《The Heroine is a Villainess (Rewritten)》


 Authors Note

    <h3 style="text-align: center">Hello everyone!


    For some, this story might be new but to others it might be a trip down memory lane. This is a rewritten version of my original novel "The Heroine is a Villainess".


    Thus, for new (and old) readers, please be aware of the following before digging into it:


    The main character is a villain and she will act as such - meaning her actions and decisions are far from morally correct.


    If that isn''t your cup of tea, then you won''t enjoy the story.


    The story itself is heavy and dark and depicts the following content* in some of its chapters:


    Graphic Content (Murder, Swearing/Slurs, Gore Descriptions, Violence)


    Mental Health Issues (Self-Harm, Suicide)


    Abuse (Child Abuse, Harassment, Sexual Abuse)


    Sexual Topics (Consensual Sex, Non-Con/Rape)


    Other (Manipulation, Age Gap/Pedophilia, Drug Use, Slavery)


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    <h4 style="text-align: center">Reader discretion is advised.</h4>


    *Please keep in mind that these are necessities for the story to go on at the time of its execution (medieval times). None of these are glorified in any manner and are heavily critized within the novel and by myself.


    While reading, if you find any typos or have any type of constructive criticism, such is very welcome! Reviews and praises are also very appreciated (of course)!


    If you''d like to support my work further I have opened a Patreon </a>where you can read one month ahead of the free releases.


    I''ve also set up a Discord Server</a> for those who are interested in joining the community and supporting my diverse areas of work.


    Last but not least, for those who knew me from before, yes I am finally healed from my illness and will be posting far more regularly. Thank you for all your wishes and for cherishing this story; you are truly the reason why I didn''t give up on improving it further.


    <h4 style="text-align: center">Thank you so much for everything and give a brand new welcome to Ophelia in...</h4>


    <h4 style="text-align: center">The Criswell''s Curse</h4>


    P.S.: With the rewritting of the story some parts changed so you might want to read it again! For those who don''t wish to/don''t want to, I''ll add the changed details into the Glossary before posting the third volume (which will still take some time to come out).

 Prologue: The Beginning I

    Ophelia Criswell was the name given to me upon birth. A regular name, with no appeal or uniqueness; however, during my upbringing, I was always considered the special one, the murderer of the kind-hearted Duchess; the child who held the demon¡¯s curse within.


    A shady street fortune teller foretold my mother¡¯s death. That¡¯s how the rumors began.


    ¡°You will die by your own blood within eight full moons.¡± He declared, in a warm Blistering[1]</a> night, a week before my mother knew she was one month pregnant. And, as if it were a twisted trick of fate, the man¡¯s words became as real as the changing of the seasons.


    After my birth, life within the Criswell¡¯s mansion was similar to an affair, it existed even though everyone tried their utmost to deny it. My blood-proclaimed father completely ignored my presence and, just like the sheep following the shepherd, so did the servants. My older sister loved to pick fights with me since she knew that, regardless of who was truly in the wrong, blame would fall on me.


    Growing up isolated, my personality was of a quiet child, always keeping my nose in the unreadable library books and in the breathtaking flowery green garden inside the large mansion grounds. My friends were nothing more than fragments of my imagination and so were my desires to learn, to love, and to live an ordinary life.


    Knowing that the Duke[2]</a> despised my presence, I tried to remain calm, polite and hidden, avoiding drawing attention to myself, but, even then, it wasn¡¯t enough.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t finish your dinner, Ophelia!? That¡¯s unforgivable!¡± A maid in her late thirties reprimanded me as she noticed the untouched green boiled eggs at the side of the plate. Her voice was loud and resolute, as if she was the rightful ruler of this mansion. ¡°Apologize this instant!¡±


    ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry!¡± I stuttered, tears rolling down my eyes.


    Back then, I was always begging for forgiveness, apologizing to those who yearned for control over another; often for things I did and for many things I didn¡¯t.


    No servant in the house respected my standing because of the Duke¡¯s behavior. He never put it into words, but it was clear he didn¡¯t consider me his kin. The maids yelled at me and forced me to do their tasks while others just observed, clearly mocking my status. They skimmed my small allowance, forcing my meals to be some leftovers from the kitchen. If I was lucky, half of the food was still eatable and not rotten.


    But the butlers were the most problematic, as they were not men but rats that worked directly under that man¡¯s wing. They were like hawks, observing their frail little prey struggle right before digging their sharp claws into its deepest and darkest secrets.


    Even knowing about it all, the Duke never attempted to fix the situation and so I kept on living in the shadows, forgotten within the solitude of silence and neglect.


    Every time my older sister took lessons from Marchioness Delight, my small frame would sneak into the hall, hiding between furniture¡¯s, simply sitting behind the door, paying close attention to what was being taught. Part of me thought that, if my worth could be proven to that man, he would finally acknowledge me, and everything would fall back to the place where it belonged.


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    Of course, these were nothing but mere hopes of the purity within a child, a small and frail human who couldn¡¯t voice words like ¡°love¡± or shape the form behind ¡°affection¡±.


    ¡°Father...¡± I attempted to speak confidently. ¡°I heard you called for me?¡±


    ¡°You are getting married to Duke Wharton¡¯s eldest son.¡±


    Those were the first and last words he ever gave me. During 16 long years, I¡¯d been nothing but a shadow, roaming his mind from time to time, but now, looking back, it was hard not to wonder if I ever had a place within his thick yet distant walls at all.


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡± With no hesitation, I replied and was quickly escorted out of his dusty study room by a tall, slender butler.


    If hearts could physically break, mine had become shattered that day, with a large self-inflicted wound that would remain for many years to come.


    Not a week later, I moved to the Wharton¡¯s mansion, and everything was different. The maids actually cared for me as they attended to my needs and respected my role as the next lady of the house. For a moment, foolish, hopeful reasoning assumed this was what happiness felt like, but that glimpse of joy soon came to an end. It wasn¡¯t long until that man¡¯s corpses knocked at my door and my ignorance faded.


    Terrel Wharton, the first son of Duke Wharton and my fianc¨¦, was a sick man filled with perversion and a particular obsession with beauty. A faint glimpse was all it took for his lust to stick to me for almost a decade.


    One night, he got drunk and sneaked into my room, abusing me, all night long. Afraid that I had become pregnant, the wedding moved from Frosting[3]</a> to Seedling[4]</a> and we got married. News of my pregnancy rose, but they lasted for nothing more than a sinful of days since, after a week, another skeleton was added to his baggage; a gift from that man¡¯s dreadful touch.


    Terrel Wharton was a complete monstrosity. During the day, he treated me as if I was the most precious merchandise a businessman offered, yet, at night, he would beat me up while pleasuring himself - since that became one of his favorite fetishes. After our first night, the same night where he stole my dignity, my body became an eyesore, a blemish, filled with scars, burns, and bruises, however, sarcastic as it may seem, my beautifully perfect face, the one thing that he truly loved, was always spared.


    A year after the wedding, Duke Edgar Wharton suddenly died and Terrel succeeded in his stead. Coincidentally, his younger brothers, whom I never met, ended up disappearing. No one knew what happened; however, rumors wandered through the house, blaming the only person with a heart cold enough to commit such an atrocious act, the beast that crawled into my bed every night.


    In the middle of pure agony and desperation, a shred of hope remained. Letters had been sent to that man, explaining everything that was happening behind closed doors. I thought he would be just like a precious and majestic knight, galloping in his white stallion to save the trapped princess in the highest tower of the darkest castle.


    But he never came.


    <hr>


    [1]</a> There are five seasons throughout the year. Blistering equals Summer.


    [2]</a> In this world, social hierarchy went as followed: Royalty; Dukes; Marquesses; Earls (equivalent to Counts); Viscounts; Barons.


    [3]</a>There are five seasons throughout the year. Frosting equals Winter.


    [4]</a>Seedling equals Spring.

 Prologue: The Beginning II

    Days turned into months that then turned into years. My hurt yet numb body was exhausted from dealing with that monster¡¯s lust, and so was my shattered soul. I tried to run away on a weekend, where the queen summoned him to her home, the royal palace, but he came earlier than expected. Terrel caught me and trapped me in his grasp, preventing me from ever leaving. He chained me at the lowest level of the mansion, in the old and dusty cellar filled with ancient wine bottles. It wasn¡¯t long until sunlight became nothing more than a warm sense of nostalgia that, from time to time, embraced my gelid skin.


    Within the intense smell of alcohol and dust, alongside a pitch-black darkness that held no end to its existence, unknown things came to me, horrible things ¨C things that even the purest light wouldn¡¯t be able to purify. I heard someone or something, who knows, speaking to me, reaching out from their endless despair. Wicked words in a hoarse voice, holding no beauty or kindness behind them, echoed within me over and over again.


    Who did they belong to?


    Were they my own?


    Were they someone else¡¯s?


    However, the answer was too far for someone like me to find. At a certain point, all that remained was a strand of faith that my core ruthlessly clung itself into, hoping they were nothing more than the servants of God, coming to pick up the soul of my undeserving being.


    Finally, on the night of my 18th birthday, I died. Somehow, a fire started and spread at an extremely quick rate within the mansion grounds and a sense of relief came over me once those precious warm flames passed through the half burned down cellar door. Soon, my body would feel their embrace, and, at that point, reality finally hit me.


    I was going to die.


    Despair and rage ran wild in my mind, blaming everyone for their sins, blaming everyone for my sins. Even though death had always been my desire, now survived a tingling sensation that eagerly crawled up and down my body, freezing me in place.


    Fear. I never wanted to die. All those depressive and suicidal thoughts were lies that my mind had shown me to try to remain sane in the middle of the insanity of this house, of that man.


    I wanted to live.


    I wanted to see what other girls saw, play around with my friends, read books, write, paint... there were so many wishes that had yet to be fulfilled, surely things couldn¡¯t end like this. But no one came to rescue me, not even my so-called husband. As my strength began leaving my body, there was only one person to blame.


    Why didn¡¯t Father come...? I questioned myself repeatedly, to justify this overwhelming emptiness that ruled over my soul ¨C yet it would take a blind fool to not know he never cared.


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    Much to my surprise, my soul woke up in the body of Ophelia Criswell, a few days after her birth, a small and frail baby whose inner being belonged to an 18-year-old girl. Confusion ran through my mind for days, if not months, but then, as I saw my older sister¡¯s distant gaze on me, it was easy to comprehend that this was neither a dream nor a nightmare. It was just plain inhuman.


    I was reliving my life once again, as if once hadn¡¯t been enough.


    To prevent my soul from entering a spiral of madness, my rational brain assumed that this was nothing more than a gift from the angels who pitied my horrific death. You have suffered once, now change your future and live happily, is what I imagined that these ethereal beings said to me and so, like a true believer, my life was run by following their commandments.


    During my 2nd life, I tried to cleanse my image by befriending people around me, but it was all in vain since my own kin married me off to Layton Verne, the second son of Marquess James Verne. Just like fate, the clocks kept on turning and time kept on ticking. On the night of my 18th birthday, he appeared; an assassin who mistook their target and killed an innocent bystander in her bed with the panicked flames of what was supposed to enlighten the path in the depths of night.


    I woke up in the body of a newborn baby, again.


    Several feelings of anger and despair consumed me as this was not a gift from the angels but a blessing from the Devil himself.


    Most memories from my 3rd life were fuzzy, but there were some events that I could still remember. Because of my behavior, Duke Criswell wasn¡¯t able to marry me off to some nobleman, but somehow, that dreadful day came to pass.


    No matter what I did, my life would always end on the night of my 18th birthday, engulfed by the blazes of Blasphemy[1]</a> as the Devil laughed at my misery. It did not matter how the story played out: if I ran away from home; if I didn¡¯t get married; if I tried to take my own life... I would always die being consumed by those flames on that horrible night, not before, not after.


    Surprisingly, my mother survived during my 9th life, and, through her, I finally learned basic manners and etiquette, among several other things, like reading, writing, sewing... For the first time, my body learned what the warm embrace of someone who really cared about me was like - I finally comprehended what the word ¡°family¡± stood for. Even then, my hope of living was completely shattered as a couple of days before my birthday, my mother¡¯s cold and pale corpse laid on the floor, allowing all the leftover sanity, reason, and logic within me turn into nothing but pure madness.


    I, Ophelia Criswell, the second daughter of Duke Criswell, the Cursed Child among the high-nobility puppets, am currently living my 10th life in this unstopping yet sadistic carousel. Stuck, within the grasp of the time frame of a mere clock that insists on rewinding the time magically, just to please itself with my pain and misery.


    Throughout my lives something is always the same: even if my path is constantly changing, my outcome has already been set in stone. Simultaneously, it is impossible to know if this sickening loop will ever come to an end after greeting the flames of Blasphemy one last time, yet, one thing is certain: the knowledge of a 177-year-old lady is stuck within the body of a 15-year-old child.


    For over a century, I clung to a specific way of living, focusing on a strand of hope that something would change, that someone would save me from this God-forsaken cycle but now, that peculiar blind faith that kept me walking within a straight and rightful path was gone.


    I will never be someone else¡¯s tool again.


    I will let no one abuse my body as if I was their property.


    I will live the way I wish to live until that day arrives.


    [1]</a> Blasphemy: Hell.

 Chapter 1: Cursed Child

    Seedling, day 16, year 1356


    A tall and large mansion with an even bigger garden whose nature felt the thriving of the new season, of a blessed Seedling. Walls that had ears and flowers that had mouths, spitting poison to whoever gave the most profit - that was the harsh reality of living within the Duke¡¯s estate.


    ¡°Make sure you eat it all.¡± A maid placed a rusty tray on top of the wooden desk, glancing over at me with her light brown eyes. She snorted loudly, displaying her annoyance with my presence.


    Another maid popped from the large halls, her head peaking from the wooden door frame, a wide smile stamped on her plump lips. ¡°Nessa, aren¡¯t you coming?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I am done here.¡± Without a second thought, they rushed out the door. The loud chuckles echoing through the halls became fainter as their presences traveled further away into the staircase.


    The pearly white sheets had become slightly crumbled as my hands caressed them rather strongly. Carefully, my fingers removed the pressure and warmth emanating from the cotton layer before getting back to my feet. Reluctantly, I wobbled towards the pale plate adorned with large pieces of food cooked God knows when.


    An intense, putrid smell rooted deeply into the black lettuce while the small slice of white-ish beef cowered in the tableware¡¯s corner, almost blending in with its surroundings. My stomach twitched on itself, remembering all the times such dishes had gotten me sick before, all the times I¡¯d forced myself to eat foul food just to survive.


    ¡°And you know...!¡±


    My attention shifted to the large, tightly shut window where two female voices came running from the bright green garden outside. Like a sickening display of joy, the loud and obnoxious laughter voyaged into my ears, testing my patience. Below me were Vanessa and Penny, my two assigned maids, chatting happily while eating their far too appealing lunch. As usual, it didn¡¯t take long for the group to grow as their sleek smiles and flirtatious attitude charmed two new butlers into the conversation. Their behavior was predictable and unamusing as it had come to pass far too many times before.


    Some days ago, my 15th birthday took place and, as usual, not even a single soul cared. After my mother died at birth, everything remained the same, just like a pitiful joke where I was the main clown. As expected, I lived like a ghost, a lost creature whose sole purpose was to wander through the empty halls, leading the poor servants to their ruin with my own cursed existence. And, of course, thanks to the neglect of the Duke, none cared about me or my well-being, meaning meals were scarce and rotten while the room where I laid had forgotten the familiar shape of a mop or a dust cloth. Even then, not everything was bad. Forgotten beings could freely roam around the estate, listening and gaining essential information for their master plan, raising no flags in the process.


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    ¡°I guess it¡¯s time...¡± I mumbled to myself before shifting the large curtains to the front of the window, blocking the sunlight from trespassing into the room.


    With a quirky twist of ankles, my hands stole a purple dress from the closet, covering my body with its scratchy, old fabric. Dust particles flew around as my fingers slapped the hem of the attire in strong, repeated movements before grabbing my hair and freeing it from the dress¡¯s grasp, which was probably weaker than I was as its material had been stretched to the fullest, courtesy of my sister¡¯s big breasts.


    Quietly, I left my chambers and walked down the long yet simple halls, adorned with nothing more than some casual desks and potted bright green plants, allowing some life to be brought to the ghost-like western area. The tall ceiling held a crystal-like chandelier and the floor, made of shiny rosewood, displayed part of the wealth of the Criswell¡¯s family just with its existence ¨C which was far too ironic as my surroundings were the forgotten grounds, being far too cheap looking and prohibited to peering eyes.


    A group of maids, hands filled with large baskets and bright red dresses inside, passed by. Their chuckles were loud, and one could swear their smiles stretched as far as their ears, all of which caused me to wake up from my momentary daydream.


    ¡°You see, I heard about it from Ruth, she...¡± Acting as if my presence was null, they promptly strolled by, ignoring my presence and completely disregarding my status. This was merely one of the gracious blessings of the Duke, yet it boiled within me, becoming infuriating to bear witness. Surely, I was still that man¡¯s own flesh and blood, was I not?


    Reaching the center of the mansion, a chuckle escaped me. Of course, everywhere else was drowning in luxury and extravaganza, in gold, silver and ruby, my sister¡¯s favorite color. Statues carved by some of the most popular artists traveled all the way to the entrance hall as the crimson carpet extended into the corridors, almost merging into the mahogany floors. At the staircase lurching down onto the ground floor, my feet froze, sinking into this world¡¯s reality.


    ¡°Mother.¡± A whisper sneaked past my lips as I witness the beautiful and majestic painting that had been meticulously placed on the dark-colored wall. Two large handles holding pearly white candles surrounded it, enlightening the portrait with their dim, yet warm, lights, flickering alongside the soft breeze coming from the half-opened window at the end of the space.


    Long and loose ginger curls that ran all the way to the waist, skin as fair as snow, lips that mimicked the beauty of a pink rose, and big yet bright blue eyes that sparkled more than any ocean wave, threatening to crash against the coast. That was Lilith Criswell, my mother.


    Unconsciously, my fingers traveled through the wonderful art display, caressing each painted stroke carefully. An aching sensation filled my heart; some runaway tears even gathered in the corner of my eyes. ¡°This truly doesn¡¯t capture your utmost beauty... Mother...¡±


    A loud sound interrupted my train of thought and the roots of reality quickly grabbed onto my soul, waking me up from these painful memories - this resentful past. Immediately, I headed towards the first room on the right, some meters away from mother¡¯s painting, before opening the tall door and witnessing the incredible, yet expected scenario.

 Chapter 2: Cursed Child

    My elder sister, Amanda, leaned onto a young butler who, by the looks of it, was a recent hire. The poor boy attempted to retreat from her conflicting advances but ended up hitting the back-shelf of the library, allowing several books to fall straight down. Her dark blue eyes crossed mine and a wide grin popped on her bright red lips.


    ¡°Oh, my... Ophelia, aren¡¯t you too young to be in such a place?¡± She mockingly asked.


    Usually, I¡¯d address this situation with the pitiful, naive girl act that had taken me years to master; yet it was about time for the second part of the show to start and, unluckily for her, my dear sister was the main character, being in for a wonderful yet scary treat.


    ¡°Indeed, sister...¡± Unbothered, my body strolled towards the shelf right next to them, hands stretching out onto a shelf before getting hold of a heavy, ancient book. ¡°I thought I had entered the library, but I must¡¯ve gotten the directions wrong... this place looks much more like a brothel, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    The boy¡¯s chocolate eyes widened, completely taken aback by my shocking statement, as my feet twirled through the small library, heading to one of the wooden tables by the large windows. My body sunk on the chair and my fingers happily slid through the precious item. From the corner of my eye, Amanda¡¯s cheeks turned beet red, mimicking a lobster which had been cooked to utmost perfection.


    ¡°What did you say, you little wench!?¡± She dashed at me before causing her hands to bang on the wood and leaning her torso forward. Just like two jewels hanging from the ceiling, her large breasts jingled back and forth inside her expensive, vivid red dress.


    Always so mature.


    ¡°It is quite simple sister... if you wish to be in that line of business, I can ask some of my maids to help... you seem to be very experienced with their leftovers after all.¡±


    At my response, her expression became bitter, causing her figure to instantly align in a pitiful attempt to display some kind of superiority. She might not have been aware, but all those young butlers had already been hand-picked by Vanessa and Penny, who made them to be anything but pure young boys. Having extremely generous hearts and complete control over my finances, they loved to aid poor newcomers, in exchange for certain satisfactions, of course.


    Understanding the opportunity, the young butler quickly left the library, unscathed by my sister¡¯s claws, which, compared to my maids, would be a tiny scratch in his figure.


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    Amanda¡¯s distressed expression made a shiver filled with excitement run down my spine. ¡°You... you...! You insolent brat! You don¡¯t even know what you are talking about!¡±


    Just as flowers were bound to blossom during Seedling, so were my dear sister¡¯s anger issues, all born from her terrible, spoiled personality. Without thinking about the situation clearly, her body instantly approached mine as her arm waved backward, gathering all the strength it could to strike me; but, as her hand was about to hit my cheek, my fingers surrounded her wrist and smashed it onto the table, using her own built-up momentum. With the harsh impact, a pained groan escaped her lips.


    ¡°Wha... what!?¡±


    ¡°Dear sister... you might anger the cursed one... aren¡¯t you afraid?¡± Contrary to whatever rang inside her distorted brain, my thoughts were calm and clear, allowing every word to fully sink into her soul.


    ¡°Ah! You seriously think I am afraid of a bitch like you? You can¡¯t do anything!¡± Even without being able to move her left hand, she presumptuously pushed her large crimson curls back. ¡°I guess I should be the first to congratulate you, younger sister... you will wed Terrel Wharton! Aren¡¯t those great news!?¡±


    Her obnoxiously victorious laugher rang in my head, causing my patience to approach its limit. No matter how many opportunities she gets... she always fucks it up.


    ¡°Since you aren¡¯t afraid...¡± Slowly, my free hand grabbed a silver letter opener that laid on top of some opened envelopes beside me. ¡°Shall we find out?¡±


    Immediately, I pulled her arm, forcing her chest to fall right onto the table with a bang. Amanda whined and her usual graceful expression contorted, causing several wrinkles to appear at the edges of her face. It was only when her attention shifted to my hands, where the card opened, laid right on top of her index finger, that reality sunk in. With a quick movement, the steel entered her flesh, allowing some sweet fluid to drip out and her face to mimic a ghost¡¯s.


    ¡°You know how curses begin, don¡¯t you...?¡± A wide grin appeared on my lips as an overwhelming sense of delight traveled through my body from seeing her so confused and horrified. ¡°Tell me... shall we try to curse you too, sister?¡±


    Amanda began yelling while trying to escape from my grasp, which only grew tighter with every harsh movement she made. Due to all the screaming, the guards busted the door open, and I removed my grip from her hand, allowing her to messily straighten her body.


    ¡°You¡¯re fucking insane! I will tell Father!¡± She declared, while massaging her wrist in strong, round movements. After seeing the bitter smile on my lips, her thin eyebrows grew closer together, and she left towards Alvin¡¯s study room.


    The tall, well-built men standing at the entrance of the library followed her footsteps, silently and methodically, as if baby-sitting a 18-year-old was their lifelong dream. They paid me no attention since it was common knowledge that my existence was less important than their useless time itself.


    Finally alone with my own thoughts, a chuckle escaped my being; I couldn¡¯t help it. Amanda¡¯s horrified expression kept on sinking in my memory, repeatedly, and each time it appeared, the images grew on me, providing far more pleasure than they probably should.

 Chapter 3: Blood Ties

    ¡°Ophelia is it true? Did you really try to curse your older sister?¡± After fifteen long and dreaded years with absolutely no communication, these were this man¡¯s first words to his youngest child.


    Not like I expected it to be any different.


    My eyes voyaged through the clean, darkened room before spotting Amanda sitting gracefully on the bright red divan. Her lips curled as an overwhelming sense of pride emanated out of her stance.


    ¡°Is all of this really necessary?¡± Swiftly, I turned to the large and tall shelves filled with heavy books mostly regarding our kingdom¡¯s history. ¡°It seems to me as if the great Duke has already made up his mind.¡±


    The moment our glances intertwined, his eyes sharpened, coldly glaring at me with easy to read thoughts. Once, my whole body would tremble with horror and fear at his feet, however, now, his thin figure belonged to no more than an exhausted man - clearly overused by the bliss of time and lacking any of the pressure and power it used to hold.


    ¡°Answer my question, Ophelia Criswell.¡±


    After observing the carefully organized books on the wooden planks, my attention was drawn to one in specific. The hard yet bright yellow cover that embraced the thin paper sheets stood out among all its peers. My hands removed the item from the shelf as big letters read Nobility of Ashen Kingdom. I grinned towards the tall man sitting behind his large desk, his forehead filled with bumps, wrinkles born of his involuntary frowning.


    ¡°It seems elder sister mistook the library with her chambers... I simply reminded her of a lady¡¯s etiquette.¡±


    ¡°How insolent! You dare educate your older sister!?¡± He yelled, venting out most of his pent-up frustration on the best puppet he owned: me. As he spoke, Amanda calmly drank her tea, observing the unfolding situation from the sidelines - with a sniffy smile between her bright red lips.


    ¡°Someone has to, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± As he was about to reply, I tossed the book on top of his desk harshly, allowing a large thud to ring through our ears. My hands then stole a bright red apple from a tray resting at the corner of his desk. ¡°I am sure you are well aware of her unsuited hobbies.¡±


    With a peek through the corner of my gaze, a beautiful scene unfolded. Amanda¡äs stance was now completely torn apart; her cheeks had flushed to the point one might mistake them by ripe cherries with some faint sweat drops escaping the back of her neck. By now she should¡¯ve realized her brilliant plan was but a flawed mess. Reactively, her hands dropped the teacup on the low table, almost shattering it there and then, before getting up abruptly.


    ¡°You mustn¡¯t believe in such shallow words, Father...!¡± Her words were like pure silk, soft to the touch but extremely cold and desperate, easy to slide off from. ¡°They are all lies...!¡±


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    ¡°Silence!¡± Alvin¡¯s icy stare warned her to restrain such flowing emotions, preventing her from throwing yet another tantrum. Noticing the change of the tides, a soft chuckle escaped my lips.


    ¡°You...!¡± Amanda dashed toward me, ready to strike, but I wouldn¡¯t fall down that easily.


    ¡°Or maybe...¡± She quickly stopped on her feet once my voice echoed, unsure of the words that were bound to come next. ¡°... you are supportive of this behavior?¡±


    ¡°Amanda! Sit back down!¡± Frustrated, the Duke massaged his forehead gently while exhaling. ¡°Of course not.¡±


    My eyes widened for a moment. This change of stance was unexpected, especially coming from this man. But, as the sound of clacking metal echoed from the other side of the wooden door, everything became clear as day.


    The guards... Never once did the concept of walls having ears made this much sense.


    While Alvin relaxed his body, Amanda¡¯s figure trembled with frustration. From the looks of it, she was expecting this to go how it had always been, but, this time, things would be different.


    ¡°Accusing me of such acts... how could sister do this to me...?¡± After breaking the overwhelming deafness of the room, crocodile tears gathered around Amanda¡¯s eyes, making me feel extremely disgusted. I¡¯d never seen worst theatrical display.


    I took a bite of the fresh, juicy apple and pointed towards the cover of the book confidently.


    ¡°This is a very interesting read... did you know that most of the engagements between nobles end because of adultery?¡± A bright smirk spread across my lips as Alvin¡¯s face paled. ¡°Oh, my! Of course, you do... how many were they? Eight? Perhaps ten?¡±


    If it weren¡¯t for my mother¡¯s survival during my 9<sup>th</sup> life, such information would still be buried underneath the Duke¡¯s power, ready to eliminate any threats to his flawless reputation. According to her, she had been his family¡¯s last choice, the lowly daughter of a Baron whose dowry was nothing more than a handful of gold coins, but they had no other choice. Alvin annulled a long list of engagements by staying overnight in other women¡¯s houses and trashy brothels, constantly found out by many of his peers.


    Surely, at some point in time, he was everything a young maiden¡¯s heart wished for, but now he was merely a fraction of his former youth. His chocolate eyes were held by two heavy, yet dark eye bags and that bony face had clearly seen better days. However, it was when his light skin became tainted with anger, his expression still bitterly stern, that a bold of satisfaction passed through me.


    ¡°You dare speak to me in that tone!?¡± Strands of his dark brown hair fell once he got up and banged his hands on the wooden table, declaring his dominance over the conversation.


    Did I hit a nerve...? I took another bite of the apple before twirling around the study room. Amanda¡¯s body completely frozen as my figure faced hers, right next to each other.


    ¡°It seems the apple doesn¡¯t fall far from the tree, wouldn¡¯t you say, Duke?¡± My free hand grabbed some loose pieces of my sister¡¯s hair; a beautiful look of pure disgust stamped on her face. ¡°I wonder how the Trace¡¯s would feel after... well...¡±


    ¡°Ophelia Criswell! Leave this room immediately!¡± Alvin¡¯s voice echoed loudly. In his right hand, a quill broke into two large pieces, one of which was bound to sink into the ground soon.


    ¡°As you wish.¡± Slowly, I paid my respects and appreciated that man¡¯s marvelous face, filled with anger, hate and disdain for his own blood. ¡°Thank you for the little chat. It was extremely pleasant.¡±

 Chapter 4: Blood Ties

    Once the door closed behind me, the sound of something dragging onto the wooden floor echoed, followed by a powerful slap. Someone gasped, surprised by such sudden action.


    ¡°You ungrateful child...!¡± The Duke¡¯s voice was almost covering Amanda¡¯s pitiful sobs.


    Seeing how my figure leaned on the door, definitely overstaying, a guard grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the entrance and pushing me towards the cold wall.


    ¡°Leave.¡± He said.


    Amanda was already past marriageable age. Last month she even held a big celebration, marking her 18th birthday but with it, came other responsibilities. If her current engagement went astray, it would be difficult to find another suitable match ¨C at least within the Duke¡¯s standards.


    Ever since she was an infant, Alvin spoiled her, giving her anything she wished for without taking into consideration the consequences of such actions. Due to her poor education and lack of restraint, my sister believed she was the embodiment of perfection, having the entire world at her feet, bounding every heart to her egoistical desires.


    Even feigning ignorance within his study room walls, everyone knew how aware he was of my sister¡¯s unfaithful acts. Because if he wasn¡¯t, how could the servants be so quiet about the matter at hand? They are but humans, men and women surrounded by luxury they could never attain perfect prey for greed to spread like a sickening disease.


    But now I knew, and such simple fact created a brand-new problem, a threat to her future stability and, clearly, to that man¡¯s meticulous plans.


    He has to send me away...


    My feet touched the bright green grass, creating a ticklish sensation on my skin before focusing on the painted blue sky, displaying a handful of pearly white clouds.


    Bradley Trace, the second son of Duke Carlyle Trace, was one of the most wanted eligible bachelors in the wedding market. Of course, he was to be wed to my sister, but until the vows were sealed, the young maidens[1]</a> still prayed to be the chosen ones, the sole owners of that man¡¯s heart. His father was one of the richest and powerful Dukes within Ashen¡¯s Kingdom, having an extensive military power and several natural resources, such as mines and extremely wealthy land. Even his duchy was the biggest territory ever given by a king and, of course, their businesses were astonishing, monopolizing most of the markets they were inserted in.


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    Just like a moth to a flame, my silly sister was immediately drawn to his inhuman beauty. But one can¡¯t simply erase ink from paper. Amanda¡¯s habits were of a lowly prostitute, needing constant attention from men and wearing the envy from other women as adornments. Everything my father tried so hard to achieve by meticulously placing Amanda in Bradley¡¯s sight and sparking his interest with her beauty was about to disappear, all because the ghost knew, and no one knew who the ghost would haunt next.


    As my body headed towards the fountain, further down in the garden, a feeling of anxiety devoured me. I wanted to leave this house, this life. The Duke needed to throw me away as quickly as possible, just so that man, that filthy bastard, seed of a demon, was able to greet his fateful demise.


    ¡°Ah...¡± I sighed once my bottom sunk onto the cold stone ledge. Leaning my torso slightly forward allowed for my reflection to appear in the water, making a painful chuckle escape, unwillingly. Hesitantly, my hand touched the skin it saw on the calm translucid liquid before carving its claws deeply onto the cheek, agony casually strolling within my being. ¡°A perfect body for a cursed soul...¡±


    My long and straight black hair contrasted the extremely light blue eyes that blended in perfectly with the clear water. A pale skin-tone similar to a corpse¡¯s was enlightened by meticulously shaped light pink lips and my deeply dark yet long eyelashes. Defined jawline and nose, with a slick neck that seemed to easily break. A very faint and soft rouge embraced my cheeks as the dress fluttered with the wind, due to my malnutrition. A figure that was extremely thin, yet it allowed me to mimic a perfectly shaped doll with beautiful, lifeless eyes.


    Pathetic.


    Feelings of anger and frustration embraced me as utter disgust clouded my mind, all from the wicked appearance before my eyes. The looks that monster loved so much, that he adored, that he obsessed. This repulsive looking face.


    But it wouldn¡¯t be long now. My plan was simple and perfect. They would send me to the Wharton¡¯s estate, and I would get rid of my loving fianc¨¦, Terrel Wharton, alongside the na?ve Layton Verne. Once that was done, Alvin would cry himself to sleep and have a taste of his own bitter pill as my luxurious lifestyle eagerly sucked his finances dry, leaving nothing but scraps behind.


    A lustful life never sounded so appealing. I chuckled, touching a wilted red rose that lied on the ground before rotating it slowly between my fingers. Once the dead nature touched the crystal water from the fountain, it floated momentarily and then sunk, touching the stone base within a matter of seconds ¨C a beautiful scenario that predicted the future to come.


    [1]</a> Maiden: An unmarried girl or young woman.

 Chapter 5: Knight in Shining Armor

    By using my sister¡¯s unwavering pride at its fullest, the meeting with the Duke had been assured but, even considering me a threat, he remained quiet, unmovable. A week had passed, but nothing had changed. I was still stuck in this dreadful mansion.


    Why!? My nails tapped on the top of the wooden desk repeatedly as rampaging thoughts tried to make sense of the situation. Why isn¡¯t he sending me away?


    Frustration gathered in me realizing things were not as easy as I thought they would be. He needed to be pushed further, seeing how my presence in this house was but a vivid menace to his plans, not just a conceptual bump in the road.


    After setting the necessary scenarios, and seeing how each candidate fared, he decided, prior to my 15<sup>th</sup> birthday, that the Wharton¡¯s were indeed the best choice - probably because of their vast territory in the North. The Duke was a very cautious man, taking into consideration every step he took. He wouldn¡¯t be persuaded by some idle hostile words. He needed to realize how much he could lose if I stayed.


    Knowing that he hadn¡¯t summoned me to his study meant that he considered sending me off so soon unnecessary, extra measures needed to be taken. He didn¡¯t think of me as a problem, even though he was well aware of how much I knew and how easily such knowledge could ruin his thought-out plans. Surely, he thought my words would mean nothing since he saw me as a useless curse, taking the filthy body of his daughter. But he forgot quite a simple thing. When one was a ghost, one would become a shadow, freely wandering around without having its presence noticed. Today I overheard the loud maids, who were extremely excited about a certain upcoming visit. And isn¡¯t that quite convenient?


    Bradley Trace. Amanda¡¯s fianc¨¦.


    An extremely rich man, both in looks and monetarily. I¡¯d seen him a couple of times in my other lives, however, it was always after his marriage. At some point, the thought of becoming his wife passed by, hoping it would change the awful, predestined ending, but something about him made me feel unsteady, as if he was far more dangerous than led others to believe.


    His father, Carlyle Trace, was a shady man with several sketchy businesses. If I intended to live a carefree life, being involved with that type of family would only bring future problems and, truthfully, my patience was growing thinner by the day. Getting myself in conflict with the royal family and other high-ranking nobles because of someone else¡¯s dirt was not my cup of tea.


    After getting dressed in simple clothing, I exited my chambers and headed towards the south gardens to catch a little of the morning sunlight, however, as my body prepared itself to drop its weight onto the chair, something rattled between the wild bushes.


    Curiosity got the best of me. My fingers brushed off some of the bush¡¯s thick leaves just to disclosure a frail black kitten with a deep wound on his little front paw. Noticing me, he swiftly tried to back away, wheezing in discontent and fear of the unknown.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you.¡± I said in a low tone, embracing him gently. Of course, being a stray, he hated my touch. His body squirmed, he meowed loudly, and his thick claws scratched my skin repeatedly. ¡°Yes, yes... I know you want to leave, but you might die if I don¡¯t help you.¡±


    As if he understood my words, he calmed down - probably due to the exhaustion that settled on his frail body. Softly, my hand patted his back. ¡°Look at you... such a good boy.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me, do you perhaps know where the teahouse is?¡± A sweet voice rung in my ears causing me to glance back, seeing a beautiful angel in the shape of a man. His light green eyes were calm while gazing me, his golden hair reflected the sun rays and his skin faired even against the purest of the snows.


    Gracefully, I bowed, recognizing the individual straight away. ¡°Lord Bradley, what a surprise meeting you here. I was unaware the Trace¡¯s had such poor etiquette.¡± A mocking smirk spread across my lips as his eyes ran up and down my body, his brows drawing closer together completely confused.


    Soon enough, his expression turned slightly flustered as a faint hint of blush rested on his cheeks. He understood the mistake he had made. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the discourtesy, My Lady. May I know your name?¡± Politely, he bobbed his head, glancing at me with his bright emeralds.


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    ¡°Such things are unnecessary... I¡¯m sure our paths won¡¯t meet again.¡± All he got from me was a cold smile and a rather ungraceful side glance, understanding that this small yet fruitful interaction had served its purpose. ¡°To reach the teahouse, just walk forward. Once you see a big cherry tree, take a turn right. It was an honor meeting you, My Lord.¡±


    Without giving him any time to reply, I turned around and left toward my chambers. That man made me feel strange, awakening certain instincts which were dormant: he was dangerous, and my deepest gut knew it.


    ¡°Stay still!¡± I yelled, trying to apply some ointment on the cat¡¯s paw. After several failed attempts of him darting like a bolt throughout the room, my hands finally grabbed him by the chest. A clean bandage surrounded his wound, preventing any bacteria from entering. ¡°If you dare to take that off, I¡¯ll starve you.¡± With my icy glare, he lowered his head, as if he could actually understand what I said.


    Now me... Gently, my fingers applied ointment on the cuts created by the black fur ball; however, a loud sound suddenly echoed through the room which caused me to drop the product on the floor. Reactively, my gaze fell on the now completely open door.


    ¡°You are truly disgusting, Ophelia. Why were you with Bradley?¡± Amanda¡¯s loud voice traveled through the quiet area. The maids behind her chuckled, bad-mouthing me with their futile insults.


    Slowly, my figure leaned forward, picking up the ointment case from the floor and placing it on a small wooden table. ¡°My dear sister, I have thought about it, but I cannot seem to find one single reason as to why I should tell you.¡±


    Her dark blue eyes became filled with anger. ¡°He is my fianc¨¦! I don¡¯t know what you are planning, but you better know your place, or I will make you regret it.¡± Her hands pushed her curls back, as if she had the upper hand in this matter.


    Amanda¡¯s arrogant and superior attitude always annoyed me, but I had accepted it for the longest time. In fact, the only reason I had put up with it for 15 whole years was merely to gather what lacked: more knowledge. For my plan to work, it was imperative to learn everything about the nobles, especially the high-nobility and time was my greatest ally. Unlucky for her, the ticking of the clock had finally announced the end of the break and the beginning of the second act of such marvelous play.


    I came closer to her, a grin on my lips. ¡°Are you threatening me, sister?¡± My voice was rather low, making Amanda¡¯s face pale. Shakily, her body backed away.


    ¡°D-Don¡¯t get too full of yourself...!¡± Reluctantly, she continued to be stubborn, never backing down even when her gut told her to. ¡°Lanna, teach this wench some manners!¡±


    Her maids flinched but remained in their place, feet rooted to the ground. No one was stupid enough to touch the cursed child, that was, unless they wished to become cursed beings themselves.


    ¡°M-Milady, that¡¯s...¡± As Lanna was finishing her sentence, I intervened.


    ¡°You are a beautiful woman, sister, but your manners are lacking.¡± Strongly, my fingers grabbed her cheeks and pulled her face towards me. She frowned; her eyes widened. ¡°I wonder what I should do to that mischievous tongue of yours?¡±


    Hearing my words, she shoved the hand away from her and pushed me toward the floor causing me to laugh loudly. Sadly, for her, I kept my balance. ¡°Consider this your last warning, Ophelia!¡±


    In a hurry, the snakes left, minds filled with doubt and fear forcing a bolt of adrenaline and satisfaction to run through my veins. ¡°Oh Amanda... you¡¯re such a fool.¡±


    The servants might neglect me, but no one in this house would dare to go against me, to touch the cursed one. Everyone knew that if you got yourself cursed, the gates to God would be closed, making the only available door for the afterlife a very blazing one.


    After shutting the door again, I laid down on the bed. ¡°This girl...¡±


    My right hand reached my forehead, massaging it slightly. Behaving like this created a lingering pain in my heart. Maybe it was some stupid remnants of my broken soul¡¯s compassion; however, I froze my silly desires and hopeful wishes long ago. All that remained was an empty, deafening darkness.


    The little girl everyone used and abused was lost, somewhere within the cracks of time, and I didn¡¯t intend to bring her back. Never again, for the rest of my life, would the na?ve and kind heroine, caring for the poor, helping the weak, hoping for the best, come back. Instead, I would become the author of this God-forsaken story and burn everything and everyone that could pose a threat to my selfish future to the ground.


    My eyes wandered around to see where the cat had gone, but he was nowhere to be found. ¡°How hilarious would it be... a cursed girl with a black cat... the irony is astonishing.¡± I mumbled, just to feel a weight on the left side of the bed.


    Tiny and pitch black with vivid red eyes; the kitten was now looking right at me. ¡°You must be hungry.¡± He approached my arm and rubbed his frail head on it. Surprisingly, he hadn¡¯t run away after Amanda¡¯s childish tantrum. ¡°Alright... I¡¯ll be right back.¡±

 Chapter 6: Knight in Shining Armor

    While leaving the kitchen with some chunks of raw meat, Bradley greeted me with his annoyingly, yet charming smile. ¡°It seems you were mistaken as our paths are connected once more, My Lady.¡±


    ¡°My Lord.¡± After bowing down, my feet turned and began heading towards the chambers. Wasting time with this man was not part of my plans, however, he kept walking behind me, keeping up with my pace. I stopped and turned around. ¡°Excuse me for my rudeness but, what might you be doing?¡±


    His eyes widened, surprised with my bluntness. ¡°Escorting a young lady, to the place where she is headed, of course.¡± His delightful smile would melt any girl¡¯s heart if they weren¡¯t careful. It was rather easy to see why Amanda wanted this man to be her husband: his power was uncontestable; his wealth overwhelming and his angel-like beauty otherworldly.


    ¡°Lord Bradley, escorting a maiden to her chambers while engaged might stain one¡¯s image.¡± I politely stated, letting him know to leave me alone.


    And again, that lovable, charming, perfect smile. ¡°Thank you for your concern, My Lady, but my image won¡¯t be stained by unfounded gossip.¡±


    ¡°Ophelia! What are you doing here!?¡± Amanda appeared with her entourage, coming from the southern area of the garden; her sharp eyes looking ready for a fight.


    A sigh escaped my body realizing the problem at hand. Someone saw us and, just like faithful dogs, they ratted us out. I didn¡¯t intend to waste my breath with a spoiled child and an egocentric bastard but, just as fate seemed grim, the coin switched, turning into a hidden opportunity.


    ¡°My dear sister, Lord Bradley was looking for you.¡± I commented with a warm smile on my lips. A blunt lie with enough impact to turn the tides. Amanda¡¯s eyes began sparkling with happiness. ¡°He asked me to bring you to him.¡±


    Without caring for anything else, she promptly grabbed her fianc¨¦¡¯s arm, making him frown, displeased. Now, I was nothing more than a mere burden as her soul showered Bradley with unwanted attention.


    ¡°Is it true, My Lord?¡± She asked, a wide smile displayed on her bright red lips. ¡°I was eager to meet you as well, but Father was...¡± Amanda continued to blabber about useless matters, not realizing her fianc¨¦¡¯s attention laid elsewhere.


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    Now solve this yourself. My gaze connected with his, a proud smirk on my lips. His eyes were sharp, glaring at me as if he had found a new prey. Giving no room for his reply, I turned on my heels and left the not-so lovebirds alone. A lady should know how to read the mood, isn¡¯t that right?


    ¡°Kitten, I brought you some food.¡± Reaching my chambers and after placing a small, slightly broken clay bowl on the floor, my hands filled it with cut chunks of meat. Not even a second after, a black fur ball popped out from underneath the bedsheets, eyes glimmering with excitement.


    Unconsciously, my fingers moved towards its soft fur; however, it quickly backed away. His tail leaned upwards, annoyed by my presence. ¡°Fine, no petting.¡±


    As he ate his food, I sat on the wooden chair near a small desk, removing something similar to a book from a cloth bag before placing it on top of the dark planks.


