Chapter 163: Dawn of Gods (12)

When Ophelia returned to her palace, she made a concerted effort to avoid the curious stares of the servants who lingered in the corridors. Her face was pallid, tears traced down her cheeks, and her hand was pressed against her injured cheek. She hurried to her chamber, her movements hurried and filled with a sense of urgency. Once inside, she collapsed onto her bed, clutching her dress as if it were a lifeline. Her cheek bore a severe burn, and the healing process was painfully slow. Tears flowed once more, each drop mingling with the burn's sting, intensifying her discomfort. "I hate this," Ophelia whispered through clenched teeth, drawing in a shaky breath and clutching her dress tighter. ... In the meantime, Nikolai sat alone in his chamber, dressed impeccably for the ball. His eyes were locked on his hands, lost in thought, his expression dark and contemplative. "I don't have enough time," he muttered to himself, a scowl twisting his features. At that moment, a young servant