One Night with the Hybrid King

efore Queen Seraphina and King Caelum, as if trying to make up for a grave mistake, makes me feel tiny, insignificant, like an insect about to be crushed. His words

ss down on my shoulders, a pressure that t

around me transforms into a distant hum, as if I were submerged in an ocean of uncertainty. The walls

me eats away at me from the inside, making me wish to disappear, to evaporate, to be swallowed by any dark corner of the hall w

ging brief relief. But despair soon takes over again. Unable to help it, the words spill out of me in a frantic rush, begging for underst

g! Please, do not deduct it from my pay, I desperat

alm. His touch is like an anchor, grounding me to reality, preventing me from being swept away by

ood and needed someone to take it out on. Go serve the other guests and

not disappoint you, I promise!" I r

o calm the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, and once again straighten my posture. I try to keep my mind focused on what I am doing; I must get through this night without any incident.

to the hall. Just a few steps before entering the hall, a large figure appears around the corner, and I collide wi

ed to find King Caelum standing before me. My heart feels like it is about to le

m stone, his lips pressed into a hard line, and his green eyes, so inten

hick white sauce, a sight that only amplifies the dread consuming me. The marble floor beneath me is cold a

ying to hold water in my hands; everything slips away. Why me, why now? The questions spin in my mind, but without answers. All I

tincts finally take over, and I begin clumsily picking up the mess, m

where I was going and..." I stamme

amn, damn! I am lost. I will be dismissed, banished from the castle. Or worse, he might send me

against the marble, seems distant, almost irrelevant compared to the fear growing inside me like a wildfire. I cannot look at him again. I cannot. The image of his fury is etched in m

e anger in his words is palpable, and each syllable feels like a death sentence. However, he stops mid-sentence, surprising m

eyes meet, what I see surprises me as much as the most terrible nightmare. The stern and scowling expression of King Caelum, which momen

an intensity that leaves me breathless, as if there is somet

he terror of the situation. Were it not for all this, I might simply sigh in awe at Caelum's commanding beauty. The contours of his face, so finely sculpted, the firmness of his

l a cold shiver at the base of my spine, as if a frigid wind had swept through the hall. His eyes remain fixed on me, but the anger that once burned in them is gone. In its place,