That night, Vincent did not return to the castle.

I didn't use my Sight to check on his whereabouts; I'd already seen Camilla's social media feed.

The photo showed two hands clasped tightly, holding a magnificent solid-gold blood goblet.

The caption read: "You are my endless night, and you are my sun."

I zoomed in on the photo, my gaze fixated on their overlapping wrists.

Beneath their pale skin, two dark red, thorn-like marks were starkly visible.

The Bond Mark.

Only vampires who had formed a Mutual Blood Bond, their souls and bodies deeply intertwined, would develop this indelible mark.

For two hundred years, I had poured my heart and soul into him.

Because he was highly sensitive to light, I spent day after day in the lab developing the Daylight Serum.

Countless times, I suffered extensive burns from high-intensity UV lamps, the pain so great my entire body would seize.

But he merely watched with cold indifference, never showing a single shred of genuine concern.

He always said that a noble, pure-blooded vampire didn't need such frivolous experiments that went against their nature.

I thought he was just arrogant from being in power for so long.

It wasn't until Camilla, this duplicitous "savior," appeared that I finally saw the truth. He understood everything perfectly.

He just reserved that understanding for someone else.

Now, I had no idea what I was to him anymore.

That afternoon, I met my maid of honor, Linda, at a café.

"You can cancel the fitting for the couture gown in Milan," I told her calmly. "The ceremony is off."

Initially, Vincent had despised such ancient, cumbersome rituals.

It was only after my repeated pleading that he reluctantly agreed to give me a grand ceremony.

Linda shot up from her seat in shock, about to ask what happened, but I shook my head to stop her.

An indescribable bitterness welled up inside me.

Everyone in the coven knew I loved Vincent. There was no need to say more.

How could it not hurt to sever a devotion that had lasted two centuries?

But this relationship had been a one-sided sacrifice from the very beginning.

I had walked on eggshells in this relationship, conceding ground step by step.

I had retreated so far that now it was his wedding with someone else, his blood bond with someone else.

In the end, I couldn't bring myself to speak the humiliating truth.

I only told her that I was joining a top-secret experiment at the European Institute and would be making very few public appearances in the future.

I drank at a bar until the early hours. When I returned to the castle late that night, Vincent had just gotten back as well.

He sniffed the air sharply, his brow immediately knitting. "You were out drinking?"

"I've told you before. Stay away from those places in the human world. They're not safe."

I gave a self-deprecating smile. In the past, a seemingly caring remark like that would have moved me to tears.

Without a word, I turned and ascended the spiral staircase, showering the scent off me in the bathroom.

When I emerged in a silk nightgown, Vincent was leaning back on the velvet settee.

His long fingers were tapping quickly on his phone screen, a soft smile playing on his lips.

I coldly averted my gaze, preparing to go straight to my room to rest.

But he suddenly called out to me.

"There's something I need to discuss with you."

My steps halted abruptly.

The last time I heard those words was when he first proposed holding a mock wedding with Camilla, which led to a fierce argument between us.

Now, he had already formed a Mutual Blood Bond with her.

What else could he possibly need to "discuss" with me?

"Cancel the trip to Milan tomorrow for the gown fitting."

Vincent's voice was quiet but left no room for argument.

It was a trip we had planned six months ago, one I still had marked in color on my calendar.

The gown was a masterpiece, custom-made for me by a hundred high-coven artisans over several months.

Truthfully, even if he hadn't brought it up, I had no intention of going.

I had already given up on this so-called ceremony.

His saying so actually saved me the trouble of finding an excuse to refuse. It spared us both the effort.

"Alright," I answered calmly. "Fine. I'll have the steward inform the atelier in Milan. I don't want the gown anymore."

The moment I finished, Vincent was visibly taken aback. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

He paused, his brow furrowing.

In his mind, I should have fought for this honor, a privilege reserved for the Princess Consort.

After all, when it came to anything related to our union, I was always the one most obsessed with details, down to the pattern of the lace itself.

"You're not... going to ask why?" he asked, his long, narrow eyes squinting.

"As the Prince wishes." My tone was ice as I turned to continue up the stairs.

"Our trip is canceled," he paused, then continued, "but the gown is not."

"It's Camilla. With her frail condition, she said she might never get the chance to wear a real wedding dress."

"I'm letting her try on the gown that was designed for you. It will fulfill her final wish."

"After she's gone, I'll have the workshop create a new, even better one for you from the finest wintersilk."

His tone was utterly matter-of-fact; he wasn't discussing it with me. He just needed his fiancée to nod obediently and indulge his so-called "ancient code of honor."

But he didn't know that for us, there was no 'after.'

I didn't even have the energy for a cold laugh. I lowered my eyes and said, "Fine."

"Elena, it's just a dress," Vincent called out from behind me. "You've always been understanding and generous. Don't be petty with her at a time like this."

Since I wasn't going through with this union anyway, he could give the dress to whomever he pleased.

Vincent stood there, staring at my back, his brow tightening.

I was too calm.

None of the soothing words and explanations he had prepared were needed. The feeling of punching at smoke left the controlling Prince with a flicker of irritation.

The next morning, as I descended the spiral staircase, Vincent was already dressed.