    What do I know about Bradley? Somehow, he was still on my mind which created a strange uneasiness within me.


    During my previous lives, every time we met, he was already wed to my sister. Our interactions were minimal, with simple polite greetings at parties that Terrel or Layton attended but something was odd. I remembered seeing, during our brief encounters, a shadow lingering behind his eyes, as if something darker was tightly locked inside his mind.


    Even then, he was the topic of very avid conversations. As young maidens wished to be the owners of his heart, Amanda bragged, making them badmouth her instead with hearts tainted by jealousy. They all wanted to be Bradley¡¯s wife; thus, they were extremely persistent, fighting amongst each other for any bit of attention they could attain.


    If my sister had to leave for a moment, just like moths to a flame, the young maidens would gather around him almost instantly. It was probably because of these feats that he earned a very peculiar nickname.


    ¡°The Angel of the Kingdom...¡± I whispered as my fingers scribbled such thoughts on an empty paper sheet.


    How did he earn that nickname in the first place? My mind was filled with possibilities, none good enough to explain such an event. Of course, his beauty was one factor, but it seemed too simple of an explanation as nicknames within high nobility were usually created out of usability. Could it have been his father, Carlyle?


    One thing I remembered vividly was how forced his interactions were. No matter who he talked with, his eyes appeared dull, filled with boredom, and his words completely mechanic, as if he was something else, far away from a human.


    My hand grabbed the cover of the book and closed it. This uneasiness I felt whenever Bradley came to mind was more unsettling than thinking about the monster of my fianc¨¦ to be. I knew staying away was the safest and easiest route.

 Chapter 7: The Girl with the Raven Hair

    Some hours had now passed and, due to the overwhelming pressure of Duke Criswell, Bradley had been forced to stay for lunch; however, once he noticed the lack of an element at the dining table, a certain restlessness settled. Even so, he didn¡¯t pursue the matter. Instead, he glanced over the bright room, seeing how the wood glimmered and how the servants quietly lowered their heads, afraid of even taking in a breath.


    ¡°Did you enjoy this morning¡¯s tea, Lord Bradley?¡± Alvin asked as his knife slowly sliced a piece of the tender venison meat sitting on his elaborate plate.


    ¡°Yes, very much so. I am grateful for your invitation.¡± His response was composed and polite, making the Duke¡¯s lips curl upwards, in the shape of a crescent moon.


    ¡°By all means, you know you are always welcome here.¡± The elder man¡¯s thin fingers grabbed one of the embroidered napkins and brought it to his mouth, cleaning it with gentle pats.


    Amanda was sitting across from Bradley; yet, her hands barely moved, forcing the delicious food to be left untouched. Her deep blue eyes focused on the man standing in front of her, eating them alive with transparent lust. Not even the intense fragrance emanating from the meat was enough to return her soul to reality.


    The sound of cutlery being placed down on the table was heard and then Alvin continued. ¡°How about we settle the marriage date for the beginning of Blistering? We are all very excited to welcome you into the family, my future son-in-law.¡±


    As the Duke emphasized his last words, a strange tension rested on the table. Bradley already knew this topic was about to rise, eventually. Because of his father¡¯s request, he had to leave the capital for a long period, forcing their marriage to be delayed; but now that he was back, there was nothing preventing the ceremony to occur.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid we cannot provide you with the exact date just yet; the mines we discovered in the northern part of our land are taking a tool on our resources and time. Having a wedding when there¡¯s such instability would not be beneficial. I¡¯m sure you understand.¡± A polite smile appeared on his lips.


    Alvin knew he couldn¡¯t push this matter further, otherwise it would only sound like his soul was too eager, reflecting poorly on the whole family. Even though his aura seemed calm and comprehensive, his inner thoughts were cursing the young man who didn¡¯t seem keen on settling down so soon.


    In fact, the second son of the Trace¡¯s had been delaying this matter as long as he possibly could. He was well aware of how wicked Amanda¡¯s ideals were and how twisted her personality was. In his eyes, she was nothing more than a troublesome spoiled child who cared about nothing other than her own toys.


    ¡°Of course, My Lord. Please don¡¯t hesitate to let me know if you might need any extra manpower.¡± As a businessman whose objectives were set in stone, Alvin reinforced the benefits of the marriage at hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re very kind Duke.¡± After finishing his lunch awkwardly, he glanced at Amanda¡¯s plate, which continued to be untouched. Her whole being was focused on him, as if someone had drugged her into a trance.


    His eyes then observed the large table, with only three people sitting in its surroundings yet the overwhelming amount of food seemed to be able to feed all the servants in the room. His mind then recalled the young woman he had met some hours before. A hint of a smile graced his lips.


    This sudden memory sparked some curiosity within the young man¡¯s heart. ¡°Are you perhaps, housing any guests today?¡±


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    ¡°Of course not. How could we, when we knew you were coming?¡± As if she had been reborn, Amanda quickly intervened, snorting slightly when speaking.


    Don¡¯t tell me... Bradley¡¯s mind connected the pieces of the puzzle. If that young woman wasn¡¯t a guest, then there was only one result left, an option he didn¡¯t want to consider. ... she¡¯s his rumored second daughter?


    ¡°When I was searching for Lady Amanda, I crossed paths with a young girl with unique black hair. Might she be your mysterious sister?¡± As these words left her fianc¨¦¡¯s mouth, Amanda clenched her fists under the table and her heart rate spiked. She could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks at the speed of light.


    ¡°You see My Lord...¡± As the Duke was replying, hoping to swiftly change the course of conversation, his eldest child rudely interrupted him.


    ¡°Indeed, she is my younger sister, Ophelia. Unfortunately, because of her peculiar behavior, we try to keep her inside the estate as much as possible.¡± A smile rested on Amanda¡¯s expression, yet clearly forced, since the corners of her lips twitched repeatedly.


    ¡°That girl is a very troublesome individual.¡± Alvin nodded in agreement at his daughter¡¯s offensive words.


    Bradley knew they were hiding something, so he stirred the pot further. ¡°During our brief encounter, she appeared to be quite graceful.¡±


    ¡°Graceful?¡± Amanda snorted and rolled her eyes, right before crossing her arms as if she was about to throw a tantrum. ¡°That brat wouldn¡¯t see grace even if it fell on her lap. She is self-centered, childish and egoistic.¡± Her hands pushed her hair backwards, but her mouth continued to speak, unfiltered. ¡°Ophelia thinks everyone else is beneath her. How could I take her to social gatherings? It would be a fiasco.¡±


    The guest listened to his fianc¨¦e¡¯s words attentively, a tinge of satisfaction hidden behind his bright emerald eyes. These were the true colors of the woman he was about to marry. How utterly disgusting.


    Alvin¡¯s hand punched the table loudly, forcing the young woman to regain her sense of self. ¡°Amanda! Have some manners!¡± His eyes glared at her coldly, causing her to shudder and freeze in place. His attention was then shifted towards Bradley, who continued serenely drinking a bit of the red wine. ¡°Please forgive her rudeness, it seems I still have much to teach her.¡±


    He nodded but prevented Alvin from turning the tides on the conversation at hand. ¡°Do you agree with her thoughts, Duke?¡±


    ¡°Ophelia is indeed a troublesome child. She must take after her deceased mother¡¯s worst habits; may God have her soul.¡± His eyes twitched slightly as he tried to maintain his regular composure. ¡°She is also very sickly, can¡¯t stand being outside her room for too long¡­ it is a very problematic situation as you can imagine.¡±


    This was a very sensible topic. Alvin despised his younger daughter, but he couldn¡¯t insult her bluntly like Amanda did; that would only show how the house had problems at its core. Gossip was bound to follow nobles wherever they went and the Duke didn¡¯t intend to bring more attention than necessary to his house, at least for now.


    A spoiled, sickly girl is it...? Even with the host¡¯s words, Bradley continued to find the matter strange and couldn¡¯t help but to think their conversation was made of complete and utter lies. After all, how could a noble woman whose attire was out of fashion, clearly worn out to the brim, be spoiled?


    As Duke Criswell regained control of the conversation, his guest¡¯s thoughts were lost somewhere else. He couldn¡¯t help but think about how a maiden, no older than 15, was being neglected and clearly exiled from the rest of the family.


    Even then, he remained quiet, not mentioning the matter further. That young girl was rather smart, cunning and blunt, traits that didn¡¯t appear often in the noblewomen in the capital whose sole pleasure relied on gossiping and mocking others with their simpleton words.


    He couldn¡¯t forget how she had swiftly trapped him with her annoying eldest sister or how indifferent she was to his charms. Feeling his pride strongly hurt, his interest within the Criswell estate had shifted. He wanted to make that strange girl admit defeat towards the only thing he held up in high regard: his power of seduction.


    Simultaneously, Amanda¡¯s depths observed his father, dumbfounded. She couldn¡¯t believe the words that had left Alvin¡¯s mouth, especially knowing how much her mother meant to her and how kind-hearted she truly was. A strange uneasiness embraced her soul, forcing her to drink the water glass in a single gulp, hoping it would be enough to drown her negative feelings.

 Chapter 8: The Girl with the Raven Hair

    As the warm late afternoon sun enlightened the room, my hands opened the dirty closet and revealed a small quantity of shabby attires within its damaged walls. Without taking too long to consider, my hands snatched a simple dark brown dress from the hanger and braided my dark hair, allowing two slightly short strands to frame my face.


    My stomach grumbled, displeased with what I¡¯d just eaten. Heartburn flew through my esophagus as I gulped down my saliva, hoping to ease this unpleasant feeling. Seeing how there had been no further improvements, my hands turned the door knob and walked towards the entrance of the mansion. Maybe walking for some moments would relieve such sickening sensation.


    One step after the other, I strolled slowly as my mind stood deep in thought, considering today¡¯s events. Bradley had finally acknowledged me and soon, the Duke¡¯s soul would follow. He couldn¡¯t remain oblivious or in denial for long.


    There¡¯s no way he will take any risks with their wedding... A grin was drawn on my lips, feeling a sense of satisfaction travel through my bones. The beautiful garden filled with tall trees and bright green bushes, flapping with the soft breeze, made such emotions increase even further.


    As I passed through the large iron gates, Amanda¡¯s voice rung in my ears and, some moments later, my chest tightened. Bradley was currently entering his carriage but, the moment he sat down, his eyes connected to mine, charmingly surprised.


    Beneath my dark gray cloak, my fists clenched strongly. Couldn¡¯t you sit on the other side? How unlucky.


    Noticing how her guest¡¯s attention was focused on a specific direction, Amanda¡¯s body turned and was greeted by my presence. With cheeks flushed as a piping hot volcano, she stamped her feet on the floor, dashing towards me. ¡°What are you doing here!? Leave at once!¡±


    Even though she yelled, I remained calm and composed, taking in the horrendous sight before thinking of a reply. My eyes voyaged up and down her body, analyzing her thoroughly. Almost immediately, my gaze forced itself to focus on the bushes a couple of meters to my right.


    How... Trying my best to retain the laughter inside, a soft chuckle slipped by. Luckily, it wasn¡¯t noticed by the fuming beast in front of me. Are these the new trends...? Where has fashion decency gone to...


    After taking a deep breath, I faced her once again. Her dress was extremely voluptuous on its bottom and tremendously tight on its upper half causing Amanda¡¯s large breasts to mimic two peas, ready to burst their contents out from how tight the corset had been placed. Of course, the bright orange color and the amount of riffles the attire possessed, specially at its lower half, made her seem like a one of those performers from the festivals - the clowns. If that wasn¡¯t enough, there were also large bright green flowers surrounding her waist, mimicking a belt, holding still a somewhat transparent golden and sparkly layer. This was the most horrendous dress I¡¯d ever seen.


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    ¡°My dear sister, you hurt me with those words... I cherish you so much.¡± My hands passed by her shoulders before grabbing a strand of her dark crimson hair and kissing it softly. Her blue eyes glared at my smirk with bitterness.


    Uncomfortably, she shoved my grip away. ¡°What are you doing!?¡±


    ¡°Elder sister¡¯s dress is so magnificent that even bees are drawn towards its greatness. I was simply removing the frail creature from your body. Please forgive me if I offended you, sister.¡± She gritted her teeth and turned on her heels, approaching Bradley¡¯s carriage once again, completely lost for words.


    At first glance what had been said didn¡¯t mean no harm, however, to those cult enough to read between the lines, one could tell they were clearly insulting. If wildlife was drawn to one¡¯s attire, wouldn¡¯t that be the same as considering them animals?


    A tingling sensation traveled through my bones. Yes Amanda, hate me more.


    After walking a bit further, Bradley intervened, waking me up from that pleasant feeling. ¡°Lady Ophelia, where might you be headed? I can provide you with a ride.¡± He politely said, a charming smile stamped on his lips.


    In a fit, Amanda rushed in front of the carriage door, arms wide open as if she was a 5-year-old child protecting her most precious toy. ¡®He is mine, back away!¡¯ Was what her expression said.


    ¡°I¡¯m simply going for a walk, My Lord.¡± Hiding away any hint of annoyance, my head bobbed forward slightly, paying my respects.


    ¡°Would you like some company, My Lady? Truth be told, I¡¯m still stuffed from lunch as well.¡± And there it went again, the wonderful, charming knight in his white stallion and shining armor.


    Hearing his suggestion made Amanda¡¯s body turn and glare at him. Noticing how he didn¡¯t even dare to spare her a glance, her face became void of color. She couldn¡¯t believe this was happening.


    Such event was enough to make me understand my plans had worked too well for my own good. But, since he was of no further use to me, there was only one route that needed to be taken.


    ¡°I am very thankful for your kind offer, but I must refuse... how could I do something like that to elder sister?¡± My hands covered my parted lips slightly as my eyes shone with sorrow, shily looking away.


    Seeing my strange attitude, Amanda¡¯s eyes widened, confused as to why I was refusing such a splendid opportunity. My hands grabbed hers, bringing them closer to our chests. ¡°Why don¡¯t you take the lord for a walk, Amanda? I¡¯m sure you two will enjoy it far more than me.¡±


    Still slightly dazed, all she did was nod, giving me space to continue. ¡°Well then, sister, Lord Bradley, have a wonderful afternoon.¡±


    My hands grabbed the hem of my dress, saying my goodbyes as rapidly as possible. I didn¡¯t want to give him time to come up with any sort of reply, to allow that snake of a man to slither away from my sister¡¯s weak grasp.

 Chapter 9: Innocent Determination

    They had finally summoned me to the Duke¡¯s study. The news I¡¯d been so eager to receive were delivered in the most predictable stance.


    ¡°You will marry Terrel, the firstborn son of Duke Wharton.¡± Alvin declared in his typical bitter tone without even glancing at me. His fingers held a bright red quill as he scribbled on some loose sheets, completely unbothered by my presence.


    I bobbed my head respectfully. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    His hands froze momentarily, as his mind took in my words before continuing his affairs. It seemed he wasn¡¯t expecting such a compliant daughter, especially after our minor incident. The truth was, no matter whether I cried, pouted or tried to change his mind, he wouldn¡¯t move. His decision lied beneath a pile of stones so heavy, one wouldn¡¯t even succeed in moving the smaller pieces.


    About to leave the room, I heard his voice, echoing through wind. ¡°Are you not going to ask why?¡±


    Utter disbelief struck me, momentarily feeding my foolish being with hopes that had since long perished, before returning to my regular, apathetic expression. ¡°If I did, would you answer truthfully?¡±


    After some minutes in plain silence, he simply waved his hand in the air, signaling me to leave. The moment I heard the door close behind me, a painfully smile spread across my lips. That man was no father of mine.


    ???????


    Ophelia¡¯s 2nd Life


    Father summoned me to his room after almost sixteen years of pure silence and, unexpectedly, he greeted me with the same dreadful sentence I¡¯d heard once before. He intended to marry me off, once again, to that hideous man.


    My whole body shivered as tears dropped at a rapid pace. Memories from everything Terrel had done were vividly repeating in my mind. His smell, his voice, his touch, all came back to me. Was I bound to live the same nightmare once more?


    Immediately, I kneeled on the ground, partially from horror, partially from pure fear. ¡°Father please...! Anyone but him! I beg of you!¡±


    ¡°Terrel Wharton is a fine young man, I assure you.¡± His words were cold but somehow had a strange, enticing sweetness to them, a sweetness I¡¯d never heard before. My heart ached causing me to press my head strongly onto the carpet, wetting it with overflowing tears.


    The words struggled to come out, making my resolution grow weaker in his eyes. I couldn¡¯t be sent to the Wharton¡¯s estate; I couldn¡¯t be Terrel¡¯s wife again. ¡°P-Please Father...¡±


    His fingers moved towards his forehead as he massaged it slightly, applying pressure on the sides of his skull. A sigh escaped his body before he leaned his bottom onto his long desk. ¡°Why are you so opposed to this wedding, dear?¡±


    My head rose, my expression drowned in complete disbelief. Had I heard him correctly? Had he just called me¡­ dear?


    ¡°You know you can talk to me.¡± He approached me with a strangely kind and warm smile. A tingling sensation rose in my body, unsure of how I felt about his sudden change of attitude. ¡°Come on now, what¡¯s troubling you, dear?¡±


    My body froze into place, rooting deeply onto the floor it kneeled into. This time I¡¯d heard it correctly; his absurd honey-coated words held a hint of disdain which his tired eyes couldn¡¯t hide. Father didn¡¯t care about me, he never did.


    ¡°Terrel is...¡± My fists clenched onto the crimson-colored carpet stretched over the center of the floor, tears still running through my cheeks. ¡°He is a monster, Father... he abuses young women! How could I marry a man like that!?¡±


    Alvin¡¯s eyes widened before returning to his normal, stern stance. He walked back to his desk and let out an even longer sigh. ¡°He¡¯s young... didn¡¯t you make some mistakes when you were little?¡±


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    Little!? How dare he!? Terrel was ten years older than me and had far passed his prime. This marriage was completely undesirable for most of the maidens, otherwise, how come he was yet to be taken? And these so-called mistakes... Don¡¯t make me laugh.


    Losing money in a terrible investment was a mistake. Forgetting your elder¡¯s birthday was a mistake. Raping, torturing and harassing young women for his own selfish desires could not - and would not - be labeled as a simple ¡®mistake¡¯.


    ¡°My mistakes didn¡¯t rely on stealing another one¡¯s virtue.¡± Reluctantly, I spoke, head hung low. Father¡¯s gaze was too powerful, too terrifying, no matter how hard my soul tried, it couldn¡¯t bear to look back at him, even after such bold statement. Without moving, his boiling wrath burned the top of my head and penetrated my hot skin.


    ¡°Ophelia Criswell, you should be thankful to the Wharton¡¯s. They are willing to put up with you, even knowing about your lack of grace.¡± He stated coldly, making my body freeze in place. Father was furious. I could hear it in his tone. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for them, you would die alone, without a man to provide for you. Is that what you want?¡±


    My head reactively shook, knowing exactly what those words meant. They shunned single women out of society, and most of them, ended up begging for scraps on the streets - at least, that¡¯s what I¡¯d been told. It was a harsh and uncertain future but I¡¯d rather beg on the streets than to wed that man again.


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯ve come to your senses.¡± Exhaustion sat behind his voice. ¡°I¡¯ll get everything settled then.¡±


    ¡°Father, please...¡± My whole body shivered in fear. This couldn¡¯t be happening again. Father wasn¡¯t listening to reason - he wouldn¡¯t trust my words, no matter how much they rang true. ¡°I¡¯ll marry anyone you wish. I won¡¯t complain even if you wed me to an ill-man filled with riches, but please, I beg of you, do not wed me to Terrel Wharton.¡±


    His right fist banged on the wooden table, making me tremble even further. Immediately, my head sunk onto the floor.


    ¡°Get up.¡± His voice so cold, I thought it capable of freezing humans in the middle of Blistering. ¡°I said, get up!¡±


    Reluctantly, my body rose, hoping to not lose balance with the current lack of strength within my muscles; my head still lowered, averting father¡¯s intense glare. His muffled footsteps on the carpet rung in my ears before turning into silence, as he stopped right in front of me.


    ¡°Look at me.¡± He said, but I couldn¡¯t mutter up the courage to do what he ordered. It was only after he repeated the same command in a loud yell that, out of a pure reflex, my being moved.


    A burning sensation passed through my cheek, forcing it to become more flushed than what originally was. It was then that genuine pain hit me, obliging my body to crumble on the floor. Father had just slapped me with all the strength he had.


    After the shock of his sudden action passed, tears rolled once again. My trembling right hand caressed the hurtful cheek, still confused by what had come to pass.


    ¡°Who do you take me for!? Do you think I¡¯m only marrying you to Terrel because of the Wharton¡¯s riches!? I¡¯m not some lowly peasant!¡± His voice was as icy as a harsh breeze in the middle of Frosting, freezing anything around it as he continued to yell. ¡°Since you seem to be deluded, I¡¯ll explain it, Ophelia; no man in this kingdom will want to marry a curse, especially one that looks like you! You should feel blessed by the Wharton¡¯s offer!¡±


    ¡°I... I...¡± I didn¡¯t know what to reply. Strange, twisted feelings traveled through me.


    Was I angry with his words or was I angry with myself for still believing in them?


    ¡°Remember my words, Ophelia; you are a disgrace of a woman, a cold-blooded murder, a curse.¡± Even if father wasn¡¯t yelling at the top of his lungs, one could still feel the pure hatred unraveling in each word. ¡°You are to be wed to Terrel, and that¡¯s final.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Was the only word that left my lips, as resolute as it could.


    ¡°What did you say?¡± Noticing my resilience, he approached me again, already stretching his arm to strike me but, before he could, I continued.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t go back on your word, I will not eat nor drink. If you force me to go to their estate, I will cut my own wrists before the wedding even occurs. But I will say it again Father, I will marry anyone of your choosing, anyone but him.¡± As confident as my nerves allowed, my mind flew through my lips, knowing this was the only way he would take me seriously.


    His lips pressed into each other before a wide, wicked grin popped out. ¡°Is that so? Then, by all means, let¡¯s see how far your determination goes. Guards!¡± With his words, two well-built men opened the door and held on tightly to each of my arms. ¡°Take her!¡±


    As I was being dragged out by those men, strongly grabbing me, he cursed, passing his messy fringe through his fingers. ¡°What a mess...!¡±


    For the next days he ground me by forcing me not to leave my chambers, but such futile thing didn¡¯t bother me in the slightest. For days, the meals brought by the chef were exquisite, clearly cooked with care and almost to perfection, but all returned untouched. No matter how much my stomach grumbled, how much its enticing smell drew saliva to my mouth, no food entered my starving body.


    It was only when a full week had passed that he summoned me back. His eyes tainted with disdain and disgust, probably from my overwhelming bony figure, deprived of any type of fatness.


    That¡¯s the day he told me, I was to wed Layton Verne, the second son of Marquess Verne, next Blistering. Obeying and inwardly celebrating, my body left that room feeling a hint of pride and a flow of relief. But it would only take two years for me to regret such decision.

 Chapter 10: Losing is a State of Mind

    ¡°Kitten, where are you? I brought you some food.¡± I entered the room, eyes glancing to the bed just to see a familiar shape, a pure black fur ball whose tender sleep had been abruptly interrupted. The small creature blinked a handful of times before stretching its body, yawning deeply enough to expose his sharp fangs.


    Slowly, my figure approached the floor in front of the bed, placing the food inside the clay cups. In a swift movement, the kitten jumped and began eating, its tail wiggling from side to side, happily. My attention shifted to the creature¡¯s paw. The cut was far lighter than my memory recalled, having already healed and yet, this small, adorable being remained by my side, never leaving the room.


    Feeling like an intruder, oppressing the little cat as it ate, I turned my body and headed towards the old wooden desk, opening one of its drawers and swiftly removing a bag. Its cloth was filled with holes - courtesy of the moths flying around from time to time ¨C as a book and a quill rested inside.


    Dipping the edge of the quill into a small ink compartment, its tip darkened, turning into a pitch-black color. Automatically, my wrist moved, and words filled the page.


    According to my memories, the engagement occurred when I reached adulthood, at the tender age of 16, regardless of not having any coming-of-age ceremony. It was only three months after my moving to the Wharton¡¯s estate that Terrel busted into my chambers, taking my virtues with him.


    That¡¯s too long... I thought as the quill traveled through my cheeks, patting my skin gently with its softness.


    By my calculations, my presence there would be far sooner then what was supposed to. Exactly a full year and three months until that man lost his reason, supposedly. Of course, since the flow of time had been altered, nothing was a certainty - Terrel could take even longer, or maybe, just maybe, even less.


    ¡°If they don¡¯t run to you, you run to them.¡± Folding the papers in half, my hands stored them away in their rightful place.


    In the middle of getting up, I glanced at the bed, where the black kitten now stood. His bright red eyes popped out against the sun rays that traversed through the window and a strange, tingling sensation voyaged through my body. Suddenly, all the strength in my legs dissipated, forcing my hands to steadily grab onto the chair, hoping to regain some balance. It was only then that the wood was so strongly grasped that my knuckles paled.


    Did I just imagine it...?


    In another look, the cat sat on the floor, eating peacefully, almost as if what had originally transpired was nothing but a mere illusion. Getting back on my feet, my body darted out the door. I needed a breather.


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    As my figure strolled around the garden grounds, my mind laid elsewhere.


    Am I going insane? Was the question echoing on repeat in my mind, trying to justify the strange mirage I¡¯d seen.


    Unexpectedly, something got a hold of my waist before twirling me around, forcing me to land on someone¡¯s appeasing warmth. ¡°Lady Ophelia, to appreciate the lake¡¯s beauty, one should be on land.¡± A strangely charming voice said in a rather seductive tone.


    My arms quickly pushed his torso away, taking a couple of steps back, allowing a full observation of the man standing in front of me. Bradley, the knight in shining armor, at his best.


    Are you a dog waiting for praise? I cringed slightly inside as a yearning expression remained engraved on his pretty face.


    ¡°Lord Bradley, what a coincidence meeting you here.¡± When such words left my lips, his strange expression dissipated. His brows narrowed down the moment a distant smile spread. ¡°You might not be aware, but there are several ways to appreciate beauty.¡±


    A wide yet delightful smirk was carefully drawn on his lips, as if he was already proud of what he was about to say. ¡°Please enlighten me, My Lady. How do you appreciate beauty?¡±


    ¡°That is a rather simple question, My Lord. I don¡¯t. Wasting my precious time appreciating beauty is nothing more than wasting my breath talking with engaged men.¡±


    The curve on his lips became inexistent and the environment grew silent. ¡°Lady Ophelia, pardon my rudeness, but I must ask... why are you so hostile towards me?¡± His green eyes were sparkling like two polished emeralds and his golden, curly hair fluttered with the wind, forcing the sun to crawl back in envy. ¡°Have I offended you in any way?¡±


    I admit that, for a moment, I was taken aback by such marvelous scenario, but that¡¯s where everything became clear. This pitiful theatrical display was the tactic he used to achieve his goals: his almost crying eyes, the carefully chosen words, and the timed gentle breeze, were mere tools to his charm. This was how he stole maiden¡¯s affections, hearts and loves that never belonged to him.


    ¡°Don¡¯t misunderstand my words, Lord Bradley. I do not despise nor am hostile towards you, however, you are my dear sister¡¯s fianc¨¦e.¡± Slowly, I approached him, speaking in a rather low, mocking tone. ¡°Besides, I set my heart on another prize and you; you don¡¯t fit the criteria, My Lord.¡±


    Seeing his brows almost drawn in a single line and his precious lips strongly pressed together made me let out a chuckle. Not yet satisfied, my soul pushed his buttons even further. ¡°Have you not heard? I am to be wed as well.¡±


    His hands turned into two large balls, clenching strongly within themselves. Of course, a man whose appeal was higher than any type of aphrodisiac was used to being desired by any lady; however, much to his dismay, this time he wouldn¡¯t be stealing another heart.


    ¡°Well then, Lord Bradley, my sister is certainly looking for you. Do drown her with your love and affection.¡± Glancing towards the lake, a smirk stamped on my lips, proudly with the wreckage done. In the meantime, he simply glared at me with a bursting flame behind his grass eyes, sulking like a kid. ¡°Have a good day.¡±


    I bowed and took my leave as he stood there, enraged but unable to utter a single word.

 Chapter 11: Losing is a State of Mind

    A week passed, and everything had been settled. Today marked my departure to the Wharton¡¯s estate.


    ¡°It¡¯s time for you to go. I won¡¯t be able to take care of you now.¡± I kneeled on the ground, facing the kitten that sat on the wooden bench. My hands smacked my legs before getting up, letting the creature in the garden, alone to do its bidding; however, no matter how many times he was placed back on the bench, he would still follow me like a young, loyal pup.


    As his red eyes sparkled brightly, a long sigh left me, not knowing whether to take him with me or not. ¡°What am I even doing...¡±


    Unexpectedly, loud footsteps echoed along the flow of the wind. It was only when my body rose and looked back that I saw the puffed cheeks of my sister, alongside her hateful glare. ¡°Ophelia, you are such a whore!¡±


    ¡°Well, I did learn from the best, didn¡¯t I, sister?¡± At my sarcasm, Amanda¡¯s face twisted, and her cheeks tainted in an even brighter red. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t taught me the way to seduce men, I would never...¡±


    As the words left my mouth, a slight burning pain appeared on my cheek, preventing me from finishing my sentence. It was only after a couple of seconds that I realized what had happened. My dear, caring sister had slapped me. Slowly, my head turned, a complete blank canvas on my face.


    ¡°Shut up, wench. I know you tried to seduce Bradley, but you failed. How sad.¡± Right before giving me time to reply, she slapped my cheek once again, however this strike was far weaker than the first. Her hand was as red and hurtful as my skin, no doubt. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for trying to take what¡¯s not yours.¡±


    Bitch. I thought to myself, seeing how wide her prideful smile was. Her ideas and stupid considerations were stamped all over her face.


    ¡°Sister, let me tell you a secret.¡± Grabbing her shoulder with my left hand and pulling her toward me, my fist greeted her abdomen. She gasped for air, saliva flying from her mouth, arms clenching onto my cloak, legs barely holding on. That¡¯s how she was after a single hit.


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    I continued, whispering in her ear. ¡°You will never have Bradley¡¯s heart.¡± My knee then rose from the ground, striking her right in her torso once again. She began coughing repeatedly before thumping on the floor, arms covering her stomach. Pained groans exited her body at an abnormal rate. ¡°And you are truly delusional if you think he is yours.¡±


    Tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as she glared at me with a strange mixture of emotions. Anger, confusion, frustration, hatred, come take your pick.


    After regaining some of her strength, she yelled. ¡°You... I will tell Father!¡±


    My body kneeled right in front of her, an amused smirk on my face. ¡°Be my guest. That asshole can¡¯t touch me anymore, and neither can you.¡± In a single swing, my hand slapped her right cheek harshly, cutting her face slightly with our mother¡¯s golden ring.


    Her eyes widened, completely shocked by my words. The truth was, once I was in the Wharton¡¯s estate, my whole being would become their property, having the Duke and my dear sister little to no influence on my affairs.


    ¡°Now, Amanda, shall I teach you how to create a curse? Tell me, how do you wish to die?¡± One of my hands removed some wild strands of hair from her precious, ghostly pale face. ¡°In a fire, perhaps? Maybe... with your pretty insides dripping out? No, I know...¡±


    I approached my face onto her ear, whispering softly. ¡°Being consumed by men until you lose your sanity?¡±


    She yelled a single syllable, completely horrified by the vivid scenarios in my mind. After straightening my back, a wide grin spread across my lips. ¡°I can tell you, it always starts with blood...¡± With my other hand, I caressed her cut cheek, removing some of the blood dripping from her wound. ¡°... and with someone already cursed...¡±


    In a soft movement, I took the finger to my lips and licked the fluid. It was strangely sweet. As bloodlust accumulated in her eyes, her true feelings came afloat, a mixture of hatred and pure horror of the monstrous actions she was witnessing. Yes, Amanda... fear me more... hate me more...


    ¡°You...¡± Amanda struggled to speak as she tried to rise back to her feet. Her legs wobbled slightly, probably from the pain and lack of strength. ¡°You are insane!¡±


    At a very weird pace, she turned her heels and ran towards the house as fast as she could. With the state of her body, I could easily catch up to her, however, there was no need to delay my departure further.


    You can run for now, little rabbit, but there is no hole deep enough for you to hide in. I chuckled slightly as my heart wrapped itself in a wicked desire to ruin her completely.

 Chapter 12: Past Mistakes

    ¡°Duke Wharton, it is a pleasure to meet you.¡± I bowed after entering my father-in-law¡¯s study room. Once he saw me, a wide smile appeared on his lips, pulling some wrinkles from the bottom part of his face upwards.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, please, have a seat.¡±


    His polite manner clearly matched his outer appearance. Long yet sharp brown eyes, held by slight dark circles, contrasted his light gray hair that fell straight from his scalp; a clean beard, a tad lighter than his head, rested on the bottom half of his face. And his pale skin showed off the great gift of aging, an extensive set of wrinkles that made him look wiser yet kinder.


    ¡°Thank you for your hospitality, Your Grace.¡± My body sat on the comfortable cushion, causing it to sink with my weight. A butler placed a tea set on the table before grabbing a kettle, slowly dripping its liquid onto the handmade porcelain cups. A pleasant aroma of lemon verbena tea soon filled the room.


    ¡°Please, call me Father. We will soon be family, after all.¡± His words made an unknown restlessness disappear from my soul. The Duke was still the kind-hearted man I used to know, the only one who ever cared for me and did his utmost to ensure my happiness in such a terrifying place.


    ¡°In that case, thank you for having me, Father.¡± I replied, followed by a soft head bob. His tired eyes curved downwards, contrasting the crescent moon drawn on his rather dry lips.


    In a rather desolate tone, he continued the conversation. ¡°Terrel is currently in the palace. I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t be able to get acquainted so soon.¡± His hand signaled me to try the tea he had so carefully prepared. ¡°He will be back in a month, but in the meantime, feel free to do whatever you wish. If you need anything, ask John.¡±


    I glanced at the head butler, who quickly bowed down his torso. Even though he was rather young, Edgar Wharton clearly trusted him.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± My hands placed down the cup on the table, feeling the Duke¡¯s powerful gaze on me. ¡°Is there anything you wish to ask me, Father?¡±


    The man was clearly debating with himself, not knowing if he should seek answers or remain quiet. ¡°What happened to your cheek?¡± He finally asked, after some minutes of silence.


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    ¡°I fell.¡± His eyebrows furrowed down, drawing a straight line on them. Of course, he didn¡¯t believe my words; he¡¯d be a fool if he did but, even though doubt roamed his mind, he did not inquire any further.


    As the Duke¡¯s butlers escorted me to my chambers, several thoughts settled on my mind.


    Neither members of my so-called family came to set me off. Not even the servants who were obliged dared to show their faces. Hypocrisy rooted so deeply into their hearts that even their minds fogged with sin. But such scenario had not fostered disappointment as it was to be expected from such individuals.


    A strong hint of annoyance gradually rang repeatedly within me. Why was Terrel in the palace?


    That would only put my goals to a halt, delaying my well-deserved peace for God knows how long. Feeling the gaze of others, my roaring emotions settled like a lake amid Blistering, calm and graceful, unable to be disturbed by any currents or winds.


    My chambers were far different from the ones they¡¯d previously assigned me, being far more luxurious and majestic. Tall pearly white walls and a bright wooden floor spread across my gaze, glimmering with every ray of sun coming from the large windows. The light pink bedsheets were carefully hand sewn, just like the slightly darker magenta carpet which appeared to be made of a dyed animal¡¯s fur.


    In complete harmony, the maids standing on the right side of the room bowed down their heads, torsos leaned forward as a way of paying their respects. ¡°Welcome, milady.¡±


    ¡°These will be your servants from now on, milady. Your handmaids will arrive with your personal belongings tomorrow afternoon.¡± The butler said quietly before his arm extended towards a warm pink couch, clearly brand new. ¡°His Grace has sent these gifts. I hope they are to your liking.¡±


    A large stack of boxes, all wrapped and piled up, stood on top of the couch, partially hiding its beauty. The bigger ones, however, sat on the ground, rising to almost my full height.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± At my words, the butler bobbed his head before turning and leaving.


    My attention then shifted towards the gifts I had received. As my fingers slowly unwrapped each box carefully, my soul became bewildered by their contents ¨C beautiful dresses, expensive jewels and even a mixture of decorative furniture rested within the cardboard vessels. Surely, Edgar had always cherished me, but this was the first-time grand gifts such as these had been delivered at my doorstep.


    ¡°Is she really a noble...?¡± Once I heard a maid speak, my body stiffened. Becoming too engraved on such unknown situation, my mind completely forgot where it laid, in the middle of a lion¡¯s den, an uncharted territory with untamed animals.

 Chapter 13: Past Mistakes

    Now alerted, but pretending not to hear them speak, my hands continued to ramble through the goods, a silly smile stamped on my lips.


    ¡°Her attire is so... shabby.¡± Another feminine voice whispered.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s a mistake...¡± They were getting bold. Noticing my lack of reaction to their disrespectful comments, the young maids didn¡¯t dare to even hide or hesitate in their insults.


    ¡°Ladies.¡± After hearing enough from them, I turned around, a grin drawn on my lips. ¡°I¡¯m sure you must already know but, I am your master¡¯s fianc¨¦e.¡± They traded mocking glances with each other, thinking they were in for a mere scolding. ¡°Which means, anything you do to me, you do to the heir of this house.¡±


    Even with my threat, they remained quiet, with their heads slightly lowered, faint mocking smiles in their faces. Still not responding, they merely chuckled, causing me to proceed. ¡°Tell me, how would my husband-to-be handle this situation?¡±


    Their bodies shuddered. It seemed like these ladies were familiar with Terrel¡¯s hidden fa?ade. The environment grew heavy, causing them to swallow down their own saliva, now fearful of actually intervening.


    ¡°You seem to be mute. In that case, I¡¯ll enlighten you. My dear fianc¨¦e would probably have your head cut off on the spot.¡± My fingers drew a line on my neck, mimicking the perfect slice of a sword. ¡°However, the law would simply have your tongues removed. Which one would you prefer?¡±


    ¡°Milady, please have mercy on this servant!¡± Almost instantly, they all kneeled, banging their skin onto the floor harshly. Their heads went up and down as the group begged for forgiveness, like pitiful beggars on the street.


    ¡°I was reckless and inconsiderate. Please forgive me, milady!¡± Another woman said, her arms trembling with fear.


    As they prayed for my kindness to appear, a group of five maids stood at the back, calmly observing the situation with their heads slightly lowered. ¡°Aren¡¯t you going to beg for forgiveness?¡± I questioned, before sitting down on a comfortable violet divan.


    ¡°If milady wishes so.¡± The woman had an appealing tone within her voice, brimming with confidence, head held high as she gracefully stood in front of my gaze, completely fearless of my pressuring stance. None of those maids had spoken; I knew it from the moment they faced me so resolutely. My attention shifted to the ladies on the floor, still begging for mercy.


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    ¡°You¡¯re truly lucky... I am in a great mood today. However, I cannot let this matter go.¡± I said, allowing them to gain some hope and look upwards. As my mind studied an appropriate punishment that wouldn¡¯t create any repercussions to my already low reputation, an unorthodox idea came to mind. I grinned, satisfied with this brand-new amusing concept. ¡°I¡¯ve decided. You.¡± My finger pointed to the maid on the right of the group, one of the tallest and strongest of the lot. ¡°You will slap your colleagues two times each.¡±


    Her brown eyes blinked, confused by my commands but, after taking it in, she finally understood her task. A large, wicked smile popped on her sadistic face. Without waiting any further, she raised her hand high in the sky and then a bang ran through the room. Only one, the maid that appeared to be the weakest of the lot, quietly took her punishment. All the others screamed and screeched every time they saw the woman¡¯s hand raise.


    After everything was done, my hands clapped loudly, satisfied with such great performance. ¡°Good. You.¡± My finger pointed towards the woman next in line. ¡°It¡¯s your turn.¡±


    ¡°My turn, milady?¡± She questioned, her cheeks bright red from the clashing of skin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you thought this was done?¡± My body leaned forward; a certain perversion hidden behind my amused glare. ¡°It¡¯s your turn to slap them two times.¡±


    The eyes of the first maid widened, terrified. Her fists had clenched and her teeth gritted against each other, probably due to a sudden fear of the future to come. None of the maids would give her any mercy, not after taking in full blows that would take a handful of days to heal. Did she truly expect to leave this room unpunished?


    Only half an hour later had the beaten came to a halt. Each one of the maids had slapped their peers two times. Tears gathered in their eyes; their cheeks flushed as tomatoes ready for a good harvest.


    ¡°I was lenient this time. The same won¡¯t happen again.¡± I glared at them coldly, their muscles contracting in fear. ¡°You¡¯re all dismissed.¡±


    At my words, all the servants left without uttering a word. If it were up to me, they would¡¯ve been fired on the spot, yet, for better or for worse, such authority wasn¡¯t mine. If I began changing the staff members on the day of my arrival, my image in the Duke¡¯s eyes would, most likely, turn sour.


    I could already hear the rumors spreading across the mansion if such route had been taken. An egoistical brat without a shred of compassion.


    Thankfully, the same couldn¡¯t be said to that man¡¯s servants, my beloved handmaids, Penny and Vanessa. After years suffering with their abuse, vengeance would be sweeter than the after taste of my favorite desert.


    Finding myself alone to my own thoughts, calmer and far more rational, my body rose and headed to the small handbag I¡¯d carried with me. Taking out the crumbling notebook and sitting on the oak desk at the end on the room, being greeted by the warm afternoon sun, my eyes rapidly travelled through the pages.

 Chapter 14: Past Mistakes

    During my 1st life, the Duke was extremely healthy, having no known disease besides severe nightmares and extreme exhaustion. It was only a couple of months after the wedding that some strange symptoms appeared on his body. Edgar¡¯s appetite became scarce, and most of the food he ate was quickly expelled from his being. Just a handful of days later, he caught a rough fever and began complaining to the doctors about a strong stomachache. The next morning, he was found dead in his chambers.


    The house was then thrown into complete chaos. Not a single soul in the mansion expected the Duke¡¯s death, but what happened next was truly a hidden sin of a greedy man. As Terrel was inheriting the Dukedom, his two younger siblings died. No one gave me any details, but after that, the mansion was never the same. A sinister, gloomy glow surrounded it, as if it had become a cursed being itself.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it odd...?¡± I mumbled as my eyebrows drew closer together. ¡°This was no accident... was he poisoned?¡±


    No matter how one saw it, there was only one person who would benefit from their deaths: Terrel Wharton, that abomination. Frustrated, my hand closed the book harshly, crumbling some of the pages in between. I had no proof, no leads, no murder ¨C yet.


    Even then, fighting against my hatred, a strange voice of reason still tried to speak. Terrel was completely inhuman and despicable, yet he was already first in line. Why would he do something as stupid as murdering his father and raise suspicion on his side? Something didn¡¯t add up.


    Digging through my own thoughts, a set of faint knocks on the tall wooden door echoed. Quickly, I placed the book inside the bag and walked towards the entrance, opening it to this strange, unknown guest.


    A young boy, about my age, was standing before me alongside a kid, half of his size. By the similarities in their expressions, they were clearly brothers, and they deeply resembled their father, the Duke. Their chocolate brown hairs and their dark eyes made a slight pain pierce my heart, as my mind recalled Terrel¡¯s wrongdoings.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you. I¡¯m Mace and this is Ralph. We¡¯re Terrel¡¯s younger brothers.¡± The older boy said with a welcoming smile stamped on his lips. The youngest hid his presence away behind his sibling, glancing at me timidly from time to time.


    ¡°Hello.¡± He said after being touched on the shoulder by his caring brother.


    This was the first time I was meeting them. Terrel begun stealing power from his father ever since he was young and, by the time he brought me here, all the servants were already working under his orders. The only time my gaze caught Mace¡¯s figure was in the coming-of-age ceremony of the princess.


    The more they smiled at me, the stronger the guilt became - no matter how you saw it, they were mere children. Ralph was so young, no older than seven, and yet, that beast murdered them just to prevent power struggles.


    Hiding my clenched fist behind the dress and simmering the burning rage within, I bowed. ¡°Thank you for taking your time to visit me, Lord Mace, Lord Ralph.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be so polite, My Lady. Just treat us as you would treat a friend.¡± He kindly declared before pressing his lips together, frustrated by the insensitivity of his own words. He had seen the blank canvas on my face, the expression of a life driven by loneliness.


    ¡°Forgive me, My Lord. I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t know how to treat someone as such.¡±


    My words made the environment grew heavier than it already was. Mace¡¯s expression twisted as his emotions twirled around, conflicting with each other, not knowing whether to feel sadness or shower me with pity.


    Everyone around me had always been people who seemed to lack any sense of humanity, craving more their own ideals and desires than basic morale. Never once was I the priority to a man, to a friend, to my family. There was, however, a vague, fuzzy memory from my 3rd life.


