The days drifted by with a quiet, methodical rhythm.

It was the first time Damien had ever sustained a gunshot wound, and the aftermath allowed Mia to witness exactly how "precious" the Sovereign was to this house. The entire Syndicate served him with a terrified, meticulous devotion. Damien rarely had to speak; a single look or a minute gesture was enough for his subordinates to anticipate his every need. No one ever uttered the word "no" to him. The sheer gravity of his authority was a phenomenon Mia, in her sheltered life, had never encountered.

Mia was not a brave woman by nature. Every time she encountered the wall of Lancaster enforcers—men in razor-sharp black suits with the frozen, predatory expressions of professional killers—a cold shiver of dread would climb her spine. Yet, seeing how they behaved in Damien's presence only deepened her confusion.

Their obedience was absolute.

Mia had seen people obey others before. During the height of the Clarke family's prosperity, she had seen many men bow before her father. But she understood now that those displays of respect were a mirage—鏡 (a moon in the water). The moment her father failed and the family fell, that loyalty vanished like mist. The world she knew was cold and hollow.

She had assumed that any family built on power followed this law of indifference. She never expected that the Syndicate—a place of total darkness—would provide a completely different answer.

Mia had seen the scar on Gideon's abdomen. It was a jagged, horrific reminder of a bullet. She had heard Julian mention it once: on the night their father was assassinated, Damien had been in the line of fire. Gideon, standing beside him, had made an unconscious, primal choice. He had thrown his body in front of Damien's.

The result: the old master died, but the Sovereign lived.

Mia often wondered what kind of "temptation" Damien must possess to make a man like Gideon choose death for him by instinct.

In the days following his awakening, Mia also witnessed Damien's rage.

When it happened, the room would fall into a terminal silence.

Damien would simply lean back against the headboard and hurl a folder across the room. The sound of the documents hitting the marble was heavy and sharp. He wouldn't say a word; he didn't even need to change his expression. The lieutenants reporting to him would instantly fall silent, bowing low to acknowledge their failures. They never argued. They never defended themselves.

To see a man behave with such lawless arrogance and meet zero resistance was baffling to her.

In the dead of night, when the office was empty and it was just the two of them, Mia would often scold him in a low whisper. "You're so unreasonable..."

Damien would laugh, hauling her into his chest with a lack of restraint that made her heart hammer. "I've always been unreasonable. Didn't you know?" Before she could reply, he would seal her mouth with a kiss.

Mia would pull back, breathless, trying to coax him. "You're so fierce when you're angry. Be careful, or one day everyone will get tired of you and leave..."

Damien reacted as if she had told the funniest joke in the world. He braced his chin on his hand and laughed with a dark, genuine amusement. Mia felt a flash of frustration; she was genuinely worried about his stability, yet he viewed her concern as a form of entertainment.

Usually, that pure, simple concern of hers was enough to ignite his desire. He would slide the silk from her shoulders, kissing her with a slow, methodical hunger. "Mia... you're so kind," he would murmur against her ear, before lifting her legs and taking possession of her body—and her ability to think.

Mia never did manage to "fix" his temperament. Damien remained the same—languid, arrogant, and entirely indifferent to the consequences of his behavior.

One afternoon, Mia found herself talking with Julian. She confessed her confusion to him. "He's so unreasonable. Isn't he afraid that one day his people will just... walk away?"

Julian let out a short, knowing laugh. "That will never happen".

"Why not?"

Julian turned to her, a faint smile touching his lips. "Faith," he said simply.

Mia felt a tremor in her chest. She tried to grasp the concept, but it felt as ethereal as fog. "I... I don't understand."

"I know, Mia. I understand why you don't understand".

Julian nodded, deciding to be honest about his own past. "I was eight years old when I first entered the Lancaster house. My father told me then: 'You have a brother. If you want to survive in this family, you must never stand on the opposite side of him. If you do, you will be the one who loses'.

"You think my father was being biased, don't you?" Julian smiled, his tone peaceful, lost in the memory. "I thought so too. I thought he favored Damien and wanted me to yield to him. Only later did I realize I was wrong. My father didn't say that because he loved Damien more. He said it because by the time I arrived, Damien had already conquered everyone in this house".

Mia stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Julian reached out and grazed her cheek. He recognized that look; he had worn it himself once. "It's incredible, isn't it? But it was the reality. No one doubted him. No one resisted him. I spent years wondering how he did it. Eventually, I realized that Damien's greatest leverage is his mastery of the human heart. He sees the weakness in everyone around him, and he strikes. Once he has your weakness, there is no escape".

Mia shook her head. "I don't believe you have a weakness he could exploit." Julian was too balanced, too "clean." He was like a piece of polished jade—smooth, without edges to catch.

Julian laughed. "That's the difference between you and Damien, Mia. He sees what you don't. He caught me... and it only took one sentence to ensure I could never oppose him again".

"What did he say?"

Julian lowered his head, his voice dropping into a soft rasp. "My father brought my mother and me back to the estate after the first Mrs. Lancaster passed away. But because of his status and his 'image,' he never acknowledged us publicly. We were ghosts in this house... until one night".

His eyes grew misty. "It was the annual Lancaster winter gala. Damien was the crown prince; he was supposed to open the floor. He walked straight past the debutantes and the socialites, came to a halt in front of my mother, and dropped into a perfect, formal bow. Everyone in the ballroom heard him say: 'Madam Lancaster, may I have the honor of the first dance tonight?'".

Mia froze.

Julian smiled. "Unexpected, right? I never saw it coming. When the heir to the Lancaster Syndicate calls you 'Madam,' he is declaring your existence to the world. He gave my mother the identity my own father wouldn't. I don't know why he did it, but I know that after that night, I could never betray him.

"From that moment on, my brother became more important than my own life".

After that conversation, Mia spent several days in deep reflection.

Finally, on the night Damien was cleared to leave the hospital and return to the estate, Mia sat him down for a talk. She didn't use detours. She looked him straight in the eyes so he could see her resolve.

"From now on, I am forbidding you from ever doing something like this to yourself again."

Damien watched her, silent.

"I won't run. I won't leave you," Mia continued, her voice steady. "Unless one day, you are the one to give up on me first. These past few weeks, I've realized something. There isn't just one world. There are two: the White and the Black. Your world has its own rules. I don't understand them, and I don't intend to enter them.

"What I can do is promise not to interfere. I won't use the moral code I learned in the white world to judge or restrict what you do in the black. We will remain distinct. We will each follow the laws of our own worlds and never cross that line.

"But emotionally... I am yours. We are one".

It was her greatest and final compromise. She was showing him a Mia Clarke who had both principles and a devastatingly selfish heart.

Damien suddenly lunged forward, coiling his arms around her and burying his face in the hollow of her neck. He didn't say a single word. He knew exactly what it had cost a woman of her upbringing to make that decision. He knew the depth of the struggle she had endured to meet him at the border.

Mia raised her hand, hooking it around his neck. "Damien... you have no idea how many people consider you their faith. Gideon. Julian. The Syndicate. And from now on... Mia".

How long does it take for a person to walk away from their faith?

Never.

Now and forever.

This was Mia's way of existing—transparent and absolute. She didn't lie to Damien, and she didn't lie to herself.

Her first faith had decided all her future faiths.

Her first love had decided all her future loves.