BURNING CROWN | A Dark Royal Romance

BURNING CROWN 05-Contempt

Soft morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the Fenhardt Palace. The spacious office was furnished with polished oak pieces. She stood beside an exquisite, gleaming wooden desk, gripping a pen and a notebook, trying to keep up with the stream of orders coming from the young man before her.

Elliot sat in a dark leather chair, his posture straight-backed, his sharp eyes radiating an unwavering resolve. His tall, lean frame was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a perfectly fitted black waistcoat, giving him an elegant yet imposing appearance.

“The meeting documents for this afternoon — I want every topic summarized within ten pages… not twenty.” His voice was cold as a blade's edge. He spoke as he set his pen down on the document folder with a sharp click.

Nicha looked up immediately. “Only ten pages? There's too much information to fit into that.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly, a mocking smirk glinting in his expression. “Oh… so you're going to argue with me?”

She pressed her lips together, resisting the urge to argue, but before she could say anything, he spoke again., his deep voice dropping low enough to chill the entire room.

“Before you say anything… think carefully about who you are.” His cold gaze held hers, leaving her momentarily speechless. “I am the Duke of Fenhardt. And you… are nothing more than a commoner my grandfather chose to bring into this household.”

The words struck her like a slap. She stood frozen, her face burning with anger and humiliation.

Elliot leaned back in his chair, his lips curving upward once more. “Engrave this in your mind, Nicha… this is not Japan. And now, there's no one left to protect you.”

She clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms, but forced herself to remain silent. The words she wanted to hurl back were swallowed down her throat… because she knew now that the man before her was no longer the annoying boss she could argue with freely. He was the duke, the highest authority in this royal palace.

After Elliot's final words, the stifling atmosphere in the room remained heavy. She tried to swallow her choked breath, bowed her head faintly, then quickly gathered the documents and hurried out of the marble office.

She stopped on the balcony at the end of the corridor. Her heart still pounded erratically. She gripped the folder tightly against her chest. Her large, round eyes clouded with a mix of anger, hurt, and humiliation.

Before she realized it, she muttered under her breath, “That madman… even if he's a duke, I won't give in.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it was still loud enough for someone passing nearby to hear.

Greda, the elderly maid who had looked after her since the manor days, stopped in her tracks.

Greda's lips curved into an amused smile. “That's more like it. Now that sounds like the Nicha I know,” Greda said softly, as if offering encouragement without letting anyone else notice.

She froze, turning to meet Greda’s eyes. Her face flushed with embarrassment at being overheard. But a faint warmth stirred in her chest—as though someone had finally seen the defiance she usually kept hidden.

She drew a deep breath and thought to herself once more…

Yes… I won't give in. Even if he is the Duke of Fenhardt.

The royal conference room in the Fenhardt Palace was so grand it nearly took her breath away. The soaring ceiling was adorned with ancient paintings depicting the family's legends. A long, polished oak table gleamed. Members of old noble families, some dressed in formal ceremonial attire, sat alongside senior German government officials around the long table. Every gaze was fixed on the seat at its head.

The tall figure of Elliot Fenhardt strode in with heavy, decisive steps. Every pair of eyes followed automatically. His deep, sharp eyes radiated an icy calm, as though every person in the room were merely pieces on his chessboard.

Nicha sat at the back of the room, having been granted special permission to attend. She placed her notebook and pen before her, her hands trembling slightly as she felt the pressure bearing down from all sides. Every pair of eyes seemed to ask the same question: What is an ordinary woman like her doing here?

He took his seat at the head of the table. He leaned back, his posture calm and commanding. He swept his gaze around the table for a moment before speaking in a powerful, deep voice that silenced the entire room.

"From this moment forward, the Fenhardt family will once again take an active role in this country's future."

Soft murmurs rose around the table. Some expressed agreement. Some looked worried. But all fell silent again when Elliot's sharp eyes turned to each person, one by one.

“And to ensure the business in Japan continues without disruption… As for Pentagram Corporation, it will remain under my control.” he placed a folder on the table. “Nathan will find someone I trust to oversee day-to-day operations in Japan while I remain here.”