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    Somehow, my mind could glimpse a man and very strange feelings whenever he came to mind ¨C a mixture of hatred and rage, as if he¡¯d hurt me more than thoughts were able to express. By the second, a fueled anger consumed my soul, knowing that his image would never become clear, keeping itself hidden behind a shroud of mystery. His face was like a canvas, inexistent of any shape, void of any color and, the more my mind tried to recall, the less lucid it became.


    ¡°I know that for now these are only words but, I truly hope that will change. Would you be my friend, Ophelia?¡± Mace¡¯s eyes sparkled with anticipation, as if he was about to befriend the greatest person in the whole wide world.


    Luckily, not all the apples are rotten. The similarities between the Wharton¡¯s children and their father were truly uncanny ¨C a trait Terrel didn¡¯t seem to have inherited.


    ¡°I shall do my best, My Lord.¡± After hearing my polite statement, Mace touched his curly chocolate hair, a rather troubled expression in his pale face.


    Confused if my answer was uncalled for, my head tilted slightly to the side, mind pondering deeply of the words that had been spoken. Wasn¡¯t I supposed to say that?


    ¡°This will do for now.¡± His hand reached Ralph¡¯s small fingers, who reactively grabbed him. ¡°You must be tired. Get some rest.¡± And with these caring words, he picked up his younger sibling, sheltering him in his embrace before heading towards the end of the hall.


    I chuckled when Ralph peaked from behind Mace¡¯s broad shoulders, his wide almond coffee-colored eyes blinking repeatedly, slightly dazed. He was indeed extremely cute.


    Thinking a full month of relaxation was in the menu, my soul simply waited patiently for my husband-to-be, but it seemed like fate had other plans. Lunch time arrived, and, to my surprise, Duke Edgar Wharton had brought a rather familiar guest.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, you are indeed as marvelous as the rumors say.¡± Bradley commented as the butlers pulled the chair, allowing me to sit right afterwards. It was hard to hide the discomfort from his presence but, somehow, I¡¯d managed to hide the shock behind such sudden apparition, keeping my emotions at bay.


    His half-assed intentions were as clear as day; being a sore loser and a womanizer who could only accept his value through a woman¡¯s undying desire, he wished to settle the record straight ¨C and steal my heart on the way.


    As the servants entered the room, holding a vast number of plates, I politely gave my reply, playing his little treacherous game. ¡°Thank you, Lord Bradley. You are too kind.¡±


    A warm fragrance of tomato soup spread through the dining hall just to become baffled by the potent smell of grilled fish that followed. Without giving me a moment to recover, Bradley smiled sarcastically. ¡°Where is Lord Terrel? Hasn¡¯t he come to welcome you?¡±


    He was testing me, teasing me, hoping to force my good-girl act to drop; however, he was too predictable. Never had my soul become sinful of pride nor it possessed anything of value to lose, being such display of dominance a mere children¡¯s game.


    ¡°Lord Terrel is currently at the palace. Unfortunately, there were certain matters he needed to attend to.¡± Swiftly, my hands delivered a spoonful of soup to my lips, causing a tingling sensation to embrace my tongue, making me smile in satisfaction. This soup was surprisingly pleasant.


    Seeing how I wasn¡¯t caring about his presence, he continued. ¡°Aren¡¯t you sad? I¡¯m sure you were anxious to meet him.¡±


    ¡°Of course, it is my fianc¨¦e we are talking about, but Terrel is a responsible man. He¡¯d rather take care of his own instead of wandering around, meddling in other¡¯s affairs.¡±


    His expression turned sour once he saw my winning smirk. Even then, he grinned, displaying how strong his resolve was. ¡°My Lady, you are so dedicated to your fianc¨¦e... I¡¯m truly jealous.¡±


    I rolled my eyes slightly before Mace interrupted the conversation, completely understanding the meaning hidden beneath such shallow words. ¡°Congratulations on your engagement, Lord Bradley. Lady Amanda is a real beauty. You must be thrilled.¡±


    The servants began replacing the now empty soup plates with the entrees. Annoyed, Bradley grabbed his wineglass and drank it in almost one gulp, his eyes drawn in an almost straight line, right at me. ¡°Indeed.¡±


    ¡°How is your father faring with the mines? Has he encountered any difficulties?¡± Edgar commented while placing a piece of the fish on his mouth, gently chewing on it. His regular warm tone was rather cold, probably due to how displeasing the previous conversation was.


    As the meal moved forward, Bradley continued to keep his attention on me, glaring at me every moment he could. Demons of greed and lust completely blinded his soul. No matter how anyone saw it, this man wasn¡¯t a calm and beautiful angel like everyone painted him out to be.

 Chapter 15: Thorns in a Crimson’s Heart

    Everything around me was dark, as if my surroundings had been swallowed by a starless night, without even a faint, dim light in its depths. A deafening silence flew through my being, making me swallow hard.


    ¡°Poor Duke, having his lovely wife killed by a freak.¡± A man said, with his rough, sadistic voice.


    ¡°And her hair is black... isn¡¯t that the color of witches?¡± A woman questioned, with her refined, noble grace.


    ¡°That child is cursed... thank God she didn¡¯t come from me.¡± Another woman added, snorting slightly as she laughed.


    I heard their voices but couldn¡¯t see their faces. It was as if they were demons, lurking in the shadows, waiting for my response. My arms trembled as their speeches became louder, their presence stronger.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t me... I¡¯m not cursed... I...¡± I lifted my head and saw their pearly white irises glaring at me with pure hatred and disdain. They judged me. They thought my soul had committed a grand sin.


    My eyes widened once a row of crescent moons was created in what appeared to be their lips, grinning wickedly, filled with pride. They were satisfied, pleased, after penetrating the deepest part of my aching heart.


    Suddenly, something touched my shoulder, and, somehow, I knew exactly what it was. A hand, the one that belongs to a demon or a God; the one that belonged to the creature responsible for my misery.


    ¡°Ophelia, I¡¯ll be generous... how would you like to die this time?¡± I gulped as the voice spoke, body completely frozen in place, cold sweat dripping down my skin. ¡°Would you like to be beheaded?¡±


    Its voice wasn¡¯t human. In fact, it was as if several beings, men, women, animals, anything at all, had created the creature, twisting its voice until it was a junction of all the horrors Men had seen. The shoulder where its hand rested boiled but, even then, my attention gazed forward, unable to glace back, far too terrified to see the face of my tormentor.


    My eyes glanced upwards. The floating expressions were becoming larger, closer, and more terrifying. Maybe insanity was settling in my body, but I could swear my face felt the hotness coming from their laugher, those wicked smiles that kept on stretching, unable to stop. Yells yearned to escape me, hoping to question who this unknown being was and why did he made me suffer so¡­ but I couldn¡¯t.


    Weak as I was, all my being was able to do was to chew my bottom lip as if it was the most gruesome meat, the most disgusting flavor my pupils had ever tasted. The muscles spreading through my body were so tense that my heartbeats flew through them like a pounding ache, blood rushing through my veins at an abnormal speed. How could my soul still be such a coward?


    The brightness emanated from the faces and the pressure from the creature behind me unexpectedly disappeared. I was finally able to breathe calmly, but my whole being shuddered once a familiar clacking sound echoed far in the distance. A warm orange light appeared, right at the depths of the horizon, slowly approaching from the limit of my sight.


    It was only then that it showed itself. A pure reflection of me, however, its skin was melting and a wicked smile rested on its lips. ¡°Maybe you¡¯d prefer burning since that¡¯s all you know, right?¡±


    The once deafening darkness was engulfed in flames. I couldn¡¯t move, I couldn¡¯t breathe. That woman was going to be my future, the day of yesterday my soul yearned to forget. My eyes glanced to the fingers where the skin had melted, drop by drop, into the blazes. Tears flew down my face, but the overwhelming heat of the flames quickly dried them, causing any sort of relief to be completely useless.


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    It was happening again. I was going to die.


    ???????


    ¡°No!¡± I yelled loudly as my eyes abruptly opened, being greeted by the pearly-like ceiling from the Wharton¡¯s mansion. A handful of days had already passed, but somehow, my mind still struggled to fit in.


    The sweat dripped from my pores, wetting the sheets, matching the overwhelming flow of the tears that rolled off my flushed cheeks. A burning sensation roared through my body, forcing me to reactively sit straight. Somehow my mind still thought my being was in the middle of the fire, being burned alive.


    ¡°Is everything alright milady?¡± One maid interrogated behind the door.


    As confident as I could but still hesitantly, my voice escaped. ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯m fine.¡±


    The woman remained quiet for a couple of seconds, probably because of the doubt she felt after hearing the tremble in my voice. ¡°Very well. If you need anything, let me know.¡±


    Her loud footsteps grew silent, and I launched my body out of the bed, pulling it with every bit of strength. Even though my mind knew such thing wasn¡¯t happening, my figure still felt everything too vividly; from the spreading of my limbs, having their articulations being burned as my own skin turned into nothing but a melted, slimy mess. It was as if everything was consumed by the blazing heat and my figure was the main appetizer.


    It was only when flames began to spread across the room that reality dawned on me. Hallucinations were settling in, and it wouldn¡¯t be long before all the reason in me faded away, causing me to become, undoubtedly, insane.


    After crawling through the floor, my hands grabbed the chair strongly, forcing my body to sit. I was imagining things, flames, all over the chambers, consuming everything in it, mercilessly. A silver letter opener sparked against the warm outbursts, and, with no hesitation, my fingers picked it up.


    Blood began pouring out as the burning sensation in my body was quickly replaced with pure, vivid pain from a cut on my inner thigh. The flames slowly dissipated and my soul became calmer, allowing the uncontrolled breaths to turn rhythmical as well as the drastic heart beats, who gradually became steadier. These nightmares and visions weren¡¯t going to control me anymore ¨C never again.


    Due to the harsh shaking of my hands, the letter opener fell straight onto the floor, clacking against the wood. It was only after several long minutes that my body fully relaxed, having gotten used to the intense throbbing on my left leg. Tears rolled down my cheeks as my hands covered my mouth, hoping it would muffle the sounds of my sobbing.


    ¡°How insane am I...¡± I stated before hearing a psychotic yet painful laugh escape my grasp.


    Eventually, my tears dried, and the room was involved in a strong, almost unbreakable silence. My right hand pushed the messy fringe backwards, removing most of the strands glued to my sweat and then my body leaned on the chair, attention gazing at the pale blue sky past the transparent window. A beautiful day, warm and sunny, was waiting to be celebrated. Yet, joy had been stolen from my soul.


    After hearing a familiar sound, I glanced towards the bed. The black kitten looked at me with its marvelous ruby eyes. His small body was sitting straight, surveying me, witnessing everything that had unfolded, and deep down, my gut knew. It was clear he was amused to see my misery.


    Last night, after my typical stroll, he was standing still in front of the entrance door, waiting for me right by my chambers. I did not know how he had found me, but such truth was irrelevant.


    ¡°Right... I should name you...¡± I mumbled to myself while slowly getting up, leaning all my body onto my right leg. After some minutes spent in silence, my focus wondered on what name fitted him the most; an idea darted through. ¡°Nero. You are Nero.¡±


    The kitten meowed. It seemed my choice wasn¡¯t to his liking, but, in all honesty, he was simply a feline, so was his opinion that important?


    My attention then shifted to the dreadful scenario created moments prior. The light pink bed, besides being a complete mess, was extremely wet from my sweat, as thick and ugly stains sunk in the sheets; the light beige nightgown had been tainted in a vivid red, alongside the light pink chair and the magenta carpet. I gulped, feeling the blood drip from my inner tight onto the light wooden floor, like a small river guided by the rules of gravity.


    Someone knocked on the door, and at that moment it was clear time wasn¡¯t on my side. This was going to be bothersome to explain.

 Chapter 16: Thorns in a Crimson’s Heart

    ¡°I heard you hurt yourself while opening your sister¡¯s letter this morning. Are you alright?¡± Edgar questioned me with a warm, yet preoccupied smile on his lips while placing the beautifully crafted wineglass on his dry lips.


    Politely, I grabbed a napkin and cleaned the corners of my mouth. ¡°It was nothing but a mere scratch, Your Grace. You can barely call it a wound.¡±


    My words were not lies. The cut wasn¡¯t that deep, and its pain was weak, at least compared to all the other wounds my body had experienced before. Gracefully, my lips kissed the water before wetting down my slightly dry throat.


    ¡°Are you still intending to go to Lady Catherine¡¯s ball?¡± Mace¡¯s fingers began cutting the cooked beef in front of him. He glanced at me with a worried expression on his face.


    ¡°Of course.¡± I smiled widely. ¡°It is a great opportunity to be with my sister. I miss her dearly.¡±


    By the looks on their faces, my intentions had yet to be disclosed, except with the oldest sibling, whose coffee-colored eyes pierced through me. He was suspicious, not buying my lame lie.


    Even though I¡¯d arrived already a couple of days ago, there was still an urgent necessity to establish my standing, as the kind and caring younger sister. That was the only way my presence in social gatherings wouldn¡¯t be questioned.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I won¡¯t be able to join you, dear.¡± The Duke stated before glancing over to his second eldest. ¡°There¡¯s much work to be done.¡±


    As if he understood the hidden meaning behind his father¡¯s words, Mace promptly intervened. ¡°I will escort her Father.¡±


    I knew Edgar¡¯s intervention was born of pure concern, however, the same couldn¡¯t be said by his son. The boy sitting across observed me carefully, as if he was analyzing, studying me. Surely, he hid more than he led to believe, causing me to doubt the honesty of his previous request.


    Keeping a neutral stance, I carefully continued my meal, but a single thought roamed through my mind. I need to be careful around him.


    Even though he had only shown me kindness and undeniable care, my new self knew better than to be fooled by fa?ade feelings and honey coated words from a kindhearted stranger.


    ???????


    The day of Ophelia¡¯s moving


    ¡°That bitch...!¡± Amanda¡¯s loud footsteps flew through the hall as she hurriedly walked towards the Duke¡¯s study room. Her eyes were two blue lava lakes, filled with rage, having lost all grace. ¡°How dare she!?¡±


    Frustrated, she bit down on her bottom lip. How could that brat beat her like that? That good-for-nothing never fought back and now, here she was, running with her tail between her legs, like a frightened puppy.


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    I need to get her back here...! To Amanda, leaving her sister in the wealthy Wharton estate, even if she was going to marry that sample of a man, was too good of a fate. Her maids followed in their hurried footsteps; however, seeing how angered their mistress was, they didn¡¯t do as much as a peep.


    The doors to Alvin¡¯s study room opened abruptly, forcing the man¡¯s body to shudder. The book he was holding in his hands fell onto the floor, echoing through the space.


    ¡°Father!¡±


    Already annoyed with the lack of elegance from his eldest daughter, the Duke brought his tired hands to his forehead, massaging it slightly. He knew a headache was about to arrive. ¡°Yes, Amanda?¡±


    ¡°You will not believe what just happened!¡± She yelled in her typical obnoxious voice. ¡°Ophelia just punched me! You cannot let her get away with it!¡±


    He flinched. Alvin knew his eldest daughter¡¯s temperament was like the sea, ready to become unstable at any second, however, his youngest was always quiet, like a calm Blistering breeze. How come her attitude had suddenly changed? It was as if she had become a different person altogether.


    The Duke frowned. Ophelia had always been peaceful and obedient, but now, it seemed like she had a hidden a beast inside her body, ready to unleash its anger on her own blood. ¡°Your sister did what?¡± He needed some reassurance.


    What is she thinking...? He began wondering on how this strange situation had firstly arisen. His eyes now focused on the girl standing before him, his daughter. Her teeth had found their way onto her nails, biting them off out of pure frustration.


    ¡°A lady should behave according to her status.¡± He said, forcing Amanda¡¯s brutality to soften. Her cheeks became slightly flushed as her eyes looked at anything other than her father. Even then, she didn¡¯t give up.


    ¡°She is about to leave, Father!¡± Her hands banged down on the desk, making him glare at her as coldly as the northern wind. ¡°You cannot allow her to go unpunished!¡±


    Amanda¡¯s patience was growing thinner by the second, and her father knew it. After all, he was the only man in the entire world that truly understood this brat¡¯s feelings. ¡°We can¡¯t. She is the fianc¨¦e of the Wharton¡¯s firstborn, if she were to arrive bruised... I don¡¯t even want to consider it.¡±


    Noticing how her daughter¡¯s eyes widened in utter shock, the Duke frowned. She was hiding something. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Nothing...¡± She averted her eyes, feeling guilty and scared of the consequences of her actions. After seeing her attitude, her father¡¯s glare became more intense. She gulped, spilling out the beans. ¡°I may have... slapped her... twice¡­¡±


    ¡°You did what!?¡± Almost immediately, the Duke burst into a fit of anger, forcing his hands to bang the desk and his body to rise. ¡°How could you do something so reckless, Amanda!?¡±


    His brows furrowed together, almost drawing a straight, thick line. If Terrel saw Ophelia¡¯s body scarred, he could easily cancel the wedding. Everyone knew how he hated touching damaged goods.


    Why does she have to be such a child!? Alvin¡¯s teeth gritted strongly onto each other, making a slightly unpleasant sound. His patience was growing thin, and he didn¡¯t have the time nor the motivation to explain his plans to his foolish daughter.


    ¡°But Father...!¡± Amanda kept on taking this matter further, even though she was well aware of the importance of the Criswell¡¯s family image and her father¡¯s goals.


    Having had enough of her fit of anger, Alvin¡¯s hand punched the table aggressively. ¡°Enough with this matter!¡± He yelled. It was only when he saw the hurtful tears dripping from his daughter¡¯s face that he let out a long sigh. ¡°Amanda, shouldn¡¯t you be preparing yourself for Lady Catherine¡¯s ball?¡±


    The Duke knew the perfect way to settle down his eldest daughter tantrums. In most cases, buying her precious jewels and dresses were the solutions; however, when she became stubborn as a mule, the answer was another. Reminding her of social events was the cherry on top of the cake, the solution to any problem within her utterly useless ideals.


    Frustrated, but seeing her father wouldn¡¯t budge, she loudly yelled. ¡°Fine!¡±

 Chapter 17: Thorns in a Crimson’s Heart

    Amanda¡¯s arms pushed the door open, entering her chambers before shoving Lanna, one of her personal maids, straight onto the floor. The young woman¡¯s face contorted as she felt a current of pain travel through her wrist.


    ¡°Leave. I want to be alone.¡± Amanda ordered, forcing the maids to exit the room reluctantly. The noble lady didn¡¯t notice the disgust look on her servant¡¯s face as they closed the door, otherwise she would¡¯ve gouged their eyes out.


    Why...!? The girl¡¯s graceful self shattered as her teeth bit off her nails, once again.


    Amanda hated Ophelia more than anyone else in this world. But how couldn¡¯t she?


    When their mother got pregnant, Amanda stopped being her little ray of sunshine and all her parent¡¯s love was delivered to a baby who hadn¡¯t even been born! It was as if, after Lilith heard the good news, Amanda¡¯s existence was completely nullified. They forgot her birthday, her celebrations, her parties. They forgot her!


    But it got worse. After that brat arrived in the world, her mother left to live with God. The person she loved the most abandoned her, and all of that for what? For an annoying rat that cried, pooped and yelled all day. For a baby that drove her father mad and scared away most of the servants.


    One would think that was enough, that she couldn¡¯t take anything else away, but the truth couldn¡¯t be so far-fetched. As Ophelia became older, Amanda would hear the maids talk amongst each other.


    ¡°Lady Amanda is a beauty but her sister... say what you may, but she¡¯s truly stunning.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, it¡¯s such a shame she¡¯s cursed...¡±


    Ophelia had taken everything from her. She couldn¡¯t be forgiven, no matter how much she begged or how much she prayed.


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    Sometimes, Amanda would have dreams, peaceful memories of her life before that girl and, other times, nightmares. She would stab her sister repeatedly until she could no longer breathe. That terrified her, not because of how cruel and gruesome it was, but because she would do it with a pleased smile on her face.


    Those psychopathic desires came to a halt when she overheard her father talk with one of his closest aides. Her little sister was going to be wed to Terrel Wharton, the worst of the worse. Everyone knew about his wicked habits and that was why, even though he was 25, he was still unmarried.


    A pure heart that had become tainted with the sins of jealousy and regret. That was what Amanda had.


    The disgust she felt toward her sister was somewhere between pure hatred and unconditional love. Her wishes were none other than to see Ophelia suffering with her own two eyes. Seeing her drown in despair, beg on her knees, and unwillingly obey someone else¡¯s commands gave her great satisfaction, allowing Amanda to find a clear path of misdeeds in her perverted life.


    Of course, even though she didn¡¯t realize it, the negative feelings lingering in her heart were just a silly act that prevented her from digging out the harsh truth.


    How dare she... Amanda¡¯s hatred guided thoughts ran wild in her mind. In them, Ophelia was grinning at her proudly, as if she had won their inexistent war. Someone needs to show her where she truly belongs...


    Her fists tightened around the arm of the chair as some veins slightly popped out. She was pissed and struggling to find a battlefield, a place she would have the upper hand. Suddenly, father¡¯s words came to mind. The ball...! That¡¯s it!


    Like lightbulbs, ideas popped in her head, one after the other. Her na?ve sister never went to any social events since their father didn¡¯t allow her presence to be seen outside of the estate. Ophelia was bound to attend Lady Catherine¡¯s ball, especially now that she had all apparent freedom in the world.


    ¡°That¡¯s where I¡¯ll ruin her...¡± A bright smile appeared on Amanda¡¯s blooded lips, her voice seductively low. It was only after she summoned her maids back to the room that her posture became one of a ruler, of a superior being. ¡°Buy me the prettiest and most expensive dress you can find! I¡¯ll be going to a ball!¡±


    Her mind was set and, as she proudly grinned from ear to ear, her slender fingers grabbing a beautiful cup of herbal tea. That girl would regret treating her like this. Amanda would make sure of it.

 Chapter 18: Feeding the Dogs

    Presently


    As I was returning to my chambers, a familiar voice echoed from behind the walls. ¡°So, this is where that brat is staying...¡±


    Stopping in front of the wooden entrance, one maid in my entourage walked to open the door; however, my arm rose, stopping her from doing so. I wanted to see how far down these two snakes would go.


    The sound of the closet doors being opened rung before a faint gasp sound left one of their dirty mouths. ¡°Nessa! Look at all these dresses!¡±


    ¡°Ah! I¡¯m sure this one would suit me.¡± Vanessa chuckled with her obnoxious voice. ¡°Let¡¯s take them, they¡¯re too good for the likes of her... besides, no one will notice if there¡¯s one or two missing.¡±


    Penny giggled loudly, probably twirling around the room, forcing the wood to shriek under her feet. ¡°Indeed! And even if they do, that snuck up bitch won¡¯t say anything.¡±


    Cautiously, I glanced at the maids surrounding me. The majority appeared to be blind, deaf and neutral, not showing any type of expression. However, three of the lot glared at the entrance with hateful disdain in their thoughts.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough.¡± After my words, one of the unbothered maids opened the door. Even though they were trying to keep their composure, all of them gasped at the sight in front of their eyes.


    My two handmaids, Vanessa and Penny, were each wearing a dress offered by the Duke. On the floor, rested their maid uniforms, in a state of complete neglect. Around their wrists and necks, several jewels stood, all taken from the pink-colored box, which contained Edgar¡¯s gifts. The clean bed was now crumbled because of their small moment of relaxation and, to top it all off, the chamber items and decorations were all out of place, as if a hurricane had been granted safe passage.


    Even though they had been caught red-handed, the duo simply chuckled, forcing a maid to speak up. ¡°How dare you do you this!?¡±


    Vanessa pulled her large shoulders back, straightening her body in order to look more menacing. ¡°And who are you supposed to be?¡±


    Penny, on the other hand, remained quiet in her corner, hiding her dark blonde colored hair behind her ear as if she was nothing but a na?ve child. Even then, she couldn¡¯t hide the smirk stretching far and wide on her filthy lips.


    ¡°I¡¯m Alphie, one of Lady¡¯s maids.¡± She stated, resolute with her words. The maid¡¯s thin eyebrows furrowed down, almost drawing a line through her forehead. Her light blue iris was so bright it appeared to fade against the pearly white part of the eyes.


    The voluptuous woman, with her large breasts, snorted loudly. ¡°Well, Alphie, we are Ophelia¡¯s personal handmaids. The only person who can order us around is her.¡±


    ¡°You...!¡± The maid¡¯s cheeks became flushed, not from embarrassment, but from pure frustration. She wanted to speak up, say more, but she couldn¡¯t. No matter how obnoxious they were, in the hierarchy, they were still her superiors.


    As Vanessa had a wide smile stamped on her slightly crooked lips, Penny chuckled behind her, watching everything unfold like a hawk. Finally, she intervened. ¡°Now that everything is sorted out, we will just...¡±


    As the frail, golden-haired girl approached me, brimming with confidence, I smirked.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you won¡¯t be going anywhere so soon, Penny.¡± My cold tone made her stumble back on her feet. Her deep brown eyes blinked a handful of times, staring at me in complete disbelief. Vanessa observed me, shocked. ¡°You two dared to remain in the Criswell¡¯s mansion for days and now, I caught you touching the gifts Father so kindly prepared to me...¡±


    Noticing how ominous the environment had become, they traded guilty glances. Their little minds were trying to find a way out of this situation. With the deafening silence in the room, I continued. ¡°You even dared to soil my good name with your greedy mouths.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about, Ophelia?¡± Vanessa said, a wavering doubt lingering in her voice.


    ¡°Since you are so eager to live a life of extravagance, then so be it. Ladies, let¡¯s show how beautiful they look to the Duke.¡± At my words, they both fell to their knees, reality finally embracing them fully.


    Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t do this! We regret our actions deeply!¡± Penny stated, her arms trembling slightly.


    I grinned, understanding that this pitiful display they were putting on was nothing more than a means to an end. They truly thought they would be spared if they shed a couple of crocodile tears.


    Seeing how none of the maids were moving, my voice roared through the silence. ¡°What are you waiting for? Bring them along!¡±


    Even though most of them appeared reluctant, Alphie and four other maids immediately lowered their bodies, grabbing the young women by their arms.


    ¡°Get your filthy hands off me!¡± One of them said as the maids forcefully dragged them outside the room.


    No matter how much they squirmed or tried to fight back, none of the servants were losing their grasp. Just like eagles who had carved their nails onto the fresh fish in the river, they weren¡¯t letting go of their prey.


    It was only when we began passing through the library, several meters further down the hall, that the snakes finally settled down. Everyone in the estate was looking at them, judging them from afar. Nerves darted through my veins knowing that my performance was also under the ambivalent glares of the curious servants.


    After fifteen minutes of walking through the long corridors, we finally arrived at our destination. The Duke¡¯s aide announced my arrival and soon after, the large doors obstructing our sight moved to the sides.


    ¡°Ophelia, dear, what brings you...¡± Edgar¡¯s warm expression turned as cold as the Icy Mountains on the north. ¡°What is the meaning of this!?¡±


    Vanessa and Penny fell straight onto the floor, and I tiptoed a couple of steps to the side, allowing him to see the beautiful display of disrespect at its fullest. Sweat dripped from their foreheads as their eyes became tainted with horror, not daring to even peek at the man in front of them. Their breathings were unstable, their bodies trembling slightly.


    ¡°Are you mute!? Answer me immediately!¡± With Edgar¡¯s loud yell, they shuddered in place.


    The brunette glanced at me, hoping to find a boat in the middle of this storm; however, her eyes filled with anger once she saw the enormous grin on my lips. I couldn¡¯t help it. Seeing these wicked women down to their knees, suffering in pure fear of the punishment that was bound to follow, was making me ecstatic. A thrilling sensation flew through my body, forcing my skin to crawl in pure amusement.


    ¡°Your Grace, I...¡± Penny was about to find a measly excuse but was quickly interrupted by her colleague.


    ¡°Everyone knows how merciful you are, Your Grace. Please forgive our insolence and poor judgment.¡± Even though Vanessa was terrified, she lowered her body even further, forcing her head to press strongly onto the floor. ¡°We will take any punishment you see fit.¡±


    Seeing their honesty and frontality, Edgar relaxed slightly. After letting out a long sigh, he glanced at me. ¡°Ophelia, they are your maids. I¡¯ll let you decide.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡± I bobbed my head and pushed my raven hair back. Knowing him, this was one of the first tests he would make to discern my character. Even yearning to order the harshest cruelty nobles could oblige commoners to, my punishment was far too tamed. ¡°Vanessa, Penny. You are both revoked from your duties as my handmaids and hereby expelled from the Wharton¡¯s estate.¡±


    Without even letting me finish, they glanced upwards, eyes filled with relief and wide smiles stamped on their faces. ¡°Thank you, milady!¡±


    ¡°But since you damaged the dresses, you are to repay their full price within three years. If you refuse or fail to obey this command, you¡¯ll have two fingers removed.¡± Their eyes widened and their mouths opened in complete disbelief. ¡°Pack your things and go.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible! You know we can¡¯t pay that amount!¡± Penny yelled as the rest of the maids grabbed her strongly by the arms. Tears flew down her face, cheeks becoming completely flushed. She was being dominated by her fear and anxieties, not aware of the environment surrounding her. ¡°You are dooming us to fail, Ophelia!¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Vanessa pushed the blonde girl hard, forcing her to glance around. The Duke was standing at the corner of the room, looking at them as if they were nothing but mere ants, ready to be squashed at a moment¡¯s notice; however, reality only sunk when they saw the wide grin on my lips. It was satisfying, so satisfying.


    ¡°Penny, I don¡¯t recall giving you permission to address me so casually.¡± My figure leaned forward, approaching her desperate expression with a feeling of exasperation even as unmistakable pleasure welled from within. ¡°You¡¯ve raised me since I was but an infant, however, my mercy won¡¯t be tested any further.¡±


    In a complete state of loss, Penny¡¯s body turned to jelly, her spirit completely broken. Vanessa, on the other hand, simply glared at me with her hatred filled brown eyes. It was clear this matter wasn¡¯t finished for her, even if I¡¯d given them such a light punishment. Thieves have both hands removed, after all.


    After the sound of the door closing echoed, my soul forced my heart to settle, allowing my face to regain a calm and composed expression before turning to the Duke. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for disturbing you with this matter, Father.¡±


    He approached me and patted my hair gently. I glanced at him, not comprehending the reasoning behind his actions, but he simply smiled.


    ¡°I understand why you did it, child.¡± After this small moment of kindness, he returned to his desk and grabbed a handful of sheets. ¡°Now go, you still have a ball to attend, have you not?¡±

 Chapter 19: Feeding the Dogs

    ¡°Milady, you look... beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Olivia.¡± A polite smile spread across my lips as I heard the rest of the maids¡¯ trade praising gossips about my good looks.


    After several hours of work, the regular-looking ghost had turned into a refined, noble doll, emanating grace and delicacy. Olivia had interlaced my straight dark hair into two long, voluptuous braids that connected in the back of my neck, held by some bright red adornments. My pale complexion contrasted the darkness of the perfectly cut fringe alongside the two curled hair strands that framed my face. A soft pink powder rested on my cheeks, merging with the red vivid lips, tainted with the well-known color of passion.


    The dress was a deep crimson red with some golden details around the sleeves and corset, forcing my rather pale breasts to pop out. Embracing my slick neck, there was a small necklace that contained a handful of blood-shot rubies within the carefully sculpted lace.


    A wide grin appeared on my lips, as my mind kept on repeating my dear sister¡¯s upcoming expression. As an avid lover of the social life, people knew her as the ¡®woman in red¡¯, always taking dresses that matched her crimson hair and bright cherry lips - a rather predictable choice, if you ask me.


    Until I turned 16, my social life was minor, being only allowed to attend a handful of balls, all of them with a male escort. But Amanda was already 18, meaning that, even if my activities were bound by rules, hers weren¡¯t.


    What face will she make when she sees me? This thought made my stomach twirl in happiness as a little anxious bug crawled up and down in my insides.


    Today, my sister¡¯s reputation would take a heavy blow. However, this little stunt was far more than that; it was a statement to my family, to the nobles. And no one could go against it.


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    Mace waited at the entrance of the mansion, right in front of a majestic carriage made of the most exquisite wood and gems. As I approached, his brown eyes fell on me, forcing his cheeks to flush and his lips to part slightly.


    ¡°Did you wait long, My Lord?¡±


    My words startled him. ¡°I just arrived as well, Ophelia.¡± His large arm stretched towards me, helping me inside.


    Our journey was filled with a strange, uncomfortable silence. Mace¡¯s mind laid somewhere else, as he pondered on whatever rested on his thoughts deeply. From time to time, he would sneak a glance at me; however, my eyes loomed over the darkened fields of nature on the horizon, not wavering in the slightest.


    After a long hour, the horses neighed, and the coachman stopped. We had arrived at the entrance of Lady Catherine¡¯s estate. The bright lights emanating from the large lanterns waving down onto two armed knights allowed the walnut wood¡¯s polish to shimmer.


    I heard the unlock of the door - reality finally sinking in. As Mace exited the carriage, my body froze into place, weighting down the now uncomfortable cushion.


    What if I fuck this up? What if things don¡¯t go the way I need them to? What if...?


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Mace¡¯s kind voice brought me back to reality.


    With a rather desolate smile and attempting to conceal the growing nerves crawling deep inside my soul, my hand grabbed his. ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±


    ¡°Welcome, My Lord.¡± From the half-opened door, a man with gray-hair and a rather long beard appeared. ¡°Please follow me.¡±


    Unconsciously, I pulled Mace¡¯s arm strongly. With each step we took, the closer we were to them - to my sister and to my second husband, Layton Verne. The light from the halls felt overwhelming, blinding my reasoning; the air was heavy as if it had all already been consumed.


    We stopped, and I muttered up the courage to deal with my insecurities. With my back straight, my mind set, and a forcefully fake smile stamped on my lips, the large door opened. This was it, the only place in the entire kingdom where smiles hid hatred and everyone was a predator, waiting for the exact moment to strike: the high society¡¯s gathering.

 Chapter 20: Sisterly Bonds

    A sharp, blinding light hit my eyes, forcing them to shut. Only when my eyesight returned was I able to embrace the sickening truth behind wealth: the ballroom, filled with nobles, had women recording information behind their wicked smiles while men sharpened their daggers, hoping to steal the treasures of another.


    ¡°Lord Mace Wharton and Lady Ophelia Criswell.¡± Once the skinny man holding a thick scroll said our names, the room grew silent. Their eyes were staring at us - no, at me.


    Women hid their expressions behind gorgeously handcrafted fans, attempting to be unreadable while their husband¡¯s minds created ways to take me into their embrace, to make me flourish with their touch. A unique individual, the only man whose infatuated heart remained locked away, took this opportunity to slither into the balcony.


    Mace led me down the stairs, allowing the present nobles to regain their senses. Gossip traveled through the room, surrounding me like a warm coat in the middle of Frosting.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t she sickly?¡± A noble lady asked the three other females standing next to her, hoping to get some sort of answer.


    ¡°How could the Duke have hidden such beauty for so long? If only I¡¯d known, I would¡¯ve...¡± A man with age to be my father commented to his peers, who silently agreed to his words.


    Alvin was indeed a wicked fellow. Since my birth, he had spread the news of my rebellion, of how I was a bratty child, impossible to deal with. Once that wasn¡¯t enough to scare away the suitors after his fortune, the story took a turn for the worse, portraying me as the sickly child - too ill and frail to be allowed outside the mansion.


    This story became worse, as these things often do. Some believed my illness was contagious; others thought it was hereditary but, no matter how many opinions flew, no consensus could be attained. However, now, everyone could see me, finally being able to take their own conclusions without the influence of another¡¯s misguided truth.


    Ignoring the remarks of the people surrounding me, Mace¡¯s icy glare harbored a different story. He appeared rather... annoyed.


    Spotting a ghost in the center of the room, contrasting with the bright, warm lights falling onto the dance floor, my pace hastened. ¡°My dear sister... I missed you so much!¡±


    Without a care in the world, I took her into my embrace. Her nails carved into the waistline of my dress, as she contained the desire to rip it off with a single swing. She pushed me away gracefully, her cheeks blending in with our red colored wardrobes. Seeing the frustration on her face made a sense of euphoria fly through my body yet, somehow, my soul was able to contain such sporadic happiness.


    All the eyes were on us, the sisters who had accidentally worn the same dress to the same ball. Wasn¡¯t that such an interesting coincidence?


    Amanda couldn¡¯t criticize my own taste in dresses, as she originally had planned since we were but a perfect match and, even if insulting my audacity passed through her mind, such wouldn¡¯t come to be. Rumors about my stay at the Wharton¡¯s estate already circulated alongside an emphasis on the beautiful dresses the Duke had so carefully offered me, courtesy of my maids, of course. Certainly, she didn¡¯t have it in her to attempt a direct offense on Edgar. And, besides, this was my first ball. How could I have known which dress to choose from?


    ¡°Sister, you look pale. Are you alright?¡± I questioned while gently taking a couple of hair strands from her face; however, she abruptly slapped my hand away. The room gasped, surprised.


    As if they were moths drawn to a flame, several maidens headed towards me, worried expressions on their faces, gazes falling into my wounded hand. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    Pretending to be in a complete state of disbelief, my head shook slightly.


    ¡°How could you do such a thing!?¡± One of the young ladies said, enraged at the situation. Her posture was graceful, fearless enough not to cower from the daughter of a Duke ¨C surely, she was the daughter of a Marquess.


    ¡°Ophelia... indeed, it has been a while...¡± Between her serrated teeth, some slithering whispers rung. If it weren¡¯t for the intense pressure surrounding us, observing our actions, she would¡¯ve run away with her tail between her legs, attempting to regain her footing somewhere out of sight.


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    As I was about to reply, another threat popped up out of the blue, ruining my good mood. ¡°Lady Ophelia, you look absolutely stunning.¡±


    ¡°Lord Bradley, it has been a while. I take you¡¯ve been well?¡± A polite smile covered the annoyance behind my words. The other young ladies gathered around, hoping to have some interaction with the biggest, juiciest fish in the pond.


    ¡°Of course, My Lady. I must say, you look exceedingly beautiful today.¡± He bowed before grabbing my hand and kissing its back gently. Unconsciously, my attention fell on Amanda, who was about to give me a piece of her mind, but swallowed down her words, terrified. Bradley¡¯s icy glare was on her. ¡°Would you give me the honor of this dance?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid her first dance will be with me, My Lord.¡± Mace¡¯s courteous smile made Bradley¡¯s gaze shift to him. He had been ignoring his presence completely, as if he was nothing more than a shadow following its owner, just like the squeaks and conversation attempts from all the maidens around me.


    The music began to play and without giving him any opportunity to reply, my dear brother-in-law swept me to the dance floor. Gracefully, I followed his movements. However, Mace¡¯s eyes laid on the blonde hawk, grinning from ear to ear as if he¡¯d already won, even having lost a battle.


    After a handful of minutes, the first song ended. We bowed down, and before my figure was able to sneak away, Bradley approached. My attention fell on Mace but, much to my dismay, several Earls, whose wide grins held everything except good-will, had captured him, forcing him to enter polite conversations he wished to avoid.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, may I have this dance?¡± Even though reluctance passed through my nerves, a refusal to his request would only cause suspicion to rise on my intentions, allowing the snakes slithering around to speak more than they should.


    Bradley proudly escorted me to the dance floor, as if he was displaying his most precious jewel to all the gawking men around. My emotions were brewing, waiting for the perfect moment to pop out of his little locked box. I hated being around this man, and if fate was kinder, it would allow me to erase his existence from my life entirely.


    That might not be a bad idea. I faintly chuckled at the thought, but once the music restarted, my expression grew stern, refraining from displaying any type of emotion. He wouldn¡¯t get any pleasure from me.


    Grabbing the hem of my vivid red dress, some of the fluttering hand-drawn roses moved as if being swept by the wind, greeting my partner with all the fair grace my etiquette knew. He responded to my gesture moments before capturing my right hand adorned with golden rings and expensive rubies and pulled my waist.


    His movements were aggressive, appearing like he was asserting some sort of male dominance over his territory. This pitiful manhood display gave me the opportunity to step on him several times, however, he remained quiet, with a charming smile stamped on his picture-perfect face.


    Suddenly, right at the climax of the music, he gripped me, pulling me upwards. The weight of gravity seemed meaningless as I floated through the ballroom. The maidens gasped, imagining they were in my shoes, being swept away by his desirable touch.


    Finally, the longest dance of my life ended, and we both bowed, but, of course, that man was far from done with our little interaction.


    ¡°Thank you, My Lady. It was a very pleasant dance.¡± Bradley smiled with all his grace. But, with every word that came out of his mouth, my patience became thinner. ¡°Would you join me for a walk in the garden?¡±


    ¡°Lord Bradley, you are indeed an angel, just like the rumors say.¡± I stated in a very sarcastic tone.


    He tilted his head slightly, pretending to be confused. ¡°I didn¡¯t know there were such rumors.¡±


    ¡°How humble.¡± My hand sneaked the dark red fan attached to my waist, adorned by some honey-colored patterns. The object then covered my face, hiding the disgust in my expression. ¡°You are the Angel of Ashen, are you not?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s...¡± As he attempted to speak, my fingers closed the fan in front of him with a rather loud thud. The extremely thin strand of patience left in me had finally shredded into nothing.


    Slowly, my figure approached his, standing right by his side as our eyes connected with an intensity I¡¯d never experienced before.


    ¡°Did you know? When angels lose their wings, they become unable to fly... I heard it is quite a painful fall.¡± My voice was low and my lips carried a grin displaying an extremely wicked side of me.


    Without giving him a moment to embrace my words, my body immediately walked several steps ahead. ¡°Ah... I¡¯m so tired... please forgive me, My Lord, you must find another partner for the next dance...¡±


    My voice was obnoxiously strong, forcing the maidens on the sidelines to swarm around him. And thus, as my feet placed a well-deserved distance between us, an abnormal number of eyes became set on me, observing me from afar. However, there was one, filled anger and resentment, that surpassed all the others ¨C Bradley¡¯s, as he watched me steal that crown right from his grasp. The moment our eyes collided at last, he was pitifully trying to refuse the surrounding maidens without harming his perfected angelical image.

 Chapter 21: Sisterly Bonds

    ¡°Feeling down, My Lord?¡± I approached a man whose mind was in another reality, filled with worries and concerns, taking in the cold night breeze from the balcony of Catherine¡¯s mansion. Startled, he promptly looked at me with his warm hazelnut eyes, completely swollen from some runaway tears.


    ¡°Apologies, I didn¡¯t see you there, My Lady.¡± Awkwardly, his cheeks flushed as he tried to find a solution for an inexistent trouble. ¡°I¡¯m Layton Verne, you are?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Ophelia Criswell. It is lovely to meet you, My Lord.¡± I replied to his forced, messy presentation while pulling the hem of my dress and leaning my body slightly forward.


    A strange silence flew through us. Layton was still the same as always: a weak man whose only courage relied on running away with his tail between his legs in almost every situation. Unconsciously, an innocent chuckle escaped, forcing him to take the reins on the conversation.


    ¡°Di-Did you come to get some air?¡± Even his speech was the same, filled with doubt and fear, stuttering like a rocky road and a caravan, trembling with every horse pull. Surely, if my standing was lower than his, he¡¯d already run off somewhere, hoping to stay out of sight until the end of the ball ¨C something he excelled at.


    His fingers were playing with his curly ginger hair as his attention shifted from place to place, never focusing on the person in front of him. The more I observed him, the stronger my anger burned. Layton was a kind man, but his cowardice became my utmost misery. Even now, my soul was unable to condone him for his choices, knowing exactly what environment he¡¯d grown in, however it still burned with a fierce rage. How could he leave me alone like that?


    Noticing my warm smile, his eyes grew wide. Understanding he wished to crawl away, I walked towards him, filled with fake cordiality. ¡°I don¡¯t know what might weigh down your heart, but talking about it may help.¡±


    His long, bushy bangs couldn¡¯t hide the sparkling in his eyes. Layton was a man who knew no kindness. His brothers mistreated him, his mother ignored him, and his father looked down on his weak achievements, comparing him to the lowest, frailest of the bunch - a woman. It was only when he met that girl, the merchant¡¯s daughter, that his heart busted open with a new, unknown emotion: love.


    Taken aback by my words, he became even more restless. His right foot tapped on the floor repeatedly, as if he was creating, unconsciously, a brand-new melody.


    ¡°You must¡¯ve heard the rumors, right? About me being cursed?¡± Forcefully, I let out a sigh and noticed the pitiful expression on his face. Slithering into his overwhelmingly na?ve and kind heart was no longer an unachievable dream. ¡°What a silly question... everyone has.¡±


    Needing to push him slightly further, I continued. ¡°My point is, I am hated by everyone; I have no friends. If you wish to confide in someone, there is no better bet than me.¡±


    He bit down on his bottom lip, struggling to settle on a decision after seeing the pained smile on my lips, after all, we may have been born with different genres, in different houses, with different parents but, deep down, our pasts were more aligned than most stars in the sky.


    After some minutes of silence, he politely smiled, and I knew this battle was lost. ¡°Thank you, Lady Ophelia.¡± He gave his final greeting and headed back to the ballroom once again, escaping right through my fingers.


