In the last chapter, we witnessed a heartbroken voice.
Dragan kept wandering as he walked back to his room, still thinking about Aurelia. Her face, the way she looked at him earlier, the tone of her voice, the pain behind her eyes ,it kept playing like a broken reel in his mind.
He stopped at his door, hand resting on the knob, and a thought flashed through his mind like lightning across a dark sky.
My mission here is to cure this young lady and make sure she's in good health… but here I am, falling for her.
He sighed, heavily.
But I can recall .. she's infected with sickle cells… and maybe that has something to do with the behavior she showed back there.
No... I don't think it causes that. Maybe I should just do my research.
Dragan muttered to himself as he entered the room. His steps were slow, thoughtful. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing him back into solitude.
Suddenly, his watch flashed with a flame-light ring.
A video call was coming through.
It was his father.
He adjusted himself and tapped the screen.
"Hello, Dad," he said patiently, sitting upright, eyes trying to mask the storm within.
"Hey, son. Hope everything's fine. Sorry for not telling Dr. Emerin that you're my son."
There was a brief pause, then his father's voice returned ; firm yet gentle.
"See that beautiful young lady?" he continued. "I sent you there to use your special abilities — and everything you've learned. Combine the power. Heal her."
Dragan swallowed. His heart beat faster.
"I heard… she was promised to the prince. But her condition is keeping her away."
Dragan's expression softened, his shoulders tensed.
"Dad, please don't worry. I'll do anything I can to help her, I'll help get her"
"You're… going to get her?" his father asked, surprised.
Dragan quickly interrupted, "No, not that. But to get her back in good health."
There was a long silence , not on the call, but in Dragan's mind.
"Do your best, son. I'm counting on you."
"Sure. I won't let you down," Dragan replied firmly, nodding once.
He recorded the call as they continued talking. Even after it ended, he held the screen in his hand for a moment longer. His chest felt tight. His brain felt… loud.
After the call, he lay straight on his bed. Flat. Still. Eyes to the ceiling. The kind of stillness that isn't peace… but paralysis.
He kept thinking about what to do next. But his body wouldn't move.
So he replayed the recording he'd just taken.
Then something hit him. Something his father had said earlier.
"She's been promised to the Prince of Zaeria…"
His jaw clenched.
The words didn't just sting .. they sank.
Even if he healed her… she wouldn't be his.
She was destined for someone else. Not just anyone. A prince.
A wave of heartbreak crept in, slow and sharp like winter wind.
He clenched his fists and shook his head slowly, as though denying the emotions would erase them.
"Drag, you're a man," he muttered to himself. "Don't give your heart to this girl. There are more out there."
But then .. boom. A thought barged through the door of his mind.
A war began.
Just shut up. Can't you see? She's the best you could ever get here, his heart argued.
Even the Prince admired her.
He let go of the debate ,not because he'd won, but because he was exhausted.
He sat up again strong, composed, like a man trying not to break.
But the thought came again.
You're going to leave a beautiful girl… to the Prince.
He was royalty. A figure of respect.
Fighting over a lady with a prince would only make Dragan look small… maybe even foolish.
In the royal empire of Vaelion Prime .. deep within Zaeria the twisted fate of Dragan Reks and Aurelia was now woven.
Both of them… heartbroken.
Even though neither had ever confessed their love to the other.
The tension was real.
This was no fairy tale. This was silence. Unsaid feelings. The kind that haunts you at night.
Then, a voice shattered the quiet.
"I bring you global news. Now let's dive into the Eastern world. There is something hilarious"
"Shut up," Dragan said, eyes still distant. His tone was flat.
He was speaking to his AI assistant , a floating voice that usually filled his day with report since he came ,
"I don't want global news today…" he paused.
"…maybe a heartbroken song."
"Oh, sorry. I didn't quite hear that… heartbreaking, it's Aurelia's right."
"Yeah," Dragan mumbled, falling into silence again.
Dragan, remained silent.
The AI took the cue.
"Let me get your heartbreaking song. Let's move to the old times, okay?"
Moments later, the soft instrumental of an old favorite began to echo through the room.
Tom Odell's Another Love.
The music floated through the air slow, soulful, painful. Like a confession that words could never carry.
Every lyric struck deep. Every note was a scar.
The room itself seemed to hum in tune with his sorrow ; like it knew.
He closed his eyes. Let it all sink in.
A memory he hadn't lived yet… but already hurt from.
"Play it once more," he whispered.
And the song played again.
The chorus a little louder. The pain a little deeper.
Then ..
DING.
A bell indicator rang.
A visitor.
It was Dr. Emerin.
Word had just gotten to him…, Dr.Megan contacted him...
That the young man staying under his roof is the son of his bosom friend.
He was none other than the son of Dr. Megan Norr Reks.
The moment the door opened, Dr. Emerin walked in, calm but clearly curious.
"I'd like to know who you are," he asked, voice steady.
There was no hostility. No suspicion. Just interest.
"I know you're just faked madness, right??," he added, almost smiling.
Dragan stood up, respectful, collected.
"I'm Dragan Reks," he said clearly. "Son of Dr. Megan Norr Reks from Skydrift. And I'm here to.."
Dr. Emerin raised a hand and interrupted.
"Yeah, I know… help cure my daughter."
He took a few steps forward, looking Dragan in the eye.
"You're welcome to this house," he said warmly. "You can live wonderfully here. Enjoy your freedom. Do a good job, and champ…"
He smiled.
"…make us proud."
"Thanks," Dragan responded, bowing slightly. "I'll do my best."
Dr. Emerin gave a nod and walked away.
But as the footsteps faded… something else echoed louder in Dragan's thoughts.
A whisper. A memory. A crack in trust.
She told them…
…but she promised not to.