In the carriage, his father didn’t say a word. Rihaan simply stared at the dark grey sky, thunder splitting through the clouds as if punishing him.
He almost laughed. Today was supposed to be the day he regained his freedom. Yet even the heavens seemed displeased.
The carriage halted. Rain poured down in sheets, violent and sudden. Servants rushed outside the mansion, umbrellas in hand, while guards opened the doors.
Rihaan stepped beneath a dark umbrella, though it barely shielded him. His perfectly tailored suit grew damp at the shoulders, but he didn’t scold the servant. He welcomed the cold creeping into his skin. At least it kept him from smiling—something that would only enrage his father further.
Once they stepped inside, servants closed the umbrellas and hurried forward with towels.
The King dried himself first. Then he seized Rihaan’s wrist, preventing him from doing the same.
Rihaan tilted his head, confused.
His father yanked the towel from Rihaan’s hand and let it fall to the floor. Without a word, he dragged him toward the stairs.
Rihaan followed, unable to protest. One more sentence, and things would only escalate.
The moment they were alone, the king’s hand struck him across Rihaan’s face—hard enough to send the young man crashing into a glass cabinet. It shattered behind him, crystal shards scattering across the marble floor, the sound almost deafening.
"You worthless child!"
Before Rihaan could stand, his father grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up—only to throw him again on the floor, hard. His back slammed into a column, knocking the air from his lungs.
"You destroyed years of negotiations!"
Another punch to the ribs. Rihaan’s knees buckled.
"You ruined my alliance, disgraced Danshin—because of love?"
Rihaan tried to speak, but the next blow hit his jaw, sending a spray of blood across the floor. He fell onto his hands, coughing. The king didn’t stop.
He kicked him in the stomach once, twice—relentless, rage-fueled. Rihaan gasped, fingers clenching uselessly against the floor. He could only take the blows.
Protesting would only worsen his father’s anger. He was prepared for this, anyway. This was... nothing if it meant he could be with his beloved. Although the groans, the shrieks leaving his mouth was beyond his controlled. He could only hope that no servants heard him.
"Stand up!" his father roared.
Rihaan forced himself upright, only to receive a fist to the cheek. His lip brushed against his teeth. Blood dripped onto his collar, staining the white fabric red.
"What did you think would happen? That I would let you throw away your life? Your title? Your duty?"
Another kick.
Rihaan couldn’t stop the strangled groan that tore from his throat—half gasp, half sob. He collapsed again, palms skidding over glass fragments. A few shards dug into his skin, and uncontrolable tears broke free from his eyes.
"You think your little lover is worth all of this?" the king spat.
Rihaan raised his head slowly, blood running down his chin, eyes burning with pain and fury.
"Yes," his voice was firm despite the tremor beneath it.
His father froze for half a second.
Then punched him again.
"You don’t know what it costs to rule!"
"I don’t want your throne!" Rihaan yelled back, voice cracking, body shaking. "If being king means selling my heart—then I reject it!"
The king scoffed, pressing his feet on Rihaan’s stomach.
"Then you are no son of mine."
He grabbed Rihaan by his soaked collar, pulled him close, and hissed the words into his ear, "You are no longer Crown Prince."
Rihaan stared at him—bruised, blood all over his body. But his voice came out steady.
Defiant.
Rebellious.
"Alright. As you wish."
The king’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t expected his son to agree so quickly. Anyone would die for this positon, yet this boy was ready to throw it all away for a mere... omega?
"You have lost your mind," he exhaled sharply, slamming his palm on his forehead.
"It seems that’s it," Rihaan said, his voice hoarse from all the screaming.
Silence followed—heavier than the blows. The rain hammered against the windows, thundering like applause from the heavens, as if celebrating his struggle to stand up to his tyrannical father.
Rihaan didn’t speak again. He simply turned away, limping as he walked toward the door. His breath shook, his shirt stained with blood and rainwater. Each step left a faint smear on the polished floor.
Behind him, the king sat heavily on the couch, suddenly alone in a room that felt too large and too quiet. The fury, the violence, the shouting—it all drained into the silence.
Tonight, they both understood that something had broken between them. Something that could never return to what it was.
Rihaan didn’t look back once he stood in the hallways.
***
When he awoke, Rihaan could barely move an inch. It felt as if every bone in his body had been crushed. He lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling like a soulless corpse.
The door swung open and a maid rushed inside, carrying a bowl of water with a towel draped over the edge.
"You are awake!" she gasped, the tension in her face softening with relief.
Rihaan slowly pushed himself up, leaning against the headboard despite the sharp pain that shot through his back.
"You—" he frowned, immediately pulling the blanket up over himself even though he was fully dressed. He didn’t want anyone to see the wounds on his body. His gaze dropped to his clothes—clean, unfamiliar.
"Who changed me?"
"W–Well... the maid on duty before me said..." she hesitated.
"Speak," Rihaan ordered quietly. It couldn’t possibly have been his father. The man who did this to him wouldn’t lift a finger.
"Crown Prince Soren came last night... drenched from the rain," the maid said finally, her eyes fixed on the floor.
Rihaan blinked, frowning as he tilted his head—only to let out a pained groan. Even the movement of his neck sent sharp aches down his spine.
"Oh. He did?" His voice was low. Not really a question—more a confirmation to himself.
"Yes, Your Highness. He changed your clothes, tended to your wounds, and left just a few hours ago."
Rihaan’s jaw tightened. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. Mostly not Soren.