    I may have lost here, but the actual war was yet to come. His heart still needed to be opened by good words and nurturing actions but in his conscious intense feelings - doubt, pity and a pinch of relatability ¨C lingered, all perfect to acquire the trust of another. Sooner or later, he was bound to fall within my grasp.


    ¡°This is... ecstatic.¡± My hands grabbed the cold handrail, sending a shiver down my spine as my mind tried to control the wave of laughter threatening to leave my body.


    Things were going perfectly, just like the written plan in the deepest drawer of my thoughts. The only thing necessary now was to display the perfect part of a na?ve, young girl and some puppy tears for his heart to open itself, like a lotus flower in full bloom, ready to be picked.


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    Hearing hurried footsteps coming my way, my back straightened, and composure settled, as if I was nothing but a calm pond harboring beautiful life.


    ¡°Ophelia.¡±


    At that moment, my head turned, just to see Amanda with her two dogs, Patricia Hillgarden and Holly Statton, daughter of two Earls, vassals[1]</a>of our house. Gracefully, my fingers stole a glass of champagne that rested on a small table, right beside the fence surrounding the balcony, certainly forgotten by one of the servants.


    I smiled politely, making Amanda¡¯s face to twist in anger. In bold and aggressive movements, my sister dashed towards me, however, as she was about to strike, my hand snatched her wrist, pushing the palm against the icy handrail. Almost immediately, she groaned from the impact.


    This girl had always thought herself to be superior and untouchable, but such deceiving thoughts were her biggest weakness as everyone, including myself, knew. Quickly, I glanced towards the ballroom and, luckily for me, all the eyes focused on the dancefloor, probably because of Bradley¡¯s powerful presence, attached with a new lady every few minutes.


    ¡°What are you doing!? Help me!¡± She yelled after understanding her own strength was far too weak to escape.


    The two loyal dogs began approaching me, hoping to help their owner out of the mess she placed herself in.


    ¡°If you come any closer, I will break her wrist.¡± As if lightning had struck them, they stopped in their tracks, unsure of which route to take.


    ¡°She¡¯s lying!¡± Noticing the reluctance of her peers, she continued to speak obnoxiously loudly. Understanding, they wouldn¡¯t budge, her attention shifted towards me. Her eyes widened seeing the wicked grin resting on my lips. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t¡­ would you¡­ sister¡­?¡±


    Drip. Drip. Drip.


    Within the silence, I spilled the champagne on her hand, allowing it to slide down her wrist before landing on the floor. Then, my lips approached her ear and mumbled some of the sinful thoughts hidden away in my soul. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t want your wound to get infected now, would we, sister?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Her voice failed as she finally began understanding the position she placed herself in. ¡°Yo-You must be messing with me... we get it, Ophelia... please stop...¡±


    Her tearful eyes made my stomach twist in utter disgust. My soul wanted to hurt her, to see her squirm in the peak of suffering, and yet, she dared to look at me pitifully, as if she had done nothing wrong. Someday, she¡¯d be thrown out of her golden horse and be washed by the real, cruel world, and I prayed to be able to witness it all.


    ¡°I read something in a book once¡­ do you know that if I pierce you right here, you are bound to die in less than a minute?¡± The bottom of the cup pressured against her exposed wrist, forcing her body to tremble. ¡°Shall we see it¡¯s veracity, dear sister?¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare...!¡± Finally, her actual colors were showing. She was so ignorant it made me sick.


    Extremely annoyed, my left hand broke the glass by forcing its essence into the handrail, producing a couple of minor cuts on my hand from the blast. With no hesitation, the handle of the glass touched her bare skin. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t move much if I were you... we wouldn¡¯t want to miss the right vein now, would we?¡±


    The moment some pressure was applied on the glass, she gasped in pain, unable to even yell from the panic settling in. Cold sweat dripped from her pores, as a small drop of blood flew through her wrist, falling straight onto the marble floor, dirtying it with its ink. ¡°I am sorry... please sister... don¡¯t...!¡±


    Noticing how the music had ended inside the ballroom, I let go of her wrist and threw the glass farther into the woods surrounding the mansion. Amanda¡¯s face was extremely pale, and, because of the powerful shock, her legs lost all the strength left, causing her to fall. Tears ran down her skin as she brought her trembling hands to her face, lying weakly on the coldness of the marble. What an unrefined sight it was.


    ¡°I will only say this once, sister.¡± I slapped my hands, removing any dirt that might have gotten into them, before glaring at her coldly. ¡°You will leave me the fuck alone, or I might not miss the next time.¡±


    Patricia and Holly ran towards her, but Amanda quickly shoved their hands away. Of course, she couldn¡¯t live with herself right now. How could she? She had lost to me, her little sister, in the most humiliating way possible.


    Realizing some remnants of blood penetrated the base of my hand, I took it to my mouth and licked it clean, consuming the sweet fluids in one go. Witnessing this, their complexions paled, not understanding how a refined noble lady could descend so low.


    ¡°Do remember me, sister. You know I am always eager to meet up with you!¡± With a smirk drawn on my lips, my figure disappeared into the ballroom once again.


    [1]</a> Vassal: A holder of land on condition of allegiance to another.

 Chapter 22: Sudden Encounters

    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me!¡± Was the only thing Amanda could say after seeing Ophelia leave. Filled with anger and frustration, she grabbed the handrail and got herself up, ignoring the two women that anxiously swarmed around her, trying to help. ¡°How could you stay there and do nothing!?¡±


    ¡°Lady Amanda, we...¡± As Patricia tried to speak up, probably to justify the reasoning behind her actions, she was immediately interrupted.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear your excuses!¡± The crimson-haired girl scorned at them, as if they were complete nuisances, creatures who didn¡¯t deserve the air they inhaled. ¡°You¡¯re fucking useless! Get out of my sight!¡±


    Both Holly and Patricia bobbed their heads and began walking towards the entrance of the ballroom. Amanda needed to be alone and if they remained there any further, they would, most likely, ruin their years of hard work.


    With cheeks plump red, like a tomato and strongly gritting her teeth, Amanda walked out of the balcony. But, instead of leaving through the ballroom, she opted to have a breather elsewhere. As she was about to turn towards a set of stairs that led to the lower garden, something hard crashed against her, forcing her body to fall straight onto the floor.


    ¡°Ouch...¡± Without even looking, Amanda began massaging her nose, clenching her fingers tightly on her red dress. ¡°How dare you!? Do you even know who...!¡±


    Her eyes widened in shock once she saw the being standing before her. A man whose short hair mimicked wildfire, and whose dark blue eyes were as dangerous as the bottom of the ocean, drowning everything in its surroundings. His jawline was sharp, as if a skilled artist had sculpted it, and his warm, tanned skin made him look like a foreigner.


    Dazzled by the man¡¯s beauty, Amanda lowered her head, hoping to control her flushed cheeks and racing heart. But, among all of this, the young noble woman hadn¡¯t seen the coldness behind the man¡¯s eyes, or even the annoyance that was stuck inside his throat, eagerly waiting to come out.


    ¡°Such impertinence.¡± His rough voice was nowhere near as kind or as warm as she had innocently imagined, forcing her to shudder in a fit of rage. The man spoke as if she was nothing but an ant, a being that could be squished with the snap of his fingers.


    That was the moment that she finally realized who this unknown beauty was. ¡°Amanda Criswell, greets His Highness, the Crown Prince!¡± Almost immediately, she moved around on the floor until she was in a complete kneeling position, cold sweat dripping on her back.


    Several minutes passed, but Blake Virden, the first son of the current king, remained quiet, simply glaring down at the rude noble woman. It was only after a long and rather awkward silence that his voice resounded through the area. ¡°You may rise.¡±


    Unconsciously, Amanda let out a sigh loud enough to be heard by the prince and the hooded man behind him. Slowly, she rose, and it was only when the woman was back on her feet that Blake continued. ¡°Nobles should know their place. Aldrich.¡±


    In the blink of an eye, the woman¡¯s cheek turned vivid red, as if she had become a lobster, her head completely turned to the side; however, that man¡¯s cold and hatred-filled gaze hurt far more than the beating she had just received.


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    Probably from the shock, or maybe the impact, Amanda found herself on the floor, once again, as the prince left alongside his servants. Low commoners, who glared at her as if she was nothing, as if her title, her position, didn¡¯t matter.


    She¡¯d heard the rumors surrounding the crown prince. A man who was as splendid as a burning fire, an exotic beauty, some called him; but his personality was rotten to the core. He despised anyone who wasn¡¯t useful to him, and, if you had a title, you were bound to have a special place in his wicked heart.


    Some said that during the war, Blake killed every soul indiscriminately, without caring for their age, gender, or worth. To his eyes, they were enemies that needed to be wiped out, like wild weeds that need to be cut from one¡¯s healthy garden.


    Indeed... Bradley is the only one for me. She thought while covering her bruised cheek with her hand. A faint hint of sweetness flew through her taste buds, warning that the impact had been so strong that the interior of her mouth was bleeding.


    Exhausted and out of patience to deal with anyone else, Amanda rushed towards her carriage. As she walked, her mind understood the harsh reality. Even as the daughter of a Duke, her entire existence was nothing but a small, weak rabbit inside a lion¡¯s crib, filled with starving predators.


    As she recalled Blake¡¯s expression, Ophelia¡¯s cold eyes came to mind. Even if she tried to deny it, her gut knew that, deep down, they were one and the same - beings far superior, far more dangerous, far more... special.


    Some months ago, when Blake returned from the war alongside his warriors, victorious, Amanda was thrilled. She even went to the capital, hoping to get a glimpse of the prince at the celebratory parade; however, much to her dismay, he never showed. Stupidly, she thought that the greatest honor one could attain was to gain the crown prince¡¯s favor and, if she captured his heart, the queen¡¯s seat would do just fine.


    How foolish... A faint yet painful smile appeared on her lips.


    Once she was back at the entrance of the building, Amanda spotted Ophelia walking gracefully beside Mace. As if her body didn¡¯t obey her mind, she froze, helpless.


    The young woman could stand the humiliation they had put her through. After all, a dress was only a dress; however, she couldn¡¯t forgive her sister for stealing her fianc¨¦. The way Bradley looked at her, so warmly, made her heart ache to the point she wished she could rewind time.


    As these wicked thoughts ran wild in her mind, something inside her was still unclear: who was the guilty party? Who was the person worthy of such hatred?


    Ophelia for stealing her fianc¨¦ or Bradley for betraying her love?


    Simultaneously, the nobleman spotted Amanda, standing still at the center of the path, her eyes filled with horror and a slight hint of envy. Noticing where her gaze fell, he intervened. ¡°Isn¡¯t that your sister? She looks unwell.¡±


    ¡°Indeed. She must be feeling ill, My Lord. She was always a very frail girl.¡± With her answer, Mace¡¯s body shuddered slightly, seeing how cold hearted his brother¡¯s fianc¨¦e actually was.


    Regaining some of her sense of self, Amanda rushed, heading straight to her carriage. Ophelia¡¯s eyes widened in shock when the red, swollen and bruised cheek dashed past. And thus, as the horses galloped back to the Wharton¡¯s estate, the young woman¡¯s attention was stuck in another world.


    Who could¡¯ve punished Amanda in such a way?


    A sudden sense of reality struck her down, rooting her feet deep into the ground. Ophelia may be the daughter of a Duke, but she was still weak since, compared to other nobles, she was a woman with no title, nothing more than a bargaining chip in a disgraceful marriage.


    Such logic proved itself Earlier in the night, when she found Mace drinking with a handful of noblemen who simply watched her with lustful glares. Not because of her beauty, but because they knew she would become Terrel¡¯s new toy, and they wished she would become theirs instead.

 Chapter 23: Sudden Encounters

    ¡°Father!¡± Amanda opened the study¡¯s room door with a loud bang, not caring about the guest inside. Her blue eyes saw a tall, bulky man wearing a pearly mask, adorned with some traces of golden paint around. At the top, two small ears mimicking a bunny popped out.


    Displeased by the abrupt interruption, the Duke waved his hand in the air and the unknown man quickly left, not uttering a single word. ¡°What is it, Amanda? Shouldn¡¯t you be at the ball?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s he?¡± Curiosity got the best of her. She had never seen such a suspicious looking individual.


    Ignoring her impertinent question, Alvin grabbed the reins of the conversation with his bitter tone. ¡°Answer my question.¡±


    After today¡¯s events, Amanda knew something had to be done. Ophelia needed to be punished, to live the rest of her life in misery, to suffer the same way her envious heart had to. For the first time in her life, the vivid hatred burned further than any lustful desires on men or material wealth.


    ¡°She was there! She... she copied my dress!¡± The young girl¡¯s eyes shun brightly, threatening to drip their fluids at once. ¡°I was completely humiliated, Father!¡±


    Alvin¡¯s hands slowly massaged his forehead, his torso leaned back into the luxurious chair. To him, this was nothing but another tantrum. ¡°I understand you are upset, dear, but we cannot be hasty...¡±


    ¡°Hasty!?¡± Amanda¡¯s hands clenched the dress between her fingers, her muscles all tensed up. ¡°Bradley ignored me and if it weren¡¯t for that Wharton boy, that bitch would¡¯ve had her first dance with him!¡± Hurriedly, she ripped apart a red handkerchief, hiding the cut on her wrist. ¡°Look! She even tried to kill me! We need to do something!¡±


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    ¡°What did you just say?¡± Alvin thought he had heard wrong. ¡°Are you sure of your words?¡±


    ¡°Yes! She is a threat to my life!¡±


    ¡°You useless girl... with that body of yours, how can¡¯t you even keep a man!? How come, every time you have to do something for me, you fuck it up, uh Amanda?¡±


    The girl¡¯s eyes widened in pure disbelief. Out of everything she said, that¡¯s what he was concerned about? What about her life, her well-being? Were those things... disposable to him?


    ¡°Indeed... we have to do something...¡± Returning to his calm, rational demeanor, the Duke removed a new quill from his drawer. Swiftly yet gracefully, his fingers began writing each word carefully. ¡°Tomorrow I will talk to Carlyle. We¡¯ll move up the wedding.¡±


    Amanda¡¯s sadness quickly turned to excitement. This wasn¡¯t the type of vengeance she was hoping to attain, but it was better than nothing. Bradley wouldn¡¯t fawn over her sister anymore, not with the pressure from his father.


    Noticing a redness in his daughter¡¯s face, the Duke frowned. ¡°Your cheek. What happened? Was it your sister?¡±


    She swallowed down hard. ¡°Yes, it was Ophelia.¡±


    ¡°Get some rest then.¡± Regaining his focus, Alvin returned to his calm self, rumbling through the stack of papers piled up on his desk.


    Knowing her moment had reached its end, Amanda bobbed her head and walked out the door with a grin stretching from ear to ear. Contrary to what the naive girl thought, Alvin was far more concerned than he led on.


    Even with a wedding date settled, months would still go by and, knowing Carlyle, Bradley¡¯s father, the calls weren¡¯t up to him. That man loved control more than anything in the world, even his own children. To make it work, Alvin would¡¯ve to swallow his pride and give him something he would love to attain.


    She¡¯s still underage... He clicked his tongue.


    Ophelia was turning to be a complete wildcard. He couldn¡¯t just marry her off, not until she turned 16. Even if he tried to do some scheme, the righteous Duke Wharton wouldn¡¯t let it slide. Regardless of the route he took, counter measures needed to be implemented or he was bound to lose everything he had strived so hard to achieve.

 Chapter 24: Fallen Angel

    Bradley Trace arrived at the ball earlier than most guests. He wished to be the first to catch Ophelia¡¯s mysterious eyes; however, after several hours, she was still nowhere to be seen.


    Was I wrong? Considering the girl¡¯s personality, he was almost fully certain she would attend, especially since her sister was here.


    But it was only when the announcer¡¯s voice echoed through the room, that his soul was awakened, separated from its unwavering thoughts. ¡°Lord Mace Wharton and Lady Ophelia Criswell.¡±


    His chest tightened, butterflies flew on his stomach, anxiety made his heart rate increase.


    She was here. He was right.


    In a couple of large steps, he dashed towards the stairs but froze in place, a sharp pain piercing his chest. Mace Wharton, Terrel¡¯s younger brother, escorted her with a hidden glimmer behind his eyes.


    He gritted his teeth, completely infuriated at the situation. Since that man was stuck in the palace, she should¡¯ve come alone, and yet, here she was, strutting down the stairs with her doting brother-in-law. Even then, his attention didn¡¯t sway, not even when the crowd finished gathering at the end of the stairs, intrigued with the youngest daughter of the Criswell¡¯s lineage first apparition.


    The room finally woke up, giving birth to countless gossip from the envious and lustful nobles around. Bradley sympathized with Mace¡¯s disgusted expression, since he couldn¡¯t control his hatred towards the pigs surrounding them either.


    Desire, lust, greed.


    Every word that left their mouths was one of these emotions. A sudden sense of satisfaction flew through his body as he imagined the pigs with their tongues cut off and their eyes gouged out. They dared to look at what was his, after all.


    Noticing Ophelia talking to her sister, his fianc¨¦e, at the center of the room, he was quick to act, seizing the opportunity for himself even knowing all attention would befall on him.


    If it weren¡¯t for this fucking brat... Was the thought roaming through his mind when Mace intervened, again. And so those two danced. Too closely to one another, a tad too intensely for his liking.


    Understanding Terrel¡¯s brother would turn into a leech, not letting go of his target, he knew a plan was in order. It was only when he noticed three vassals of his house, chatting a tad bit too joyfully, that an idea came to mind. ¡°Hello gentlemen.¡±


    ¡°Lord Bradley... what a surprise...¡± The trio hiccupped repeatedly, courtesy of the several glasses of wine on the table beside them, now completely void of contents. ¡°What brings you... to our... humble presence?¡±


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    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard? Duke Wharton is searching for a partner in the mines... I simply thought you might be interested.¡±


    ¡°A partner¡­ you say?¡± One of them reflected. ¡°What for?¡±


    ¡°Indeed... I heard it¡¯s to create cheaper tools for the miners to use. Isn¡¯t that right in your area of expertise?¡± His words were complete lies, yet no one would perceive them as so when they heard them.


    ¡°We should¡­ talk to him then... yes... A wise choice... indeed.¡± Words struggled to come out of their bodies, but greed was a perfect fuel, especially when the rum had enough influence in a man¡¯s mind.


    The music ended and, once his vassals took the Wharton¡¯s boy away, he quickly made his presence known. With all eyes on her, Ophelia couldn¡¯t refuse.


    A pleasant tune echoed through the room; however, his prey didn¡¯t dare to look at him. She was playing hard to get. Forcefully, Bradley pulled her close to his chest, right hand gripping her waist. Her beautiful crystal eyes became fiery and, as the orchestra became louder, the dance floor turned into a battlefield with two noble soldiers. Only at the climax of the song did Bradley gain the upper ground. With a hefty spin, Ophelia¡¯s body fell right onto his arm. He smiled, pleased.


    The room clapped loudly, almost euphorically, after witnessing such talent. The young lambs observed the whole dance in a daze, imagining themselves in that girl¡¯s shoes.


    How I wished that was me... They thought.


    They were both rather breathless, tired from fighting in a physical war, without weapons or words. As he lifted her body up, a slight hint of blush painted her pale cheeks. Someone was mad.


    ¡°Would you join me for a walk in the garden?¡±


    Strangely, Ophelia carried a pleased expression on her face, almost as if she hadn¡¯t been utterly defeated moments prior. It was only when it was too late that he understood why. ¡°I¡¯m so tired... I¡¯m afraid you need to find a new partner for the upcoming dance, My Lord.¡±


    Her loud voice was enough to give an opening to all the maidens, who eagerly waited for an opportunity.


    ¡°Lord Bradley, please allow me...!¡± A brunette with a suffocating perfume was the first.


    ¡°I am a wonderful dancer, My Lord. You won¡¯t be disappointed!¡± A blonde girl quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him closer to her voluptuous breasts.


    ¡°No, I am better!¡± A third woman joined the fight.


    It barely took a minute for Bradley to be surrounded by women who craved his attention as Ophelia simply observed the situation from afar, a mocking expression on her face.


    He couldn¡¯t believe how slithery she was. The nobleman already saw her as a unique individual, but he never thought she¡¯d be this cunning, so endearing, so... ruthless. Her heart remained hidden, not allowing anyone to pry further, not even the best bachelor in the kingdom.


    ¡°Leave.¡± Without realizing, his emerald eyes glared coldly at the bunch of flies surrounding him. Their faces turned pale; their eyes widened. It was only then that he understood his mask had accidentally slipped. ¡°I am terribly sorry, my ladies. I am unwell¡­ please give me a moment.¡±


    His charming smile and carefully created naiveness made everything turn back to normal as such icy treatment had been merely part of the observer¡¯s imagination. After dancing with a handful of lucky maidens, he left the ball under the excuse of a mild cold.

 Chapter 25: Fallen Angel

    While his pride still recovering from last night¡¯s blow, unprecedented news darted through the mansion, causing him to be in a situation he utterly hated and despised. As his father¡¯s gaze fell upon the commotion outside, caused by the birthday of one of the butlers, Bradley darted into his personal chambers, surprising him slightly. His thin blonde eyebrows furrowed down seeing his son losing all sense of etiquette ¨C the one thing he¡¯d spent years of his life teaching him.


    ¡°Father, what do you mean the marriage date was set!?¡± Frustrated, he tried to keep his emotions at bay. How could the engagement still stand? Hadn¡¯t he been rude enough to that spoiled brat?


    Something felt wrong. Amanda was becoming distant, and yet, things seemed to go against his wishes. Could someone else have meddled? Were the strings being pulled by someone he couldn¡¯t see?


    ¡°Duke Criswell came earlier today... his offer was very tempting. That¡¯s all you need to know.¡± That cold, heartless expression on his father¡¯s face was something Bradley had always witnessed, even when he was a child. It wasn¡¯t something new, yet it still made him cower in horror, forcing him to swallow his words.


    Slightly reluctantly, he muttered up some courage. ¡°How much? How much did he pay you?¡±


    ¡°This matter does not concern you!¡± That man saw him as nothing more than a puppet, a pawn to be used at his command.


    ¡°You must reconsider!¡± On the spur of the moment, he ended up saying something he shouldn¡¯t, regretting it a second later.


    ¡°Are you giving me orders, Bradley Trace!? I am still the Duke! Do you need to be reminded of your position!?¡± His loud voice made his son¡¯s hands tremble. His bright green eyes glared down at the boy standing in front of him, belittling everything he stood for.


    All Bradley ever wanted was to be recognized, just like his brother once was. But he knew that, since that dreadful evening ten years ago, nothing he did would ever be enough for his father. No matter how hard he tried, how good he was, he was still worthless.


    Almost reflectively, his knees banged on the floor, his head resting on the carpet. ¡°No, Father, I apologize for my rudeness. I spoke out of place.¡±


    ¡°Leave. I¡¯m sick of seeing your face.¡±


    And he obeyed. Like a well-trained dog, Bradley quickly exited the room, leaving the blonde-haired man to his affairs. Throughout the years, he had done everything and anything his father asked of him. He accomplished things no one thought of daring to achieve, and yet, that man¡¯s eyes were always emotionless, like a bottomless pit of despair.


    Whenever Bradley craved for something, fought for something, that man¡¯s words would brand him like piping hot iron: Know your place. Verbal teachings that were imbued into his body with the company of regular beatings, scarring his body, heart and mind.


    The study room¡¯s doors opened in a swift movement, forcing the several loose sheets of paper to fly to the carpeted floor with the burst of wind. An intense amount of sunlight entered through the transparent windows from the two sides of the rectangular shaped room, allowing for a certain warmth to be created inside. Tall bookshelves, rising onto the pale ceiling, were attached to the remaining walls, displaying how much the young noble had read in his lifetime.


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    ¡°Amanda... you should know your fucking place...¡± With gritted teeth, his hand strongly punched the hard wall, creating cuts on his knuckles. Shards of wooden pieces fell, dirtying his shoes.


    Three things.


    His father. Being toyed with. People who don¡¯t know their place.


    Those were the three things he hated most in the world and yet, both sisters had made a fool out of him. Somehow, his hatred was fully driven to the crimson-haired girl, turning his indifferent feelings into something far more vindictive. The image of his hand crushing Amanda¡¯s skull on the wooden floor, forcing her to beg for mercy, allowing the vivid red blood cleansing her ugly hair, was repeating itself on his mind.


    ¡°Yes, that would teach her...¡±


    Without noticing, a woman in her mid-twenties had entered through the half-opened door. In her calloused hands, a large food tray filled with delicacies stood. Swiftly, she placed it on top of the tall desk.


    ¡°Master, I¡¯ve brought your meal.¡± She bowed down, forcing Bradley¡¯s attention to shift towards her. ¡°If you require anything else, please let me know.¡±


    As she was turning, the nobleman grabbed her wrist, forcing her to face him. Shock and acceptance. That¡¯s how she dealt with her feelings, indifferently.


    His lips began moving, as some seemingly magical words left the core of his soul. ¡°Vera... you truly are beautiful...¡±


    Her master¡¯s hands caressed her cheeks rather roughly, but, contrary to most ladies, the servant hid her horror through a very thick, unbothered fa?ade. She had served the Trace¡¯s for years and, for better or for worse, she knew the sins of this fallen angel.


    ¡°You know your place, don¡¯t you? Why can¡¯t Amanda be like you... Vera?¡±


    She simply remained silent, allowing the noble to vent anything he wished on her, knowing there wasn¡¯t another way to slither out of this situation.


    ¡°Beautiful... extremely beautiful... that¡¯s why I love you Vera, you know your place...¡± Suddenly, Bradley¡¯s honey-coated words became loud, enraged, but even then, the maid remained apathetic. ¡°You know, you are nothing but a filthy peasant, and you act like one!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡±


    Noticing her resolute expression, the amusement on his lips disappeared causing his grip to dissipate and to shove her off, allowing the woman to finally leave. No one outside the mansion knew about the horrifying personality of Carlyle¡¯s son. He loved beautiful things, but this beauty wasn¡¯t material like most thought it to be. Humans that followed his father¡¯s teachings faithfully, beings that knew their place in society... those were the prettiest of them all.


    And yet, here he was, going against his father¡¯s wishes because of an insolent girl who he couldn¡¯t seem to despise in the slightest. She went against everything he believed; she pissed him off and yet; she was constantly on his mind.


    ¡°Ophelia...¡± And there she was, slipping through his soul once again.


    He wants to marry me into the Criswell¡¯s, so it shouldn¡¯t matter who, right?


    Quickly, Bradley grabbed a loose paper and a light brown quill, a brand-new idea in his destructive mind. His fingers carefully shaped the words in his head onto the sheet, displaying his not-so pure intentions. ¡°Vera!¡±


    The maid, who was calmly waiting outside, as she often did for most of the days, opened the door. Her master was stretching his arm with a beautiful, carefully written envelope in his fingers. A sweet fragrance of lavender on it.


    ¡°Deliver this to the Wharton¡¯s and prepare my carriage. I must visit a friend.¡±


    Gently, the maid removed the letter from his grasp, bobbing her head before leaving. Thus, moments later, Bradley was all alone in the study, pleasantly thinking about how satisfying Alvin¡¯s frustrated face would be. From all the enemies Duke Criswell expected to create, Bradley Trace was the one who hadn¡¯t been accounted for.

 Chapter 26: The Garden

    ¡°Milady, it¡¯s time to wake up.¡±


    A familiar voice called my name. Olivia stood beside me; a warm smile stamped on her lips. Feeling tired, I yawned and followed her towards the bathtub at the end of the room. Some faint steam poured out from the lukewarm water, forming light gray clouds which rose through the air, disappearing moments later. Rose petals floated on the translucid liquid and a powerful aroma of honey filled the room.


    Once inside, my muscles relaxed, allowing a sense of comfortableness and drowsiness to return. Alphie carefully scrubbed my body while another maid brushed through my hair, untangling any remaining knots.


    ¡°Do you have any plans for today, milady?¡± Olivia casually addressed me as if we were lifelong friends. The poor girl truly had no tact.


    ¡°I am visiting the capital... I want to see how it is.¡±


    The maid gasped surprised while the rest traded confused glances. ¡°You¡¯ve never been to the capital, milady!?¡±


    Such reactions were normal as most noblewomen tended to visit others of their standing fairly often in order to aid in their coming-of-age ceremonies. That man never allowed me to leave the mansion grounds, except from time to time where I¡¯d sneak past the guards and visit a small villa close by. Terrel and Layton were no different: while the first wanted to lock me away for his sole pleasure, feeling threatened by other men and their lustful gazes; the latter simply hated social gatherings, being present only when obliged to by his father.


    In the past, they¡¯d force me to visit some mansions from a few feudal[1]</a> lords, but not once had the chance to actually see the city, explore its streets, discover its hidden treasures been presented to me.


    Noticing how deeply my thoughts ran, Olivia continued to talk, bringing me back to reality. ¡°The capital is a great place. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll love it, milady!¡±


    Alphie helped me out of the bathtub; however, my focus was on the talkative ginger-haired girl patting my body with a cotton towel. Olivia was the only maid that ever attempted to act friendly towards me, too friendly even. It was hard to tell if this was the personality of a na?ve young girl or the strategy of an extremely cunning, manipulative vixen.


    But I couldn¡¯t be hasty as too many disadvantages were on my side. Terrel was already planting his people around, like he¡¯d done in my previous life. They were easy to spot since their sharp gazes kept on observing me, like faithful bribed dogs. Even though most of the servants kept serving Edgar faithfully, a minority appeared to be conflicted in which side to take. And besides, Vanessa and Penny certainly were not the sole women Alvin had sent to watch me.


    The maids gently helped me fit into a flowy dress tainted by a beautiful light green with some golden highlights. The more I observed them, the stronger my resolve became.


    Most knew it to be impossible to chase a rabbit if a bigger predator had already begun its chase. It would be useless to spend time finding who supported who, or who could become a threat at this point. The harsh truth was that I needed to create a battalion from scratch ¨C my own personal soldiers, my people.


    A butler from the central area of the mansion entered the room, his thick moustache twirling at the begging of his cheeks. ¡°Milady, a letter has arrived for you.¡±


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    ¡°For me?¡± I frowned, unsure of who would be confident enough to send me a letter so rapidly after the ball. ¡°A letter, is it...?¡±


    While my thoughts voyaged through every single noble and family present the night before, the employee placed the container in my hands. A grim expression quickly formed on my face, forcing the maids to attempt sneaking a glance at the name of the sender.


    ¡°Bradley.¡± My hands ripped the envelope open, removing the paper sheet from within.


    [ To my dear Ophelia,


    I hope this letter finds you well. Your beautiful yet stinging words carved an undying ache in my heart, making me comprehend how much your goodness affects us. Because of such sudden feelings, I am forced to settle the final matters regarding the wedding. Afterwards, I will be visiting you.


    I like chamomile tea the most.


    Bradley Trace ]


    This asshole... Anyone who read this letter wouldn¡¯t understand the hidden meaning behind the perfectly painted words, however, I did. It was clear he wanted to cancel the engagement with my sister and then receive my congratulations.


    Not only that, the further I interpreted the letter, the more disgust settled in me. A strange gut feeling lingered around. The thought that Bradley, that lunatic, wished to switch us, forcing me to marry him instead of Terrel, passed by.


    I threw the letter onto the table, forcing it to crash against the oval mirror on the back. A long sigh escaped my body. How did things turn out this way?


    No matter how hard my mind thought of a reason, it was impossible to understand what had spiked Bradley¡¯s interest to this extent. During my other lives, he never gave me as much as a second look unless someone forced him to, so why? Why was he obsessing over me?


    ¡°Milady, are you alright?¡± Alphie questioned. ¡°Would you like me to bring you something to eat?¡±


    I nodded and waved my hand in the air. The maid quickly left, heading towards the kitchen.


    With half an hour of travel, the bright green fields surrounding the capital extended into the horizon. Small wooden houses peaked in the rare faint hills, stealing the sun¡¯s rays for themselves, trapping them within the wood, warming the people inside.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be here at a quarter past eight. Don¡¯t be late.¡± The coachman nodded and began turning the carriage, heading back to the Wharton¡¯s estate. A handful of gold coins were the price of that man¡¯s secrecy.


    On the almost empty road, I grabbed the cheap-looking cloak, pulling it closer to my face. My fingers pushed a strand of hair into my ear, hiding it from sight. Within Ashen¡¯s Kingdom there were two types of hair colors which were rarely seen: red and black, being the latter almost impossible. Certainly, rumors about my first social appearance had already spread and unless I laid low, the town would thrive with brand new gossip.


    I strolled alongside the rather warm Seedling breeze, allowing the busy merchant and noble carriages to pass by. Some commoners traveled by horse, hoping to sell their hunt in the central market. It took fifteen minutes for the enormous walls surrounding the capital to appear, displaying its greatness and dominance.


    Luckily, the guards neglected people who entered, being far more entertained in courting young maidens who shily hid away their flirtations. My small frame slipped by, unnoticed, feeling the mighty shadow emanating from the tall palace fall upon the land.


    Hastily walking through the streets filled with merchants, all excitedly chanting the great attributes their products possessed while their competitors attempted to gain favor by pushing the items into the hands of passerby¡¯s. My clothing appeared slightly more expensive than a commoner¡¯s usual attire however, because of the thick cape surrounding my body, no businessman dared to approach me.


    [1]</a>Feudal: A man with a rank of status, in this case, a noble or aristocrat.

 Chapter 27: The Garden

    Finally, I arrived at Astin, the royal capital of Ashen¡¯s Kingdom.


    The bigger streets were lively, filled with people¡¯s laughter and joy. Shops adorned themselves beautifully, catching the attention of anyone who passed by. Seeing such luxurious items, peasants fawned, imagining they were the owners of such relics. With the breeze, the sweet smell of chocolate and freshly baked bread rode up the street, allowing the stomach of the hungry ones to wishfully groan.


    This scenery, however, didn¡¯t last long. The further I walked into the secondary streets; the scarcer life became. Beautiful buildings gradually switched to decaying houses, filled with cranky old wood and its all-year-round residents: termites. Shops were humbly dirty, filled with mold and dust all around. Beggars sat on the ground with extended, bony hands, praying for someone¡¯s sympathy.


    Bars appeared alongside several pools of beer on the dirt ground, mixing with the intense smell of urine from the sidelines. Drunkards walked around without a path in mind, hoping to swallow their sorrows and regrets with just another glass.


    The joyous laughter was gone, giving birth to loud music and yelling women, shrinking with their flirtatious voices. Glasses crashed on the floor, alcohol poured down, moans echoed through the street. Some meters ahead from this sinful display, several men laid their back against a thick concrete wall, filling their lungs with some rather expensive cigars. Their clothes were shabby, overused and a size too big. They were mercenaries.


    Right next to them stood what I¡¯d been searching for. A tall building made of dark red bricks stood before me, with all its glory. As my figure approached, suspicious gazes from my surroundings fell on me, its intensity peaking the moment my body stopped at the side entrance.


    Knock.


    The thick iron door opened with a shriek.


    ¡°What do ya want? Did you lose your way, kid?¡± An intense smell of tobacco and alcohol exited the body of the muscular, bald man in front of me.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lovely day for a picnic.¡± I raised my head.


    His chocolate-colored eyes widened. Certainly, he wasn¡¯t expecting me to know what this place truly was as, to most people, this establishment was a very successful bar, bringing many good men¡¯s judgment to ruin. However, if you had the right connections, you¡¯d known the password to enter what was known as The Garden.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± He chuckled. ¡°Come on in, kid.¡±


    It was on my 2nd life that I overheard Marquess Verne talk about a special garden somewhere in the capital. At the time, he spoke with Alvin, in one of his scarce visits, hoping to gain his favor for a new investment venture.


    ¡°A Garden with a flower for any type of need.¡± Those were the exact words he used to describe the place.


    Back then, such sentence appeared innocent, forcing me to assume this was but a florist whose clever business name was captivating. But questions did arise.


    How could flowers possibly fulfill any needs besides bringing a faint glimpse of joy?


    Three months later, two guards arriving straight from the capital in the peak of the night, both drowned in rum and beer, talked loudly by my window.


    ¡°And you know... that prick wants to go there again tomorrow.¡± One of them said as he leaned his weakened body on the other, who simply laughed at his comment.


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    After sneezing because of the harsh Frosting wind, his colleague continued. ¡°He must¡¯ve bought all the black market by now... these rich fuckers and their spending... if I was rich, I would use it all on Emma!¡±


    ¡°Why? She¡¯s just a whore, dude.¡± As he replied, a loud burp came out. They both rested against the wall, preventing their bodies from falling to the ground. Regaining some footing, the first one removed a cigarette and lit it up, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the cold air.


    ¡°That¡¯s because you haven¡¯t been with her...¡± A smug popped up on the man¡¯s face, as if he was proudly bragging of his own achievements. ¡°Emma¡¯s hands are magical, far better than mine, you see?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking. You think she¡¯s better than you at it?¡± At his question, the man smoking nodded.


    With this, their obnoxious laughter rang through the area, probably waking up a handful of servants. ¡°Next time, ask for her. I¡¯m telling you; you won¡¯t regret it.¡±


    After that, everything became clear. The Garden was the name everyone used for the black market, since all their products and services were associated with a unique flower.


    When another guard appeared, holding a large bottle of liquor in his hands, the conversation became even more interesting. From Emma, they started to talk about the market itself and, due to their carelessness, I memorized some information which would prove to be useful in the future: ¡°Roses¡± were the flowers used for hiring assassins, ¡°Tulips¡± for buying slaves, ¡°Sunflowers¡± for drugs and lastly, ¡°Orchids¡± for acquiring poisons.


    As we walked down the rather dark halls, dimly lit by a handful of white candles, several iron doors passed by. They were locked and yet I sensed the men behind them, waiting to strike at the moment¡¯s notice.


    My lungs inhaled the gingery fragrance from the incenses on the top shelves, forcing my weak body to become lighter. There was something in it that made you weak, relaxing your body as if you¡¯d just awaken from a long nap.


    I¡¯m surrounded. Was the first thing that popped into my head, forcing an icy shiver to crawl down my spine. Mercenaries watched me from all the corners in this tight corridor and, at the smallest threat, at any bad comment or sign of danger, they¡¯d wipe my existence away with no regrets.


    I gulped. This was a test. It had to be.


    Finally, the bald man stopped in front of an iron door. He glared at me as if he was waiting, expecting something else from me.


    ¡°I need some flowers. Tulips, to be exact.¡± At my statement, he grinned.


    His large hand grabbed the handle and a higher shrieking sound rung through the hall, allowing the heavy door to open. A bright red light showered my eyes, forcing me to blink several times before getting accustomed to it. The walls, painted in a crimson red, mingled well with the furry dark brown carpet covering the floor. The faint smell of ginger had dissipated, giving birth to a potent mixture of incenses, mostly from drug consumption by the handful of gentlemen at the bar in their expensive suits. Reactively, I covered my nose, breathing in as little as possible, not knowing how much my tolerance would allow.


    I was weak and if my body kept on taking this amount of essences, it wouldn¡¯t take long for me to pass out in a corner somewhere. The man laughed, amused by my sudden action.


    My eyes then shifted to the men and women standing behind the stalls, showcasing their products patiently, just like carnivorous plants carefully waiting for a little fly to be drawn to their sweet scent. Contrary to most merchants, they wouldn¡¯t yell or chase customers around; instead, they simply stood there, some resting their bodies, others examining everything that moved as if money wasn¡¯t a problem that affected all but the higher-class.


    ¡°Go straight and you¡¯ll find your Tulips.¡± The man shut the door and removed a cigarette from his shirt pocket moments later. Noticing my slight reluctance, he patted my back. ¡°Knock two times, kid. Don¡¯t forget it.¡±


    And with that, he left, focusing his attention on his lifelong lover: a large cup of beer.


    After walking a handful of minutes, trying to take in everything surrounding me, my feet stopped in front of a thick iron door decorated by a handful of spikes, threatening to kill any intruder. Just like the man said, I knocked; twice.


    Several strange sounds echoed through the area, almost as if someone was unlocking many padlocks from behind the metal entrance. The door eventually opened and another overwhelmingly tall, bald man opened the door. Noticing no one in his sight, he glanced down, greeting me with his sharp dark eyes and way too vivid battle scars.


    Seeing my figure, he grinned. ¡°Are you here to see the Tulips, Miss?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I replied before allowing the strange man to lead me down the stairs.

 Chapter 28: Chained

    The smell of blood, feces and urine intensified as we walked further down the large stone staircase, only lightened by a long torch trapped between the man¡¯s thick fingers. Another iron door appeared in front of us and the moment it opened, I frowned.


    ¡°We can always turn back if you¡¯re not up for it.¡± He said, mocking my reaction to the intensification of the smell. Noticing my lack of response, he pushed the door further, allowing me to pass through.


    Along a deep stone hall, several cages stood parallel to each other. All of them swarmed with people: men, women, elderly and even children were chained to walls inside their cells. Malnourished bodies, lifeless eyes, horrified expressions, and mothers who clasped their children in their arms, as if they knew this would be their last embrace.


    Noticing a man lying on the floor, motionless, my chest grew heavy. The slave trader spotted him as well and quickly clicked his fingers, before leading me to a small room at the end of the hall. The sound of bars being pushed and chains clinging on the floor echoed, forcing me to acknowledge what I feared. That man was dead.


    If I had discovered this place earlier, certainly my goody-ass-shoes self would¡¯ve strived to tear it down, to burn it into the ground, even if my status and power equaled to nothing. But now, seeing the desperation on these innocent people, all with intense hope of surviving by some groundless God¡¯s miracle, I was unfazed. They neither bothered me nor made me feel uneasy, almost as if my mind had become a foreigner to such a humane feeling ¨C to pure kindness.


    It doesn¡¯t matter if I save them... everything will go back in three years. Maybe this thought was a mere way to reassure myself that my actions were realistic, reasonable, however, I knew the reason wasn¡¯t that simple.


    The man served me a coffee in a somewhat classy cup, but my hand quickly pushed it away. ¡°I don¡¯t drink.¡±


    ¡°More for me.¡± He chuckled while gulping down the cup in one go. It would take someone truly foolish to drink or consume something in a place like this. After putting down the cheap tableware, he smirked. ¡°So, Miss, what can I help you with?¡±


    ¡°I want to see your strongest Tulips.¡± I sat across his chair, straight on the center of the somewhat comfortable beige couch.


    ¡°Of course.¡± The man¡¯s smile widened right before he clicked his fingers once again. He drank a bit of his own coffee, always glaring at me from the sides. ¡°I can¡¯t help but wonder why a young woman such as yourself would need a Tulip.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure that a person with your expertise already knows, no?¡± I grinned, leading him to believe my purchase was merely to satisfy my nightly desires. It wasn¡¯t unusual to buy slaves as sex toys, but of course, my age would, inevitably, posed a threat to this half-ass excuse.


    His wicked smile quickly turned cold. ¡°I should warn you; our prices are high... not something a simple salary will cover.¡±


    I snorted at the man, allowing his eyes to widen in surprise. ¡°If you thought I didn¡¯t have the money, would you have let me in?¡±


    Once a grin appeared on his lips, a shiver ran down my spine. Oh ¨C I¡¯d been foolish. He didn¡¯t invite me in because he thought I had money... he did it to sell me.


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    Almost immediately, my hands placed a medium-sized pouch on the low wooden table. The man clicked his tongue, displeased that his aspirations had come to an end. His fingers then pushed the line, allowing the container to open. Several gold coins shun brightly against the dim light from the torches around.


    He let out a sigh and removed a cigar from the table next to his chair. After lighting it up, he painfully chuckled. ¡°Such a waste...¡± He mumbled, loud enough for me to hear. ¡°... but I can¡¯t be involved in the disappearance of a noble.¡±


    The lingering silence dissipated when the sound of chains scratching the floor rung through. The door opened and moments later, eight men, completely restrained, walked inside. Behind them, a man with a shady rabbit mask smiled. He was looking right at me.


    Attempting to shake off that man¡¯s lustful glare, I shifted my attention to the slaves. Their bodies were large, bulky enough to break a tree with only one arm and yet, their eyes were lifeless, numb, void of any emotion. I¡¯d never witnessed something like this before. Were they drugged?


    I glanced at the trader, who kept on analyzing me up and down, repeatedly. It seemed he was fighting his own demons; the will to sell me off for a more generous offer or to simply keep me as another noble client. Taking into consideration our conversation so far and how much his morale was divided, all the questions regarding this unknown drug were buried within my curiosity. He wouldn¡¯t shed light on this matter without a price, after all.


    ¡°They may look tame, but I assure you, miss, they can handle the job perfectly.¡±


    ¡°These won¡¯t do. I need someone smart and strong.¡± I frowned as he scratched the back of his bald head in conflict. He was hiding something.


    ¡°We have one that might fit the criteria, but he has yet to be trained.¡± He forcefully coughed. ¡°It would take at least a week to get him ready.¡±


    The mere fact that this man was struggling to find a branch to stand on allowed a thrilling sensation of satisfaction to travel through my body. ¡°Take me to him. I will see for myself.¡±


    Still unsure, the trader ended up complying. His large hand waved in the air, allowing a new man to pop from one of the deep shadows of the room, exiting with his companion and their flavorless merchandise. He¡¯d always been there yet it I couldn¡¯t even notice his presence.


