CHAPTER 345: THE NIGHT LOVE BECAME FORBIDDEN

[Haldor’s POV—A Day After—Eloria Camp—Night]

"The camp is ready, Your Highness," I reported as she continued gently patting Marshi’s fur. The tiger purred—actually purred—and leaned into her hand like a giant spoiled cat.

She stood, brushing her palms lightly. "Thank you, Sir Haldor."

I bowed my head and instinctively fell in step behind her. The night breeze rustled her red cloak, the campfires painting her in flickers of gold and shadow.

"Let’s have dinner together?" she said suddenly.

I stopped.

Not because she asked—but because she asked so casually, as though it were normal. As though it were expected. As though she hadn’t ripped open my entire emotional foundation just last night by giving me the first birthday celebration of my life.

"I... don’t mind, Your Highness," I answered immediately.

She paused. Blinked at me. Tilted her head like she had heard something impossible.

"You... aren’t saying no today?"

I held her gaze, steady but soft. A faint smile slipped out—completely against my will.

"Having dinner with you is my greatest honor, Your Highness," I said quietly. "And I have learned not to let such an honor... slip away again."

There was a beat of silence.

Sera slapped a hand over her mouth. "I am seeing a different side of Sir Haldor today!"

Zerith nodded as if he had witnessed some rare celestial alignment. "I agree, your highness."

Rey grinned like a fox who had just found new blackmail material. Osric—Osric twitched sharply, jaw tightening before he turned and walked away without a word.

General Luke simply watched. Silent. Expression unreadable.

Princess Lavinia folded her arms, and the smile she gave me—bright, warm, delighted—made something in my chest stutter painfully.

"Indeed, Sir Haldor," she said, voice soft but teasing. "Every day with you feels like turning a new page. It’s fascinating seeing all your different sides."

...Fascinating.

She finds me... fascinating.

Me.

Heat bloomed in my chest—sharp, unexpected, and overwhelming. A small smile escaped before I could suppress it.

She walked toward the dining tent, her steps light, almost playful.

"Come on," she called over her shoulder. "Let’s have dinner. I’m starving."

I followed her, still feeling that unfamiliar warmth coiling in my ribcage. But she stopped again—turning this time toward General Luke.

"You can join us too, General Luke."

He bowed slightly. "I would be honored, Your Highness."

She smiled and entered the tent.

The others followed.

And I... I lingered for a heartbeat, feeling Luke’s gaze slide toward me. Heavy. Searching. That same aching familiarity that shouldn’t exist.

I ignored it.

And stepped into the tent after her—the place where she sat waiting, her seat lit by firelight, her eyes warm when they met mine.

Her crimson eyes—they lifted to meet mine, and the world... simply stopped.

Warm.

Alive.

Addictive.

They weren’t just eyes—they were gravity

. They pulled me in with a force that was almost painful. A heat wrapped around my ribs, tightening. Steady, strong, and terrifyingly gentle.

Her eyes felt like a heartbeat I couldn’t live without. A lifeline I never asked for but couldn’t let go of. A fire that lit every corner of the cold places inside me.

Those crimson irises glimmered in the firelight, softening when they found me—as if my presence was something she had been waiting for.

And it was ridiculous—absurd—how easily I lost myself in them.

I shouldn’t.

But I did.

Every time.

Her lips curled into a small smile. Just for me. A smile so warm it felt like sunlight on frostbitten skin.

My breath caught.

She is... beautiful.

Too beautiful.

And in that moment—that single, fragile heartbeat—I realized something terrifying.

Something undeniable.

Something forbidden.

A feeling had begun taking root inside me.

Quietly.Steadily.Like a seed planted in darkness, growing without permission.

A feeling I should never have. A feeling that broke every rule I lived by. A feeling that whispered of warmth, softness, and danger all at once. A feeling I didn’t understand earlier, but now—

Now I knew its name.

Love.

***

[Later—Under the Moonlight]

The night was quiet.

Too quiet.

The moon hung above me like a watchful eye, tracing every breath I took, every tremor in my fingers, and every thought I didn’t want to admit even to myself.

My hand rested on my chest—right over the place that hurt.

"When..." My voice cracked. "...did it start?"

This feeling. This foolish, reckless, impossible feeling. The feeling I should never have.

The feeling for her.

For my princess.

For someone who stands so far above me that even looking at her feels like sacrilege.

I swallowed hard.

"The feeling for Her Highness is like..." I closed my eyes, forcing the words out, "...a sunrise I’m not allowed to witness."

Warm.Soft.Beautiful.

And forbidden.

