SHADOWLESS LOVE

SHORT MESSAGE FROM AUTHOR,

IF NOBODY TOLD YOU THIS TODAY, I WANT TO THANK YOU FOR EXISTING AND FIGHTING BACK ALL ODDS OF YOUR LIFE. 😊😊

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The Ivanova Mansion stood as a testament to old money, power, and grandeur—a palace born from centuries of influence and meticulous design. The estate sprawled like a kingdom, divided into three distinct realms, each bearing its own unique purpose and splendor.

The eastern wing was a hub of opulence reserved for public engagements. Here, the Ivanovas hosted business galas and high-profile gatherings, its grand halls and suites offering panoramic views of the mansion's legendary greenhouse. This architectural marvel, a masterpiece of glass and steel, held exotic plants and rare blooms from across the world—a symbol of their refined taste and boundless wealth.

The western wing, though quieter, exuded the same elegance. It was a haven for the most esteemed guests, providing luxurious accommodations and services fit for royalty. The greenhouse connected to this side as well, its breathtaking beauty accessible to those worthy enough to witness it up close.

But the heart of the Ivanova Mansion—the soul of its secrecy and sanctity—lay in the northern wing. A place where only family members could tread, it was an impenetrable fortress of privacy. The security here was so advanced, so unyielding, that even the smallest breach was unthinkable.

And it was here, in this sacred realm, that Erika's room resided.

Her chamber was a reflection of her innermost self—an intimate blend of elegance and longing. Decorated in deep crimson tones, it spoke of luxury and quiet sophistication. Rich velvet drapes cascaded from towering windows, their hue reminiscent of wine spilled on moonlight. A canopy bed with intricate carvings of roses and vines stood as the centerpiece, its silken sheets shimmering in the soft glow of an ornate chandelier. Every detail of the room felt personal, intentional—though Erika had never consciously realized it, the red tones mirrored Aeron's eyes.

Sliding against the polished black door, Erika sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her gaze, blank and desolate, fell on the ring adorning her finger—a red diamond that shimmered like fire, so much like Aeron's piercing eyes. She stroked it absently, her voice breaking the heavy silence.

"I was twelve when I got engaged to him," she murmured, her tone tinged with sorrow. "This ring was promised to me, but not to Erika Patrio. No, it was Ivelle Ivanova who was proposed to."

She leaned her head back against the door, letting her thoughts spiral as Aeron's words from the greenhouse replayed in her mind.

"Act like you love me."

She remembered the pain etched into his face, the hollowness in his eyes. His voice had been fractured, desperate. Loneliness, hopelessness—emotions she could recognize, though she couldn't understand why he'd said such a thing. Aeron Valentino was always an enigma, but now he was beyond comprehension.

Taking a deep breath, Erika closed her eyes, the ache in her chest sharper than before. She whispered into the emptiness of her room:

"Will I ever stop loving you, Aeron Valentino? Will I ever stop loving you like a fool?"

Tears welled in her eyes as her thoughts turned bitter, her heart waging war with itself.

You've changed, Aeron. You're no longer the man who once swore to protect the weak. You've drawn your blade against people you would have died for. Why?

You've become drunk with power, ready to claim Helhim—the throne you once loathed. Why?

You never loved the mother of your child. Then why didn't you seek the truth behind my suffering? Behind the death of everyone I held dear? -

Her hands trembled as anger and grief consumed her. Her love for him burned fiercely, yet it clashed with an equally desperate desire to resent him.

You are everything I despise—greedy, ruthless, manipulative. A monster. Yet…-

Her thoughts softened as an image of Aeron with his son surfaced. The warmth in his voice, the gentle light in his crimson eyes—it was a side of him she hadn't seen in years. Against her will, her heart betrayed her, fluttering at the memory of his touch, his presence.

-Even after ten years of telling myself I wouldn't love you anymore... I still do.-

She buried her face in her arms, the tears falling freely now. All she wanted was to escape—to run to him, to be held in his embrace, forgetting the pain and betrayal. But she couldn't. She wouldn't.

Why does it have to be you, Aeron? Why must the person I love the most be the one tied to the ruin of my life?

Exhausted from the weight of her thoughts, Erika's eyes grew heavy. As sleep began to claim her, the only image in her mind was Aeron's face—those haunting, beautiful red eyes.