    As we walked through the halls, the man spoke far more casually, as if his desire to sell me off had been miraculously suppressed. ¡°He¡¯s from a mountain tribe in the North. He¡¯s very dangerous. A couple of my guys died trying to catch him.¡±


    While he blabbered about their encounter, I remained quiet, simply following in his footsteps and hearing his words. After five-minutes walking, we reached the cage of the most dangerous Tulip ¨C or so he called him.


    A cell filled with pure steel poles, locked away with five types of locks held inside a young man, slightly older than me, fully chained to the stone floor and walls. With an underweight body covered in wounds, he simply sat there, glaring at me with his dark brown eyes.


    Like a predator to his prey, his hatred instantly passed through, wishing to rip our necks apart; however, his soft looking platinum hair shone brightly whenever the flame flickered next to it. The further I looked, the more bruises and superficial wounds were disclosed and, resting by his side, a handful of trays filled with rotten bread rested ¨C all swarming with insects and mice. They were treating him like an animal, a wild beast that needed to be subdued. His feet and hands had been locked into the wall while his neck carried a heavy metal collar which bruised on his shallow collarbones.


    Run. Was what my gut yelled every time his eyes connected with mine, but even then, I knew it had to be him. He was... perfect.


    ¡°What do you think? Does it suit your fancy, Miss?¡± The man said sarcastically. It was clear he had only brought me here to make me back down, to display the beast who had killed more than ¡®a couple¡¯ of his men.


    ¡°Open it.¡± The trader looked at me, completely dumbfounded. ¡°Do I need to repeat myself? Open it.¡±


    I glared at him, and he frowned, displeased with how things had turned out. Reluctantly, the man opened the door and allowed me to enter. ¡°He¡¯s dangerous. If you die, it¡¯s your own fault.¡±

 Chapter 29: Chained

    This was obviously suicidal, but my eyes needed to see him up-close, to allow a connection to be created between us or he would never leave this beast-like, survivalist state. Slowly, my figure approached his, hoping my forced composed stance was enough to hide away the lingering fears. The man was alone, in this dark, dreadful place for God knows how long and, deep down, a part of me pitied him, but regardless, I wasn¡¯t benevolent enough to buy him out of pure kindness.


    He stood in his place, quietly, watching me, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, which he did once my body was close enough. The slave jumped on me, allowing his chains to cling against the floor repeatedly as his large hands grabbed my neck, pushing me onto the cold, smelly stones. At that moment, my hood fell, exposing my black hair and for just a glimpse of a moment, his resolve flinched, displaying some sort of hesitance.


    ¡°I warned you.¡± The slave trader laughed, mocking the situation I had placed myself in, probably even thinking God¡¯s warmth had embraced me by now. However, my body, mind and soul were still very much alive, and no matter how much that dreadful man laughed, my gaze kept on facing the slave¡¯s eyes.


    The more time passed, the stronger his grip became and so did his pain. My body was beginning to yearn for oxygen but, instead of struggling, I simply placed my hands on top of his, adding even more strength to his grip, a kind smile resting on my lips. His eyes widened, completely taken aback by my action.


    I didn¡¯t fear death. In fact, if fate was kind, it would allow me to die today, to this man¡¯s hands and then peace would follow. Thankfulness would voyage through my soul as such ending was far greater than burning alive. But I knew such thought was a simple, silly desire that would never come to be.


    ¡°W... W... Why do you... wa-want to buy me?¡± His voice was rough, forcing him to gulp several times just to ask a minor question. It seemed like he hadn¡¯t consumed anything in a while.


    ¡°I... I...¡± In a pitiful attempt, my vocal cords tried to emit the most basic of sounds, but his grasp on my throat was too strong for anything to come out.


    The world had begun rotating around me as my cheeks became more and more flushed. Noticing it, he released his hands and straightened his body on top of mine, allowing his knees to lock my legs into place. Almost immediately, I gasped for air and coughed repeatedly, raising my torso to the side, tears flowing through my eyes.


    Seeing he wouldn¡¯t need to hide another corpse; the slave trader made another comment. ¡°You¡¯re a tough one, aren¡¯t you, Miss?¡±


    Ignoring the man¡¯s sarcastic question completely, a groan escaped me before finding some remnants of strength in me. ¡°Three years. Protect me for three years and after that, you get your freedom.¡±


    The slave frowned, suspicious of my strange proposition. His eyes continued to analyze me closely, observing my body and memorizing my expression as fingers massaged the bruised neck, attempting to regain some stability in my now coarse voice.


    Seeing how reluctant he was, a sigh escaped me. ¡°I can just get someone else if you aren¡¯t interested.¡±


    The slave removed the pressure from my body, allowing me to get up and lean against the wall. Displeased with how this deal was going, the trader opened the door and approached us. ¡°I told you; he needs training. Come, let me show you the rest of my highest-end products.¡±


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    The bald man placed his right hand on top of my shoulders, intertwining his finger in my charcoal hair, a certain greediness clouding his judgment. Suddenly, the sound of chains clashing echoed, and I glanced backwards, just to see the slave grabbing the tip of my cloak closely.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡± He said as loudly as he could, eyes filled with determination.


    ¡°What did you say, little shit?¡± The man who was forcefully leading me out of the cell let go of his grasp on me and turned towards the slave. Realizing what was about to happen, my hands grabbed his left arm and glared at him coldly, forcing him to drop the flaming torch on the floor, close to me.


    The moment it landed, the slave kicked it away from my presence, preventing it from harming me. It seemed that, for once, I had made a wise choice.


    ¡°He is mine now.¡± I smiled coldly, forcing the scarred man to scorn at me, his lips pressed together into a thin line as chunks of healed flesh passed through his skin. ¡°I¡¯m sure the amount you saw in your office will suffice, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    Even though he was reluctant and didn¡¯t want to, he knew a deal was a deal and if he intended to receive that bag filled with gold coins; he needed to let this slave go. Seeing him nod, relieve darted through my nerves. ¡°Let¡¯s settle our business, then.¡±


    ¡°Do come again whenever you need. We have new merchandise every week.¡± The slave trader smirked as we stood in front of the first entrance door, the one right at the top of the stairs. About to turn and head back, he grabbed my hand forcefully. Slowly, he approached my ear and whispered. ¡°And be careful Miss Criswell, it¡¯s so easy getting lost these days, especially pretty young ladies like you.¡±


    Getting lost or getting kidnapped? I couldn¡¯t help but snort at the man¡¯s pitiful threat.


    With a bitter smile on my lips, my hands pulled the hood back, covering my hair once again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Schneider, if I ever get lost, this is the first place the Duke will search.¡±


    His eyes widened in complete disbelief. However, I didn¡¯t give him an opportunity to question anything further.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    The slave covered himself with a dirty hood and even though his hands and ankles were now chainless, his neck still had a very thin collar made of silver. According to the man, the matching ring he¡¯d given me was used to control slaves. Every time I wished to punish him, all that was necessary was to squeeze the big, bright jewel in the middle and it would send an electrical shock down his body.


    When I tried to have the seller explain how this strange device worked, he refused to tell me. Secrets of the business. Was the only answer that left his crooked lips.


    Years ago, in the Criswell¡¯s mansion library, my interest lied in reading books and a few of them held some information regarding these unusual magical objects - Relics, they call them. However, the information about them was scarce, as if humanity was forcefully deleting their existence but, even then, from the shallow contents provided, I was able to learn a thing or two.


    Supposedly, there exist three different worlds: Divinity, Mortality and Blasphemy. In the world of Divinity, God ruled over the Angels, as they guided us, simple humans who lived in the world of Mortality into righteousness, however, the Demons that followed the Devil¡¯s rulings on the world of Blasphemy tried to lure us into sinful actions, guided by greed and lust.


    It was said that relics were ancient objects that had been with us for thousands of years and by analyzing the power imbued into them, one could discern them into two different categories: if a being from Divinity placed its power within, then it was known as a Blessing; on the other hand, if a being from Blasphemy inserted its domain, then it was called Wicked.


    Nowadays, there were barely any known relics left, being most of them lost in the memories of the knowledgeable skeletons in the unnamed graves all around, however, the fanatics that believed in their veracity and power, went to extensive lengths just to find them, and to sell them to the highest bidder.

 Chapter 30: A Lady’s Power

    ¡°Where are we headed, master?¡± The slave¡¯s throat was deeply hurt, probably from the dehydration and malnutrition, causing his voice to be coarse and rough. While he attempted to focus his attention on me, his eyes traveled from stall to stall, overwhelmed by everything that was happening, not realizing how the merchant¡¯s attention fell on him.


    ¡°To buy Orchids.¡± I smiled, forcing him to look at me, puzzled by my words. Noticing we were approaching some mercenaries, my hands pulled down his cloak, causing him to lower his long torso. ¡°Remember, three years and you can do whatever you wish but, until then, don¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±


    The group of men glared at us suspiciously, forcing the slave to be on guard, however, once he felt my second harsh pull, his head lowered. We shouldn¡¯t bring any further attention to ourselves ¨C our attires and characteristics weren¡¯t exactly inconspicuous.


    After walking for a handful of minutes, we reached the Orchids space which appeared to have a strong incense burning scent flowing from somewhere close by. Several merchants with their wooden stalls spoke among each other, blabbing about their greatest sales, while on the tables many small glass recipients rested, patiently waiting for a wicked person to taken them. An old lady, who simply had a thin sheet between her products and the floor, sat casually with her arms crossed, snoozing slightly.


    Hearing my footsteps approach, the woman quickly woke up, her eyes beet red. ¡°Are you an Orchid seller?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, child, what type of Orchid are you looking for?¡± The old lady grinned happily, with all her leftover teeth, while her hands rummaged through the several glass recipients on display.


    ¡°One that kills and can¡¯t be tracked.¡± My words made the woman ponder for a couple of minutes. She then turned her body and removed several poisons from a black bag hidden behind her back.


    Understanding what I was actually purchasing, the slave gasped. ¡°Those are...!¡±


    ¡°Poisons, a woman¡¯s deadliest weapon.¡± I completed his sentence, forcing him to grow quiet. He was smart, and he knew some thoughts were better locked away, at least in this place.


    ¡°A new flower came from the East. It is quick and untraceable.¡± Her hands held a small container filled with a beautiful yellow powder inside.


    Almost immediately, I shook my head. That man didn¡¯t deserve to have a quick death, not after everything he had put me through.


    ¡°I want something that¡¯s painful¡­ something that will take its sweet time.¡± Hearing my words, the old lady grinned with her crooked lips. Her dark eyes glimmered with excitement. ¡°I want to have some fun first.¡±


    ¡°In that case, take this one.¡± Her hands quickly removed another recipient, even smaller than the one I¡¯d seen before, with a strange vivid red powder inside. ¡°After taking it, one will begin losing the strength in their body and die from three to five hours, depending on the dosage.¡±


    The woman¡¯s proposition was alluring. Sure, my plan included Terrel¡¯s death, however, my soul demanded some extra satisfaction from such event. Killing him with a mere poison was too simple, too merciful. He was going to beg, to suffer as much as he made me in his hands.


    ???????


    Ophelia¡¯s memories, 1st Life


    Everything was quiet, too quiet.


    The moon hid behind the thick clouds as darkness embraced the land, allowing the rattling of the leaves to be the only echoing sound. Suddenly, a low noise rung through the shadowy halls of the Wharton¡¯s estate.


    ¡°What was that?¡± I asked the maids stationed behind the door of my chambers yet, no one responded. ¡°Is everything alright?¡±


    Did they leave...? Questions ran through my mind as silence slowly embraced me. Surely, they heard me; then why weren¡¯t they answering?


    ¡°Ophelia... open the door.¡± Terrel¡¯s presence was right behind the wooden entrance - it was easy to recognize his harsh, drunken voice. The sound of hiccups and the way he slowly spelled the words meant he had consumed far too much. ¡°Ophelia...¡±


    Adrenaline began pumping through my veins.


    Should I yell? No one would hear.


    Should I hide? He knew I was here.


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    Should I run? I couldn¡¯t jump from the second floor.


    ¡°You should get some rest, Lord Terrel. You sound exhausted.¡± My voice was calm, appeasing almost; however, he simply growled like a hungry animal.


    His hand started banging on the door repeatedly. ¡°Open the fucking door!¡±


    The knob turned, and the corner of the wooden object hit my forehead, forcing my body to fall onto the floor. The maids hadn¡¯t locked the door like they used to¡­ could they¡¯ve been expecting this?


    I glanced upwards to see his baggy clothes floating as the air current from the window passed through. In his right hand, a large bottle of wine, almost empty, swung from side to side, matching his wavy body movements as the fluid inside attempted to ravage the glass through a forced storm. Feeling slightly dizzy from exhaustion and nervousness, as anxiety passed through my nerves like butter in a recently baked bread, my throat swallowed down hard, my heart thumped on my ears like two hammers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it, Ophelia. I¡¯m tired of waiting.¡± His voice was like a nightmare, like the monsters that lie right below the mattress, waiting for their prey to rest at the darkest time of the day.


    Horror struck. In this land, when a woman lost her virginity, she would lose all her power, becoming nothing more than a slut, to be used and abused by men to their wishes ¨C father told me so, showed me so. He¡¯d taken me to see the nearby village where some women knocked on the men¡¯s door, hoping to get a simple coin for their release.


    ¡°Lord Terrel, I¡¯m sure you are eager, but it¡¯s wiser to wait until...¡± Gradually, I got up, placing all my strength on the wooden table even when my hands rapidly trembled. He simply looked at me lustfully, as if I was nothing more than an object he owned, as if humanity didn¡¯t belong to me anymore. ¡°Please, My Lord... I¡¯m sure that we can...¡±


    Right before finishing my sentence, Terrel dashed. A stinging pain was born within my left cheek as I struggled to keep my ground. He had slapped me with no restraint.


    His body grew closer to mine, grabbing my arms strongly. ¡°Shut up. You women are all the same.¡± In a swift movement, he twirled me around and threw me into the bed. ¡°Always saying no, but when you get it, you can¡¯t get enough, can you?¡±


    ¡°Terrel, please stop!¡± At this point, I yelled, screaming while holding onto a small strand of hope that this was nothing more than a bad dream, that he would wake up from this drunken state he¡¯d placed himself into. Praying to God, to whoever it was, for someone to hear my plea.


    I tried to turn my body again, but he quickly pushed me back down onto the bed, drowning my face into the pillow after hitting me. Terrel¡¯s punch struck my cheek perfectly, allowing me to taste, for the first time, the sweetness of blood.


    ¡°I said, shut the fuck up!¡±


    That night, no one came. For quite some time, painful yells left my being but once realization dawned ¨C that the halls surrounding me were lifeless, filled with darkness and the bliss of ignorance ¨C such horror turned into soft sobs on the now uncomfortable pillow. I¡¯d grown tired, simply accepting the cross that fate had forced me to bear.


    After he left, slightly sobered up, a wide grin stamped on his face, my body lumped into the bed, wounded, exhausted. Tears flooded my vision and my memory since the next thing my mind was able to recall was seeing the maids arrive at my chambers, finding me in such a precarious position ¨C my nightgown had been completely torn, revealing my breasts, my legs and God knows what else. Yet, they didn¡¯t seem surprised and not a single question as to how such scenario had come to be flew through.


    They prepared me a bath but no matter how many times they scrubbed; I didn¡¯t feel clean. His touch lingered on my skin, his coarse voice and alcoholic breath filled my senses as well as the filthy seeds deep within my womb ¨C the ones that would birth a son, a monster such as him.


    My jaw was sore for a week, causing my appetite and food intake to grow scarcer. Every time he saw the inflammation on my muscles, he¡¯d frown, disgusted by the gruesome sight. During that time, my body was spared yet, once my appearance returned to normal, so did his desires.


    And I¡¯d be reminded of him every single day, even if he wasn¡¯t there, with me. The servants would glare at me, and the maids would whisper words too egoistical for me to bear ¨C all thought me to be worse than them, a whore, a slut, a shameful wench, that had become wicked enough to seduce the heir before marriage. And they were right.


    No matter how much I struggled, memories of that night were imbued into me, stuck into my soul like the stickiest honey pot in the world. It was true that I¡¯d become nothing more than a piece of garbage, a foolish whore of a woman that had lost all her virtues because of the sinful desires of a demon in the shape of a man.


    ???????


    ¡°Master?¡± The slave¡¯s voice startled me, causing me to drop the recipient from my hands. Luckily, his quick reflexes allowed him to catch the produce before it shattered on the ground.


    ¡°You can put it in food or mix with any liquid. It has a bit of a flavor to it, so strong tasting ingredients work best.¡± The old woman scratched her hand, eagerly waiting for her rightful payment. My fingers opened a smaller bag, attached to my waistline and handed her six gold coins. ¡°It was a pleasure doing business with you, Miss.¡±


    As we were turning, heading towards the exit, a man with a cart filled with junk passed, almost clashing against us. Flustered, the man lowered his head, apologizing repeatedly. My attention, however, lingered on an extremely rusty mirror filled with dust and dirt.


    ¡°Excuse me.¡± I stopped the man in his tracks before pointing at the item. ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°I guess ten silver coins would suffice, Miss.¡± The man politely stated, confused by my sudden interest.


    It was clear the man was no merchant, and these weren¡¯t exactly his products. They were probably leftovers that were taken to a warehouse to be disposed of in the close future.


    My hands extended one gold coin, giving it to the man. His eyes sparkled with excitement, clearly overwhelmed. In a swift movement, the slave removed the mirror from the cart.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you wish to take anything else, Miss? A gold coin is too much for such trashy item.¡±


    One last time, my eyes glanced through the cart, but nothing else seemed to be worth my time. I shook my head, and we continued on our journey.

 Chapter 31: Glimpse of Affection

    A ten minute walk was all it took for Ophelia and her newly acquired slave to reach the major streets, filled with busy people wandering from one side to the other. The smell of freshly baked bread and juicy grilled meat traveled through the air, forcing the young man to gulp.


    Ophelia stopped in front of the ¡°Bretwell¡¯s¡±, one of the few secluded restaurants in the street. A small bell ringed when they opened the door, allowing the sweet fragrance of cooked rice and tasty vegetables to fill their nostrils.


    Momentarily, some discourteous eyes glared at them, acknowledging their presence before burying themselves in the remaining food on their plates. Men, mostly knights, spoke loudly about their achievements in battle, bragging about their scars as if they were a prize of loyalty. At the back of the room, however, a handful of poorly dressed individuals glared intensely at this display of honor, minds covered in jealous thoughts.


    She sat down at a small table right at the corner of the establishment. ¡°Order anything you¡¯d like.¡±


    Moments later, a friendly server, still in her mid-twenties, lurked out of the central balcony. ¡°Welcome! What would ya like, fellas?¡±


    The slaves¡¯ eyes were immediately drawn to the plates resting on the thick wooden tables scattered around the restaurant, steam pouring out of each one. He gulped.


    ¡°Go ahead.¡± The noble lady reassured him.


    Still rather anxiously, he pointed to the opposite table, where a trio of men drank their beers with some roasted chicken and pearly white rice. The waitress smiled.


    ¡°And for you, Miss?¡±


    Ophelia simply shook her head. She couldn¡¯t bring herself to stomach anything right now, not after remembering what that sample of a demon had done to her body and soul, far too many times to count.


    The slave knew he couldn¡¯t trust this kind stranger but, the more his eyes analyzed her, the thinner she appeared to be, the weaker she sounded like. A strange feeling of restlessness was, undoubtedly, being born within him.


    ¡°You should eat.¡± He said.


    The girl frowned, displeased. ¡°And you should know your place.¡±


    The server arrived and quickly placed the food in front of him before twirling her body back to another table filled with customers. ¡°Enjoy!¡±


    Some moments passed, but the slave¡¯s plate remained untouched.


    ¡°You won¡¯t get any energy from looking at it.¡±


    His eyes were completely blind, as if they considered the food a delicacy from another world, too precious to even dare to swallow. Ophelia¡¯s voice brought him back into reality, allowing his hand to grab the chicken¡¯s leg in one swoop.


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    ¡°What is your name?¡± She questioned, noticing that the environment between them had become lighter.


    ¡°Jade.¡± He stated after taking a big gulp on the large beer.


    Momentarily, he stopped eating. His heart wanted to ask his new master so many things, too many things, but he knew better. He¡¯d already seen it. The thin line separating him, a slave, from her, a noble. How far their social standings really were and what that entailed.


    Hours later, they arrived at the vast green fields surrounding Ashen¡¯s capital. The flow of people had subsided, leaving only a handful of commoners who rode on their stallions, hoping to arrive home before dark.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have many questions.¡± The wind blew softly, the skies darkened, and yet she smiled. ¡°I am Ophelia Criswell, second daughter of Duke Alvin Criswell. Now tell me, Jade, what would you like to know?¡±


    They were both sitting on the ground, allowing the intense smell of nature to fill their nostrils to the brim. The slave observed her calm stance, confused by her unique behaviors.


    A high-ranking noblewoman bought him, fed him, and ordered some handmade clothes for him. Her attitude seemed rather lax, as if her public image was nothing more than a trivial thing. Simultaneously, it didn¡¯t seem like she bought him for nightly duties, but one could never be sure.


    ¡°Why only three years?¡± His eyebrows furrowed down as he waited impatiently for an answer. Was that how long it would take for her to tire of him?


    Ophelia faintly chuckled, understanding the miscommunication at hand. ¡°I will die when I turn eighteen.¡±


    Jade¡¯s eyes widened, partly from the beauty in her pitiful smile, partly from disbelief. A harsh breeze blew, forcing her hood to drop and raven hair to float. Against the warm rays of the setting sun, her color was even more rare. Her crystal eyes glanced at him, numb, unattached, as if her words were simply the truth.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± Deep down the slave knew something was not right, that her words weren¡¯t lies, but he needed to be sure.


    ¡°Because it has happened nine times.¡± Ophelia sighed. ¡°Every time, on the night of my eighteen birthday, a fire breaks out and I die.¡±


    ¡°So that means you...?¡± She nodded, and he gulped down harshly. If this was true, she had burned alive nine times. How was she still sane? ¡°But how is that possible?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know Jade, but it is my fate and in three years, I will die again.¡± Against the remaining sunrays of the day, Ophelia¡¯s pale skin turned warmer, and for the first time, he saw a genuine, yet painful, smile on her lips. No matter how much he tried, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to look away.


    The slave couldn¡¯t think straight, yet his body felt a sudden attachment to the girl, to her lifeless eyes, numbed by pure despair. He wished to protect her, not because of some contract or because she ordered him to.


    Noticing her carriage on the horizon, Ophelia got up and shook off the dirt of her dress to the best of her ability.


    ¡°Jade, you are mine.¡± She lowered her torso, touching the slave¡¯s right cheek. ¡°I won¡¯t treat you wrongly without reason. I will reward your good deeds and protect you from harm. You¡¯ll be able to live freely after I die but, until then, don¡¯t betray me. Your eyes, your ears, your mouth...¡± Her fingers passed through the slave¡¯s lower lip. ¡°Your whole body is mine.¡±


    She straightened herself, a strong breeze forcing her hair to float, shading the remaining rays of the sun. ¡°Devote yourself to me.¡±


    Reactively, Jade placed himself on one knee, gently grabbing her hand. He was no knight, but he knew the costumes of the land. He had seen them many times before.


    ¡°From now on until you die, I shall be yours and yours alone, Master.¡± His dry lips kissed the back of her hand as his hood dropped, allowing his silver hair to sparkle against the light.


    Ophelia ended up frowning, slightly suspicious of his easy devotion.

 Chapter 32: Glimpse of Affection

    Earlier that day, Bradley¡¯s journey to the Criswell¡¯s mansion was quicker than usual as he ordered his coachman to ride as fast as he could. Even then, that greedy man forced him to wait for half an hour in the waiting room as if he was a mere guest.


    ¡°Duke Criswell, you look splendid.¡± Finally, he entered the room, followed by his so ever faithful servants.


    ¡°Thank you, Lord Bradley.¡± Gracefully, he sat down on the couch parallel to the young man¡¯s divan. A polite yet fake smile resting on his lips. ¡°I trust you¡¯ve been well?¡±


    Alvin knew the Trace¡¯s son was unsatisfied with the wedding, anyone could tell just by glancing at him. However, his acting was truly polished, forcing the Duke to doubt his daughter¡¯s judgment, momentarily.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been well; until this morning, that is. I woke up with a terrible migraine.¡± Bradley¡¯s polite expression turned bitter; his emerald eyes sharpened like a sword freshly crafted by a blacksmith. ¡°Might you know anything about it, Duke?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, My Lord?¡± He continued to play the role of a foolish man, as he had always done when necessary. ¡°I thought you¡¯d be thrilled with the good news.¡±


    ¡°Good news? Indeed, it seems Your Grace as yet to hear the news...¡± His voice became icy, forcing a shiver to run down Alvin¡¯s spine. Something was not right. ¡°How is your pottery business coming along? I heard it has flourished in the past months?¡±


    ¡°We are fortunate to have such exceptional employees, you see...¡±


    Bradley quickly interrupted him, creating an extra layer of pressure on his shoulders. ¡°Of course, that is the core of business, isn¡¯t that so?¡± He leaned back on the couch, pridefully. ¡°I¡¯m sure the crown would agree with your work ethics, Duke.¡±


    Reactively, Alvin coughed the tea he was drinking, forcing some runaway drops to land on the low wooden table, standing between them. Nerves ransacked his mind, forcing his hands to tremble slightly.


    ¡°Are you implying something?¡± With a fake, ticking smile, the cordial composure of the Duke crumbled, bit by bit.


    Alvin had been careful, way too careful. No one besides himself and his most trusted servants knew about the scheme; he even got rid of any possible loose ends. He knew none of his people had opened their mouths, so there was only one option left: the documents.


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    There were two notebooks: the one with fake values delivered to the crown, and its twin, with the real revenue, reported directly to the Duke. It was possible he could have accessed the document through the communication route, but how did he know about it in the first place?


    ¡°Of course not. I wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Bradley leaned his body, placing two sugar cubes in his tea. ¡°I¡¯m just worried about your investment, Your Grace. We wouldn¡¯t want your image to be damaged by the greed of some low life now, would we?¡±


    ¡°I guess it is only righteous to thank you for your concern... what would be an appropriate gift?¡± His back was between the sword and the wall.


    The Trace¡¯s son simply smiled. He had that old man right where he wanted. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll know in your heart what I most desire.¡±


    So, I either cancel the engagement or I¡¯ll have the crown on my back, is it...? Alvin placed the teacup on the table, feeling his frustration growing.


    Amanda needed to marry Bradley, just like Ophelia needed to marry Terrel. It was the only way his plan would work. There was no way Amanda would accept switching places with her sister, not when her heart was already set on this noble man.


    The sudden sound of hasted footsteps echoed through the hall before a powerful bang. This was enough to snap the Duke¡¯s absent mind to reality. ¡°Father!¡±


    Amanda entered the room, obnoxiously loud, ungracefully, as she usually did. Spotting her beloved on the couch, her eyes sparkled with anticipation.


    ¡°My dear Amanda, please behave yourself.¡± Understanding how unfiltered his daughter¡¯s feelings were, Alvin attempted to restrain them. He was sure Bradley wouldn¡¯t be pleased if she began having one of her tantrums.


    ¡°Have you heard? They moved our engagement, dear! We¡¯ll be married in just three months!¡± Lacking and tact and awareness, she lumped her body onto the couch, leaning her breasts on the noble¡¯s arm. She knew how to seduce men; she had done so countless times, and this man was the finest of them all, the cherry on top of the cake, the last obstacle to her happiness.


    ¡°Let go.¡± Bradley¡¯s voice rung through her ears, but she simply ignored it. Her grip became tighter, her breasts almost popping out of her dress. ¡°I said, let go.¡±


    She shuddered. His voice was bitter, his eyes were icy. Was this really the Bradley she knew? He looked at her as if she was an eyesore, a woman far below his status, an obnoxious being.


    Immediately, she jumped back, feeling fear crawl down her back, right through her skin. This wasn¡¯t her Bradley. This was someone else, someone she didn¡¯t know, a stranger whose heart embraced darkness, nowhere close to an angel.


    ¡°I hope to hear your reply soon, Duke.¡± Bradley hastily got up without giving a second look to his fianc¨¦, who stood there, sitting on the couch.


    God knew how much the noble had restrained himself not to beat the woman up as he had previously fantasized. Her presence annoyed him far more than anything else in the world.


    People like her are better off dead. Was the only thought in his mind as he returned to his carriage.

 Chapter 33: Family Affair

    Eventually, Bradley arrived at the Wharton¡¯s mansion, yet no one expected him. Servants hastily walked up and down the stairs, running to warn the Duke of the sudden visitor.


    A calm, young looking maid with bright blonde hair, paler than his, approached him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, milord, but her ladyship isn¡¯t here. She went out but told me to deliver this upon your arrival.¡±


    In her hands, a pearly white envelope carrying the scent of roses lingered. Without replying to the maid, he quickly snatched the item from her hands. Quietly, the young girl bobbed her head and left.


    [Lord Bradley,


    I am glad you are finally settling down with my sister. She is so very fond of you.


    Sadly, I am deeply allergic to tea. Just the thought of it makes me nauseous. Forgive me, but I must decline your invitation.


    Have a safe trip home.


    Ophelia Criswell]


    He grabbed the letter strongly, forcing the thin paper sheet to crunch between his fingers. A frustrated laughter left his body. Ophelia... you make me insane...


    ¡°I shall prepare the carriage milord.¡± Bradley¡¯s servant stated, hoping to prove himself useful after noticing how frustrated his master¡¯s expression truly was.


    ¡°Who is going home?¡± He grinned, as if he had already plotted a rather wicked plan on the spot.


    Simultaneously, a servant from the mansion walked down the stairs, stopping right in front of him. ¡°Lord Bradley, Duke Wharton is ready to see you.¡±


    ¡°Lead the way.¡± He politely smiled, anxiously waiting for his rival¡¯s upcoming arrival.


    ???????


    Night started to settle in the land, allowing the green fields to slowly lose their color, becoming one with the darkness surrounding. It wouldn¡¯t be long until the only light source available was the one falling from the rays birthed by the grand moon above.


    ¡°Where are we headed, Master?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m living in the Wharton¡¯s estate, so that¡¯s where we¡¯ll go.¡± He looked at me, clearly confused as to why a noble lady was staying in another family¡¯s house. ¡°I am to wed Terrel Wharton, the Duke¡¯s first son.¡±


    ¡°I see... is he a good man?¡± My eyes widened at his unexpected question.


    A rather awkward laugh left my being, snorting at the possible thought of that man ever possessing something resembling humane. ¡°You cannot call that thing a man. Right now, he is in the palace, but he will rape me once he returns. That¡¯s how much good he has in him.¡±


    The carriage turned silent. Jade was obviously surprised, probably because noblewomen shouldn¡¯t speak so freely about such topics, but there was no roundabout way to say what needed to be said.


    Eventually, he spoke, still threading lightly with his own words. ¡°Did that happen... in your other lives?¡±


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    ¡°Yes.¡± My answer was quick enough to make his eyes widen, completely taken aback. ¡°There is another troublesome man too, Bradley Trace. He is my older sister¡¯s fianc¨¦e.¡±


    ¡°What did he do?¡± Jade was becoming rather comfortable, maybe because in his head this was me opening up, but little did he know that this was merely my rational side taking a stand. There was no need for me to show all my cards, but he should at least know the crucial parts of the game he was going to play in. That was why he was purchased after all.


    ¡°Knowing him, you¡¯ll see soon enough.¡± Deep down, my gut knew he hadn¡¯t left the estate after reading my letter as his pride was far too stubborn for that ¨C like a freaking mule who didn¡¯t know when to give in.


    Even then, Jade¡¯s gaze focused on me, strangely preoccupied. Maybe I should feel honored to have someone harboring such kindhearted feelings for me, to have someone actually worrying if relieving certain memories would cause me to remember pain and despair; however, happiness and gratefulness were far too broken to return.


    Understanding the conversation had grown stale, as my attention gradually moved to the window, seeing the last remaining rays of the day shower the land, Jade¡¯s fists crumbled his shabby trousers, filled with holes and threatening to rip at the slightest movement.


    ¡°I will heed all your commands, Master. I am yours so use me to my fullest potential.¡±


    It was easy to read between the lines of such beautiful words, so all he got in return was a faint smile. This deep care he showed was nothing but cordial, a fake, forced illusion from a man who was nothing more than a tool for my success.


    So, you will do everything, even carry the burdens of murder or listening to my worries, is it?


    ¡°We¡¯ve arrived, milady.¡± At the perfect timing, the coachmen spoke loudly and the light coming from within the mansion peaked through.


    Moments later, the horses stopped galloping, and soon the carriage came to a halt. Jade¡¯s eyes widened when my torso straightened, my expression stiffened, fully embracing the noble mask I had to wear so often.


    ¡°Bradley might be outside. Watch him closely.¡± The click of the lock was heard. ¡°The rest, I¡¯ll leave to your judgment.¡±


    Jade left first and the moment I placed a foot outside, two hands stretched far and wide, hoping to escort me.


    ¡°Master.¡±


    ¡°Lady Ophelia.¡± Bradley ignored the slave¡¯s presence completely, as if he was nothing more than the ghost of a man who once lived. That man was so confident that his attitude came out as cockiness ¨C becoming nothing more than obnoxious at best.


    Without hesitating or even sparing him a glance, my fingers fell on Jade¡¯s hand, making the noble¡¯s attention shift towards the man he had previously failed to acknowledge.


    ¡°And who are you?¡± Annoyed, the nobleman¡¯s eyes voyaged through the slave¡¯s body.


    Yet, none of us replied as we entered the mansion, causing him to disgracefully follow us like a sad puppy, eager to gain some attention from its owner. Jade¡¯s hands let go of mine and took away my cloak before doing the same to his, moments before placing them on Olivia¡¯s hands. The girl blushed slightly ¨C even though he¡¯d seen better days, the slave held quite handsome features.


    ¡°Wash them thoroughly.¡± I told the young maid, who quickly returned to her senses.


    ¡°Shall I prepare a bath? I¡¯m sure it would do wonders after your busy day.¡± She was aloof, but sometimes attentive, always when the moment called for it. Once my head nodded, she rapidly bobbed hers and left towards my chambers.


    ¡°Hey, I¡¯m talking to you.¡± Bradley grabbed Jade¡¯s wrist, being greeted by his haughty glare. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t respond to you.¡±


    ¡°You little...!¡± As things were about to escalate, my hands cupped his, understanding that, with the wounds the slave carried, there was no way he could escape this all by himself.


    ¡°He is my personal guard.¡± I coldly smiled, forcing him to finally let go of Jade¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°If you needed a guard, I could¡¯ve sent one of my own, Lady Ophelia. There was no need to...¡± Clearly this man held in high regard his charm, yet his better judgment seemed to fail him, as if there was a possible competition between a noble and a slave.


    ¡°But that wouldn¡¯t be proper, would it, My Lord?¡± My hands caressed the slave¡¯s cheeks. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m sure none of your guards could be as handsome as my Jade, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°Your bath is ready, milady. Please come this way.¡± Alphie arrived, forcing me to leave the young men to their business. However, as I was about to make a turn at the corridor, a butler from Edgar¡¯s personal batch appeared, escorting Jade to his new chambers while Bradley simple watched our figures disappear - an annoyed tick resting on the sides of his frustrated smile was slowly spreading its domain.

 Chapter 34: Family Affair

    The table was rather quiet, forcing its silence to feel like a giant entity, keeping everyone in check. Jade stood next to the other servants, calmly observing his surroundings, getting used to his new reality. His body was now clean and tidy, as his figure embraced a butler attire borrowed from one of the other workers. At the same time, Bradley ate his meal silently, but his gaze kept on finding mine, almost as if nothing else around him mattered.


    ¡°Who is this man, Ophelia?¡± Duke Wharton broke the silence with the most obvious question, carelessly glaring at the silver-haired man.


    I had bought Jade in complete secrecy, however; such intervention was merely to keep up appearances in front of our guest. Edgar wasn¡¯t dumb and as it stood, most servants were undoubtedly loyal to him ¨C even after bribing the coachmen, he surely told my plans and whereabouts to his master. Otherwise, why would a butler be waiting for us at the entrance?


    ¡°He is my new personal guard, Your Grace.¡± To most, this would be considered a rather rude decision, but it was a matter of great urgency. It was clear I needed to have someone on my side, a man who could protect me and go against Terrel if worst came to worse. Be as it may, that could never be one of Edgar¡¯s men. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for not warning you beforehand. I hope you will forgive your daughter¡¯s selfish wish.¡±


    I bowed, as if truly repenting for such mistake, but he simply laughed. ¡°It is alright, but next time take Martin with you, that area of the capital is quite dangerous for a young lady.¡±


    The knight standing guard at the side of the door straightened up and banged his thick fist onto the armor, as if letting me know he¡¯d comply to any upcoming request of mine. Edgar¡¯s kindness was utterly remarkable, blending into a thin shape of naiveness. How could he possible accept a stranger into his house simply because his future daughter-in-law had brought him? It was far too irrational.


    My attention shifted to the side. Both Mace and Ralph sat across from each other, the youngest on my right. The little boy tried his hardest not to make any mistakes with his food as his small fingers struggled to cut the meal into thin slices. The more I observed, the heavier my chest felt. Their lives did not matter to me, and yet the further their presences sunk on me, the stranger my body became. Could this be... guilt?


    This was Bradley¡¯s fault. His presence forced everyone to be at their best behavior since no one could ignore the presence of a Trace. Yet, as my mind cursed that man with all the rougher words it knew, the dining room doors opened, and Olivia dashed right through moments before catching her feeble breath.


    ¡°Milady! I come with terrible news!¡± Her ordinarily pale skin was flushed from running while her hands held a letter with the Criswell¡¯s crest on it.


    ¡°Calm down, Olivia. What happened?¡± Without being able to speak just yet, she simply stretched her arm, handing me the letter.


    [Dear Ophelia,


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    Amanda has come down with a high fever. She is begging to see you.


    Your sister might not last long.


    Come as soon as you can.


    Your father,


    Alvin Criswell]


    ¡°Burn it.¡± Almost immediately, I returned the letter to her hands.


    ¡°But milady... your sister... she might die!¡± Her voice was higher than normal, as if she was overwhelmed by emotions. She probably thought me to be a coldhearted person, someone who couldn¡¯t begin to care about her sister¡¯s health in the slightest.


    ¡°Remember your place, Olivia.¡± The maid¡¯s body shuddered with the bitter tone in my voice. ¡°Disobey my orders one more time, and you shall get punished accordingly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry, milady!¡± With no hesitation or restraint, she instantly kneeled, begging for forgiveness.


    I could feel it. All the eyes on me, not just from the nobles at the table but from the servants standing on the sidelines. Everyone here knew these words were punishable, unthinkable. She couldn¡¯t get away unscathed, or my presence would become a laughingstock for everyone in the room.


    ¡°What are you sorry for?¡±


    She grew silent for a handful of seconds, unsure of what to reply. ¡°For disobeying your orders, milady.¡±


    ¡°Rise.¡± With gentle taps, the napkin cleaned the corners of my mouth and my body rose, standing right in front of her. Slowly, she straightened her dress, following my movements. ¡°You seem to lack education.¡±


    ¡°Mi...!¡± Before being able to speak her truth, my hand slapped her right cheek. Her widened eyes couldn¡¯t believe what had just transpired.


    The room was dead silent, having only the sound of faint breathing crawling from the bodies inside. She bit down on her bottom lip harshly, her hands grabbing the hem of her dress as she struggled to keep tears at bay. Olivia didn¡¯t wish to show her weaker side, not with so many of her peers watching.


    ¡°If more letters arrive from them, what do you do?¡±


    ¡°Burn them.¡± She answered, nodding and leaving the room as rapidly as she could.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I have to ask for your forgiveness, Your Grace, My Lords.¡± With a gentle bob, my voice tried to be as politely as it could. With the author of the crime gone, gossip flew at an abnormal speed through the servants.


    ¡°Do you have anything to say?¡± I questioned loudly, forcing them to feel a powerful pressure in their words. Of course, they grew quiet. ¡°At least you are wise.¡±


    ¡°I take you know what your decision implied.¡± Edgar cut a large piece of steak, forcing the tableware to clash against the dish, his eyes peeking at me.


    ¡°I am well aware, Your Grace, but I hope you can respect my decision.¡± Burning all the letters would mean that my so-called family could not reach me, in any situation possible. A foreigner member to the Criswell¡¯s household, would be my upcoming title, as if that wasn¡¯t what I¡¯d always been. ¡°Besides, I feel safer here with you, with Father and my Brothers.¡±


    Gently, I grabbed my plate, switching it with Ralph¡¯s. Knowing he hadn¡¯t been able to eat anything as he lacked the strength to cut the stake, my food had already been perfectly shaped just for him. The little boy¡¯s eyes sparkled as he saw me wear a cordial yet kind smile.


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you truly wish.¡± The Duke sighed. He didn¡¯t seem particularly displeased or surprised, but one could see his concern. ¡°I almost forgot. Terrel sent a letter. He is eager to meet you.¡±

 Chapter 35: Family Affair

    My body froze into place. Shivers crawled up and down my spine and my heart blasted as if it was the last man standing in a race with the Gods. The tableware fell onto the table and then bounced onto the floor as the strength in my trembling hands left me. My insides twisted, taking away any appetite that had remained.


    ¡°Are you alright, Ophelia?¡± The Duke questioned, but I could barely talk.


    ¡°My Lady, how about a glass of water?¡± Bradley pushed his drink towards me, bringing me back to reality.


    Suddenly, my body got up, screeching the chair onto the floor. ¡°I seem to be unwell. If you will excuse me, Your Grace, My Lords.¡±


    Hurriedly, I darted out of the dining room, hoping to escape Edgar¡¯s words if not for a moment longer. This time was bound to arrive and even though my soul had been preparing for it, the trauma still felt too vivid. Just hearing that he¡¯d written a letter had been enough to make most of my resolve crumble.


    ¡°Are you alright, Ophelia?¡± I stopped, turned and saw Mace, sweating slightly from running after me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be. Nothing a good night of rest won¡¯t heal, My Lord.¡± My eyes glanced to anything around me, everything but him as he¡¯d be able to see the truth hidden behind the melting layers of my worries. He saw through my lie, he had to. ¡°If you¡¯ll excuse me.¡±


    Hastily, I headed towards my chambers, leaving Mace stranded in the hallway. The door closed behind me with a loud thud and my fingers turned the key until it refused to move any further. Leaning my back into the wooden door frame, my body fell straight onto the floor. My reflection in the tall mirror in front of me was not my own.


    Beaten. Bruised. Used. All the scars came back in a glimpse, rooting deeply into my soul.


    Tears slowly blurred my vision forcing me to bite down on my bottom lip strongly.


    I couldn¡¯t cry. I couldn¡¯t scream. I couldn¡¯t remove his face out of my brain.


    Meow.


    Nero popped from under the bed, rubbing his head in my legs as his sleek tail slithered into my thighs, playfully purring. My fingers approached the creature¡¯s soft fur, petting it in slow movements. ¡°Of course, you¡¯re here...¡±


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    Footsteps and voices approached the door. ¡°Are you alright, milady? May we come inside?¡±


    Understanding my moment of peace had come to an end, my hands leaned on the door and my body rose. Rapidly, my fingers swiped away the tears and smacked the dress, taking away the momentary crumble from the cotton fabric. With two turns of the key, the door unlocked.


    ¡°Milady...¡± Alphie wished to speak, but she said nothing more.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to rest.¡±


    ¡°Of course, I¡¯ll get your nightgown.¡± As the maid searched for my attire in the closet, other maids started to enter the room, making preparations for my upcoming night. With them, Jade came, slyly placing himself behind me, his figure quiet enough to blend in with the busy environment surrounding us.


    ¡°Jade, you¡¯ll need to carry two people from now on.¡± I whispered, preventing the busy bees from eavesdropping.


    ¡°Yes, Master.¡± And with that, he bobbed his head and left, knowing that continuously staying in my chambers was pushing his luck.


    Once the maids finished their business, the bed sheets had been spread open and the moon already shun brightly onto its intense paleness. I was finally alone, and both my mind and body had now regained its calm, rational selves.


    Why would the Duke want me to come back? Was the first thought that passed through my head.


    After leaving to the Wharton¡¯s, that man neglected me, never once caring for my well-being nor responding to any of my letters. None of them cared for me. And yet, I had received that rather peculiar message.


    Had his plans gone astray? Or was it really true? Was Amanda truly sick, ill, without being able to survive?


    Certainly, that would explain why he wished my return, but even then, something was odd. No matter how one saw it, Amanda wouldn¡¯t beg to see me on her deathbed, in fact, she would definitely avoid seeing me at all costs. It was true that some people find their peace and repent with the face of the Grim Reaper but my sister wasn¡¯t one of them.


    Could she have been poisoned? Another possibility, not too far from a hypothetical reality. The daughter of a Duke as a position many aim to attain or to steal for themselves, but she wasn¡¯t involved in many scandals, unless her beloved fianc¨¦e was called upon.


    I glanced towards the windows, feeling my body sink into the freshly washed sheets. No matter how hard my mind tried to twist the scenario, there was only one variable that was unsettling: Bradley Trace.