It’s like reaching toward a flame, even knowing it will burn me.

The wind brushed against my hair, but it did nothing to cool the heat building in my chest.

My breath trembled.

"She is a Crown Princess," I said, voice low. "Future Empress. Light of Eloria."

And I—

"I am... nothing."

What right do I have to look at her that way? What right do I have to let these feelings root themselves inside me?

Love isn’t for people like me.

What right do I have to feel this?What right do I have to look at her with anything more than loyalty?What right do I have to let my heart... move?

Love isn’t for people like me. It never was.

I exhaled shakily, staring at my own hands—hands that only knew how to kill... yet had touched her gently last night.

I shouldn’t have let myself feel— "So... you started growing feelings for her, huh?"

A voice sliced through the air like a poisoned blade. My entire body went still.

Slowly, I turned.

Grand Duke Osric stood there—hands clenched, jaw tight, eyes burning with something dark.Jealousy. Rage. And beneath that... a wounded pride.

A smirk twisted his lips—but not a pleasant one. A sharp, irritated, cracking smirk. He stepped forward, boots crunching over gravel.

"Step away," he hissed. "She is not meant for you."

I met his gaze without flinching. Cold. Sharp. Calm.

"That is not something you decide, Grand Duke," I said, voice even. "It concerns me... and only me."

His expression snapped.

"You?" He spat. "A mere—pathetic—captain?"

He took another step, eyes wild.

"You think you can stand beside her?" His voice rose. "You think you DESERVE to even LOOK at her that way?"

I did not move; I just smirked, saying, "Why not? Who knows, the person she is destined to be is me."

I didn’t mean it, but I am letting Princess Name drag her like she is some object to claim.

His fury only grew at my stillness.

Then—YANK!

He grabbed me by the collar and pulled me toward him, teeth bared like a starving wolf.

"She is a Crown Princess!" Osric snarled. "And you—YOU are a nameless stray—how dare you think—"

"Mind your language, Grand Duke," I said coldly—too coldly. "I am the Imperial Captain."

His grip faltered.

I continued, my voice like a blade sliding between ribs:

"A rank higher than yours. And instead of showing respect... you lay your hands on me."

His breathing hitched.

"Insubordination," I murmured. "Grabbing me by the collar... Are you asking to be punished?"

Something snapped in his eyes.

"HOW—DARE—YOU—!!!"

BAM!!!

His fist slammed into my jaw.

My head snapped slightly to the side. A dull crack echoed.

But I didn’t fall.I didn’t stumble.I didn’t even blink.

I simply turned my head back... and looked at him.

Calm.Unmoved.Unbroken.

Osric’s breathing turned ragged when he realized his punch did nothing. Absolutely nothing.

"You’re losing control, Grand Duke," I said quietly. "Over a woman who is no longer yours."

His fist trembled. "I did not lose her; she is just angry. She will return to me because...she always wanted me. So step back, or you will lose very badly."

I took one slow step forward, and he instinctively stepped back.

"First, she is not an object to fight. Second, I don’t need to fight you," I said. "Because you already lost her, forever."

His jaw clenched so hard I heard a crack.

"You think she will ever see you," he whispered bitterly, "when she already chose me once?"

I stared at him.

Then—

"No," I said softly. "She didn’t choose you. She endured you."

His eyes widened, fury flaring like wildfire.

"And now," I continued, "she is choosing her future... not her past."

Osric’s breathing turned violent—shoulders shaking, eyes burning with rage and something deeper.

"I will not let you take her!" He spat. "She belongs to me—"

"She belongs with no one," I cut him sharply.

He froze.

"She is not an object, not a throne. Not a prize waiting to be claimed." His lips trembled. "She will choose, and whether she chooses me or not... I am sure of one thing."

I held his gaze.

"It is definitely not you."

The words hit him like a blade to the ribs. His entire face twisted—rage, humiliation, and heartbreak fusing into something feral.

"HOW DARE YOU!!!" he roared.

He lunged—fist raised—aimed straight for my face, pouring every ounce of pride and fury into that punch.

I didn’t move.

Because I didn’t need to. Before his fist could land—"WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?"

Her voice—sharp, furious, unmistakable—crashed through the night like a lightning strike.

We both whipped around.

She stood there.

Princess Lavinia.

Her gown brushing the ground, moonlight catching in her golden hair—and her eyes... Her eyes were wide, blazing, and furious.

Furious.

The air turned suffocatingly still.

Osric’s fist hovered mid-air, inches from my jaw. My hand had moved toward my sword instinctively.

And she saw all of it.