Vampire's Veil Of Obsession-Chapter 160: Rain

Rose sat just outside the castle’s sparring field, watching as Zethan and his cousin, Zack, now dressed in their sparring gear, held their swords at the ready. Zethan’s gaze shifted to Rose, his eyes fixed on her where she sat quietly, before returning to Lucas, whose smirk revealed he’d noticed it too. Then Lucas raised his arm and brought it down—a signal that the sparring had begun.

Zack moved swiftly, flinging his sword forward with practiced ease, already anticipating Zethan’s next move. But Zethan dodged effortlessly. Zack’s eyes widened slightly—what had just happened had been Zethan’s move. It seemed today he was doing things differently. A cold smile curled on Zack’s lips as he met Zethan’s indifferent gaze.

Zethan shifted again—this time swiftly—while Zack launched a flurry of strikes. Zack swung his sword in a wide arc, but Zethan slipped aside. Clang! Their blades met with ringing steel.

Zethan pressed forward, and Zack skidded back, struggling to maintain his footing. Undeterred, Zack lunged once more, aiming for Zethan’s side, but Zethan anticipated it, twisted his blade out of the way, then countered with a sharp strike of his own. Blades danced again. The wind blew harshly, and the sun dimmed slightly, as if reacting to the match itself.

Rose watched, nearly breathless, unable to believe how inhumanly fast they moved. It was as if each combatant possessed a sixth sense, predicting every feint and thrust. She held her breath for an unknown reason.

Zack moved, shifting his legs swiftly to distract Zethan, but Zethan was fast enough to step back, sending Zack’s legs flailing awkwardly forward.

Rose could see why he was the best. If you asked her, Zethan was better—his skills were unmatched. It seemed he was perfect at everything.

At last another—clang!—Zethan disarmed Zack, sending his sword tumbling across the field. Zack spun to break his momentum and came to a halt, swordless, just before Rose’s bench. Her eyes fixed on the heavy-looking sword. She swallowed—no wonder she’d been holding her breath; the sound of it alone was terrifying.

Zethan’s blade hovered at Zack’s throat. With a swift motion, he hooked Zack’s chin, tilting his head upward. A slow grin curved Zethan’s lips—one that said far more than words ever could.

"Nice one, cousin," he said curtly, as if he’d expected something better and longer. He stepped back and handed the blade to Lucas.

Then Zethan turned and approached Rose.

Their eyes locked as Zethan walked toward her. As usual, her heart raced. Even the thought of him made it race, and what surprised her most was that this had never happened with Fredrick. Yes, her heart would sometimes skip—but not like this. Not in this overwhelming way, like she was about to explode from it. Zethan’s lips stretched into a knowing grin.

Rose already knew what that grin meant—the shameless, proud one that said and spoke volumes.

Then, silently, Zethan sat beside her. She blinked in surprise.

She still couldn’t understand how anyone could move that fast. It was like, before you could even think of striking, the blade had already moved. As if their minds were two steps ahead of their bodies. That was how deep it was—beyond normal human reflexes.

The clouds darkened. Rose had noticed this ever since the sparring match began.

Zethan sat quietly, his presence heavy beside her. Zack, now subdued, gave a tight-lipped smile before walking away, leaving the two alone. He knew what they needed now was nothing other than privacy. Lucas followed after, taking the swords back and bowing to Zethan, who gave him a curt nod.

"Impressive," Rose finally said.

Zethan turned to her, lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Is that all?"

She nodded, then added, "Very remarkable."

Zethan gave a soft nod in return. Then, without another word, he crossed his legs, arms stretched lazily across the back of the bench, and stared ahead into the still air. His expression was unreadable. He was thinking deeply.

Rose stole a glance at him. The fight had tousled his silver hair, pushing it slightly forward, and his side profile was striking—sharp, almost unreal. She could finally understand why he was king. Not just his power, but his presence. He was nothing like the older kings she had read or heard about—this one was young, composed, and devastatingly handsome.

Then Zethan’s voice broke through the quiet.

"If you want to keep staring... go ahead."

