it immediately. The slight tension in his shoulders. The barely concealed frustration in his stormy gaze.

He is unraveling.

"Enough." Her voice was soft, yet it cut through the space like a dagger. "You are the King. Your people watch your every move. And yet, you have made a spectacle of yourself—chasing shadows in the dead of night."

His fists clenched. "I am doing nothing wrong."

She tilted her head. "Then tell me—what is this creature that you seek?"

Silence.

The Queen smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "You cannot answer."

"I—"

"You are searching for a ghost, my son." Her words were sharp. "You are acting like a lovesick fool."

His breath came heavier. Anger flickered behind his eyes, but he could not deny it.

She leaned forward slightly. "The court is watching. Your ministers are speaking. If you continue this reckless pursuit, you will lose their trust."

That struck him like a blade.

"You are a King. You do not chase. You do not obsess. You do not let some nameless beauty make you appear weak."

His jaw locked. He hated that she was right.

Slowly, he exhaled. "...What do you expect me to do?"

The Queen's expression softened just slightly. "End this search. Publicly. Let them believe you have moved on."

A beat of silence.

Then, finally, he gave a curt nod.

The Queen leaned back. "Good. Now, find a concubine for tonight. Make it known that your desires are elsewhere."

He turned to leave. But before he stepped out, she added, "And whatever it is you're feeling... kill it."

---

The King's Hidden Fire

That night, the King did as expected.

He called for a concubine.

A delicate Omega, soft-skinned and eager to please, draped in the sheerest silk, eyes filled with longing. The scent of submission lingered in the air as the King pressed him down onto the golden sheets.

But his mind was elsewhere.

His lips ghosted over heated skin—but it was not the body he wanted.

His hands roamed over trembling flesh—but it was not the warmth he craved.

When he thrust into yielding softness, when he bit into pale skin, when he pinned the writhing body beneath him—he imagined someone else.

Someone untouchable.

Someone wild.

Someone who had slipped through his grasp like mist.

His river beauty.

His.

A growl ripped from his throat.

The Omega gasped, mistaking his aggression for passion.

But the truth was—it only made him hungry for more.

Because no matter how many bodies he took, no matter how many mouths moaned his name, it would never be him.

And that infuriated him.

---

Meanwhile, Caelum...

Far from the palace, Caelum sat by a dimly lit lantern, unaware of the fire he had left behind.

For the first time in days, he allowed himself to breathe. To feel safe.

He had made the right choice.

I will not go back to the river.

And yet—he could not shake the feeling.

The feeling that somewhere out there... the King was still searching.

---