The man she hated. The man she loved. The man she could never escape.

.......................................

While whispers of a marriage of convenience between Aeron and Ivelle swirled in the halls of power, a far graver conversation unfolded in the sanctum of the Chief Executive of the Ghost Fleet.

Kim Jae stood rigid in the corner of the dimly lit room, the weight of the atmosphere pressing heavily on his chest. The screen before them flickered with the image of a man shrouded in shadows. Only two things stood out—a pair of golden eyes that glowed like molten metal and a voice so deep and enchanting it seemed to crawl under the skin, seeping into the bones.

"You sent Shadow Hunter to hunt down Hades?" The voice was a velvet snare, smooth yet edged with raw menace.

Kim Jae swallowed hard, his throat dry. Even from the corner, he could feel the oppressive presence of the man through the screen.

The leader of the Ghost Fleet, however, smiled—a gesture too calm, too confident. "Nobody is better suited for this role than Shadow Hunter." His tone carried a strange pride, unshaken despite the subtle, chilling arrogance radiating from the other side.

Kim Jae risked a glance at the leader's expression, hoping to find a clue, an anchor for his own nerves. But the face he saw was unreadable, a mask of serene confidence that only deepened his unease.

"Hmm," the man on the screen mused, his voice curling like smoke in the room. "Why don't you bring this little pawn of yours to me?"

The words dripped with venomous disdain, a mocking edge that sliced through the air. Kim Jae felt his stomach twist, but the leader only chuckled, shaking his head as though he'd just been offered a poor joke.

"A mere pawn does not deserve the attention of the Great King of Helhim," the leader replied smoothly, his voice laced with a sly undertone. "But I have something far more intriguing to share—something that will prove why Shadow Hunter is no ordinary piece on the board."

The leader's smile widened, sharp and dangerous, as he delivered the blow. "Hades has already given the Mistress Ring to Shadow Hunter."

The words landed like a thunderclap. Kim Jae's eyes shot wide, his heart thundering in his chest. His breath hitched—he hadn't heard this, hadn't even suspected. Why hadn't the leader told him? He bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from blurting out questions.

On the other side of the call, the man's response was an unsettling laugh—low, rolling, and intoxicatingly cruel. The sound didn't just echo; it lingered, filling every corner of the room like a tangible force. He clapped his hands slowly, mockingly, the gesture more unnerving than celebratory.

"Is that so?" he drawled, his tone dripping with a twisted amusement. "The Mistress Ring—the treasure even the mother of Hades's heir never laid eyes on? And yet, Shadow Hunter possesses it?"

The devilish grin that followed sent a chill slicing through Kim Jae. He shifted his weight nervously, his palms damp as he fought the growing urge to step out of the room.

"It only happened," the leader began, his voice steady, "because Shadow Hunter is no ordinary soldier. The best sniper of the Ghost Fleet—the diamond I plucked from the ashes."

The man's golden eyes narrowed, a gleam of something unspoken flickering within them. The smile faded, replaced by an expression so inscrutable it was maddening.

"And what," the man asked softly, the words a dagger wrapped in silk, "is the chance of a phoenix being born from these ashes?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with an unspoken threat. Kim Jae's heart skipped a beat as his mind raced. But the leader, unflinching, answered without hesitation:

"Zero."

The response was sharp and final. It carried no room for doubt, no space for error.

For a moment, the man on the screen remained silent, his golden eyes piercing through the connection as if trying to unravel the truth behind the leader's calm exterior. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a smile—not one of joy or amusement, but something far darker. It was the kind of smile that promised ruin and chaos, the kind that made the hairs on the back of Kim Jae's neck stand on end.

"Well then," the man said finally, his voice barely above a whisper yet more terrifying than any shout. "Let's see if your little diamond is as indestructible as you believe."

The call ended abruptly, the screen going dark.

The silence that followed was suffocating. Kim Jae realized his hands were trembling, his breath shallow. He dared not look at the leader, who simply leaned back in his chair, a glint of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Get ready," the leader said, his voice as smooth as ever. "The game is just beginning."

And Kim Jae, still frozen in place, couldn't shake the feeling that they were all just pawns in a match far deadlier than he could imagine.