Rufus' POV:

As usual, Adela brought dinner for me. She would prepare something different each time, and she had never served me soup again. It seemed that my sudden burst of temper that day had scarred her. "Your Majesty, please try this beef stew. I made it myself." Adela's voice was overly sweet as she set the dish and tableware in front of me. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Besides the stew, there was also a small array of exquisite pastries. I eyed them blankly, vaguely thinking that they were all my favorite. My restless heart slowed its pace. Even though Adela was weak, she was earnest. She must have studied the things that I liked in order to cater to me better.

Maybe Omar was right, and I should be more patient. Adela was my destined mate, after all, brought to me by the Moon Goddess herself. Maybe I just wasn't used to having her around yet, just as Omar had said.

I picked up a fork and scraped a piece of dessert, putting it into my mouth. My lips twisted as soon as the pastry touched my tongue.

Adela reacted immediately. "What's wrong?" she asked in what sounded to me like a cautious voice. "Does it taste bad?"

I hesitated for a moment before shaking my head. "No, it tastes good."

The problem was that it tasted nothing like I imagined, like I expected to be.

My brain seemed to stutter at the thought. Once more, I felt that familiar suffocating sensation, and the white mist blanketed my mind yet again.

to make sense of the chaos raging inside my head. Have I

no. I didn't like

it was my favorite just now,

the most, but when it was first

me? This wasn't the first time something like this happened, either. Last time, my mother had brought me some durian, which I'd eaten without hesitation only to puke it up in the next second. Yet all the while, I had

what was going on? Had I lost bits

in the outskirts of my mind, I would suddenly have this excruciating headache. This meant that I was ill, didn't it? But the doctor had told me that nothing

agreed.

I have this nagging feeling that whatever memory I'd lost was very important. I must get it

to rage and destroy. I tried to think of the pleasant scent from that night, knowing

the first clue what it was! That scent had only appeared in my dream, leaving the faintest ghost of its trail to keep

being split open. I shot up to my feet and staggered

was instantly next to me,

with panic. She

to roar at her to keep her away from me, but couldn't utter a single word. My brain hurt like hell, like dozens

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