From Shadow to Crown

Melissa knelt among the shattered porcelain. A shard drove deep into the old scar on her knee, and the sudden, sharp pain brought the memory rushing back—exactly how she had gotten that scar.

When she was ten, Robert, the son of the Minister of Works, had challenged her to a wooden sword match.

Driven back under his assault, she retreated while the other children mocked her as a coward.

Countless little wooden swords jabbed and prodded at her, all surrounded by jeering laughter.

Only young Paul stood outside the circle, frowning, his fists clenched tight.

Then Robert somehow produced a real sword and thrust it toward her.

Though Paul blocked the worst of it, the blade still slashed her knee open, tearing flesh, drawing blood.

Her cry of pain only brought more taunts—that her tears proved she was no true boy, that she had no backbone.

Paul snatched the real sword from Robert’s hand and swung it wildly, his frenzied rage scattering everyone.

He carefully bandaged her wound and promised, “I’ll always protect you. I’ll never let you get hurt again.”

He’d promised a lifetime. So where was that lifetime now?

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up and saw Paul meticulously applying medicine to a cut on Janet’s face.

His gaze was so tender, as if she were a priceless treasure.

And Janet, eyes rimmed red, whimpered that it hurt, like a seductive little fox.

He couldn’t help leaning closer, gently blowing on the wound. “There, it’ll be fine soon.”

A bitter ache twisted in Melissa’s chest. She couldn’t hold back a choked whisper. “Must you tend to her right here in front of me?”

Paul turned. Seeing the blood spreading beneath her knee, a flicker of panic crossed his eyes.

Was he being too cruel?

Regret surged. He reached out to help her up, but Melissa violently jerked her arm away.

Her hand brushed against the jade pendant at his waist. It flew off, struck the floor with a crisp crack, and shattered.

That pendant had been a gift from the Old Marquis at his birth. He’d worn it close since childhood, never once taking it off.

He stood frozen, unable to process what had happened.

Melissa panicked. “I’m sorry, I—”

The veins on Paul’s clenched fists stood out. “There are limits to your willfulness.”

Janet hurried to gather the broken pieces. “My lord, there’s a master craftsman in the southern district renowned for restoration. I can help you—”

His voice was cold and sharp as splintering ice. “Don’t bother.”

He helped Janet to her feet and headed for the door. Pausing, he glanced back at Melissa. “A shattered jade cannot be made whole again. Neither can a heart. Do not disappoint me further.”

The door closed. Melissa collapsed to the floor, only struggling to her feet after what felt like an age.

She went to the shelf for the wound salve, but from behind the wall, Janet’s coquettish voice came through with startling clarity:

“That thunder outside is so frightening… I’m so scared…”

Melissa moved to the wall and discovered a small hole had been drilled through it at some point.

This used to be Brian’s room. He must have tampered with it—no wonder he’d seen through her disguise.

Her face paled. She was about to find something to block the hole when, peering through, she saw Paul gently patting Janet’s back in comfort.

Janet took the chance to lean into his embrace, her hands wandering restlessly over his chest.

“Janet, why do you smell so fragrant?” Paul tried to push her away, but for some reason, his arms tightened around her instead.

“I’ve been infusing syrups with blossoms and crafting sweetmeats since I was a girl, tasting every batch myself. The scent is just the beginning—my very tongue is sweet…”

Paul’s body went rigid. He suddenly remembered the lingering, refreshing sweetness on his tongue from when she had forced a kiss on him earlier.

Instantly, an uncontrollable impulse surged.

“My lord, I adore you… I just couldn’t help myself…” Janet kissed him again.

After a brief struggle, he took over, pinning her firmly into the bedding.

The sounds of their ragged breathing and shifting bodies filtered through the hole. Melissa felt as if a gaping tear had been ripped through her heart. She bit down hard on her lower lip until the taste of blood flooded her mouth.

She didn’t know how much time passed before the storm subsided.

Paul’s voice was terrifyingly calm. “I have someone I love. I won’t marry you. But if it’s wealth you seek, I can provide that.”

“I only ask,” Janet answered obediently, “that once you’ve taken your rightful place among the gentry, you help me reopen my sweet shop. I wish to make sweets for young master Melissa for the rest of my life.”

A look of satisfaction flashed in Paul’s eyes, his voice growing husky. “You are being remarkably compliant. I’ll reward you once more.”

Melissa wiped her tears, gathered the broken jade pieces from the floor, and braced herself against the biting wind, limping toward the southern district.

In the jade workshop, the old craftsman took pity and handed her a cup of hot tea. After she warmed up, he shook his head over the fragments.

“Young master, this jade is shattered beyond repair. Even with gold inlay, the cracks will remain forever.”

Melissa nodded with a bitter smile. “It’s fine. Just do your best.”

As she watched the molten gold slowly seep into the fractures, she suddenly remembered the look on Paul’s face when he’d said, “A shattered jade cannot be made whole again.”

The promise of their youth had long since frayed. The vow sworn when he discovered her secret had been undone by a mere taste of honeyed lips.

From the moment he decided to bring Janet back, what was between them had already shattered beyond repair.

She finished her tea. The old craftsman handed her the restored pendant.

She thanked him and was about to pay when a wave of dizziness washed over her.

Looking up again, the craftsman’s kind face twisted into a sinister grin, his eyes fixed intently on her.

Realization dawned—she tried to run, but her legs refused to move.