Chapter 27: The Winter Invitation

The marble kitchen counter gleamed under the soft, recessed lighting of the mansion’s breakfast nook. A heavy, cream-colored card sat alone on the polished stone, its gold-embossed edges catching the light.

Ash reached out, his fingers tracing the calligraphy: Ancheng Hot Springs Resort – Exclusive Seasonal Retreat.

Eleanor glided into the room, her silk robe rustling against the floor. She placed a tray of fresh citrus down, her expression serene and unreadable.

"The mid-terms were taxing, Ash," she said, her voice dropping into a tone of casual, maternal observation. "You and Sebastian deserve a hiatus before the final term begins. Take the car."

Ash felt his skin prickle. He pulled his hand back from the counter, his pulse spiking against the golden mark on his neck. The scent of lily and cold stone filled the air, a sharp contrast to the lingering, earthy cedar he associated with Seb.

"I don't need a chaperone for my social life, Mother," Ash replied.

Eleanor smiled, a sharp, elegant curve of her lips. She didn't look at him; she looked at the flyer, then at the empty space beside him.

"It’s not a chaperone, darling. It’s a logistical necessity."

She turned and left the kitchen, the soft click of her heels fading into the quiet of the morning. Ash remained alone, the flyer burning a hole in the marble.

He stood in the corner of the hallway, his fingers hovering over his phone screen. His heart hammered a frantic, syncopated beat against his ribs. He opened the private channel, his thumb pausing over the text bar.

My mother left a flyer for Ancheng. A weekend trip. She insists we go.

He hit send before he could stop himself. His face burned. The lie sat heavy in his throat—the pretense that this was a parental demand rather than a desperate, secret desire for isolation.

A notification pinged back almost instantly.

Sebastian: Ancheng has a private bath suite on the third floor.

Ash looked at the screen. He felt a sudden, sharp thrill of anticipation.

Ash: It’s just what she wants.

Sebastian: I’ll handle the travel arrangements. Pack light.

Ash shoved the phone into his pocket. He leaned against the wall, his breath hitching. The idea of the hot springs—the steam, the silence, the luxury—it felt like a promise. He imagined the way the cedar scent would fill the small, enclosed rooms, the way the cold mountain air would force them into the heat.

He didn't think about the throne, the rank-list, or the mansion. He only thought about the privacy.

"Pack light," he whispered to himself.

The group chat chime was a jagged, annoying sound that cut through the afternoon quiet. Ash sat in the library, his notebook open, his mind drifting toward the weekend.

He tapped the screen.

Milo: I SAW THE FLYER ON THE COUNTER!

Milo: ELLIOT AND I ARE ALREADY PACKING.

Elliot: The hot springs are supposed to be incredible this season. Don't worry about the logistics, Ash! We’ve already booked the extra train tickets.

Ash stared at the screen. His mouth went dry. The peace, the isolation, the private suite—it was dissolving into a chaotic, loud, and crowded disaster.

Ash: You aren't invited.

Milo: A RETREAT ISN'T A RETREAT WITHOUT THE WHOLE SQUAD!

Elliot: We’ve got the shared luxury suite next to yours. It’s going to be so much fun!

Ash slammed his pen onto the table. The wood rattled. He looked toward the door, hoping to see Seb, hoping to see the only person who understood the weight of the mansion and the secret of the mark.

Instead, he looked at his phone, watching the bubbles of text fly back and forth.

Milo: I’m spamming the suite pics now!

A cascade of images flooded the screen—lavish, interconnected suites, floor-to-ceiling glass, and large, communal soaking tubs.

Ash let out a groan, a low, guttural sound of pure, unadulterated frustration. He dropped his head into his hands, the fingers of his left hand pressing against his temples.

He could see it now—the festival prep, the underclassmen questions, the constant, prying curiosity of his peers.

"I'm going to kill them," Ash hissed into the empty library.

He looked at the chat again.

Milo: LOOK AT THE SIZE OF THIS BED! WE CAN ALL FIT IN THE SUITE FOR MOVIE NIGHT!

Ash groaned again, louder this time. He closed his eyes, leaning back into the chair, the weight of the entire weekend shifting from a romantic, high-stakes escape into a social obligation.

He felt the golden mark throb—a cold, steady pulse of reality. He reached out and typed a single message, his fingers trembling with suppressed rage.

Ash: I am not sharing the suite.

Milo: DON'T BE A KILLJOY, ASH!

Ash stopped. He looked at the library door, at the shadows stretching across the floor. He realized he was powerless.

He was the valedictorian, the heir, the captain, and yet he was about to spend his only weekend of freedom trapped in a hot spring with Milo and Elliot.

He stood up and shoved his books into his bag, his movements sharp, jagged, and entirely devoid of his usual poise.

He walked out of the library, the sound of the notifications following him like a relentless, buzzing fly.

"If Seb kills them," Ash muttered, "I’m not stopping him."

He reached the front gates. The sky was turning a pale, bruised purple. He felt the cold air hit his face.

He needed to see Seb. He needed to find a way to redirect the itinerary, to force the logistics, to reclaim the privacy he had been promised.

He pulled out his phone again.

Ash: We have a problem.

Sebastian: I saw.

Ash: Do something.

Sebastian: I am.

Ash looked at the screen. He saw the text—cool, detached, and utterly focused. He felt a sudden, sharp surge of relief.

The retreat wasn't dead. It was just a different kind of war now.

He walked toward the parking lot, his heart hammering against his ribs, his blood humming with the sudden, sharp thrill of the fight.

The weekend wasn't going to be a relaxing getaway.

It was going to be a strategic maneuver.

And as Ash crossed the threshold of the gates, he realized he wouldn't have it any other way.

He looked at the moon, hanging heavy and white in the sky. He felt the cedar scent, a faint, lingering promise on the breeze.

He stepped into the car, his posture straight, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

The throne. The rank-list. The mansion.

He left it all behind.

He was going to Ancheng.

And he was going to make sure that whatever happened, he wouldn't be sharing the suite.

He checked his phone one last time.

Sebastian: Don't worry. I’ve already canceled their train tickets.

Ash smirked. He leaned back into the leather upholstery, the cold air hitting his skin.

"Perfect," he whispered.

The car began to roll. The city lights began to blur into streaks of white and gold.

He was safe. He was moving. He was heading for the water.

He didn't look back at the Academy. He didn't look back at the messages.

He just kept his eyes on the road.

The weekend was coming.

And it was going to be exactly what he wanted.