Her cheeks flushed instantly.

A low rumble echoed in the sky.

"It seems the weather is pregnant," she muttered quietly, as worry crept in.

Zethan chuckled, a rich, low sound. "It really seems so."

Then suddenly, panic brushed over her, and she stood. "Let’s go inside," she said quickly.

Zethan raised a brow, caught off guard by her abruptness. He studied her before asking, "You don’t like the rain?"

She did. Of course she did. Rain was something Rose had always loved—running through it, feeling it soak her hair and skin. The cold droplets, the thrill of the wind. It was a joy that felt too innocent, too pure. But she couldn’t tell him the real reason. Not here.

As she turned to walk away, Zethan’s hand caught her wrist. She gasped as he gently pulled her back—onto his lap.

Her breath hitched. Her cheeks burned.

"Zethan... it’s about to drizzle," she whispered.

Zethan looked up, eyes calm.

"Let it."

Rose’s eyes filled with slight panic as the drizzle began, droplets hitting her skin. Then Zethan spoke quietly, "Do you react to the rain?"

Rose shook her head, her heart hammering in her chest. "It’s not that," she said quietly. In fact, she was more surprised that Zethan seemed completely unbothered, sitting calmly on the bench while it rained.

"You may go," he finally said.

Rose’s lips parted . He finally agreed. Was he mad? But that didn’t matter right now.

Rose stood, a smile forming in her eyes as she replied, "Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll go change into something else."

She noticed how the drizzle had dampened her skin. A maid silently followed behind as she walked into the castle. They moved through the long, quiet hallway until they finally stopped in front of a chamber—her room. The maid opened the door, and they stepped inside.

Wordlessly, the maid helped Rose with the straps of her gown. Once that was done, Rose whispered, "I’ll continue from here."

The maid hesitated. "My queen, your bath hasn’t been prepared."

Rose gave her a gentle look. "You don’t have to worry. I’ll do that myself."

The maid’s face paled. She seemed ready to protest, her lips parting—but then she lowered her gaze, bowed respectfully, and stepped back. "As you wish, my queen."

Once the maid left, Rose walked toward the bathroom door. The rain had begun to fall more heavily as the clouds darkened even more. Her gown slipped off her shoulders and pooled at her feet. She undressed and turned on the tap, letting the water flow into the large tub.

She moved toward the mirror to collect the soap and other bathing essentials. But as she reached out, her body suddenly stilled.

Her eyes locked onto her reflection.

Her hair—it was changing.

The rich auburn or golden hue that had lasted for days was fading.

It was turning back to its natural color.

Ink black.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized the drizzle had picked up again while she was walking with the maid. The rain had grown heavier, and she had been too caught up in her emotions to notice. Too distracted to even think about it.

She knew her hair would eventually return to its natural state, but she hadn’t expected it to happen now.

The tips were darkening, revealing the natural ink-black strands beneath. She hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, to be exposed so suddenly.

There was a reason she kept her hair blonde.

A reason she hadn’t told anyone.

And this—this was one of the main reasons she never let the maids bathe her. She always packed her hair up carefully, making sure water never touched it. But now the rain had done what she worked so hard to avoid. It had washed away part of the dye, and she had no choice but to clean off the rest, letting it show.

But the real question now was—how would she explain this?

Would it be seen as deceit?

Her thoughts froze as a soft knock echoed on the bathroom door.

Her eyes shot wide open, panic gripping her.

She managed to keep her tone calm. "Who is there?" she asked quietly.

A deep voice responded, rumbling through the door. "Roselina..."

Her heart skipped.

It was Zethan.

What... what was he doing here?

Panic surged even higher as she looked down at herself. She was nearly naked, only her underwear covering her lower half. Quickly, she brought her arms up to shield her chest.

"Please don’t come in," she said immediately, voice laced with alarm.

There was a pause, then his voice came again, calm but concerned. "Are you alright?"

"I’m very fine," she replied quickly.

Another pause.

Then, without warning, Zethan said quietly, "I will bathe with you, then."

Just before she could open her mouth to protest, the doorknob moved.