Chapter 222: Faceless
It felt as though the world was coming to an abrupt, violent end.
An agonising groan tore from Yuki’s throat as she opened her eyes, instantly greeted by a brutal, throbbing headache that felt like an iron sledgehammer pounding against the inside of her skull. The blinding morning sunlight flooded through the room, striking her face and forcing her to squint, wincing as she tried to roll away. But it was useless. The brilliant rays seemed to reflect off every conceivable surface, illuminating the space from every single corner.
"My head..." she whimpered, pressing both palms against her temples. "Why does my head hurt this much?"
Feeling as though she might die right then and there, she forced herself to sit up. Her head felt unnaturally heavy, swaying dangerously as if it might snap right off her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut, instinctively reaching up to clasp her pounding temples in both hands, letting out another low, miserable groan.
"What the hell did I drink?!" she groaned.
Disorientation washed over her in continuous waves. Yuki remained sitting for a few seconds, breathing through the pain.
She squeezed her eyes open again, trying to make sense of her surroundings, but nothing registered. She clearly did not recognise the vast, luxurious bedroom, nor the towering floor-to-ceiling glass wall that offered a panoramic view of a breathtaking, roaring waterfall cascading down sharp cliffs outside.
She had absolutely no idea where she was.
Her brows knitted together.
"Where am I?"
Panic began creeping through the hangover haze.
She threw the covers aside and tried to stand, but the moment her feet touched the floor, the room tilted violently. Yuki reached for the bed, missed, and stumbled forward.
"Whoa..."
She landed face-first on the carpet with a muffled thud.
For several seconds, she simply lay there, too miserable to move.
"I hate alcohol," she groaned into the carpet.
"God..." Yuki groaned into the floor, bitterly cursing every single drink she had swallowed the night before. She had truly outdone herself this time.
Bracing her palms flat against the ground, she dragged herself up, using the side of the bed as leverage until she was standing on unsteady legs. That was when her eyes caught her reflection in a full-length mirror across the room, and her stomach lurched.
She was drowning in massive, oversized clothes that clearly didn’t belong to her.
Panic flared like wildfire in her chest. She immediately lifted the collar of the shirt to her nose, taking a deep, desperate sniff to identify the owner, her heart racing with the terrifying suspicion that she might have hooked up with a stranger.
But her search yielded nothing. She couldn’t pick up a single distinct scent on the fabric, nor could she smell anything on the silk sheets. Her own scent was overwhelmingly dominant, smothering the room.
To make matters worse, as she stared closer into the mirror, her breath caught. There was a tiny, tender cut resting right on her lower lip.
"Oh, no."
A horrifying possibility flashed through her mind.
Had she slept with someone?
She touched the cut again, her eyes widening further as fragmented memories struggled to surface. Dancing. Music. Alcohol. Declan. Aevia. Someone carrying her? Water?
Nothing connected properly.
"Please tell me I didn’t..."
She couldn’t finish the sentence.
Panic instantly mutated into sheer terror. What she didn’t know was that this was Kaden’s private villa. The reason his scent didn’t linger on the clothes was simple: he rarely used this sanctuary, and the clothes provided were brand-new. The bed, too, was devoid of his signature mark because Yuki had been the one occupying it for the past several hours.
Unfortunately, Yuki didn’t know any of that.
She only knew she was somewhere unfamiliar, dressed in clothes that weren’t hers, with a mysterious cut on her lip.
She needed to get out.
Immediately, her hand went to her pocket. It was empty. She checked again. There was nothing.
Her phone.
Of course.
She had left it at the table like an idiot.
"Brilliant, Yuki."
Ignoring the relentless pounding behind her eyes, she stumbled out of the bedroom.
The villa was undeniably gorgeous. It boasted sleek, modern architecture seamlessly blended with natural stone, but she was in no mood to admire the scenery when she was completely lost.
Yuki stumbled down the floating staircase, her eyes searching the open-concept layout frantically until her nose caught a faint, savoury aroma drifting through the hall.
Soup. Someone was here.
Driven by survival and a desperate need for answers, she followed the rich scent down the corridor. But on her way towards the kitchen, an unexpected sight caught her attention. An ajar door rested at the end of a quiet hallway.
Curiosity overriding her caution, Yuki turned and pushed the door wider, stepping into the room. Her breath caught in her throat.
It was a sunlit art studio, filled to the brim with extraordinary paintings. Every single canvas shared the exact same frame size and subject: a girl with radiant silver hair. The paintings captured her from countless angles, from behind, from the side, leaning against balcony rails, or walking through meadows, yet in every single piece, her facial features were obscured, blurred, or turned away. Despite the hidden face, the sheer level of painstaking effort and raw emotion poured into every brushstroke was breathtaking. It drew Yuki in like a spell.
In the centre of the room stood an easel holding a recent painting. The oils were still wet, glistening under the morning light. This piece featured the silver-haired girl from a direct front view, surrounded by an intricate, masterfully painted flower scene. Stroke by stroke, the piece was complete, except for her face, which remained entirely blank.
Hypnotised, Yuki reached out, her fingers hovering just inches from the wet canvas.
CRASH!
The sudden, violent clatter of metal hitting tile shattered the silence. Yuki flinched hard, her pounding headache spiking instantly with a sharp throb. She snapped her head towards the sound, abandoning the studio and following the noise into a spacious kitchen.
Near the doorway, running water hummed. Yuki pushed the door slowly, her eyes falling upon Kaden, and her breath caught once more.
He was standing by the sink, his sharp jaw set as he held a badly scalded, blistering hand under a stream of cold running water. On the cooker nearby sat a boiling pot of soup, its heavy metal lid lying upside down on the floor where it had fallen. Yuki instantly pieced together the scene.