When Beauty Destroys The BL World

Chapter 91~Regret~

It had been days.

And still, Irene did not wake.

She lay motionless on the bed, as if suspended in time-trapped in some unreachable place beyond his voice, beyond his touch. Her breaths were faint, her skin cold to the touch. To the others, it looked like sleep. But to Lucas, it felt like she was slipping further away with each passing second.

Even the physician, once full of quiet confidence, now wore a mask of helplessness. "Her wounds are healing... but it's as if her spirit refuses to return," he admitted, his voice laced with unease. "I've never seen anything like this."

Whispers began to spread among the priests and the castle servants-old superstitions, tales of cursed sleep and shattered souls. Some said it was the toll of the torment she had endured. Others murmured that she had been claimed by grief itself.

Lucas refused to believe any of it.

But as the hours turned to days, and the days stretched into a quiet torment, doubt began to claw at his heart.

He stayed by her side, rarely leaving the chamber. His once-sharp eyes were dulled by exhaustion. His voice, when it came, was soft, raw from pleading.

That night, like the many before, he sat beside her once more. The candles flickered dimly, casting long shadows on the walls. The silence was deafening.

Lucas reached out and gently took her hand-cold and still as marble-and brought it to his lips, then to his forehead. He closed his eyes, and his voice cracked in a whisper.

"Irene... please," he breathed, "if you're still in there... come back to me."

His fingers tightened slightly around hers.

"You've suffered enough. You don't have to fight alone anymore. And if you want to punish me...then please do so. I will accept anything as long as not this."

Still, she didn't stir.

The ache in his chest grew unbearable, like something ripping from the inside.

"I know I have broken my promised to take care of you...and that's maybe why you refuse to wake up...." A bitter smile tugged at his lips. "But I'm still selfish enough wanting...and hoping that you're awake. To be here by my side."

A tear slid down his cheek, falling onto the back of her hand.

"Please...don't suffer anymore....stay, please...."

But there was no reply. No flutter of eyelids. No sign of waking up. Just the silence of a woman lost in darkness-and a man praying for a miracle that might never come.

Unbeknownst to Lucas, someone else had been listening.

Unseen in the shadows near the chamber door, Nickolai stood silent, watching. He had heard everything-every word Lucas spoke, every breath laced with guilt and heartbreak.

His gaze fell upon Dacia...or should he say Irene.

Even now, unconscious, she carried the weight of her torment. Her face was pale, her frame fragile. Beneath the fine linens, the scars remained. Not just the visible ones, but the kind that buried deep-beneath skin, beneath soul.

Something inside Nickolai shifted.

A terrible ache tore through his chest. A pain that words couldn't contain. Something vast and hollow opened inside him-a chasm of regret, guilt, rage, and helplessness.

The strong, proud prince who had once stood before the empire, now found himself utterly... powerless.

Without a word, Nickolai walked out of the chamber. His steps were heavy, but his face unreadable.