    It was the sole explanation. That man¡¯s interest seemed to be undying, and that was a threat to the Duke¡¯s plans and so, to him, my presence had now become an obstacle. With the sheets crumbling between my fingers, anger boiled in my bones. That perky brat had now upgraded his status from an eyesore to a problem that needed to be revoked from my life.

 Chapter 36: Ancient Lullaby

    As Bradley left, hours prior still in the Criswell¡¯s estate, Amanda was in a state of complete disbelief, not comprehending what had just transpired before her very eyes. And even then, Alvin seemed too focused to explain anything to her.


    ¡°Father... What happened to him!?¡± Her obnoxious voice echoed through the room, but his mind had wandered off somewhere far more obscure, far more wicked.


    He¡¯d grown worried about the current situation; how could everything have gone astray? For many years, he¡¯d been so detailed with all his plans, always setting up the pieces of the game so tidily, using each paw to its fullest potential. And now, everything was falling into ruin ¨C all because of that cursed kid.


    His plans to be the first noble to reach the lost status of Grand-Duke had started generations ago, since his ancestors gained the Dukedom. However, all the previous kings wished to keep the nobles at bay, battling each other for something that was but a mere hope, thus, no high-noble ever received the title. But he was cunning, and he was smart.


    He knew if his contributions to the kingdom were great enough to be acknowledged by the citizens, most nobles and the royal family itself, the king would have no other choice than to bestow the highest honor, the most wanted title to the most deserving man.


    Such plan had been set into motion years before his children¡¯s birth; the day Alvin¡¯s greed had become higher than the humanity in his heart. He¡¯d realized that to support his claims he needed allies, men of power that could back him, willingly or forcefully.


    Frustration on his first daughter¡¯s birth turned into a pleasurable desire, as years made her fairer. He had no son to carry his name, but his daughters were beautiful enough to marry other heirs, securing simple control of other houses with their influence. That was why he¡¯d invited, on a wonderful Blistering afternoon, Carlyle Trace and his wife, for a cup of tea. Being attracted to pretty things, Amanda saw young Bradley, losing her heart to nothing more than an illusion.


    Once the bait settled, a strange rumor circulated through the capital, extending far and wide to all other duchies. The Angel of the Kingdom was the nickname Alvin created for the most beautiful yet unattainable bachelor: the one no maiden could ever possess as his being was far too holy to stain. Even then, some more resilient families continued to attempt their luck, but they ended up backing away once their businesses became threatened by Alvin¡¯s powerful social presence.


    If Duke Trace hadn¡¯t invested in some mines in the northern area, both parties would already be wed and none of this would have happened. They stopped talking for months and yet, just when he returned, Ophelia had meddled like an annoying brat.


    What did she do...? Harshly, he grabbed his knees, tightening his grip on his stinging articulations ¨C a cursed gift carelessly given by time.


    Alvin had heard the whispers regarding his daughter¡¯s change of personality, but he didn¡¯t want to believe it. Even when Vanessa and Penny came begging at his door for mercy, he didn¡¯t want to accept such words as a reality. He had raised her to be obedient, the perfect pawn. And yet, she appeared to be working against his desires.


    Everything was part of the plan, even that brat¡¯s engagement with Terrel. The Duke had invited Edgar and knowing how much he yearned for a daughter; he showed off Ophelia from afar as she sat in the garden, pitifully so. Almost instantly, a wound in his heart healed, and soon, the verbal promise of engagement was formed.


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    I wanted to announce the engagement after her debut*... That had been his original plan but, somehow, it didn¡¯t develop as it should. Wait... could she have done it on purpose!?


    ¡°Father! Are you listening?¡± Amanda continued to relay her frustrations to her mentally exhausted parent.


    ¡°Shut up! You ungrateful child!¡± The last strand of patience within the Duke¡¯s soul snapped, forcing his body to jump out of the divan and hit his daughter¡¯s cheek again. The girl¡¯s eyes shimmered, tears beginning to pour out. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Amanda, let Father think for a moment.¡±


    Alvin sighed. Ophelia had just left the mansion. She didn¡¯t know how to read or write; she knew nothing. It was impossible for her to concoct such a well-thought plan.


    Amanda needed to marry Bradley. She wouldn¡¯t be able to withstand Terrel¡¯s torture. He didn¡¯t prepare her to; however, the perfect pawn, his second child, was a different story. She would bear any abuse as she yearned for acceptance, for any type of love.


    Feeling slightly more relaxed, he grabbed Amanda¡¯s arm, helping her up. Slowly, they both sat down on the couch. ¡°I think he¡¯s simply stressed. He just told me how hard things have been in the northern mines...¡±


    ¡°Stop lying, Father! I know this is about that wench!¡± Amanda¡¯s tears overflew as her bottled up emotions uncontrollably poured out. ¡°It¡¯s her! It has to be her!¡±


    A migraine formed in the Duke¡¯s body, born from his daughter¡¯s obnoxiously loud crying. The moment he was about to sip a bit of the tea, hoping to relief some of his pain, an idea came to mind.


    ¡°Of course! How come I didn¡¯t think of this before?¡±


    Confused, Amanda sobs stopped, struggling to understand what was happening. ¡°What...?¡±


    ¡°My dear, we simply have to trap her until your marriage.¡±


    The girl frowned, suspicious of such a sketchy plan. ¡°How will we do that, Father? There¡¯s no way she will come here willingly.¡±


    ¡°Amanda, dear, you look pale. Don¡¯t you feel unwell?¡± His hand touched the girl¡¯s cheeks, forcing her to turn reflectively. Her muscles were still sore from the impact they had suffered moments before.


    ¡°But what if she doesn¡¯t come?¡±


    The room grew quiet, a strange coldness lingering in the air. Alvin¡¯s expression was stiff yet emotionless. ¡°Problems ought to be disposed of.¡±


    A shiver ran down the girl¡¯s spine. Is father going to kill Ophelia? Even though she¡¯s his daughter?


    She hated her sister and knew that their father shared the same feelings as her. He had always blamed her for Lilith¡¯s death, but this... was entirely different. Amanda thought about killing her sister, but those were simply wicked thought that would never come true. And yet, her father¡¯s stern expression gave away the most shrouded thoughts of his soul - he was completely serious.


    She must take after her deceased mother. She had a bad habit of spending money impulsively. That was the Duke¡¯s answer to Bradley¡¯s question.


    Words from older times rung in her head, clear as the light of the sun. She recalled the disgust in her father¡¯s tone; the repulsion hidden behind his sugar-coated words.


    This hatred... is it truly because of mother...? The more she analyzed it, the worst she felt. Amanda¡¯s gut kept on telling her something wasn¡¯t right; that father never loved mother. Her expression gradually turned paler as an imminent fear grew inside her, each moment closer to her core.


    Alvin placed his warm hand on her forehead. ¡°Dear, are you alright?¡±


    She simply nodded with a forced smile on her lips. Except for the times she overdid it, Duke Criswell was always kind, giving in to every craving she had, fixing every problem she created. And, just like that, the thoughts that once haunted her mind became nothing, but some rummaged memories that soon fell into oblivion.


    *Debut: An appearance in a particular capacity; in this case is when young maidens present themselves into society as marriage prospects.

 Chapter 37: Ancient Lullaby

    Back in the Wharton¡¯s estate, night had settled in. Ophelia laid on her side, observing the bright moonlight falling on the floor, courtesy of the beautiful full moon. Faint dust particles flew in the air, mimicking minor sparkles who would soon dissipate, becoming one with the carpet covering the floor.


    The young lady¡¯s soul was restless, anxious about the sudden changes in Alvin¡¯s behavior. Her eyes felt heavy, but her mind was in the middle of a waltz, twirling and dancing around uncontrollably, forcing her to remain awake.


    It wasn¡¯t unusual for minor changes to happen in her lives, but never once had that man demanded her return. She knew how dangerous the Duke could be, how he would stop at nothing to achieve his goals. In fact, she¡¯d seen it firsthand.


    Clarity struck her, forcing her eyes to suddenly close. The moon had moved.


    Swiftly, she pulled the bedsheets away sitting on the bed. She knew what she had to do. If she remained in the bliss of ignorance, her plan would go to ruins, thus, it was imperative to find out what that man had in store.


    What was his ultimate plan? Why was she an obstacle to it? And how could she change it?


    Her train of thoughts stopped when the clashing sound of a sword voyaged inside the room. As she tiptoed towards the window, the sounds became far sharper, higher. Jade was training in the back garden. His hands carried a metal sword, usually used for practice.


    That stupid boy... Leaving Nero curled up at the end of the bed, Ophelia grabbed her coat and exited the room, hurrying downstairs.


    The garden was completely empty, allowing only the rather annoying melody of cicadas to echo through the trees, and a chilly breeze blew, forcing the leaves to rattle, communicating between one another.


    Reaching the back area of the house, she stopped. Jade was shirtless, practicing with a sword he had borrowed from the guards¡¯ training grounds. The moonlight shone brightly upon his body, allowing his pearlescent hair to glimmer as if he was one with the night, as if he was a moon fairy who had blessed the land with its presence. Sweat drops fell on his back and weak arms, hitting the floor from the harsh swings his body created.


    Ophelia frowned. His figure had deep wounds, scars, bruises, which would take weeks to heal. Every time he moved, he flinched, as if the movements were causing him an abnormal amount of pain. Even then, they were precise and strong, as if he had been a swordsman all his life.


    A hint of guilt clouded her stony heart. Was she forcing him to go through another traumatic experience again? The deep scars around his neck, ankles and wrists had just started to heal, and yet, here he was, forcing his body to the limit.


    ¡°Jade, what are you doing?¡± Hearing her voice made him shudder. He wasn¡¯t expecting her to be awake.


    Slowly, he turned his body. Ophelia was in a beige nightgown, light and flowy, almost as pale as her skin, holding a thick pink blanket. Against the light of the moon, her bodily shape could be seen. Reactively, he averted his eyes, cheeks and ears completely flushed.


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    ¡°I¡¯m training, Master.¡± Were the only words he spat out.


    ¡°Training is important, but so is resting. You won¡¯t be able to save me if you¡¯re exhausted.¡± She sighed.


    It was true Jade was far from fit. His body was underweight due to several months of starvation, but that wasn¡¯t something some months of training, healing and eating couldn¡¯t fix. There was no rush, at least not yet.


    The slave glanced at her, a pained expression on his face. An expression she had seen way too many times before. In his head, right now, he was nothing but a useless creature; something he desperately wanted to change.


    ¡°When was the last time you had a good night of sleep?¡± Her words were calm, gentle even.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember...¡± He mumbled.


    ¡°So, it¡¯s not that you don¡¯t want to sleep, it¡¯s more like, you can¡¯t sleep...¡±


    His eyes widened. How did she understand his situation with three simple words?


    Insomnias had chased him from a young age, but they became worse after leaving his village. Years had gone by and the times he actually slept were because the body demanded it. Sadly, they never lasted more than a handful of hours here and there.


    ¡°Come here.¡± Ophelia sat on the cold grass, leaning her back against the truck of a tree. The slave looked at her, dumbfounded. ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself.¡± Her voice was harsher now.


    Still reluctant, he approached her, sitting right by her side. The slave glanced at her, to her crystal clear eyes, filled with too many weights, too many worries.


    In a single day, he had seen her resolve. How she handled those who disrespected her, how she kept her enemies at bay, how she controlled the environment around to her will. And yet, he also saw her demons. How she ran to her chambers with the mention of his name, how she cried in desperation behind closed doors, how she resolutely accepted her death as a destined truth.


    ¡°Lay here.¡± Her right-hand tapped a comfortable looking lap.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t do something like that, Master... I-...¡± Noticing her glare, he gulped. Nervously, he laid his head on her legs as gently as possible. His eyes widened when he felt the blanket cover his body and her hand reaching over his head, patting it softly in methodical movements.


    ¡°You know... Mother used to sing for me every night.¡± An intense sadness embraced her nostalgic tone, but he didn¡¯t dare to look, to see the sorrow on her face. ¡°She used to say it keeps nightmares away.¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°She died.¡± It seemed like she didn¡¯t intend to pursue the conversation further.


    ¡°She must¡¯ve been a wonderful mother.¡± Unconsciously, Jade made one last statement. His sweat had now dried up while his heart rate was slow, monotone even.


    As the moon bathed them with its cold light, Ophelia sang a beautiful lullaby, one of her mother¡¯s favorites. Its words carried the weight of the ancestor¡¯s messages, as they attempted to teach us the righteous path by showing the darkness that lurked in everyone¡¯s hearts.


    The song was a tale about a young boy whose powerful magic God himself had blessed; however, because of such power, Demons had cursed him to live for eternity. He was a pitiful kid, who watched all his beloved ones perish in the hands of time, one by one. Drowned in sorrow, he went on a rampage, killing many until powerful mages sealed his power away. The boy who had by now become a man cried in pure joy, as they had finally freed him from the dreadful curse.


    A beautiful story created by the creativity of humans; lies, to teach kids to be afraid of the unknown, of magic, of demons and to remain humble, good and kind. Without noticing, her singing had awoken Nero, who now sat on the window ledge, staring down at the couple from above.


    As she continued to sing, lullaby after lullaby, patting Jade¡¯s head gently, the wind continued to pleasantly blow, almost as if intending to send her voice to all the pained souls lost in the deep, cold, and dark night.

 Chapter 38: Holding the Puppet Strings

    <div>


    During the dinner, Bradley¡¯s attention focused fully on Ophelia as she gracefully cut her steak into small pieces. He still struggled to understand how this woman affected him so; why he spent so many hours of his day simply thinking of her.


    Abruptly, a maid entered the room, forcing the present nobles to shudder, surprised by such drastic development. Ophelia, however, remained unfazed, her knife cutting the meat precisely. A letter from the Criswell¡¯s had arrived. Of course, that was to be expected. There was no way Alvin would allow Bradley¡¯s demands to come true. It was rather... predictable.


    ¡°Burn it.¡± The room almost gasped in unison. Had they heard it correctly?


    ¡°But milady...! Your sister, she... she might die!¡± The maid¡¯s voice was loud, impertinent. From her words alone, some might think she was the noble in this house.


    No servant would treat Ophelia with such disrespect. At least not in front of him. But, as he was about to intervene, he stopped, his heart completely frozen.


    ¡°Remember your place.¡± Her icy voice penetrated Bradley¡¯s soul with the words he had heard all his life. Seeing her there, standing proudly, gracefully, coldly, above everyone else, just gave birth to desires far more wicked in his heart. An ecstatic shiver ran down his spine.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry milady!¡± The maid kneeled, begging for her life. Would Ophelia truly let it slide?


    ¡°Rise.¡± She stated moments before slapping the disobedient maid. Her light skin turned red from the powerful impact. ¡°You seem to lack education.¡±


    The more he observed her, the further his interest grew, the deeper these strange feelings became. It was now clear Ophelia was more than she showed as she glared at the maid like a rat instead of a human being. Her heart was wicked, vicious, and yet she wore her mask perfectly, just like him.


    Eventually, the conversation continued to flow. Fulfilling the paper of a kind older sister, she switched her plate with Ralph¡¯s, who struggled to cut the food properly. Even then, no matter how many topics Bradley pulled, she kept on neglecting his presence.


    ¡°I almost forgot, Terrel sent word. He is very eager to meet you.¡± Edgar declared loudly, almost as if asserting dominance.


    As he sat across from her, Bradley¡¯s eyes widened. Ophelia looked terrified, on the verge of spilling a river of tears; her skin paler than a ghost, as if she had just witness the murder of a beloved one; the tableware in her hands trembled, rather aggressively. What was going on?


    Accidentally, her strength failed, forcing the tableware to fall. Quickly, yet messily, she hid her hands beneath the table. Everyone grew quiet. Mace looked at her pitifully, as if he knew such demons; Ralph tilted his head, slightly confused as to what was happening, and the Duke was simply worried, thinking she might be experiencing an indigestion.


    Bradley, however, knew that look. Something had happened, and Terrel Wharton was to blame. The more he looked at her in that pitiful state, the heavier the world felt, the tighter his chest became.


    ¡°Have some water.¡± After offering her his glass, he found himself surprised. Why did he do it?


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    ¡°I seem to be unwell, if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± She regained her senses and quickly left the room, rushing towards the door.


    Both Mace and Bradley got up simultaneously. They wanted to go meet her, to see how she was doing. How could they possibly let her go in that state?


    ¡°Lord Bradley.¡± Edgar¡¯s firm voice forced Bradley to stop in his tracks. ¡°I would like to discuss some matters further...¡±


    ¡°Is Lia alright, Father?¡± Ralph questioned.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she is.¡±


    Annoyed, Bradley sat back down as Mace ran after her. He knew the Duke had done this on purpose and from the icy look in his eyes; it seemed as if the real motives for the young man¡¯s presence in the Wharton¡¯s estate had already been discovered.


    ???????


    The day after Lady Catherine¡¯s ball, Blake Virden found himself stamped with requests from noble families. Most of them asking permission to open new businesses in the capital, as if such thrived with the prodigal son¡¯s return from the war.


    ¡°Aldrich, bring me a cup of tea.¡± The prince leaned back in his chair after taking a deep breath. He had just pulled another all-nighter, again.


    The caramel-haired man returned to the room holding a tray filled with the finest teaware. The gentle aroma of chamomile tea traveled through the small space, embracing the prince¡¯s senses. In some moments, a teacup had been placed on the desk, steam floating out of it, like Frosting clouds.


    ¡°Fate is changing, Your Highness.¡± Those were the words Lady Catherine had told him the day before. She was a smart woman who spoke in riddles, forcing her messages to have many meanings.


    Suddenly, a memory came to the prince¡¯s mind. ¡°Who was that girl?¡±


    Aldrich pondered, indecisive about what to reply. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Your Grace, but who might you be thinking about?¡±


    Prince Blake had a handful of servants he trusted; however, Aldrich was the only one with a deeper bond, an unbreakable connection. The commoner had risen to the prince¡¯s aide position through merit alone, thus; he treasured Blake above everyone else. He knew that, from the royal family, his master was the righteous one to guide Ashen to greater heights, but even if his loyalty ran deep, he still needed to be mindful of his position.


    Nobles knew the stories about The Blood Prince, about the devil that escaped Blasphemy and took a human form. Neither of them had seen the true prince, the true ruler of the land.


    ¡°Yesterday, that girl with the crimson hair and that awful attitude.¡± One could sense the disgust in his tone.


    Aldrich¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Oh! That was Amanda Criswell, first daughter of Duke Alvin Criswell, Your Grace.¡±


    The aide couldn¡¯t hide his temporary happiness. Could the young woman have stricken the prince¡¯s fancy? If she did, their marriage was easily attainable, and Blake would gain a vigorous supporter on his fight for the throne: Alvin.


    ¡°The Criswell¡¯s...¡± The prince clicked his tongue, displeased, right before dismissing Aldrich, who left quietly, disappointed by the shattering of his short-lived dreams. It wasn¡¯t the beginning of a love, instead, it was the birth of a new nemesis.


    The nobles are looking down on us. He thought. In Blake¡¯s mind, the events from that night were still vivid. Just the fact that the girl had no idea how the crown prince looked like was disrespectful enough.


    ¡°Maybe we should tighten their restraints to remind them of who owns them.¡± A wide, wicked grin popped on the prince¡¯s lips.


    Ever since his father, the king, had gotten severely ill, most nobles and aristocrats* were slacking on their duties; some even foolishly tried to deceive the crown. Not even the most prestigious doctors knew what illness had stricken the king but, because of such an event, these blue-blooded* people thought they were the owners of Ashen. Blake despised most powerful families as they were all rotten on the inside, fucked up in some weird way.


    *Aristocrats: New nobles. In other words, commoners who had just received a noble title, in that same generation or one or two ago.


    Blue-Blooded: A person of noble birth.


    <div>

 Chapter 39: Holding the Puppet Strings

    <div>


    ¡°Lady Catherine has arrived, Your Highness.¡± Aldrich stated on the other side of the door.


    ¡°Let her in.¡± As his words flew, the woman entered the room.


    Someone probably imbued the aromatic scent of cinnamon in her long and voluptuous light magenta dress. Her curly hair cascaded down, mimicking a chocolate fountain; however, the abnormal amount of make-up in her skin made her seem far younger than she truly was. A cunning fox masquerading as a noble.


    ¡°Glory upon the royal family who guides and provides.¡± Her hands caught the hem of the skirt, pulling a golden silk attached to the bottom upwards. ¡°Your Highness, I am truly honored for your invitation.¡±


    Her almond-shaped green eyes looked far more exhausted than usual, as if she had spent an entire week awake; however, her cherry-colored lips were glossy, provocative, just as debutants use them. Catherine was in her mid-forties, but her charm could easily make any man¡¯s heart skip a beat.


    ¡°Leave us.¡±


    Once the servants exited the room, Aldrich included, Catherine sat on the divan across the room. ¡°This is the first time you¡¯ve invited me to your study, Your Highness. Have I, perhaps, truly taken your heart captive?¡±


    Her teasing words gave her enough time to analyze the space closely. Books rested on the floor, messily, without class, and a bunch of papers rose on the desk. From the titles, it seemed like prince Blake had been doing his homework on the noble families and their activities.


    ¡°What did you mean by that?¡± Blake sat down right in front of her. Of course, he wasn¡¯t referring to her provocation.


    ¡°You¡¯re no fun, you know?¡± Her hands opened the bright red fan she carried on a small pouch, forcing the grin on her lips to be covered. The prince¡¯s bluntness did not surprise her, in fact, that was one of his many charms.


    Catherine was from a fallen noble house who had, miraculously, regained its prestige after Edith, her elder sister, became a concubine for the current king, achieving the ranking of royal consort* in just a handful of months. This was one of the mysteries within high society since no one could find any explication and, the unlucky who found any clues, miraculously disappeared, without a trace.


    Being older, she knew what type of man Blake was. The noble lady had him in his little finger, twirling around as she wished; however, the same went for the prince, whose power over her was far too grand, far too opposing.


    Lust and Hate. Their relationship was unusual for sure, like two delusional partners in crime, who were too centered in their ideals to see the bigger picture.


    ¡°You see Prince, some rumors are floating around... do you know Ophelia Criswell?¡± Catherine placed her hands right on top of her knees, smiling strangely politely.


    ¡°I know her sister.¡± He frowned, feeling like the lady was keeping the information for too long. ¡°Isn¡¯t that girl the cursed child of the Criswell¡¯s? Wasn¡¯t she stuck in the mansion because of an illness?¡±


    ¡°Everyone knows about Lilith¡¯s tragic death and how her illness passed to her daughter, but did you know... Ophelia seems to be quite fine.¡± Catherine¡¯s eyes turned into two upside down moons, pleased with the feeling of trapping Blake¡¯s interest in her sticky webs. ¡°She is even to  wed Terrel Wharton when she comes of age...¡±


    ¡°Get to the point, Catherine.¡±


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    ¡°Fine, fine... the young girl was in my ball yesterday and it was quite a sight to see... the maiden refused the Trace¡¯s advances publicly.¡± At her words, Blake¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°In fact, she managed to put him in a very... sophisticated situation.¡±


    The prince couldn¡¯t believe the woman¡¯s words. A 15-year-old, who had lived in a mansion all her life, refused the advances from the most wanted bachelor? She even trapped him? And it was not any noble, no. The Trace¡¯s, the wealthiest, most cunning and worst family in the kingdom. What exactly was going on?


    Whenever the crown placed the Trace¡¯s back against the wall, they would cut the supply of their granaries, leave most of the lower classes to their demise. Starvation, chaos and then false propaganda, stating the crown was to blame for their misery.


    Even now, their influence continued to grow. Carlyle kept on investing in many businesses, especially in other noble¡¯s territories. That was the first step in his plan to monopolize the entire market in the kingdom.


    ¡°And that¡¯s not all. Our little flower appears to be more interested in a Marquess son than in the Angel.¡± Noticing Blake¡¯s impatience, she continued. ¡°Layton Verne, that cowardly kid, is now on good terms with her, or so it seems.¡±


    Marquess Verne. Another man whose influence the crown could not ignore. They made their living off shady businesses, making fortunes selling illegal items and using their port city to pass them inside the kingdom. They were aristocrats, having only achieved the title two generations ago, but their influence was not to be ignored.


    ¡°Catherine, are you telling me that a girl who has lived fifteen years in seclusion has her hands around Bradley and Layton?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, Your Grace, but that isn¡¯t all, by far!¡± At this point, the noble lady¡¯s eyes became tainted with excitement as the pleasure of adrenaline flew through her veins. ¡°The girl hates her family so much she threatened to kill her sister with a broken champagne glass...! Isn¡¯t that genius?¡±


    This woman was special. She had a keen eye for different things, for unique humans, she called them. Catherine loved to see bizarre flowers bloom to their full potential and, as far as she could see, Ophelia was a rose waiting to be nurtured into greatness. The Black Rose was the nickname that voyaged through the nobles, courtesy of her unknown gardener, of course.


    The prince was too stunned to speak. He knew her words usually rung true, but wasn¡¯t this all a bit too much? Only a handful of people knew Catherine had thousands of eyes working under her, lurking in the shadows, learning all the noble¡¯s dirty deeds. An information network ready to expose secrets with the click of a finger.


    ¡°If you¡¯re lying...¡±


    ¡°I am not.¡± Her face grew stern. ¡°That girl is a natural disaster waiting to happen if not tamed properly, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you suggest we do? Lock her up? Kill her?¡± None of these pleased Blake¡¯s heart.


    ¡°Marry her. She would be a magnificent piece to use against the nobles and I assure you, she will please your tastes.¡± Catherine smirked, seeing the troubled expression on her partner¡¯s face.


    ¡°Is that a certainty?¡± His haughty glare made the noble woman sigh. He knew his decisions carried extra weight so none could be taken with a faint heart, and he didn¡¯t wish to get married, not when there were too many uncertainties lingering around.


    She shook her head. ¡°I can¡¯t say that is it yet.¡±


    ¡°I take I will be the first to know.¡± Catherine grinned, seeing how relaxed the prince had become. ¡°Now leave.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Your Highness.¡±


    In just a couple of moments, the noble lady exited the room, leaving only the intense smell of cinnamon behind as a souvenir. He got up and headed towards the large window, pushing the curtains to the side. Sun rays shun from above, enlightening the written words on the paper sheets resting on his desk.


    ¡°Ophelia Criswell...¡± Unconsciously, Blake mumbled her name.


    He couldn¡¯t help being curious about such a woman. Somehow, she had tied down three different houses as if they had become bewitched. But Catherine was right. If these relationships were true, Ophelia could become a powerful social weapon for the chosen one.


    His mind was restless. Someone had added a new card into the game, an unpredictable, appealing, captivating new card; just like the Joker, whose existence itself made some players shudder.


    ¡°Let¡¯s watch for now...¡± Seeing Catherine leave the front gate, the prince closed the curtains, sealing away the warmth of the sun outside.


    <div>


    *The King¡¯s Harem was divided into four categories: Queen; Royal Consorts; Royal Concubines; Ladies of the King.

 Chapter 40: If I Must

    <div>


    In the next morning of the dreaded news came to be, of that man¡¯s awful letter, my eyes opened in my bed, startled by one of the maids, Olivia. They glanced around the room just to see Jade was nowhere to be found.


    It seems I have made a good choice indeed... A faint chuckle left me, realizing he had moved me back to the chambers before dawn erasing suspicion from anyone who might intend to pry.


    ¡°Would you like a bath, milady?¡± Alphie approached, wearing a kind smile on her lips and I simply nodded, allowing a yawn to leave my rather exhausted body afterwards.


    Inside the warm tub, relaxation ensued, as my body sunk into the thick porcelain. My muscles quickly dove into the water allowing the steam to cause some faint sweat drip from the open pores. The water was hotter than usual. I took a glance at Olivia, who quietly scrubbed my arms, afraid to make another mistake.


    ¡°Olivia, I need to ask you something.¡±


    ¡°Yes, milady?¡± Her forced smile barely twitched. She was nervous but tried to conceal it with a strong, happy front.


    ¡°Who told you my sister was sick?¡± I still remembered the letter she had brought me, completely sealed, meaning it was impossible for the maid to have read through its contents beforehand. So how could she know exactly what had been written?


    ¡°The man who delivered it told me. He said I should try to make you return since your sister is at death¡¯s door.¡± The maid bit down on her bottom lip. ¡°I just didn¡¯t want you to regret not seeing your family before it happened... I¡¯m sorry, milady.¡±


    Rising out of the bathtub, they covered my body with a pale towel. ¡°I understand.¡±


    A strange, unknown uneasiness grew within. Something was bound to happen soon as there was no way Alvin would let me slide away with such ease.


    Suddenly, someone knocked, and a maid rapidly headed to the door just to come back moments later. ¡°Milady, it¡¯s Lord Mace. He says he has urgent news.¡±


    With a nod, the maids hurried, having me prepared for the sudden morning meeting in just a handful of minutes. However, much to everyone¡¯s surprise, once Mace entered the room, a ghostly expression resided on his face.


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    ¡°Good morning, My Lord.¡± I bowed. ¡°What brings you here this morning?¡±


    ¡°Ophelia... Terrel sent another letter... he wants you to visit the capital next week.¡±


    A shiver ran down my spine, forcing my skin to crawl back on its own. Luckily, yesterday¡¯s shock had passed, and my soul come to terms with its fate ¨C at some point in time, we¡¯d have to face the music.


    Forcing a pleased expression, a cordial smile spread across my lips. ¡°It will be my pleasure to visit him. We shall sort out the details as soon as possible.¡±


    It took some days, but the date of our encounter ended up being decided. Part of me was anxious, terrified even, to face him, but it was something that ought to be done.


    How would I react to him? To his voice? To his touch? When we met, my reactions were always different. Sometimes, fear would take over, preventing me from moving a muscle; others I would turn completely numb, as if overwhelmed by no feelings at all.


    As the sun bathed my pale skin, the indistinct sound of a wooden sword blended with the rattling of the leaves. I opened my eyes to see Jade, sweat dripping from his pores, falling straight into mother nature. His figure had already changed, shifting from bones and skin to some muscular fat here and there. He swung the sword, hitting a tree with a smile on his lips - one not born from happiness but from improvement, from ambition, from a purpose.


    Loud sounds of tableware and servants talking caught my attention. Approaching a tall tree not far from where we stood while covering my figure partially, my gaze took a glimpse at the mansion.


    A new servant? The shape of an unknown man clumsily dashed towards Edgar¡¯s study while carrying several teacups on a silver platter. Even from afar, one could tell he hadn¡¯t been a butler for long.


    However, the moment he left the room, I shuddered, reactively hiding myself behind the living wood. That face belonged to the one of a man my mind knew far too well. Noticing he had gone to the central kitchen, my knees faltered causing me to fall straight onto the grass. Surely, he hadn¡¯t seen me.


    That tanned skin, those dark sadistic eyes, that short light brown hair and that thick, monstrous beard. Such face was carved deeply in my memories, in my body.


    ¡°Master?¡± Noticing my uneasiness, Jade rushed to my side. ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Gilbert Averton.¡± I mumbled his name, clenching my fists onto the ground, ripping some of the green plants in the process. Worried, the slave touched my arm, waking me up from dreadful memories. ¡°Jade... you¡¯ll stay in my room starting tonight.¡±


    He blushed, completely misreading the situation. ¡°But Master that¡¯s...¡±


    For a glimpse of a moment, my head lurked through the trunk, hoping to catch another piece of that presumptuous expression that murderer wore so well. ¡°I think... someone might want me dead.¡±

 Chapter 41: If I Must

    ¡°Who?¡± His eyes widened, not expecting such an outcome while his tone turned bitter. Seeing him again made a rush of adrenaline flow through my spine as the typical foolish expression has dissipated into a stern, resolute one, brimming with confidence and determination.


    ¡°There.¡± Carefully, my finger rose in the air just to point at the clumsy man carrying a big sack of vegetables into the pantry. ¡°That butler is a professional assassin. He killed me once before, so if he¡¯s here... someone hired him to commit murder.¡±


    His attention shifted back to me, as he kindly wrapped his arms around my waist, helping me up. I leaned into the tree, observing that annoying cunt chatting happily with one of the young maids, probably flirting just to get some intel from places man couldn¡¯t reach.


    But something felt wrong.


    Why was he here?


    Who could¡¯ve hired him?


    Who was his target?


    Could it truly be me, or was I simply being too self-centered?


    Rationally, my mind started to weight down the possibilities. It was possible that Terrel would hire him to assassinate his father, but they didn¡¯t appear to be at odds with each other, at least not yet. Besides, he would need to get rid of his brother¡¯s first. But maybe those are his targets. Maybe Gilbert needed to murder the brothers, but why? Terrel barely had any control over the house, still having planted enough spies and bribes into the servants. Who would support his ascension? Edgar would know it was him and, for sure, such fact would prevent him from becoming the rightful heir.


    ¡°He¡¯s here for me...¡± I mumbled my conclusions out loud while unconsciously biting my finger. ¡°But who would pay him to...?¡±


    ¡°Master...¡± Jade¡¯s warmth covered my hand, pulling it away from my mouth in a slow, thoughtful movement. A pained smile rested on his lips. ¡°Please, don¡¯t hurt yourself.¡±


    It was only at that moment that the stinging pain of a small river of blood, pouring out from the tip of my thumb, passed through my nerves. The drops had already fallen onto the land, tainting the grass in a vivid red, yet my taste buds seemed to have been too dull to even sense the sweetness of my own blood. I couldn¡¯t help but to sneer at such disgraceful display of anxiety.


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    Suddenly, Gilbert left the pantry and glanced at the garden, right at us. With a beautifully fake fa?ade, a smile was carefully drawn on my lips, as if my mind was empty of any ill thoughts. Without paying too much attention to it, he simply walked back inside, in his awkward, wobbling way.


    ¡°Did you get a good look at him?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Jade¡¯s chocolate eyes could not hide the hatred in them. ¡°Should I dispose of him?¡±


    ¡°No, we can¡¯t act recklessly.¡±


    It would be easier to get rid of him now, but the problem would remain. Someone wanted me dead and, until that person was found, I¡¯d rather deal with a known opponent. As a prideful assassin, Gilbert was meticulous, throughout with everything and every job he took. Certainly, he would take his time studying the mansion before making a move, all without knowing about his handicap: my knowledge.


    Besides, it would raise suspicion if a new butler disappeared just when a slave from an illegal market was purchased. Jade would be the first one they¡¯d point their filthy fingers to and such event couldn¡¯t come to be. That man¡¯s accident needed to be planned, like a unfortunate accident within the estate¡­ or a rather sudden departure after finding his long lost love.


    My thoughts then flew to Bradley.


    Could he have become delusional to that degree? In a state of if I can¡¯t have you, then no one will?


    His emerald eyes were stuck in my memory. They were lustful, filled with greed and a desire to own me, to have me, to win me; not to kill me. In a way, they were like Terrel¡¯s, but at least Bradley didn¡¯t seem like he wanted a lifeless doll around ¨C he was far too intrigued by my immunity to his charms, or so it seemed.


    Of course, none of the Wharton¡¯s could¡¯ve done it. Edgar adored me, just like my future brothers-in-law and, of course, Terrel¡¯s obsessive behavior wouldn¡¯t allow me to die. His so-called love ran far too deep to serve me to the afterlife. I was his doll, and he hated broken merchandise above all else.


    It could be an unknown player, a noble I¡¯d met at Lady Catherine¡¯s ball, but my gut knew better. This had Duke Criswell written all over it, and he didn¡¯t even try to hide it properly. That man truly thought little of me.


    ¡°So¡­ I became a burden...¡± A rather pained laughter left my being. ¡°My own father... is trying to get me killed. Oh, the irony...¡±


    ¡°Your father?¡± Jade¡¯s eyes widened, clearly shocked by my words.


    I mean, who would¡¯ve thought their own flesh and blood would become their executioner? How could someone live the rest of their days knowing they murdered a being they willingly brought into this world, someone they swore to love and protect?


    In his eyes, I had lost my value. A card that had become a threat needed to be decimated ¨C that was the rule he had always abide by. With my death, Bradley would have no choice but to fall back in line and marry Amanda, his sole child. Losing the Wharton¡¯s was better than losing the Trace¡¯s, as if both houses were unknowingly pawns on his sickening schemes.


    ¡°Jade, we must remain oblivious... keep training, but at night stay with me. If he comes, knock him out. I have a plan.¡±

 Chapter 42: Gambling with a Sinner

    Some hours had passed, and Ophelia was now doing what she did most afternoons: playing a chess game in Mace¡¯s study room. The chocolate hair on the boy danced as a chill breeze flew from the outside, courtesy of the half opened large window that led to the large balcony.


    ¡°Checkmate.¡± He smiled proudly after placing his horse in its rightful position to end the game. ¡°How come you never win, Ophelia?¡±


    ¡°It seems I have yet too much to learn from you, My Lord.¡± Her polite stance made Mace let out a sigh. ¡°But congratulations on your win.¡±


    He had been trying his hardest to make her feel comfortable, to allow the distance between them to be shortened, but the noble maiden¡¯s heart remained locked away, preventing anyone from entering. No matter the situation, she remained cordial, calm and graceful, always unattached to anything that surrounded her being.


    Mace had seen with his own two eyes such truth. Her emotions were rather scarce, barely showing any interest in anything that most ladies would and, the only occasion where her pretty mask fell was at the mention of his brother¡¯s name. It seemed like the rumors of his behavior had already reach her, probably worrying her soul far more than before ¨C when she laid alongside the naiveness of the unknown.


    ¡°Mace. Congratulations, Mace.¡± He pouted, displeased by her answer. ¡°Call me Mace when we¡¯re alone, please. It¡¯s a personal request.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, My... Mace.¡± She mumbled his name rather awkwardly, forcing him to chuckle.


    Ophelia¡¯s power as a noble lady of the Criswell¡¯s didn¡¯t particularly interest him. Rather, he pitied her, as he was well aware of his brother¡¯s tendencies. His father still believed they were rumors, as none had come forward, but as the middle brother, he had seen it. The maids who suddenly quit their jobs, the times his brother arrived completely wasted, unrecognizable, completely lost to the liquor. Mace still wished he could change his brother, turn him into a decent human being, but deep down he knew that, not even a miracle, would cure Terrel¡¯s egocentrism.


    ¡°Mace... the day I arrived, were there any new maids entering the mansion?¡±


    He glanced at Ophelia, slightly puzzled, as his hands placed the chess pieces in their rightful positions, preparing the board for another game. ¡°There were.¡±


    ¡°Who were they? Do you know?¡± She leaned her torso forward, eager to know his answer, forcing him to blush slightly.


    His brown eyes then focused on her, attempting to distract themselves of the cleavage trapping her chest, of the shimmering of the sun on her moist lips. ¡°Why do you want to know?¡±


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    In life, people¡¯s actions were bound by the decisions they make, whether they turned into accomplishments or regrets; only time would tell. A gut feeling told her this was a trap, another one of Mace¡¯s tricks, but without risks, there couldn¡¯t be a reward. She knew lies wouldn¡¯t work as he somehow saw straight through her - the boy was far too cunning.


    Seeing the childish act wasn¡¯t cutting it, Ophelia returned to her graceful self, displaying that numbness that she often showed. ¡°I think Duke Criswell sent a maid to spy on me.¡±


    He frowned, losing himself in a deep thought. ¡°That¡¯s something your father would do indeed. Olivia and Ivy, those two might be who you¡¯re searching for. The rest of the maids have been with our family for months, some even for years.¡±


    Ophelia¡¯s brows merged into a thin line. Of course, Olivia had to be one of them. Everything fit: her failed persuasion attempt, her overly friendliness, her naiveness. She was the perfect actress for a spy. Even then, the maiden couldn¡¯t be hasty. Ivy was quiet, always minding her own business, observing everyone from afar. Didn¡¯t her role fit the bill as well?


    Mace¡¯s attention focused on the chess pieces, now all moved to their original positions. ¡°But tell me, why do you think your father has planted spies in here?¡±


    The boy¡¯s voice had a tone she¡¯d never heard before, far more stern, slightly authoritarian, faintly mischievous. Momentarily, Ophelia considered he should be the one to heir the duchy instead of his older brother.


    But she couldn¡¯t expose her game. These people might like her, but feelings change far too easily. Love and hate were two sides of the same coin, flipping far too quickly alongside the shifting of the seasons who were always bound to follow.


    ¡°He would be a fool if he didn¡¯t, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± Her words made Mace¡¯s expression stiffen further. The environment had grown rather heavy as all in the household knew of the tense relationship between the members of her family.


    So far, Ophelia had no proof of her father¡¯s influence on the estate; however, the presence of an assassin changed everything. Only some days ago had she cut off contact with the Criswell¡¯s but no letters had arrived and yet, a murderer had already infiltrated the premises. Wasn¡¯t that too much of a coincidence? It was clear someone had warned the Duke about her decision.


    ¡°Indeed... but that isn¡¯t all, is it?¡± Mace grinned, pressuring the girl slightly.


    Ophelia simply smiled, grabbed the chess piece symbolizing the white queen, and pushed her down, forcing it to fall straight onto the carpeted floor. He observed her, surprised at her sly metaphor.


    Should I investigate this matter further...? He thought, understanding the message loud and clear. Someone in this mansion was after her life, but what could he truly do about it? He held no power, no connections, no loyalty from the servants except from the nanny who had raised him. All of them had vouched their lives to his father, a man who would turn this house around and probably have Ophelia killed accidentally by doing so.


    ¡°How about another game, My Lord?¡± Trying to relive the mood, and ending the conversation, the girl picked up the chess piece and moved a small pawn to the frontline. ¡°I assure you; I will win.¡±


    Mace smirked, knowing he couldn¡¯t force her to open up her heart to him so easily. ¡°So, I hope.¡±

 Chapter 43: Gambling with a Sinner

    <div>


    After a handful of hours, Ophelia left Mace¡¯s study room just to be greeted by Olivia, who was hastily heading back to the garden. With a wave of her hand, the maid was promptly dismissed.


    Swiftly, she returned to her chambers just to see Nero all curled up on the bed, sleeping soundly. His small chest waved up and down in a rhythmic motion, methodically and mechanically.


    ¡°I wish I had your life, Nero...¡± She sighed. ¡°I¡¯m so tired...¡±


    An intense ache pounded in her head, as if a powerful migraine had consumed her. She had hoped that, until she met Terrel, no further complications would arise, but her hopes were, once again, shattered.


    I knew he hated me, but... Ophelia couldn¡¯t bring herself to believe Alvin was greedy enough to murder his own daughter for personal gain. How could he...?


    It seemed her locked emotions still had some lingering attachments as, when faced with an unprecedented scenario, sorrow and regret still stung her heart. Selfishly, she grabbed her hair, hiding the tears that eloped from her eyes.


    ¡°Why... just what did I wrong...¡±


    Ignorance twirled her stomach around, as hope was a mere delusion that somehow still twisted its heart alive in her soul. She could blame God, the angels, the Devil, the demons, but all of them were mere beliefs that served as excuses to prevent the intense self-loathing hiding deep in her core.


    Nero jumped to the table, rubbing his hand against her hand. Surprised, she glanced at him, cheeks completely flushed, tears rolling down, falling onto the wooden desk.


    ¡°Are you trying to comfort me?¡± Surprisingly, he allowed her to pet him, not running away or complaining with his claws as he often did.


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    That heart-warming moment didn¡¯t last long as someone knocked on the door, rather aggressively. Hurriedly, she cleaned her tears, returning to her part of a perfect, graceful noble without any attachments nor worries.


    ¡°Lord Bradley is here to see you, milady.¡± Ivy entered the room with her brunette curls and hazelnut eyes, head hanging low as usual.


    The more Ophelia compared them, the more estranged they became. Olivia was a ray of sunshine, striving to enter her heart while Ivy simply stood there, existing, striving to do the best she could not to bring any attention to herself. One of them was a spy, or maybe both of them were. She couldn¡¯t know for certain since everything was based on the simple assumption her father was the culprit.


    ¡°Tell him I¡¯m busy. He should come back another day, after agreeing to a date that will work for both.¡± The noble lady got up and walked to a small cabinet. It was only then that she noticed Ivy¡¯s troubled expression.


    ¡°But milady...¡± As she was about to reply, a male voice cut in.


    ¡°You hurt my feelings like that, Lady Ophelia. I even brought this wonderful gift to thank you for your generosity.¡± Bradley popped from behind the door, holding a gigantic bouquet of red roses.


    ¡°My Lord, are you alright?¡± She walked towards him as Ivy placed the flowers on a large glass jar on top of a pillar. ¡°A sane and sincere, engaged man wouldn¡¯t be courting his fianc¨¦e¡¯s younger sister, would he?¡±


    ¡°Of course. I would never do such sinful deeds.¡± His sweetly voice and honey coated words made Ivy blush slightly. ¡°I am simply caring for my fianc¨¦e¡¯s family.¡±


    ¡°In that case, My Lord, please don¡¯t forget to take some roses to the Duke. I¡¯m sure he will be moved by such heart-warming gesture.¡± Ophelia mocked him, forcing his smile to turn into a thin line. How could she always have an answer up her sleeve?