She hurriedly jotted down his words. She hurried to write down every word, her hand trembling slightly under the pressure.

Then Elliot glanced at her briefly. She had the unsettling feeling that he knew exactly how nervous she was—and was deliberately making it worse.

Nicha caught herself biting her lip hard before raising her pen to write without looking up. But in her mind, she was arguing silently.

Even if you're a duke, I won't let you crush me forever, Elliot Fenhardt…

The conference room door closed slowly. The tense atmosphere eased once everyone had left except Elliot, Nicha, and Nathan.

She hurriedly gathered the documents and notes, clutching them to her chest, hoping to avoid those deep, sharp eyes that always made her heart tremble. But as she gathered the documents, a thick stack of papers slipped from her hands and scattered across the floor with a sound that echoed through the marble room.

She quickly crouched down to gather them. her face burning as she realized that even the smallest mistake was being watched.

A cool, deep voice sounded above her. “Still clumsy as ever…”

She looked up involuntarily, her large round eyes flashing with displeasure. “I was just—”

Elliot raised his hand to stop her immediately. He spoke slowly, his tone cold and firm — but with a pressure heavier than any shout.

“Don't forget that this is a royal palace. This isn't the company in Japan, where my grandfather was always there to protect you.” His sharp, dark eyes gleamed with a cold light. “There's no one protecting you now. Everything you do… reflects on me.”

Nicha gripped the folder tightly. Her lips trembled, wanting to argue, but his words choked the air from her throat. His words were a cruel reminder of the difference in their positions.

Elliot leaned forward slightly, as if deliberately closing the distance. “So, before you speak or do anything… think carefully about who you are.”

Those words resonated in Nicha's chest more deeply than any threat. She looked away, unable to bear the gaze that radiated both authority and mockery.

Nathan, standing behind, watched the scene in silence. His expression was difficult to read… Nathan watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable.

The room fell silent. Only her breathing grew heavier. A faint smile lingered on the young Duke’s lips, as though he enjoyed the effect his words had on her.

Night at the palace was so quiet she could hear the wind passing through the tall trees. The small cottage she had been given stood at the edge of the palace gardens, a fair distance from the main palace. A dark-tiled roof and plain wooden walls — entirely different from the opulent marble halls she had just left hours ago.

She sat on a narrow wooden bed in her new room, staring silently at the ceiling. Her notebook lay open on her lap, but instead of writing, she was lost in his voice echoing over and over in her mind.

“There's no one protecting you now. Everything you do… reflects on me.”

She let out a frustrated breath, closed the notebook, and eventually got up to step outside. The cold night air hit her immediately, making her wrap her arms around herself. Moonlight filtered through the branches, casting long shadows on the gravel path.

She had only wanted to find somewhere quiet to clear the voices from her head. But when she turned the corner of a side path, she looked up to find a familiar tall figure already standing there.

Elliot.

The young Duke, in a white shirt with the top two buttons undone, his loosened tie still draped around his neck. One hand tucked in his trouser pocket. His sharp eyes gazing absently up at the night sky, where thousands of stars shone.

Nicha froze. Her heart thundered. She hadn't expected to find him here.

"What are you doing here?" she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He turned back slowly, a half-smile appearing. “Why what? You… always like to ask questions you have no right to receive answers to.”

She clenched her fists. Courage flared. “I wasn't trying to overstep… but you—”

"You will address me as 'Your Grace' when you speak to me," he cut in coldly.

Nicha faltered for a moment before continuing. "I wasn't trying to overstep, Your Grace… but you have no right to belittle me all the time."

His gaze hardened. He moved closer until his warm breath brushed against her cheek.

“No right?” His voice dropped lower. “You are nothing but a commoner allowed to live within the palace grounds because I permit it… Even the roof over your head is there only because the Fenhardt family allows it..”

Nicha pressed her lips tight, her heart pounding with anger.

He tilted his head down slightly. He lowered his voice in warning. "Don't forget how different our positions are... And I have no intention of ever letting you forget it.”

Then he turned and walked away, leaving only her standing motionless in the cold wind — her heart hammering as though it would burst.