"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.

"I'm going to tear that hypocritical bitch apart!" Linda's eyes were bloodshot as she turned to leave.

I grabbed her arm.

"There's no point," I said, my voice unnervingly calm. "I no longer want what was never mine. Don't make a scene. Just help me cover my tracks."

Linda bit her lip, tears streaming down her face. Without another word, she waved her hand and cast the most powerful spell of erasure.

Five days until the ceremony, I officially submitted my resignation to the New York Coven's laboratory.

To stay by Vincent's side, I had given up a coveted position at the Supreme Institute in Europe to become his personal serumist.

Everyone in the lab was stunned by my announcement.

"Why quit so suddenly, Elena?"

"You just sent out the Unification Ceremony invitations. Is the Prince so possessive he's forcing you to be his consort full-time?"

I clutched a black case filled with my private research data and shook my head with a small smile.

"No, the wedding is off."

Ignoring the stunned silence of my colleagues, I drove straight back to the castle.

I saw Vincent almost immediately. He had been gone for days, but there he was, with a pale, smiling Camilla at his side.

They were leaning against the black velvet sofa, whispering to each other.

At the sound, Vincent's gaze fell on the black case in my hands, and he sat up abruptly.

"What's in the case?"

I offered a simple excuse. "Just some old things from the lab. I'm having them destroyed."

He seemed to relax, giving a thoughtful nod.

But as he scanned the now-empty hall, a hint of confusion crossed his face. "I've only been gone a week. Why does the castle feel so empty?"

I handed the case to a servant and met his gaze. "As I said, I'm clearing out the old."

Vincent was about to ask more, but Camilla interrupted him, her voice soft and delicate.

"Elena, thank you for letting me borrow the wedding gown. To show my gratitude, perhaps we could enjoy that new shipment of the finest pure blood together tonight?"

"The Prince has been so kind, staying with me during my recovery. I'm sure he's tired."

Her words sounded grateful, but she couldn't hide the triumphant air of a victor.

I didn't even bother to look up.

I was done playing these hypocritical games with her.

In five days, I would vanish from Vincent's world completely. For now, I just wanted to get through these final motions in peace.

Seeing my cold, silent demeanor, Camilla's eyes instantly reddened.

"Vincent… Is Elena angry with me? I mean, you two are about to be united, and I just..."

At the sound of her choked, pained voice, Vincent's expression darkened.

He was displeased. "Camilla is thanking you in good faith. Why the cold shoulder? You're not the Princess Consort yet. It's just one meal. It's not like she's going to poison your blood-wine."

I hadn't said a word, and still I was the one being blamed.

In the end, I nodded. I didn't want any more trouble.

At the hall's crystal bar, Vincent instructed the steward, "Open that vintage bottle of specialty blood-wine. Add Camilla's favorite, Ice-Thorn extract, to each glass."

He explained to Camilla, reciting from memory, "Ice-Thorn keeps the blood fresh. It's good for your condition."

I stood to the side, watching the steward fill three crimson goblets. My gaze turned to ice.

Ice-Thorn. I'm severely allergic to it.

For two centuries, a single drop of Ice-Thorn extract would cause violent spasms in my blood, an agony beyond words.

Every servant in the castle knew my personal goblet was never to contain it.

But Vincent, the man who had been my partner for two hundred years, had completely forgotten. Yet he remembered Camilla's preferences perfectly.

The steward approached me with a goblet laced with Ice-Thorn, his hands trembling.

I pushed the goblet away. "I'm severely allergic to Ice-Thorn," I said coldly.

At my words, Vincent's expression froze, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.

He waved the goblet away and ordered a servant to bring me a new glass of the pure blood I preferred.

But I didn't touch a single goblet. I just sat there, silently drinking ice water.

As we were leaving the Undercity, my phone buzzed.

It was my mentor from the European Institute.

"Elena, I need to confirm one last time. Are you absolutely certain you want to enter the subterranean labs directly?"

"This Daylight Serum project involves the highest level of coven secrets. Once the ancient magical seals are in place, you'll be completely cut off from the outside world for eighteen months."

My gaze fell on the two figures walking side by side ahead of me.

Vincent was holding Camilla by the waist, his large black cloak wrapped securely around her, shielding her from the tainted, low-grade magical energies of the Undercity.

"I'm sure," I replied without hesitation.

My mentor let out a long sigh of relief. "Good. The board was worried you wouldn't be able to leave your Prince."

I pulled my gaze away and turned to leave.

"The wedding is off."

"I can leave at a moment's notice."

The moment the words left my mouth, a cold voice cut in from behind me.

"Who's leaving?"