    As Bradley was about to reply, the noble lady attention fixated on the man passing by the hall, slowly and cautiously, hoping to take a peek inside the room. Butlers couldn¡¯t enter the chambers of a female guest nor of any female for that matter, unless they worked directly under Edgar¡¯s wing - thus it was harder for him to collect the information he required for his little job.


    Let¡¯s play a game, little rat. Ignoring the young noble, Ophelia quickly exited her room, stopping right by the assassin. It¡¯s time for you to pay me back... a hundredfold.


    <div>

 Chapter 44: A Victim

    ¡°Are you new here?¡± Ophelia questioned the butler after examining the messiness of his attire. The white shirt he was supposed to be using from within the trousers peeked on the left side of the fabric while his tie was crooked to the opposite end. The shoes were covered in dirt from wandering around the garden, no doubt.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m a new butler.¡± He replied, averting his eyes. It was clear he didn¡¯t wish to bring any attention to himself. ¡°I just began working at the estate a couple of days ago.¡±


    ¡°I wonder why the Duke would hire a servant who can¡¯t even properly greet their master.¡± She glared intensely, forcing him to gulp. He had to apologize but couldn¡¯t bring himself to. Ophelia¡¯s finger pointed to the floor beneath her feet, her eyes burning into his gaze. ¡°Kneel.¡±


    Being a prideful assassin, who had no respect for his victims, he hesitated. How could he show any respect to this kid? She was barely 15 and was ordering him around as if he wasn¡¯t twice her age ¨C having far more knowledge and insights.


    ¡°Milady...¡± As he was about to speak, hoping to slither away from the situation, someone else intervened.


    ¡°He is a new worker milady, please be merciful.¡± Ivy stepped in, causing Ophelia to lose her composure. In a single movement, she grabbed the maid¡¯s collar, pulling her close and the poor girl¡¯s complexion paled.


    ¡°Both of you... kneel! Immediately!¡± Reactively, their bodies sank to the floor. No commoner was foolish enough to enrage the future Duchess to such an extent. ¡°Would anyone else like to speak their mind?¡±


    The hallway grew silent. As the minutes passed, more people gathered, curious eyes who were eager to witness the misery of another. Ophelia¡¯s attention focused on the two individuals in front of her, while Bradley simply observed her in a somewhat dazed state.


    Suddenly, Gilbert peeked. He had never been the waiting, patient type.


    ¡°Did I order you to raise your head?¡± Whispers grew, circulating through the room, stipulating what the future held for these insubordinate acts. ¡°It seems you haven¡¯t been raised properly. Someone, bring a wooden plank.¡±


    ¡°Milady, that¡¯s...¡± Olivia, who had arrived moments ago from her break, spoke up, causing the noble lady¡¯s ruthlessness to return as fast as thunder strikes the land.


    ¡°Olivia...¡± Ophelia¡¯s head leaned back; her voice as icy as a mere breeze in Frosting. ¡°Kneel.¡±


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    And so she did. The maid¡¯s body sunk onto the floor, head touching the carpet. It took some minutes for an older butler to arrive with a big wooden plank, his poor body wobbling from the weight of it.


    Ophelia grinned and Bradley gulped, a strange feeling lurking in his heart.


    ¡°Ten strikes for his insubordination.¡± The servant looked at her, dumbfounded. The longer he waited, the more people talked. She glanced at the crowd. ¡°I wonder why the trash keeps talking? Maybe you¡¯d like to join them?¡±


    Everyone¡¯s soul shrunk to the size of a pea, no one dared to utter a single word back. Some even began to struggle to breathe properly, as they became too fearful of the consequences of being heard by their unhinged master. No servant wished to get on her bad side, not when the situation had reached this point.


    ¡°Do it.¡± She said, one last time.


    The old butler fixed his suit, rose his arms high in the sky and then they dropped, lumber landing straight on Gilbert¡¯s back. But the lady¡¯s brows came together, clearly displeased with the lack of strength of the servant. She wanted that rat to hurt, to suffer because of his disgusting pride.


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s how you punish someone!?¡± Bradley spoke up, furious with this charade. This creature needed to know his place, needed to respect the ones who were far worthier than his shitty self.


    Seeing how emotions were ruling the young noble¡¯s mind, Ophelia smirked, already creating a devious plan in her mind. I can¡¯t waste such opportunity now, can I...?


    ¡°Then how would you handle the situation, My Lord?¡±


    How could he refuse such a sweet, alluring offer? He would become the knight in shining armor that saved the damsel in distress. Like clockwork, Bradley clicked his fingers and three of his servants approached from the line of people, all blending in perfectly with the crowd, unable to be spotted if one wasn¡¯t paying enough attention.


    ¡°Aiden, beat this man ten times for his impertinence.¡± A servant with dark green eyes and chocolate hair tied up in a ponytail passed by, taking the plank from the old individual. ¡°Rats should know their place.¡±


    ¡°Milady, please! Anything else but this...!¡± Gilbert rose his head, making a complete show of himself. His begging was loud, as he only now understood the severity of the situation.


    The new servant was tall, fit and obviously cold-hearted as his expression remained the same, no matter how much one plead at his feet. He was a man that had seen life be taken in front of his eyes, a murderer, just like Gilbert was.


    Seeing all the servants terrified, the assassin begging for his life and the maids shivering in their corner, made a thrilling sensation roll down Ophelia¡¯s spine. In her eyes, they were all so... beautiful.


    ¡°Milady! Please have mercy...!¡± He yelled, forcing her to glare down at him, to his pitiful stance. Anger twirled inside her as she wished to see him suffer even further, to embarrass him to the point it would scar and haunt his soul even after death, following him into the grave.


    ¡°A man should bear the consequences of his actions, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡± She smiled cordially, unattached as the servant¡¯s body trembled.

 Chapter 45: A Victim

    Within this scenario, Bradley¡¯s heart began beating faster. She stood by his side, so confident, so dignified and her coldness to that man, as if he was a mere cockroach that needed to be exterminated, was purely magical. Seeing her like that made his own desire speak languages he couldn¡¯t decipher.


    He wished to grab her, place her against the wall while his hands caressed her flushed cheeks. He wished to touch her body, every piece of it, from her pearly white breasts to her thin thighs. Bradley wanted everything, but what he truly craved was to ruin her so deeply she would see nothing but him. He wanted her to look like she had lost it all while he was her everything.


    As Gilbert saw the dark expression on the maiden¡¯s face, he understood there was no way out but, even then, he would play all his cards. Being lower than a rat, he¡¯d gladly eat dirt if it meant he¡¯d survive just to come back ten times stronger.


    ¡°Please milady! I beg of you!¡± In a swift movement, he grabbed the hem of the noble lady¡¯s skirt.


    Reactively, Ophelia moved back, tripping, but Bradley noticed her stumbling and caught her in time. With his hand wrapped around her waist, he noticed the slight fear in her eyes, thus, in a harsh movement, he pulled her closer, unconsciously sheltering her from the sudden emotion. Even though he felt the warmness of her body on his, his anger didn¡¯t waver, turning itself into an insatiable hatred only appeased by bloodshed.


    ¡°Aiden... make it fifteen.¡± Bradley¡¯s feet pushed back the servant by stepping on the man¡¯s face, forcing him to fall straight onto the floor yet again.


    The brunette man grinned. His long arms swung the plank upwards just to see it hit Gilbert¡¯s back perfectly. The servant squirmed in pain, attempting to hold out his screams. He didn¡¯t wish to lose anymore of his pride. Olivia and Ivy kept kneeling, bodies shuddering every time the lumber hit their companion¡¯s back ¨C which by now, had to be locked by other male servants as he yearned to run away from such torture.


    Blood eventually poured out of his skin, tainting his body red and his eyes with despair. The floor soon gained a different color as everyone observed the ongoing events, horrified. The scene kept unfolding, again and again, as if someone had created a time loop, repeating the same action, repeating the same screams.


    It was only then that Ophelia noticed the satisfied grins on Bradley¡¯s and his servant¡¯s lips. They truly were two sides of the same coin, even if they didn¡¯t know so themselves.


    The assassin¡¯s clothes were now ripped, the viscous substance had become one with the cheap fabric who held more holes that most cheeses. Only after the sixth swing did he truly scream. His yells, filled with despair and pain, echoed through the halls, probably through the estate as saliva, snot, tears and sweat mixed into the crimson carpet, causing it to become completely wet.


    Even then, no one spoke, no one dared. Not even the maids who had once so valiantly defended his insolence ¨C yes, they simply sunk their heads further onto the carpet, their bodies trembling with each scream exiting the man¡¯s body, knowing full well, that could¡¯ve been their fate.


    ¡°What is happening here!? What¡¯s all this racket about!?¡± No one had noticed that Edgar Wharton had arrived alongside some of his most trusted servants. His confused expression soon became enraged as he witnessed the catastrophic scenario in front of him: Bradley¡¯s hand on his daughter-in-law¡¯s torso, pulling her towards him, and his servant beating up one of his people with a broad wooden plank.


    Understanding the situation, Ophelia grinned, pleased. What an splendid development.


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    Quickly, Bradley removed his hand from the girl¡¯s waist as Aiden hastily dropped the bloody plank on the floor, bobbing his head forward.


    ¡°Bradley Trace! Why was your servant beating up my butler!?¡± The Duke¡¯s eyes glared at him intensely, the veins on his large forehead attempting to pop.


    ¡°This butler was rude towards Lady Ophelia and, by her request, I punished him, Your Grace.¡± The young noble knew the only way to escape this situation was to lean on the instigator. She needed to come clean, to tell the truth or he wouldn¡¯t be able to save face.


    Slowly, Edgar approached her, his voice stern yet calmer than before. ¡°Is that true, Ophelia?¡±


    ¡°The butler was indeed disrespectful to me, however, I never asked anything of our beloved guest. It wasn¡¯t my place to do so.¡± Her polite smile and twisted words made Bradley clench his fists. It seemed she had lured him into one of her traps again and like a duck, he fell for it.


    ¡°Your Grace, that¡¯s...¡± As he was about to explain himself, the Duke quickly interrupted him.


    ¡°Bradley Trace, I fear you have taken my consideration as negligence. It would be wise of you to leave. You are welcome to return after the marriage has occurred.¡±


    With a rather frustrated cordial smile on his lips, the nobleman bobbed his head. ¡°I apologize for my rudeness and any inconvenience I may have caused you, Duke.¡±


    And with that, he glanced one last time at Ophelia, whose smile ran wide on her lips, peeking from behind Edgar¡¯s large back. This had always been her plan, and foolishly, he¡¯d been taken advantage of.


    As Bradley reached his carriage, several thoughts ran through his mind. Ophelia¡¯s words were true. She didn¡¯t ask anything of him, but he simply assumed she did, taking her bait perfectly like a fish in a river feeding on the wonderful land worms ¨C treats they couldn¡¯t dream of attaining otherwise.


    ¡°She¡¯s so...¡± He leaned back onto the cushioned seat, pushing his blonde hair back. ¡°... infuriating.¡±


    Seeing the frustration in the noble¡¯s heart, Aiden¡¯s mind had an ugly thought. ¡°Master, should I get rid of her?¡±


    However, the servant quickly gulped, feeling a shiver run down his spine. Bradley glared at him from the corner of his eye, with a coldness he had never witnessed. Surely it couldn¡¯t have been from his words, could it?


    ¡°If you touch as much of a hair in her head, I will kill you myself.¡± His master had now lost all reason, being completely blinded by his own emotions, something that wasn¡¯t an easy feat.


    Confused and reluctant, Aiden struggled to understand this sudden change but had no choice but to come to terms with it. ¡°As you wish.¡±


    Back in the estate, the environment was tense as the Duke glared at the girl with a stern expression on his face. For a moment, a certain uneasiness stroke her, warning her of how mad he¡¯d became due to having such power display in the middle of his own home.


    ¡°Ophelia, my sweet, smart child, do clean this mess.¡± Edgar¡¯s kind smile returned as he patted her gently on the head. Indeed, he was far from na?ve, clearly understanding everything that had come to pass.


    The noble girl straightened her back before speaking loudly. ¡°This is not a theater. Scatter.¡±


    As the servants returned to their stations, with much to talk about to each other, Gilbert laid on the floor, his back almost fully exposed. Blood pumped out of his fresh wounds, while his lifeless face held a dead man¡¯s expression. He wasn¡¯t listening to anything anymore, being unable to even dare to think straight. Ivy and Olivia still kneeled on the floor, their articulations already aching from being in such a position for so long.


    ¡°I take all of you learned a valuable lesson here today. Take him to his room and clean up this mess.¡±


    ¡°Yes, milady.¡± Quickly, they got up as Ophelia turned on her heels, leaving them to their business.


    But just as she was about to enter her chambers, Mace popped from behind a wall, a smirk on his lips. ¡°Wasn¡¯t that a show?¡±


    His curious eyes observed her expressions carefully, as he eagerly tried to discover the reasoning behind her strange decisions. Yet, her expression was the same, completely void of any emotion or thrill ¨C utterly unreadable.


    ¡°My Lord...¡± She simply bobbed her head and entered her room, leaving him outside.

 Chapter 46: Empty Words

    It seemed like my predictions were once again right. Several days had gone by and poor Gilbert was still stuck to the bed, far too wounded to attempt anything as all of them implied he¡¯d need to leave the warmth and comfort of his bed. With the extent of his wounds, gracefully created by Aiden¡¯s beating, it surely would take at least another week for his body to recover most of its movements.


    ¡°Milady, a letter has arrived for you.¡± Olivia bowed, handing me the small white envelope with the crest of the Wharton¡¯s house attached to it in a thick, purple stamp.


    [My dearest Ophelia,


    After learning of your arrival at our estate, excitement ruled over me. I anxiously await for the day we will connect our fates.


    Words of the Trace¡¯s disruptive behavior have reached the capital. I never thought he would try to fetch someone else¡¯s fianc¨¦e. When I return, I shall take some measures to prevent such insolence to befall on you again.


    In the meantime, do keep yourself safe. One never knows who might wish them harm.


    Your fianc¨¦e,


    Terrell Wharton]


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    To an outsider who didn¡¯t know Terrel¡¯s personality, his words would come out as those of a perfect fianc¨¦, jumping to the rescue of his own damsel, worried of what the Devil might be tempting her with; however, it was easy to understand this was nothing more than a threat, a reminder that he knew everything, even when living outside of his estate. It seemed like that foolish sample of a man honestly thought I had been the one fueling this situation willingly, as if Bradley held most of my affection.


    The moment my eyes finished reading the contents on the letter, my attention fell on Olivia who had by now grown overly aware of my presence. Since that day, a thin line between us had been created as all the maids and servants understood my kindness knew little bounds. No one dared to approach me casually anymore, always talking as if their tongue held sharp shards of glass at its tip, eager to burst a few veins.


    ¡°Olivia, ready my dress. I¡¯m going out.¡± Seeing my cordial smile, her darkened expression lightened, even daring to deliver me a kind smile.


    As her hands moved inside the tall wardrobe, the girl¡¯s eyes kept glancing over to the envelope with the purple crest, hiding the letter within. Eventually, her foolish curiosity took the best of her. ¡°Where are you going today, milady?¡±


    ¡°Olivia, who are you?¡± I frowned, causing her to instantly bob her head in forgiveness, realizing she had overstepped her boundaries yet again. One could easily see how graceful she was, almost looking like a perfect maid; however, whenever her mouth opened, such illusion would shatter as her lack of tact prevailed.


    Noticing Ivy at the end of the room, her hands holding a piece of a dusty cloth, passing through the pillars with beautiful freshly picked roses, a hint of annoyance fell on me. For days on end, I¡¯d kept them both on a tight leash, observing them from afar, the majority of the days, yet not once did they display their true colors. Unless ordered, they hadn¡¯t visited Gilbert or tried to make any type of contact with the man ¨C as if he was but a complete stranger with awful timing. But my gut knew something was wrong and, all I had to do was persevere in this waiting game they so eagerly liked to play.

 Chapter 47: Empty Words

    Two hours later, further to the outskirts of the city, starting to slowly blend into nothingness but a forest, the Hillgarden¡¯s light pink shade popped from between the greenery, displaying its wealth as we approached. The tall building rose into a total of four floors; however, it looked like a strange box, not extending much to the sides in order to compensate for such height.


    ¡°Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.¡± After a couple of minutes waiting for my objective in the guest room, Patricia entered with her long brown hair completely loosened, flowing into her caramel-colored dress. When her deep chocolate eyes glared down on me, her thoughts became clear ¨C she was suspicious of my visit.


    ¡°It is quite alright, Lady Ophelia. I wasn¡¯t busy either way.¡± As a fake smile rested on her lips, the maids quickly placed several cookies and small pieces of cake on top of the low wooden table. ¡°Please have a seat.¡±


    As we sat down on parallel couches, one maid quietly poured some linden tea into two porcelain cups, allowing its fragrance to fill the space as the warmth flowing from the steam of the pipping out substance mingled with the air. ¡°You are very kind.¡±


    After some minutes of awkward silence, Patricia spoke. ¡°My Lady, what brings you here today?¡±


    I grabbed the warm teacup and placed it against my pale pink lips. It was easy to see her anxiety, even when she tried so desperately to hide it. She was eager to leave as Amanda wouldn¡¯t take this little interaction lightly.


    ¡°Honestly, I didn¡¯t know if I should visit you, My Lady... but I knew I needed to apologize.¡±


    Seeing me bow right in front of her, head as low as a commoner¡¯s, caused her to stutter. ¡°La-Lady Ophelia!?¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t, isn¡¯t it...? That¡¯s what I thought... I¡¯m sorry for wasting your time. I¡¯ll be taking my leave.¡± As tears rolled down my cheeks, my body headed to the door. A cold sensation suddenly traveled through my arm. Patricia had taken the bait.


    Carefully, she placed her hand above mine, before guiding me towards the couch, sitting right beside me. Her fingers then placed a beautifully crafted handkerchief filled with magnificent embroideries and a calm scent of lavender in it on my rolling tears, sealing them away into the fabric.


    ¡°Take this.¡±


    ¡°Thank you... My Lady.¡± Hesitantly, I finished wiping my tears away with this extremely predictable gift.


    ¡°Why did you apologize?¡±


    ¡°That night... at Lady Catherine¡¯s ball... my drink was...¡± Like an award-winning theater, emotions flew through me, preventing my sentence from ever being completed. ¡°I couldn¡¯t control myself, My Lady... I scared you, didn¡¯t I? And Lady Holly as well... I¡¯m terribly sorry...¡±


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    ¡°Drugged!?¡± Patricia¡¯s eyes widened, clearly not wanting to believe my words. ¡°Who would do such a thing!? Could it be...!¡±


    And with that, the noble maiden begun babbling about the events of that dreadful night. What she had seen, who she hadn¡¯t; creating theories far more exquisite than any mystery plots a writer could ever come up with ¨C the imagination of a youngster truly knew no bounds.


    My dear, sweet sister Amanda had two so-called friends: Patricia Hillgarden, the second child of Earl Hillgarden; and Holly Statton, the third child of Earl Statton. During my previous lives, we met often as they took turns into abusing me with their cursive words and haughty glares, all under my sister¡¯s orders. Yet, despite all of that, we all had one thing in common: we despised Amanda.


    Of course, they followed her around like beautifully trained dogs, but that wasn¡¯t their choice. They had to please their fathers, who hoped to gain Duke Criswell¡¯s favor and increase their family¡¯s prestige through the innocent friendship of the young maidens who just happened to be their daughters.


    Even then, none of them were lacking guilt nor sins. Patricia had a sadistic side locked away, where she loved to order people around, force them to do unspeakable, humiliating things ¨C perfectly reflecting the behavior my dear sister had done to her since childhood. Holly, on the other hand, had this strangely perfect grace, always being kind, generous and warm, a Saint as some said. A superbly crafted fa?ade, if you ask me.


    Hypocrisy was one of the easiest weapons to use. Patricia could¡¯ve let me go, allowed me to exit her house without uttering another word and yet, she didn¡¯t. News of the foul waters between the Trace¡¯s and our family had already spread, leaving only the Whartons. Seeing me weak, defenseless and pouring my eyes out, like a na?ve young girl, was the perfect way for her to control a convenient chess piece.


    ¡°Do you have any clues?¡± Her fake concerned eyes glared at mine intensely, hoping to find another weakness, another soft spot to hit, to seduce me into become her life-long friend.


    ¡°I don¡¯t...¡± I sighed. ¡°But I think I can find out who did it.¡±


    She gasped, surprised by my resolution. ¡°How? Isn¡¯t it impossible?¡±


    ¡°The culprit was at the ball, so if I hosted a tea party with the same guests, then...¡± I shook my head aggressively, a hint of disappointment behind my voice. ¡°But I can¡¯t... Father is too busy arranging everything for sister¡¯s wedding and how could I ask Duke Wharton? I am yet to wed his son...¡±


    ¡°We could host it here!¡± And again, this gullible girl took the bait way too easily. ¡°We have a large garden, perfect for a party! If you host it here, no one would be troubled, I assure you.¡±


    Of course, for a daughter of an Earl, this situation was as sweet as honey. Within Ashen¡¯s Kingdom, hierarchy had to be respected, especially between nobility members. One could only send invitations to those below their station; thus, an Earl could never invite a Marquess or a Duke. Sometimes, like in Lady Catherine¡¯s case, this was ignored, but one had to possess a social influence great enough to surpass these stereotypical barriers.


    ¡°Are you sure Patricia?! I don¡¯t mean to trouble you or your father...¡±


    She quickly cupped my hands in hers, a bright smile stamped on her lips, her eyes glimmering with expectation and excitement for the days to come. ¡°It is alright! Just make sure to invite everyone!¡±


    ¡°Should we make it a week from today, then?¡±


    Patricia nodded her head strongly, leaning her body towards me into a warm embrace. ¡°We¡¯ll definitely find the culprit, My Lady!¡±


    After that, she had a monologue about the most trivial of subjects which, incidentally, all led to Bradley. It seemed like the rumors still lacked cause; thus, I was safe from the maiden¡¯s anger¡­ at least for now.

 Chapter 48: Scars that Remain

    Time passed by too fast. Without noticing, the day arranged to meet with Terrel had arrived and so, here I was, waiting by the tall palace iron gates, stretching far into the sky, hoping to one day shred apart the clouds.


    ¡°Only Lady Ophelia may enter the Royal Palace.¡± A man in his mid-thirties stopped us right at the entrance of the gates, a prideful expression stretching far and wide on his chubby cheeks.


    Of course, Terrel wouldn¡¯t play nice. A maiden shouldn¡¯t wander around without her entourage, especially in such a prestigious place such as this. And yet, the two men standing before me tried to pass a noble lady for a fool, throwing sand into her eyes as such opportunity had never, and would never, happen again.


    Does he think I¡¯m that stupid? I chuckled at the thought.


    ¡°You understand that is it unfit for an unmarried lady to walk around without an escort, correct?¡±


    He simply shrugged while his partner averted his eyes, trying to shield them away from the pressure befalling my gaze. They were both on it together, hearts clouded by the green of a handful of golden coins. ¡°These are the Royal Palace rules, milady. I hope you understand that this decision is not mine, but the King¡¯s.¡±


    Palace rules my ass... No matter how I saw it, this was clearly a trap, perfectly settled and planned by a very wicked man. Surely, this situation was unexpected, yet extremely predictable. It was almost a perfect scenario, isolating me from any protection, leaving me to the beast for him to do whatever his desires wished to.


    I only had three options: create a scandal, refuse to enter, or simply play along; none of them, a good choice. Ophelia Criswell, the na?ve young maiden trapped inside her mansion for 15 years, was ignorant regarding matters of high society, especially the palace¡¯s etiquette. It would be suspicious if such ignorant mind contested their words, displaying any type of knowledge on this matter.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright Jade. I¡¯ll be back soon.¡± My hands fell onto his arm, patting it softly as his gaze fell on the men, grins wider than a full moon.


    He approached me, whispering softly into my ear. ¡°If something happens, use the ring, Master. I¡¯ll come find you, no matter what.¡±


    Only Jade knew my secret, at least the parts I chose to disclosure. He knew some of the horrors my soul had been through, not being able to begin to comprehend the extent of its damages and yet, here he was, caring for my wellness more than some whose blood pumped through these veins. Part of me wished to foolishly believe these feelings were consequences of the kindness of his heart, perhaps something more but I knew better ¨C such were born out of forced emotions, bounded by the loyalty of his release.


    ¡°Right this way, milady.¡± The guard walked towards the tall palace doors, covered in precious gems and golden pieces. As it opened, the rays emanating from the sun reflected against them, causing them to magically shimmer.


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    As we strolled through the extensive halls of the palace, my attention didn¡¯t seem to focus on anything at all. Perfectly cut marble rose into walls, a golden carpet passed through the inner side of the polished dark wood, sculptures found their way between the large pathways connecting the upper floors with the land. The poles were pearly white, mimicking pure porcelain, adorned with yellow strokes of what seemed to be the rawest form of gold. How could someone be this wealthy?


    ¡°Lord Terrel will arrive shortly. Please take a seat.¡± After arriving in the waiting room, far deep into the palace grounds, the guard walked out, his armor clacking against each other until there was nothing but a deafening silence.


    My body sunk on the couch as it struggled to relax. The braided hairstyle Olivia had created was causing my head to hurt, as it strongly pushed the strands into my scalp. My chest was restless, struggling to breathe properly. The corset was far too tight, making it seem God himself was squeezing the organs out of my body. Nerves passed through me; anxiety clouded my mind.


    Was I truly ready to face him?


    Terrel was working in the royal palace on a project alongside the second prince, according to Edgar. It seemed he was planning something big, impactful to secure his position and yet, I¡¯d never heard of it. Could the second prince have helped Terrel inherit the duchy so quickly? That certainly would explain most of the events that had come to pass.


    Seconds turned into minutes, which turned into two hours. My fianc¨¦ was nowhere to be found.


    Impatiently, I rose from the couch but, by doing so, a strange yet familiar sensation passed through my hand. When my fingers rose from the table, they had been tainted into the color of stone, curtesy of the dust lingering on top of the wood. Hastily, my figure darted through the room, noticing my greatest fear had just come true.


    Tables coated with an even layer of dust. Books yearning to be opened. Shelves completely covered by the consequence of time. This wasn¡¯t the typical room for visits. It didn¡¯t make sense for it to be as far as it was nor as dirty ¨C the nobles would definitely complain and use such irresponsibility to attack the crown. Terrel set me up.


    That bastard.


    ¡°Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.¡± Immediately, my knuckles knocked on the door, hoping the guard would allow me to leave yet, no one replied.


    I gulped. My hands turned the knob, but the door didn¡¯t open. They had locked it from the outside, of course. Frustrated, my lower body attempted to kick it, allowing a small dent to be formed onto the wood due to the spikiness of the high heels.


    ¡°How could I be so stupid...!?¡±


    Cursing myself for being so na?ve, my mind spiraled in a guilt trip ¨C even knowing this could be and would probably be a trap, it still let itself be fooled by that cunning monster. I should¡¯ve known better, been far more attentive and yet, my thoughts kept on reviving the painful memories of that forsaken past, turning me into an emotional wreck of a woman, unable to think rationally, to be smarter than him.


    ¡°Is someone there?¡± I yelled, punching the door with my fist repeatedly. ¡°Let me out!¡±


    Nothing. No sounds echoed through the corridor except for my voice and my uneven breathing. Someone clearly voided this area of life, barely having anyone passing by. My emotions kept on rumbling inside, panic settling in. If I didn¡¯t leave, God only knows what would happen to me.

 Chapter 49: Scars that Remain

    Fueled by adrenaline, my body walked several steps back before dashing onto the door, hoping to get it open with its own impact and weight. Much to my dismay, at that moment I screeched, tears threatening to leave my eyes as the muscles surrounding my bones ached, pounding severely with loud thrusts of pain. Sinking into the floor, my left hand attempted to grab the piercing stabs sailing through my nerves.


    ¡°Shit...¡± Seeing the door resolute, without even as much as a dent, a sense of defeat flew over me. How was I going to leave this place?


    A shiver ran down my spine as some footsteps echoed in the eerie silence. He was coming.


    My eyes quickly wandered through the room, hoping to find a way to escape, a way to hide. But there was no way out. The cabinets were fall too small for me to fit; the couch too low for me to lie in; the table¡¯s cover too transparent.


    It was only when something pecked on the window, that my attention shifted. A beautiful crow¡¯s black beak found its way onto the glass, its vivid red eyes connecting to mine before flying away the moment my figure approached. Pushing the window opened, who someone had kindly forgot to lock, my gaze fell, seeing it was impossible to jump down. However, a tall tree stood right in front, close enough for me to grab its branches with enough balance.


    I could hear them. Their loud footsteps, their voices getting louder, the unique sound of clacking swords against their sheaths.


    With a swing, my body climbed onto the window ledge. My arm stretched as far as it could and yet, it was not enough. The branch was just some centimeters away from my touch, from my grasp. Left with no other choice, my figure walked to the furthest end of the room and ran for it, taking two jumps while using the ledge as a steppingstone. Surely if I failed, I¡¯d be left with some broken bones but that was far better than being touched by such a man.


    ¡°Ah!¡± Without realizing, a smile popped on my face. I¡¯d done it ¨C my arms held the thick branch within their grasp as my body moving back and forth like a king in a swing.


    Stretching my feet like a ballerina, my hands dropped me to the lower branch before rapidly rolling my body back, leaning as close to the tree trunk as possible. I hoped it was enough. No, it had to be enough.


    The sound of a key unlocking a door rung, followed by an audible gasp.


    ¡°Where is she!?¡± Terrel¡¯s angry voice echoed through the room loudly. ¡°I told you to lock the fucking door!¡±


    ¡°But the door was locked, milord! I did everything you paid me for!¡±


    Something or someone fell. Pained groans traveled outside the closed space. It seemed like the guard had tasted a bit of his own medicine, the price to pay for one¡¯s wicked greed.


    ¡°The window, milord!¡± It was a new, unfamiliar voice.


    ¡°Do you seriously think she would jump down!? Incompetent fuckers!¡± His voice grew louder by the minute as he remained incapable of handling his own emotions. ¡°Find her! Immediately!¡±


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    The sound of clacking armors and swords passed through the room, through the halls, and into the lower levels of the building. They were eagerly searching for me everywhere, preventing me from leaving.


    ¡°Ophelia... where the are you?¡± In a state of desolation, Terrel¡¯s body leaned on the window, exhaling his anxiety away. Some moments of silence passed as if he was a lover whose heart had become broken into too many shards to count, but when he spoke again, such thought was cleansed. ¡°When I find you... I swear I¡¯ll...!¡±


    As his words escaped his mouth, my body shuddered, arms trembling in fear. My hands pulled the dress closer, knowing it had to be concealed beneath the leaves as its bright colors would undoubtedly attract attention. This man¡­ he never meant for this to be a simple greeting.


    When his hazy and darkened shape left the window, his footsteps slowly grew further away, became almost inexistent. He was gone.


    I glanced down to see the garden clear of guards allowing me to slowly drop my figure, falling straight into a pair of rose bushes surrounding the tree. Feeling the thorns spike into my skin, my first reaction was to get up, causing parts of my dress to shred, becoming part of nature. My right arm was bruised, being greeted by a warm sunrise while drops of blood poured down from my skin. I could feel them, travelling onto the dress from my exposed back, from my hurtful arms. At the hem of the dress were dirt spots and my high heels were covered in what seemed to be a muddy substance.


    ¡°Any signs of her?¡± A man asked loudly to another, forcing me to quickly hide behind the tree. My fingers pulled the hems of the magenta-colored dress closer but, by doing so, my feet moved, accidentally stepping on a fallen branch. ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    I froze, holding the air inside my lungs, hoping not to make a sound as their presences approached. My mind began praying, hoping this time God would be forgiving, would aid me for a change. That was when a black rabbit with bright ruby eyes jumped out of a bush, moving his nose in quick movements, his head turning slightly to the side. His little head peaked, and the creature simply wobbled its body until meeting the guards gaze.


    ¡°Oh! It was just a rabbit.¡±


    ¡°I could swear I saw something else...¡± It seemed one of them wasn¡¯t happy with such a poor justification.


    ¡°You¡¯re overreacting. Now let¡¯s go or that asshole will kill us.¡±


    And with that, the footsteps became inexistent, causing the rattling of the leaves to become the only remaining sound. I could finally breathe. My knees sunk onto the floor, struggling to settle down my nerves. Slightly more relaxed, tears began threatening to escape me as the intense trembles across my body ensued, followed by the intense desire to curse out that man¡¯s existence. My emotions were wishing to escape my being, to allow myself to show something that had to be concealed.


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t touched you yet... it hasn¡¯t happened... you are fine...¡± I mumbled to myself over and over again, feeling the cool breeze kiss my skin.


    ¡°What hasn¡¯t happened yet?¡±


    To my right was a gorgeous blonde-haired man with oceanic blue eyes glaring down at me. His attire appeared to be rather cheap, as if he belonged to a noble house of an inferior status. And yet, his presence mimicked one of greatness, posing pressure just with his relaxed stance.


    ¡°Eavesdropping is a very nasty habit, mister.¡± I commented while putting myself back together. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, my hands began removing the hairpins, forcing my raven hair to obey the rules of gravity.


    His brows joined, creating a thin line. ¡°You dare answer me like that? Don¡¯t you know who I am!?¡±


    With a sarcastic smile on my lips, I eased the pressure on my chest by pulling part of the rope in the corset loose. ¡°Do I appear to be a fortune teller perhaps?¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes widened, as if reality had finally struck him. Shaking off the dirt of the dress, as much it was humanly possible, my gaze faced him again, wrapping up this little encounter. ¡°Well then, I¡¯m-a-very-important-lord. It was a pleasure to meet you. I¡¯ll now take my leave.¡±

 Chapter 50: A Ray of Treacherous Hope

    <div>


    Hurriedly, I headed towards the front gate, where Jade and a handful of maids patiently waited. The women chatted among themselves, laughing and gossiping without a doubt, however, the same couldn¡¯t be said about the slave whose gaze fell onto the palace, to the direction where he¡¯d last seen me.


    ¡°Master!¡± Seeing me run through the garden, without caring about appearances or anything else, his expression turned stern.


    Noticing how two men were hurrying behind me, hoping to catch me before reaching the entrance gates, he dashed through the guards, stopping only when embracing me. The sound of armor clacking away rung through my ears and caused Jade¡¯s figure to place some distance between us, his hands resting on my arms.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    Noticing the stationed men, securing the palace entrance were about to imprison the slave, my hand rose. ¡°Let them in, they are all part of my entourage.¡±


    Both men looked at each other, confused. As the maids entered, one by one, the tall guard with a thick, coffee-colored mustache spoke. ¡°Have you been inside alone, milady?¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡± With my words, they traded glances and then nodded, as if agreeing to something only they knew of.


    ¡°Please forgive our rudeness, but may we know the time of your arrival?¡± The second guard intervened. He was thinner, but his bright blue eyes and short hair made him quite charming.


    ¡°About two, three hours ago.¡±


    ¡°I see. I¡¯m sorry for any inconvenience, milady.¡± They bowed down, as if their souls were to blame for such a wicked incident. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure it won¡¯t happen again.¡±


    Delivering them a cordial smile, the men left back to their stations. It seemed like the corrupted guards were indeed in for quite a treat in the upcoming future.


    ¡°Milady, what happened to you?¡± A maid questioned; eyes widened in shock.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Jade¡¯s eyes traveled through my body, seeing the several minor yet bloody cuts on my skin. Noticing the intense bruise on my arms he rapidly removed his touch, fearful of hurting me accidentally. His knuckles paled as they tightened. ¡°Did he do this to you?¡±


    ¡°Calm down Jade, remember where we are.¡± At my words, he snapped back to reality.


    We were no longer in a secluded area anymore, being right at the entrance of the building where far too many people passed by, meaning far too many eyes observed, hoping to attain some information to distort into gossip. I refused to make a scene, to give them leverage to attack me with.


    ¡°Can we go back?¡± He questioned, placing his cloak on top of my shoulders, hoping to hide me from further embarrassment. But my head simply shook, knowing far too well what such action implied.


    Rumors were bound to appear and, even if I didn¡¯t look like a mere woman from the slums, a prostitute or a lowly farmer who had just returned from the fields, such reality wouldn¡¯t change.


    As we walked towards the central area of the palace, where several waiting rooms stood, Terrel appeared. Drops fell from his sweaty skin as he ran around like a maniac, hoping to find me hidden in a secluded corner, trembling away in fear. Once our eyes connected, his expression turned sour. He was furious.


    With a perfectly crafted fa?ade, he swung his arms high in the sky, his voice a pitch higher than usual. ¡°Ophelia, my dear! I¡¯m so glad to finally meet you!¡±


    ¡°The pleasure is all mine, My Lord.¡± I bobbed my head slightly.


    ¡°You are a mess...¡± His body rapidly approached mine. Reactively, I hid my hands behind my back, clenching them tightly to prevent him from seeing the wild trembles spreading like a sickening disease. ¡°What on God happened to you?¡±


    ¡°I simply got lost in the garden, My Lord. This place is so grand, I am ashamed to say, but I was overwhelmed.¡±


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    His dark brown eyes were nothing like his father¡¯s. They were evil, suspicious of my words as he observed every nook and cranny of my being, of my expression, analyzing everything to the utmost detail, hoping to find a lie somewhere between my words.


    Now he¡¯d grown far closer, being a mere two steps apart from me. In a pitiful attempt to conceal the fear lurking within the depths of my soul, my lips popped a cordial smile as my lungs took planned and controlled soft breaths.


    Don¡¯t come any closer... Terrel¡¯s arm rose, finding its way into my cheek. Please... don¡¯t...


    My thoughts turned darker as the possibility of his touch became eminent. Once his hand connected to my skin, everything went astray. I wanted to throw up, to run away and never be found again, to cry in the deepest pit of the farthest land.


    His touch felt terrifying.


    His voice was monstrous.


    His stare simply horrifying.


    I couldn¡¯t breathe; I couldn¡¯t move... I felt disgustingly alive to witness his evil yet again.


    But nothing left my mouth, even when my lungs yearned to yell, to scream for help. I thought myself to be strong enough to be able to handle this, to handle him, but his scars still ran far too deep, far too real.


    His lustful eyes cared not for my well-being. He simply wished to satisfy his greed, to feel me, to touch me. His hands wanted to choke all the sins out of my soul, his mouth yearned to taste pieces of my flesh, his soul dreamed of consuming me whole, to keep me locked for its exclusive appreciation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t...¡± I mumbled but couldn¡¯t even finish the sentence. The horror was far too great, far too intense.


    Disgusting.


    Filthy.


    Whore.


    Those were the words he whispered to me, every single damn night. They always made me feel like the most useless and ugly person in the entire world and, even though I bore with it in the past such couldn¡¯t succeed again.


    I couldn¡¯t. I simply knew I couldn¡¯t.


    As his finger moved towards my bare neck, my body reactively backed away, stumbling.  Jade quickly moved forward, placing his figure between us, luring him away, but my soul was far too weak and my strength nowhere to be found. I was about to fall.


    But such impact and striking pain never came. Instead, the warmth of someone¡¯s hand strongly grabbing my waist, pulling me upwards and helping me stand firmly on my own two feet, took its place.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± A rather familiar voice said.


    Taking a deep breath in relief, my eyes peeked. Two deeply blue eyes, bright bloodstained hair and a stunning sun kissed skin caused me to immediately snap back to reality. The maids looked horrified, their complexions pale as chunks of snow and Jade simply stood there, taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of the crown prince.


    ¡°Your fianc¨¦e seems to be unwell.¡± Blake¡¯s hand touched my forehead, causing the young maids to gasp. ¡°She seems to have a fever. Surely it would be wise for her to return another day, wouldn¡¯t you agree... Terrel?¡±


    He gritted his teeth, annoyed with the prince¡¯s lack of respect and impertinence. Even then, he swallowed his pride and took the hit. ¡°Of course, I wouldn¡¯t want my sweet fianc¨¦e to come down with a cold. You should return home, dear.¡±


    Terrel¡¯s eyes glanced at me from the corner, forcing me to shudder. He was more than upset; he was utterly pissed, not caring about hiding his true intentions. Everyone could see it, the wicked grin on his lips filled with his inhuman desires, of his rooted obsession.


    ¡°I will take my leave then.¡± He bobbed his head and rapidly disappeared, becoming nothing more than a horrifying nightmare.


    Almost instantly, I moved away from Blake and sunk my body onto the floor, head hitting the golden carpet. The servants followed my lead, promptly waiting for any intervention.


    ¡°Glory upon the royal family who guides and provides. Ophelia Criswell greets His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince.¡±


    ¡°You may rise.¡± After hearing these words, my figure slowly raised yet my head still lowered, eyes hoping to avert themselves from the man before me, hoping to hide themselves from his pressuring gaze.


    ¡°Thank you for your help, Your Royal Highness. I am eternally grateful for your kindness.¡±


    The environment was awkward as Blake¡¯s attention was on me, looking far too attentively, far too curiously. In the meantime, my soul was merely uncomfortable, wishing to crawl inside a hole that was able to swallow me alive.


    ¡°Have a fast recovery.¡± Was all he stated before passing through me.


    His red cape flew along the wind, and, for some reason, I thought it resembled the wildfire in his hair. The golden buttons in his pearly suit glimmered, as if they were proud to belong to royalty. Then, just like that, he was gone.


    As we headed back home, a thought kept on haunting me, almost like an alarming omen. I knew Blake Virden. I¡¯d seen him once before; however, our encounter had left much to be desired, as he simply greeted me with the coldness of a man who knew only the cost of bloodshed and the mercy of a frozen river.


    <div>

 Chapter 51: Mercy is for the Fools

    <div>


    Ophelia¡¯s memories, 7th Life


    ¡°How do you plea?¡± The king¡¯s voice echoed through the public square.


    As if mocking me, the agglomeration of whispers sailed with the breeze. The chains that held my thin wrists clashed against each other, forcing sharp sound to earn their place in consciousness of all the amused bystanders.


    ¡°Answer.¡± He said, once again.


    I chuckled as my dried-out throat could not utter a single word. The long raven hair once stealing all the light from the sun had disappeared, leaving my head almost naked, perfect for an execution. My bones ached as the wind clashed against my skin, reminding me of my barely existent muscles. The clothes surrounding my figure - if one could call them that - were thin pieces of fabric messily tied together, warming too little of my already weak body. Weeks of starvation made my stomach eat itself, as it yearned for any type of nutrient, for any type of fuel to keep going.


    ¡°You insolent!¡± The guard grabbed my head, pulling it up upwards abruptly. ¡°Answer to His Royal Highness right this instant!¡±


    The crowd gasped, seeing my severely bruised face, courtesy of long months of torture and abuse. Dark purple bruises surrounded my cheeks, redness swallowed my eyes as they hung above two heavy eye bags.


    People stared at me, as if watching a theatrical exhibition, a freak from one of those foreigner circuses; they also murmured devious words, cursing me with all the bones in their bodies. Some laughs rung in my ears. It seemed I was the laughingstock of the high nobles, standing on the balconies above, thinking of themselves as the mighty of the lot.


    I glared at them. To my so-called father with his heartless eyes filled with disgust and disappointment; to my sister¡¯s proud grin as she held Bradley in her arm, chuckling at my demise; to the prince with an unperceivably stony expression.


    Besides a handful of nobles who appeared to pity me, as if they feared to be in my shoes someday, all other gazes burned into my flesh, hoping not to miss even a second of such entertainment. But it was alright, since long ago my soul had come to terms with its fate, knowing that from the moment the guards stormed into the Criswell¡¯s estate, taking me prisoner into the royal palace dungeon, such destiny was bound to come to be. I had accepted the villain¡¯s ultimate demise, The Execution of the Black Widow, they called it.


    It didn¡¯t matter what I plead as all the proofs came back to me. Someone or something made sure of such. Yet, even after being tortured, suffering through starvation and stripped from everything that was once considered mine, happiness filled me. I was relieved that for once, my fate wasn¡¯t bounded by that curse, by the monstrosity of the fire.


    ¡°Is something funny?¡± Blake questioned, seeing the smile spreading across my cheeks.


    ¡°Your Grace, I think she has gone insane...¡± The king¡¯s aide commented loud enough for the buzz to increase its volume. People truly loved gossip soaked in the misery of another.


    The red-haired man got up from his seat, walking to the edge of the balcony. His cold-blooded eyes glaring at me, straight from above. ¡°I will ask you one last time, Ophelia Criswell, how do you plea?¡±


    I laughed loudly, causing the whispers to grow quiet, the environment to grow heavy.


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    ¡°Guilty.¡± Blake¡¯s eyes widened at my statement. Maybe he thought I would try to fight this, thinking that perhaps this had been a plot and maybe, just maybe, my innocence could yet still be proved. Or maybe he couldn¡¯t comprehend why my being smiled so peacefully, so joyfully for having such a merciful end. ¡°Please... give me my deserving punishment.¡±


    ¡°I see...¡± His voice was louder than ever before. It was easy to see he was about to use me as a setting example for the rebelling nobles, the ones that kept on supporting the fallen queen and her second son. ¡°By Divinity¡¯s will, I hereby declare Ophelia Criswell guilty of the murder of Terrel Wharton and Layton Verne. Behead her!¡±


    The guard grabbed my arms, pushing my body onto the cold wooden plank. Their overwhelming strength was keeping me pinned down but, the truth was, I didn¡¯t intend to fight nor run away.