He adjusted his cufflinks while speaking rapidly, "After the fitting, Camilla's body will need to rest. I plan to accompany her to the Blood Springs in the Undercity on a retreat. It should help her through this last bout of weakness."

"As for the remaining arrangements for the Union Ceremony, handle them as you see fit. You have full authority. There's no need to inform me."

Again, I gave a faint, "Alright," too weary to offer anything more.

This Union Ceremony, the talk of New York's covens, would have no wedding gown, no crown, and no vows.

And, of course, no bride.

Vincent watched me drink my blood plasma, my expression placid. He hesitated.

Perhaps his conscience finally pricked him, or maybe he wanted to assuage some trivial sense of guilt. He added:

"After the ceremony, I plan to build a laboratory for you."

"You've always said you didn't want to give up your research, haven't you? I'll build you a bigger one."

"Also, the trip to Northern Europe, I've already arranged it. I remember you've always wanted to see the aurora borealis."

In the past, hearing the Prince who never wanted to leave his territory offer such a gesture would have made me ecstatic.

He had always looked down on my research, and I had begged him countless times to travel with me, only to be coldly refused with excuses like "I detest sunlight" and "It's unnecessary."

But this time, Vincent still didn't get the reaction he was hoping for.

Seeing he was running out of time, he could only say, "We'll talk when I get back."

I picked up a pen and viciously crossed out the words "Milan Gown Fitting" on the calendar.

Eleven days left.

I didn't rest. Instead, I began clearing the room of all my personal belongings.

For two hundred years, I had slowly filled the cold castle.

From the glass vials in the study where I formulated his Daylight Serum, to the dust-covered gramophone in the corner, to the matching silk robes in the closet that he had never once worn.

It seemed I had so many things, yet every single one revolved around Vincent.

But he had never used them, let alone cared.

If that was the case, then I would burn them.

Let it all turn to ash, along with my two centuries of foolish love.

For a week, Vincent didn't return to the castle.

But I knew his every move.

Just like now, my phone screen lit up, a notification popped up: Camilla's latest post.

Nine high-definition photos filled the screen.

In the pictures, she was wearing the couture wedding gown I'd had commissioned, standing by the edge of the Blood Springs in the Undercity.

One even showed them in an intimate embrace under the faint moonlight.

Through those posts, I once again saw a completely different Vincent.

It turned out the formidable, bloodthirsty Prince could be as tender as a mortal lover.

I laughed coldly and placed my phone face down on the table.

With ten days until the ceremony, I kept busy.

There were too many of my things in the estate; it took me several days just to pack everything.

I also made a trip back to my own clan's territory.

"Elena, what's this I hear from the Milan workshop about the order being canceled?" the First Elder of my clan asked, his voice laced with concern.

With a calm expression, I handed him the invitation from Europe's Supreme Institute for Vampiric Research.

"Elder, I'm going to Europe to lead a top-secret research project," I explained. "The gown won't be necessary. We'll have a simple ceremony."

I couldn't afford any complications before my departure, so I had to hide the truth about the breakup.

"Has Prince Vincent agreed to this?" the elder asked with a frown.

"Yes. He's handling all the arrangements for the ceremony," I lied calmly, giving them no chance to ask more before I turned and left.

I knew that if I said more, they would only worry.

They had watched the two centuries I'd spent humiliating myself in pursuit of Vincent.

And they had long been aware of the Prince's cold, dismissive attitude toward me.

They had warned me before, subtly, that I meant too little to Vincent and that I should reconsider.

But back then, I was blindly confident, convinced that with enough time, I could warm his heart and win him over completely.

Looking back now, I should have listened.

Late that night, I returned to the empty castle and called my best friend, Linda.

"Bring your most potent erasure potion. Get here now."

Ten minutes later, Linda teleported into my room.

Seeing the empty closets and drawers, her eyes widened in shock.

"Are you insane? You're going to erase your presence from this place entirely?" Linda grabbed my hand in disbelief.

"The Unification Ceremony is in ten days! You know how powerful a pureblood's scent-tracking is. You really want to leave him without a single trace of yourself?"

Linda was incredulous. She remembered how I had dragged her out for a full night of celebratory blood-wine when Vincent finally agreed to the ceremony.

I had gotten completely drunk, repeating endlessly how my two hundred years of devotion were finally paying off.

But now, here I was, demanding to destroy it all.

"You're actually serious," she said, her eyes wide. "I thought you were just blowing off steam at the bar the other day when you talked about canceling."

She paused, her brow furrowed. "I watched you pine after him for two centuries. What on earth happened? How can you bear to let go?"

Perhaps because my departure was so close, the long-suppressed need to confide finally broke through.

"He's staging a mock wedding with Camilla."

"And they formed a Mutual Blood Bond two weeks ago. In secret."

CRASH.

At my words, the glass vial slipped from Linda's hand and shattered on the floor.

"After you poured your heart out for him! He forms a life bond with another woman right before your ceremony, then has the gall to strong-arm you into accepting it? What is that lunatic thinking?"

I lowered my head, swallowing the sharp, bitter lump in my throat.

"I know. The unbreakable ancient code of honor. I can't fight that."

When she heard the words "ancient code of honor," Linda went rigid.

Her eyes blazed with fury. "Then what about the permanent sun-scars you got saving his life! How dare he treat you like this!"

I bit my lip, unable to say another word.