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.

plate as I tried to make sense of the chaos raging inside

resounding no. I didn't like

think that it was my favorite just now, as if I'd been devouring the damn thing my whole

the table. I hated avocado the most, but when it

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 been certain that I liked

Had I lost bits

lingered 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

agreed.

not to think too much about it, but I have this nagging feeling that whatever memory I'd lost was very important. I must get it back at

the plate with a loud clang. The incessant pounding in my head was fanning my impulse to rage and destroy. I tried to think

it? I didn't even have the first clue what it was! That scent had only appeared in my dream, leaving the faintest ghost of its trail to keep

feet and staggered away from the table, desperately looking for that scent that

next to me,

with

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

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