    I glanced at them one last time. Bradley¡¯s eyes locked on the horizon, as if he didn¡¯t wish to see such a scene; Mace simply pitied me from the corner of the balcony, knowing full well why such murders had to occur. Edgar was bed-ridden, probably in denial that his beloved daughter-in-law could commit such atrocious acts.


    Dark was setting itself in, as the sun voyaged to its rightful rest on the horizon. Night was arriving, mercilessly. Someone sharpened the axe, right next to my ear. This was their last torturing amusement, their last hypocritical act - at least with me. A tear left my eye as I smiled in pure relief.


    For the first time in so long, this burden, this curse would cease to exist, freeing me from such awful destiny. For once my life would end in my own terms, not by the will of the flames. Deep down, my soul could already taste the sweet sensation of a peaceful death, the one all of us should be able to go through, not having the chance to come back again.


    I heard the guard¡¯s footsteps closer to me, his muscular body next to mine. It was time.


    Accepting my fate, my eyes closed, and my lungs took their last breath.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± A man yelled loudly as a harsh breeze suddenly blew. The crowd gasped, someone fell on the floor, a sharp pain striking my right arm.


    An arrow rested on my body, a small flame on its tip. I smelled it, the powerful scent of oil. The flame grew larger; my eyes widened. My clothes were highly inflammable, causing the fire to spread quickly, reaching my skin just some moments later.


    ¡°Your Highness! Please!¡± I dashed my body forward as the guards who had once pinned me down had backed away. The chains, however, kept me from moving too much keeping me stuck in a wooden platform, a perfect fuel for a blaze to thrive.


    Blake appeared, straightening his attire from having fallen on the ground. At that moment, everything became clear. This arrow wasn¡¯t mine to take and yet, mother nature lured it to me. Ah! The irony.


    ¡°Please! Kill me!¡± My rough voice yelled as loud as it could. Despair running through my veins as I inhaled the stinging aroma of my burning flesh.


    ¡°Your Grace, we must go!¡± The aide grabbed the king¡¯s torso, pulling him away from the balcony, attempting to take him to safety.


    Tears fell from my face, rolling down my cheeks but quickly being dried by the intense heat of the flames. All he needed to do was give the order, have someone quickly decapitate me, have someone strike their blade through my aching heart. Anything would do, anything but this.


    ¡°Please! My King!¡± My wrists bled intensely as I tried to escape the chains, as I tried to grab the axe laying on the floor.


    But Blake simply observed me, astonished, confused, conflicted.


    ¡°Your Highness!¡± His aide yelled again.


    As my vision became blurred by overflowing tears, I saw it. My family glancing down at me, faces tainted with disdain; people laughing, cheering for my intense suffering getting their so-called entertainment and the king watching, as my skin melted, leaving only my bones for the dogs to feed upon


    That man ignored my pain, my sole call for help, my suffering. He was taken away, without giving the order, without granting me any mercy. Anger burned inside me, far more intensely than any blaze surrounding my body. It was as if the flames were being consumed by my soul, embraced by the darkness within.


    I wished to see their souls suffering, begging for despair, praying for the grace of a selfish God. I wanted everyone to feel the same pain as I did.

 Chapter 52: Mercy is for the Fools

    When we returned to the Wharton¡¯s estate, I locked myself in the chambers, sinking into the bed for the rest of the day. Night had now arrived yet my soul couldn¡¯t bring itself to rest, my mind to ease, my body to sleep.


    As the moonlight shun down upon the room, sneaking in from the large windows, a strong sense of guilt embraced me. I glanced at Nero, who rested soundly at the end of the bed. Slowly dragging my body to the desk, before sitting on the chair across it, my fingers began creating imaginary figures in the wood, pitifully attempting to restrain the demons lurking within.


    ¡°I...¡± My stomach twirled, eating itself up. I wanted to throw up again.


    Terrel¡¯s grinning face kept appearing in my mind, followed by the irking sensation of his touch. Memories of our past, of his actions, of our relationship passed by in a flash. My mind ached as tears rolled down my cheeks.


    As my vision smeared, the wooden desk became wet and my voice struggled to come out. With hands covering my mouth, I attempted to prevent the loud sobbing sounds from leaving. But it was no use. My soul was far too hurt, far too used.


    ¡°Disgusting...¡± I mumbled the words he would so often whisper into my ear as if it was a compliment, a seduction technique used by true manipulators.


    Unconsciously, my tears momentarily stopped flowing. My fingers found their way into my arms. And they carved its nails into them, causing a small river of blood to pour out, staining the beautiful carpet. A sudden need for cleansing had ensued.


    I needed to punish myself for my own mistakes, for such incompetence.


    Take it off... this feeling... I¡¯m so... Depressive thoughts ran through as my fingers attempted to skin myself alive. Nostalgia forced me to remember every single night, every single memory he had so kindly left me with.


    ¡°You must be pretty on the outside, even if you¡¯re filthy on the inside.¡± I muttered his words repeatedly, forcing my soul to sink them in, to deepen their roots inside me. ¡°Disgusting. Filthy. Whore.¡±


    Getting up, my body walked around in circles, teeth now chewing the tip of the fingers strongly, stealing away any meat they could. Tears gradually threatened to escape their home again. But then I stopped.


    The mirror at the end of the space stared back, my reflection so perfect, mocking me. It was easy to see, the contrast between the pearly white nightgown and the putrid hair, like charcoal from the mines, only good for a miner¡¯s son. At that moment, despair struck, causing my strength to fall alongside my body.


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    ¡°Whore!¡± I yelled, grabbing the closest thing in hand which happened to be a book hidden beneath the bed frame, throwing it onto the mirror. The glass broke down, shattering the beautifully crafted item into small shards who had now gained terrain on the floor. ¡°You filthy whore¡­¡±


    The glass pierced my knees as they sunk into it, yet my reflection still popped in one of the bigger chunks. Unconsciously, my hands grabbed it, feeling the sharpness and coldness of its empathy pierce my skin, ripping apart my gown, yet such movement was so¡­ painless.


    It was my fault. It had always been my fault.


    If I didn¡¯t look like this, if I didn¡¯t have this hair, would things change? Would Terrel despise me? Or would he want me even more?


    ¡°Ah...!¡± As my fingers pressed the glass onto my wrist, an intense current of blood poured out, staining everything around me.


    I wouldn¡¯t die. I never did.


    God only allowed me to face the not so merciful death at my 18th birthday, so, did it truly matter if my body got a handful of scars? Maybe that way Terrel would leave me alone, would disappear from my life, from my past, from my body.


    My trembling hands dropped the glass. The cut was deep, but useless. It wouldn¡¯t give me the result I wanted; it wouldn¡¯t give me the peace I yearned for.


    Enraged, my body rose, and my hands grabbed anything at their disposal, throwing everything from the desk onto the floor, from the cabinets to the window that also crumbled with the strong impact. Shattered vases, pure black ink, broken quills, tainted books, ripped dresses. All of them rested on the floor.


    The pain from stepping on the glass was sharp, and yet it seemed merciful compared to everything else destiny had put me through; compared to the pain it forced me to feel inside, every single goddamn night.


    I wanted to yell.


    I wanted to cry.


    I wanted to die.


    But it was useless, as my life was never mine to take. Fate had locked its webs around me, around my past, my present, my future, and there was nothing I could do to change that.


    As feelings from self-loathing quickly turned into rage, my body stumbled back and forth, struggling to remain still, to retain the overpouring blood within. Everything was quiet, so quiet yet the world slowly turned, as if in a daze. One could even say it was peaceful, but was it truly? Or was peace a mere illusion from Men who ache for death?


    ¡°Why me...?¡± I mumbled. ¡°Why me...?¡±


    I rose my arm, covering my face, hiding myself from the moonlight. Tears rolled down, crimson intensely dripped. It was painful, so painful. Foolishly, my soul thought it had gotten used to them, used to him. How could my mind actually think that no matter what he did, my soul wouldn¡¯t hurt, wouldn¡¯t scar, wouldn¡¯t remember?


    ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡± I heard a voice, calm, peaceful and somehow, my eyelids became heavy, forcing my body to fall into someone¡¯s warm embrace. It was comfortable, like a fluffy pillow, like a Frosting scarf. Dizziness controlled me and, before being able to see who this mysterious intruder was, my soul fell into a deep slumber.

 Chapter 53: A Piece of the Crown

    <div>


    ¡°Aldrich, I¡¯m going out. Don¡¯t bother me until I return.¡± Blake stated before exiting his study room, lumped with intrusive paper sheets, all eagerly waiting for his signature, its master¡¯s acceptance.


    As he strolled through the long palace corridors, servants avoided his gaze, hoping to remain inconspicuous from his sight. Everyone knew the rumors surrounding him, about his ruthless character, his unforgiven personality. And no one wished to find out their veracity.


    ¡°So tired...¡± Blake mumbled after entering his chambers and shutting the door behind him.


    After returning from the war just 2 months ago, he worked non-stop. The kingdom¡¯s treasury was a disaster, having lost its previous prestige with the queen¡¯s irresponsible spending and, to make matters worse, every morning he had to deal with the complaints from nobles, aristocrats and commoners who begged for mercy, for a little extra help in achieving their ambitions or to survive another day.


    This was all his father¡¯s fault. He used to be a righteous monarch, caring and resolute, but 7 years ago, he became different. King Julius II began neglecting his people, feeding the greed of his favorite woman, Vivian, with unthinkable compliments and luxurious gifts.


    That was why he sent his first son to the war at the tender age of 14, all because of the request of a single woman, of the child¡¯s own mother. Giving in to her whispers like a witch, putting the man¡¯s rationality into a deep slumber, spreading deceitful words of a victory that would never come, she dazed him into thinking this would be the solution.


    Blake was sent to raise the troop¡¯s falling morale in the suppression of Lacenie¡¯s Kingdom expansion; however, nothing could have prepared such a young boy for what he was bound to see.


    With barely any funds and supplies reaching the outskirt cities, especially the frontlines of the war, men went through inhuman measures to survive. In the harshest Frosting they¡¯d ever seen, no wildlife within the cold desert, no warmth and no means to survive, morals were lost to starvation ¨C forcing most to feed on what they could, when they could.


    The equipment sent by the crown gradually became worse: from heavily used swords without any sharpness left in them, to holed armors from the training grounds, scratched and weak. Someone was dooming the prince to fail, to allow him to naturally perish within the frozen northern territories.


    Yet, the crown prince had always been a fighter, always knowing this moment was bound to come ¨C especially after the birth of the queen¡¯s second son. Ruthlessly, Blake guided the troops through the ice and snowy dunes, cunningly trapping their opponents with stunning war tactics and trickery, slowly killing off battalion after battalion. But such truth didn¡¯t end there as murder truly took shape into a man¡¯s body, carving it with a darkness one couldn¡¯t begin to plunder.


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    As Ashen regained their territory and began crossing into enemy¡¯s lands, the prince was already far too gone, far too mechanically inclined to do what he¡¯d been forced to. Every village or passerby from Lacenie was met with a merciful yet gruesome fate, being killed on the spot regardless of age, gender or trade. The soldiers, already carrying wounded souls followed their prince into battle, worshipping him as one would to a God, their own minds deteriorating into a spiral of madness.


    All men start good and kind, but not after a war. Blinded by greed and lust Blake found his own people taking the virtues of the ones they were in charge of executing, thus something in him clicked. The blade of The Blood Prince slashed the heads from his men, before piercing the heart of the innocent maiden, leaving her regrets behind.


    At that moment he returned with the remaining of his troops, who had by now turned against their named God ¨C slandering him with cursive words and complete paranoia, courtesy of the heads of their fallen comrades.


    But when does exactly a kid turn into a man? When does a man turn into a monster?


    Back at the palace, everything was not as simple as he once thought. His father had contracted an eminent illness, forcing him to be in an unprecedented coma. Doctors from across the continent travelled to Ashen but none seemed to know the cure and thus, Vivian, the rightful queen, took charge of all the affairs as everyone presumed the crown prince to be dead.


    Being from a noble family herself, the queen¡¯s interests valued nobles above all others causing the large discrepancies in power to run deeper than they had: new nobles, who had gained a title with their vast wealth, faced targeted difficulties while older noble families were cherished by the crown. All they had to do, like hypocrites, was to support Vivian and their prestige was bound to raise again.


    With such division of power among the high-nobility, commoners who had no money or status suffered the greatest losses. The inflation of the prices meant that exportations and importations became scarcer, shutting down business and causing most of the population in the capital to escape to their hometowns in an attempt to find a better live up in the north, within the country he fought against, during so many years. Piece by piece, the kingdom was shattering, by the hands of the people who were responsible for guiding it to greatness.


    Without a peace treaty between Lacenie and Ashen, the problem among the two kingdoms was yet to be resolved, however, with Blake¡¯s return, Vivian¡¯s tyranny and greed was bound to reach its end. Being the elected crown prince by the king before his illness, all state affairs now passed through him, but the realm was in a far worst state than he¡¯d heard about on the frontlines. There was no time to relax, to breathe as the heavy weight of the crown he carried pressured him to crack.


    <div>

 Chapter 54: A Piece of the Crown

    Swiftly, he grabbed a handful of clothes hidden on a small box at the bottom of the closet. They were cheap looking, clearly worn out. After switching his attire, his hands opened a drawer beneath his desk, revealing a beautifully carved golden box with the Sanctuary¡¯s* symbol imbued on it. A sparkling earring, tainted in a sunset yellow, contrasted the red silk around it.


    Once the prince placed the item on his ear, his naturally ruby hair turned into beautiful sunlight, his eyes lightened slightly. It was a blessing that allowed him to change his physical appearance while confusing the people who saw him. No one would tell who he truly was, not until he removed it.


    As Blake was heading towards the front gate, hoping to get past the guards and momentarily visit the capital, someone surprised him. A beautiful woman with raven colored hair, tied up in two singular braids around her head while a handful of strands framed her face, gracefully stood in front of the gates.


    ¡°Only Lady Ophelia may enter the palace.¡± The guard stated loudly.


    At that moment, he realized who she was. Hoping to remain out of sight, he hid behind a tree, observing her from afar. Her pale skin seemed as soft as the prestigious silk imported from the south, as her beautifully shaped lips carried cherry petals in its color. Catherine had failed to describe her beauty, her appeal. Ophelia wouldn¡¯t please his tastes; she would please anyone unless they were utterly blind, voided of any sense.


    The words that left her mouth were obnoxiously sweet, bewitching, forcing the heart that had been frozen in the snowy desert, to faintly beat again. Her deep black hair was unique indeed, but it didn¡¯t compare to the crystal she wore in her eyes, shimmering with hidden feelings, thoughts to only the chosen ones had the key to.


    ¡°Right this way, milady.¡±


    Ophelia quietly followed the guard and, as if a powerful sense of curiosity had entranced him, so did Blake - he couldn¡¯t stop himself. But the further they walked, the stranger everything became; the room she entered wasn¡¯t one of the usual waiting rooms, in fact, the last time someone used this wing was over a year ago, right before the king fell ill.


    I shouldn¡¯t intrude. Blake knew the real reason behind her visit, as she was currently engaged to the Wharton¡¯s eldest. It was rude to meddle with another¡¯s affairs, especially in relationships.


    Quietly, he backed away, escaping to the garden filled with tall trees and large bushes, each with beautiful flowers crafted by mother nature itself. As he inhaled the fresh air from the environment surrounding, he found himself more relaxed, back to his rather normal self.


    ¡°Is this what happened to them...?¡± As the prince leaned his back against one of the trees, sitting on the ground with his shabby attire, confusing thoughts preached his soul. Like an insect who was forcefully attracted towards the light, Blake couldn¡¯t help but accept her charm pulled anyone in, without even trying.


    Frustrated, he painfully chuckled. He knew he was better than them, than those greedy nobles, and yet, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to leave the garden, to walk away from her presence. The image of her graceful walk, her long dark lashes resting on each other, the superior aura emanating from her - all of it was too appealing, too pure.


    The Black Rose... Catherine¡¯s nickname came to mind. It suits her...


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    As he realized a kind smile had been resting on his lips, he understood the danger behind the situation. Without knowing, she was creeping her way into his heart, carving her roots deeply, without its owner¡¯s permission.


    Quickly, he got up, determined to leave but as he did, surprise struck him. Ophelia was standing at the edge of the window, hoping to grab the branch of the tree. His body froze, his heart stopped, throbbing. What was she doing?


    She disappeared and then jumped, barely grabbing the branches of the tall tree. His core pumped like crazy, his mind completely blank, as he rushed to her. Blake¡¯s breathing was unsteady as anxiety clouded his eyes.


    What if she fell and hurt herself? What if she fell and died? She was so frail. Could she truly survive this height?


    Once she fell straight onto the lower branch and hid herself, he did the same, sneaking behind a trunk. Gritting his teeth strongly, the prince¡¯s trembling knuckles paled - an intense sense of horror darted into his soul as he realized he wished to help her, to save her from whatever she appeared to be running from.


    ¡°Where is she!?¡± A man¡¯s voice echoed right after the abrupt opening of a door.


    He glanced at Ophelia, seeing her crystal blue eyes tainted with fear, her arms trembling as she pushed her body as close to the tree trunk as possible. Who was she hiding from?


    The horror once held in her eyes, turned into a hatred one could not begin to comprehend unless they¡¯d experienced it themselves. The prideful grin on her lips was horrifying and yet, he couldn¡¯t look away. Moments later, she jumped down just to hide herself again.


    ¡°Any signs of her?¡± Two guards were approaching, their armors clacking together, loudly.


    Accidentally, Blake¡¯s hands passed through a bush, forcing a strange sound to echo in the silence. ¡°Did you hear that?¡±


    He gulped. Was she going to be found because of him? Would he be the culprit behind the horror in her eyes, the trembling in her body?


    ¡°Never mind, it was just a rabbit.¡±


    Ophelia gasped for air, coughing slightly before sinking into the floor. Her frail body shook, nails carved in her arms strongly, her teeth eating up her lips. Then she mumbled something, continuously, as if being part of a ritual.


    Seeing her in such a state of despair, Blake¡¯s heart ached. Not because he felt pity or sorrow, but because he hated weakness. He hated seeing her like this; she was a noble, shouldn¡¯t she always be dignified? And yet, he couldn¡¯t understand why, even despising her, he wished to help her, to comfort her.


    Suddenly, her crying stopped, her body stiffened. She rose, becoming again graceful, unmatched, unbroken. Slowly, her thin fingers removed the thorns, sticks, and leaves from her clothes, attempting to look more elegant.


    ¡°What hasn¡¯t happened yet?¡± Finally, he walked out. Cold eyes glaring down at her.


    Strangely, she remained quiet yet not fearful, surveying the man in front of her. Her light blue eyes looked at him, piercing him ruthlessly. Blake had seen many people during the war but never someone with that aura, with those eyes; confident and ambitious yet completely numb, as if awaiting death to arrive. They were ruthless, cold, calculative, undervalued.


    ¡°Eavesdropping is a nasty habit, mister.¡± She said, while removing the hair ornaments, one by one. Her long hair soon floated with the wind, dropping straight to her waistline. Somehow, she appeared even prettier than before.


    And yet, the prince became annoyed. Her words were disrespectful, like all the other nobles who didn¡¯t know their place. ¡°Do you know who I am?¡±


    The girl simply smiled, mocking him. ¡°Do I look like a fortune teller to you?¡±


    The prince¡¯s knuckles tightened. His greed had truly led the best out of him, turning him into a foolish man. With the blessing he wore, no one would recognize him.


    ¡°Well then, I¡¯m-a-very-important-lord. I¡¯ll take my leave. Have a good day.¡±


    *The Sanctuary is the name of the religious organization who spreads the word of God through the people.

 Chapter 55: A Piece of the Crown

    Back in his chambers, an uneasiness grew inside of him, almost as if predicting a storm was arriving. Catherine¡¯s words lingered in his head, passing on repeat. ¡®The tides of power are changing.¡¯ She had told him, in all her devilish charm, with her amusement-hungry smile.


    After removing the relic, he quickly dressed his body back into the earlier attire and headed out. Even though he felt far more tired than before, he couldn¡¯t delay his work any further. His subjects needed him, the kingdom needed him.


    But, as he was passing through the halls, Ophelia appeared in front of him, walking gracefully, like a cursed magic. A large entourage quietly stood behind her, following in her footsteps. The prince¡¯s eyes widened as he saw the platinum haired man, observing his surroundings. Their eyes briefly connected, but they soon met their rightful owner once again.


    How did she find him...? Blake was astonished, not believing in the reality he had witnessed.


    There was a saying within Ashen¡¯s society, ¡®if you see a man with white hair, you will die¡¯.


    What people didn¡¯t know was that, within the realm, existed a secluded villa on the northern border, between the mountains and the ice-cold river. Many tried reaching it, but none came back to tell the tale. According to the registers, a tribe of people live there, hair and skin fair like snow, eyes with the color of the nature seeds. The tribe didn¡¯t accept outsiders but, the few members who left and came to the outside world were extremely skilled warriors, assassins trained from birth.


    The prince¡¯s mind still recalled the events haunting the streets years back, when he was just 7. Night after night, corpses laid in the capital grounds, forcing whispers to circulate between people, calling said killed The Mountain Man. The one¡¯s who claimed to bear witness to his atrocious acts, pointed him to be the same as the men from that village yet such killer was never caught - disappearing from the realm as quickly as he appeared.


    After that, society grew fearful. They expelled people with extremely light hair from their regular circles; some were even killed in their sleep, distrustful of their family trees. Everyone was terrified of The Mountain Man, while others were simply looking for a way to earn easy cash with the reward gold.


    About to make the curve to the next hallway, heading straight into the central area of the palace, his figure froze, seeing Ophelia and her entourage just mere steps ahead.


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    Should I just go...? He could easily take the lounger route, backing up and heading through the left side into his study and yet, he couldn¡¯t.


    ¡°Ophelia! My dear!¡± A familiar tone, the same voice from before. Who was he?


    He glanced, seeing Terrel Wharton walking around glamorously, as usual. His thick brown suit decorated with a large white handkerchief, contrasted his pearly buttons, all made of the finest materials money could buy. The shoes were pitch black, yet they shimmered with every step he gave due to the extensive amount of polish on them.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± He walked closer. ¡°Your wounds look serious. I wonder how you got hurt...¡±


    Something was off. The way Terrel spoke wasn¡¯t normal, the way he moved was rough, the strange smile on his lips was weird. The prince glanced at Ophelia. His eyes widened when he saw the intense trembling in her hands sheltering itself from sight behind her back. This was the man who made her lose her composure, the man who made her weak.


    Terrel Wharton, her fianc¨¦, was the man who terrified her soul.


    Blake couldn¡¯t take it, seeing her like that, pale as a ghost, in a state of utter horror, unable to even breathe. He just... had to do something.


    ¡°Don¡¯t...¡± Ophelia mumbled, beginning to fall after misplacing her foot.


    At that moment, he dashed and grabbed the girls¡¯ waist seconds before it was too late. She was too thin, too weak as he could almost feel every bone in her body even with the thick dress on top.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± She ignored his words, eyes still locked on that man. ¡°Your fianc¨¦e looks unwell, Terrel. She should return another day.¡±


    ¡°Of course!¡± The nobleman gulped, keeping his emotions in check. Even if he was trying to gain his mother¡¯s favor, that man wasn¡¯t foolish enough to go against the crown prince. ¡°I will take my leave then.¡±


    In the prince¡¯s eyes, everything had become quite clear. Her so-called fianc¨¦ didn¡¯t see her as a person, a human to be cared for. To him, she was his personal doll, an item for his lust and greed, an object voided of feelings and emotions.


    When he noticed, Ophelia was already far from him, knees sinking into the floor, head as low as humanly possible. ¡°Ophelia Criswell greets the Crown Prince.¡±


    ¡°You may rise.¡± He ordered.


    The girl rose but kept her head low, averting her eyes. Was she fearful? Was she judging him based on the rumors as well, like everyone else did?


    A hint of disappointment hit his heart, causing it to faintly ache. Maybe he was thinking about something else, hoping for something more. And yet, it turned out to be extremely disappointing. In a sad attempt to cover his pain, his memory passed Ophelia¡¯s weakness on repeat, forcing him to grow disgusted by such a frail being.


    ¡°Have a fast recovery.¡± Was all that he said before leaving, not caring about her soul in the slightest.

 Chapter 56: Taking a Stance

    I gasped for air the moment my eyes opened. The maids all screamed, some even dropping whatever they held in their hands, causing the items to roll through the carpet and onto the wooden floor.


    ¡°Milady! You¡¯re awake!¡± Alphie stood by my side as Jade rose from his chair at the end of the room.


    ¡°Master! How do you feel!?¡± Almost immediately, he dashed towards me, grabbing my hand reactively. The strands of his soft hair touched my skin once he pulled my arm upwards, resting it against his forehead. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re awake...¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I couldn¡¯t understand why they were all so worried, so shocked to see me awake.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been asleep for two days, milady...¡± Olivia placed a tray with a glass of water beside me, her eyes slightly red, probably from crying or working too many hours in a row without any good sleep.


    ¡°Two days...? How...?¡± Her words sounded made up. How could I sleep for so long?


    ¡°We should bring the good news to the Duke at once.¡± Alphie signaled some of the maids who hastily left towards the corridor. ¡°Get a bath ready!¡±


    ¡°Leave.¡± My voice mumbled, head hanging low.


    ¡°Milady?¡± Olivia tilted her head, confused by my reaction.


    ¡°Leave!¡± The maids shuddered, frightened by such a mood. They quickly exited the room alongside Jade who seemed unable to understand such rash behavior, leaving me alone.


    For some unknown reason my body felt highly energized as if thunder had struck its being, electrifying the wholeness of its core. My gaze fell upon the wounded arms who were now completely clean and void of wounds, as if the events of that night had never come to pass. When my hands pulled away the bedsheets, surprise struck ever further, realizing my body held no scars, no blood, no cuts nor crusts.


    How could this be possible?


    The room was shining, void of dust or confusion ¨C as if whatever happened had been nothing more than a nightmare. Everything was in the same place as before: the once broken mirror was now perfectly intact; the carpet laid in its usual color, without a shred of blood left; the desks held the papers and books perfectly as if my hands had never touched them.


    ¡°What the fuck is going on...!?¡± Worriedly, I rose from the bed, observing my body repeatedly. Nothing hurt; I was completely fine.


    Could I have imagined everything? Could I have fallen asleep and experienced an extremely vivid nightmare? One of those that haunted me to often?


    Not knowing what to do my figure headed towards the windows, opening them up abruptly. The chilly morning air flew in, cooling down my thoughts and nerves, in a pitiful attempt to bring my mind back to reality, to reason.


    Whatever happened that night was not a figment of my imagination ¨C it couldn¡¯t be.


    Meow. Nero popped from under the bed, rubbing his head onto my leg. His glimmering red eyes blinked, as he yawned.


    ¡°Perfect timing... as always.¡± I lowered my body, petting his soft fur. He purred, intertwining his tail on the bottom half of my leg.


    It was impossible for me to explain what happened, no matter how much my mind yearned to. Whether it was some sort of gift, magic, curse or blessing ¨C or if I was simply losing myself in this timeline ¨C none mattered. My body was healed, feeling better than ever by the grand grace of another. Wasn¡¯t this the best scenario one could ask for?


    After opening the door, my gaze fell on Olivia and Jade who stood by, waiting for my call. ¡°Olivia, summon the rest of the maids. And you, come in for a moment.¡±


    Once the entrance door closed and the maid rapidly left, my figure laid on the couch. Jade kneeled in front of me, his beautiful eyes sharpened like the cuts of a dagger through flesh.


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    ¡°I already told you to stop doing that, didn¡¯t I?¡± Every single time, the slave got onto his knees as if this was a true depiction of loyalty and not what his heart harbored. ¡°Someone was in my room. A man, I think. I want you to find him.¡±


    ¡°Was it your father, Master?¡± Frustrated by his own incompetence and lack of awareness, he bit down on his lower lip, probably imagining the wicked things that man would do if not stopped.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°What about Gilbert?¡± Jade knew that finding a ghost would be rather time-consuming, leaving time gaps which could expose me to further danger lurking within the mansion.


    ¡°He¡¯s still in bed and he won¡¯t do anything for now. He isn¡¯t foolish enough to attack without knowing the terrain.¡±


    Gilbert wasn¡¯t an amateur, but he was far from an expert. He was selfish, but rational. First, he would recover and only then would he study his environment, the people, and their schedules. Everything had its time, its own procedure, and he knew that.


    ¡°He still needs to memorize the mansion and think of an escape.¡± I reassured him, knowing full well that rat wouldn¡¯t be able to make a dent on me even if he tried. ¡°Now leave.¡±


    Jade nodded and quickly exited the room. Even though my being was rather thankful for such blessing, I couldn¡¯t stop but to be concerned. The events of that night were real and someone, a man, was in my chambers with too much ease. Whoever it was, surely had ulterior motives.


    My maids then entered, however, as I was about to assert their tasks, my chest clenched. One of mine were missing.


    ¡°Where is Ivy?¡± No answered. They traded guilty glances, but no soul dared to reply. ¡°Don¡¯t make me repeat myself, you know my patience has its limits.¡±


    Olivia stepped forward, tears in the corner of her eyes, threatening to escape yet again. ¡°Lord Terrel summoned her... to the palace.¡±


    ¡°When?¡± My nails dug deeply into the outer layer of the couch, pushing it inwards.


    ¡°The carriage left thirty minutes ago milady.¡±


    ¡°Alphie.¡± Hearing her name, the maid straightened her back, resolute eyes glaring into mine. ¡°Fetch me the fastest horse we have. You lot will help me get dressed.¡±


    ¡°A horse, milady?¡± Alphie questioned, as she should.


    In the kingdom only men, nobles or knights knew how to ride as it was considered a masculine activity. It was unheard of for a woman to practice horse-back riding, and yet I dared to do so. According to the etiquette books, women shouldn¡¯t engage in any activity that required sweat or blood as it would disgrace their standing.


    A woman shouldn¡¯t run, she should gracefully walk.


    A woman shouldn¡¯t scream, she should calmly speak.


    A woman shouldn¡¯t exist unless her husband tells her to.


    ¡°Is there a problem?¡± I frowned, knowing far too well time wasn¡¯t on my side.


    Alphie¡¯s complex paled, still rather unsure of what has about to pass yet she quickly bobbed her head and left, obeying my orders. Simultaneously, Olivia quietly removed a dress from the end of the wardrobe as the remaining maids cleaned the room and combed my hair into a high ponytail.


    ¡°Do you think I can ride with that on?¡± The na?ve maid gulped, rapidly placing it back inside. ¡°Get me what¡¯s in the back.¡±


    Once Olivia¡¯s hands took out a rather old looking box from the bottom of the wardrobe, all gazes fell on her, eagerly waiting for the contents within to be revealed. Their curiosity, however, caused audible gasps to float through the space as their eyes couldn¡¯t believe the audacity of the item within. A pair of trousers and a shirt lingered inside, both rather used and slightly dirty. Clearly, the rules of society were far too imbued in their minds, blinding their reasoning, their will to contest the morals created by men who forced them to fit in the paradigm of a pretty doll.


    Breathless, Alphie returned. ¡°The horse is ready, milady.¡±


    ¡°Get some rest.¡± Seeing the small drops of sweat dripping from her pores caused me to understand the poor girl had just run as quickly as her small legs allowed. As she left, my gaze fell on Olivia. ¡°You will tell the Duke I am retrieving my assigned maid from his son.¡±


    Instead of bickering and attempting to question my judgement, she quietly left the room. Had she, perhaps grown more obedient? Or was she simply worried for her own?


    ¡°Do any of you know how to write?¡± At my question a rather young maid standing at the back popped, her thick arms grabbing the bed sheets. ¡°Good. You will write an invitation equal to the one on my desk.¡±


    ¡°To whom shall I address it to, milady?¡± She questioned as my fingers finished closing the cuff buttons on my wrist.


    ¡°Every noble house in Ashen.¡±


    ¡°All of them, milady!?¡± Another maid said, intruding in the conversation, clearly taken aback by such information.


    When I opened the door, a grin rested on my lips and gossip flew through the space at an abnormal speed. ¡°All of them.¡±

 Chapter 57: Taking a Stance

    <div>


    ¡°Ophelia! Wait! It¡¯s dangerous!¡± Mace yelled as he ran towards me, almost stumbling on the rough pathway made of dry dirt and stones. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t have time to chat, My Lord.¡± As I was about to pull the reins, he placed himself in front of the horse.


    ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous, Ophelia. You can¡¯t possibly go alone!¡± His arms stretched far and wide, forcing the white stallion to back away reluctantly.


    His expression froze seeing the intense hatred burning through my gaze. It seemed like he wasn¡¯t expecting such expression to appear on my face. ¡°I don¡¯t remember asking for your permission. Now move or turn into the land, either way, I¡¯ll pass.¡±


    Mace¡¯s eyes widened, shocked by such words. I didn¡¯t hate him, nor did I like him. But if he stood in my way, he¡¯d need to do what men do best, he¡¯d have to fall.


    ¡°Go Angel.¡± My fingers clutched the reins within their grasp before swinging them harshly onto the horse. The noble¡¯s body moved immediately to the side, understanding my words were not shallow, void of conviction.


    The white stallion galloped as fast as it could, passing the Wharton¡¯s estate, passing the fields of grass on the horizon. Sunlight bathed us, wind blew against us, and yet the trail left by the carriage was still fresh, still recent. That coachman was an awfully slow driver.


    Ivy and Olivia were new maids, young and pretty, with the perfect blood for Terrel to stain. I could foolishly delude myself into thinking my motive was good, that my heart didn¡¯t want them to go through what I did, but the truth couldn¡¯t be more far-fetched. This was that man¡¯s way of displaying his power, his strength, his grasp on anything and everything that concerned me. He was stealing a maid from my entourage to scare all the others, so they fall back in line, returning to be the obedient little lambs they were raised to be. Ivy was simply a sacrifice, an unlucky girl who had fit the bill. The perfect example of a possible future, a tomorrow rebellion in his domain.


    Simultaneously, this was a warning meant for me, written in bold. ¡®You cannot go against me. You have no control.¡¯ Were the words written in his despicable mind.


    I knew how much my actions had angered him and yet, never in my wildest dreams would my judgment think him to be able to act so rashly, so childishly.


    ¡®You are mine. I can take everything away from you and you can¡¯t stop it.¡¯ Was the other message he attempted to pass.


    A suitable bride should obey and watch quietly in her own corner, not making trouble for anyone, especially her husband-to-be. He wanted me to feel guilty, to feel powerless and afraid. Terrel wished to display how far his power could reach and how deluded I was for trying to go against it.


    But just as he wished to make my life a breathing misery, I also dreamed of making him sink into despair.


    As a good wife, that¡¯s my job, is it not? To care for my husband, to obey my husband, to love my husband and to lure him away from the monsters, from the sins lurking into his soul. Those were my obligations as his personal demon, risen from Blasphemy itself, to follow every God, every day and everyday night.


    As I reached half the way to the capital grounds, I spotted the Duke¡¯s carriage. As expected, their pace was painstakingly slow. It seemed as if the coachmen, even being one of Terrel¡¯s man, appeared to possess a human soul who actually felt guilty of the poor girl¡¯s future, slowing down time until she met her demise.


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    ¡°Stop the carriage!¡± I yelled, forcing the man to pull the reins from his two putrid black horses. They neigh, feeling the of the pull on their mouths.


    His eyes widened as he embraced my figure, dressed in a man¡¯s attire, jumping down the white horse like a knight in shining armor. ¡°Lady Ophelia...? What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Retrieving stolen assets.¡± Without waiting another moment, my hands pulled the door open.


    Ivy was inside, holding back her tears, body trembling slightly. Someone had beautifully arranged her hair into two braids passing through her head, strongly attached to her scalp. They had applied powder on her face, forcing her to look paler than she truly was. Her chest popped out due to the overwhelmingly tight corset in the magenta-colored dress. That bastard dressed her like me.


    When he did her, would he picture me instead? Not even giving her the barest minimum of self-respect, of self-worth?


    ¡°But, milady, these are Lord Terrel¡¯s orders.¡± The coachmen¡¯s hands were soaked with sweat as he walked down his position, landing his feet onto the dirt. His eyes connected with the maid¡¯s before he hastily averted his attention. Indeed, he felt an overwhelming guilt deep within his core.


    ¡°What is your name?¡± I glared at the man coldly, forcing him to shudder slightly.


    He gulped his saliva down hard. ¡°Edward.¡±


    ¡°Then, Edward, please enlighten me. Who owns you?¡±


    ¡°Duke Wharton, milady...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± I pushed my hair into the ponytail harder, bringing the cloth closer to my scalp. ¡°Did the Duke, perhaps, tell you that Ivy had been reassigned after being handed over to me?¡±


    Edward couldn¡¯t utter a single word. My assumptions were obviously correct.


    Terrel was a child who acted on his own terms, not caring about the consequences. He was, what some call, hot-headed, never thinking of his actions straight. The Duke had assigned the maid to me, and this whole charade was pulled off without his consent. There was no way he would¡¯ve accepted this, being the trust-worthy, righteous man he was.


    ¡°I am sure you understand that stealing from me is like stealing from the Criswell¡¯s household.¡± He flinched after hearing my words, sweat slowly dripping from his forehead, wetting his expensive clothing. No one wanted to make Alvin, that wretched man, their enemy.


    Still, the servant seemed unsure. He had a job to complete and yet I prevent him from doing so with my family¡¯s good name. ¡°But, milady, Lord Terrel told me to bring Ivy to him. I have to bring her or I¡¯ll...¡±


    Edward was indeed loyal to that piece of scum. Quite a waste, if someone asked.


    ¡°I guess it can¡¯t be helped then...¡±


    Ivy¡¯s eyes widened at my words, forcing her to jump out of her seat, hands clenching on the wooden surface. ¡°Milady, please, you can¡¯t possibly...!¡±


    Without giving the woman as much as a look, a grin of satisfaction passed through my lips, knowing exactly how that man¡¯s expression would twist in angst and anger after my little game. ¡°Edward, you shall deliver him his precious ivy and a message from me.¡±


    The man¡¯s eyes followed the tip of my index finger and landed in the stone between the trees and the trunks, all covered in the beautiful shade of green, all thriving with ivy, rooting itself deeply into nature. He gasped, panicking. ¡°Milady, please, you know I¡­!¡±


    ¡°Do bring as much as you can. We wouldn¡¯t want my dear fianc¨¦ to think we are being cheap.¡±


    Knowing there was no way for him to win, the servant reluctantly walked into the forest, slowly pulling down the plants with his bare hands ¨C something that was undoubtedly, not an easy feat. But how could he go against the daughter of a Duke? He was but a lowly peasant who had been lucky enough to serve the heir to the Wharton¡¯s household since childhood and yet, he held no title, no honor, no power. He had no choice but to obey.


    ¡°You.¡± I pointed at Ivy, relief tears leaving her eyes. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡±

 Chapter 58: Tangled Ivy

    ¡°Milord, Edward has returned.¡± A servant entered the study room, interrupting the meeting between Terrel and the second prince, Donovan Virden.


    ¡°Has he now?¡± The nobleman grinned from ear to ear. ¡°Well, if you excuse me, Your Highness, I have some business to attend.¡±


    The prince knew exactly what the hobbies of the eldest son of the Wharton¡¯s were. He had seen it many times before. The way he flirted with the maids in the palace, the nights he left the royal grounds just to roam into the nightlife of the capital. He was a very predictable man, with predictable desires. Donovan didn¡¯t approve of his behavior, but men like him were easier to control, easier to use.


    ¡°As you wish.¡± Was all the prince said, as his fingers passed through the pages of the book, completely unbothered.


    Terrel hastily bobbed his head and exited the room, almost running through the halls with excitement. He was truly a child, not knowing when to stop, how to behave. All he saw was himself and his weird narcissistic fetishes.


    Minutes later, Donovan placed the book on his lap and opened the curtains, observing the entrance of his palace. His dark, caramel hair looked almost like a shiny piece of copper, blending in perfectly with his hazelnut eyes. His thin body and long lashes, alongside his soft lines, made him seem far younger than he truly was.


    Two floors down, Terrel had arrived at the gates just to be greeted by his servant, soaking in sweat. Edward kept averting his eyes, unable to face his lord.


    ¡°I assume everything went smoothly?¡± Completely neglecting the figure his underling was in, the noble¡¯s attention remained locked in the carriage. The maid from his fianc¨¦ stood inside, dressed just like Ophelia. When executed properly, revenge was truly sweet.


    The servant gulped. ¡°Well, milord... there was a problem, you see...¡±


    Reactively, Terrel dashed towards the carriage. Edward almost immediately grabbed his torso, forcing the guards from the palace to point their swords at the servant.


    ¡°Milord, don¡¯t...!¡±


    ¡°You dare...!?¡± In one swing, the man fell onto the floor. It had been done. He was doomed.


    The sound of the carriage door being opened echoed and then ivy fell onto the floor, some being swept away by the wind. Everything grew silent. No one knew what to say. Terrel banged the door so hard the horses became startled, forcing a guard to calm them down.


    ¡°You have ten seconds to explain yourself, Edward!¡± His eyes were tainted with anger as he tried to conceal the desire to beat up his servant into a pulp. Terrel knew this guy had always been faithful to him, as loyal as a dog. So how could such a thing happen?


    ¡°Lady Ophelia appeared and demanded Ivy back... I tried to explain, but she knew everything...¡± The servant quickly kneeled, feeling the pressure from his master¡¯s gaze. ¡°Somehow, she knew Duke Wharton hadn¡¯t approved this exchange... I... I didn¡¯t know what else to do...!¡±


    Terrel clenched his fists. ¡°How did she catch up with you in the first place!? She¡¯s a woman for God¡¯s sake!¡±


    ¡°She rode a horse, milord...¡± Edward sunk his sweaty forehead on the floor feeling the dirt attach itself onto his skin, praying to remain alive, praying for some kind of mercy. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry. Please forgive me, milord!¡±


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    How could that woman know? Terrel tried to understand how she had predicted the situation, how she reacted so quickly. Was she truly as na?ve as the rumors painted her to be? How could she have learned horseback riding on her estate? Her father would¡¯ve never allowed it. Then how...?


    ¡°So, she is rebelling is it...¡± He mumbled, feeling a strange sense of ecstasy pass through him. Somehow, he enjoyed it. Seeing her fight, only made him desire her more, to want to consume her faster. ¡°The little sheep is attempting to play the wolf¡¯s part, uh...¡±


    Terrel clicked his tongue, pushing his short hair back. Everything he did had been prepared, calculated to the brim of perfection. And yet, she slipped through his fingers as if they had been soaked in butter.


    ¡°Milord... she sent you a message as well...¡± Edward rose his head, forehead tainted in white, courtesy of the dirt laying on the ground.


    ¡°What did she say?¡±


    ¡°Lady Ophelia said she is eager to meet you and the friendly guard from the palace again... Do you think she knows?¡±


    Almost immediately, Terrel grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him closer to him. Edward could smell the intense fragrance of cigarettes in his breath.


    ¡°Remember where you are.¡± The noble let him go, allowing him to messily get back on his feet. ¡°Be careful of your words.¡±


    ¡°Yes, milord.¡±


    As he was about to bob his head down, his master¡¯s fist found his way onto the servant¡¯s cheek. An intense pain traveled through the man¡¯s muscles as he dropped onto the dirt. His eyes widened in complete shock.


    ¡°Never try to stop me again, Edward.¡± Displeased, Terrel glanced at the carriage one more time. ¡°Clean that shit up.¡±


    And with that, he turned around and left, heading back to the palace. As he walked to Donovan¡¯s study room, his mind ran wild with unanswered questions about that girl. He knew she was her father¡¯s puppet, and yet she continued to go against his will. She didn¡¯t seem to be as dumb as he initially thought.


    The plan was rather simple. Pay the guards to take her to that specific room and lock the door. Once Terrel was done with his meeting, he would visit her and do whatever his heart wished for. And yet, she escaped. It was only when he saw the cuts and the state of her dress that he comprehended she had been crazy enough to jump down two fucking floors.


    Even then, the fear in her soul was something he had yet to see in a lady¡¯s eyes.


    Disgust? Yes.


    Horror? Too many to count. But he hadn¡¯t even touched her so, how could she be so afraid?


    Something must¡¯ve happened. He grinned, satisfied with the conclusion his pitiful brain had reached.


    The guards froze once Terrel¡¯s hand rose and his feet stopped walking. ¡°It seems I must send word to an old acquaintance.¡±


    As he changed paths, heading back to his temporary chambers in Donovan¡¯s palace, a hint of annoyance kept on pestering him. He hated women like her, women that fought his wishes. Ophelia was one of them, going against the true nature of women, going against him, the man in this relationship.


    I just need to teach her properly... do what her father clearly didn¡¯t. He grinned, already setting up another plan in his mind.


    While all of this happened, Donovan, the second prince, watched the scenario unfold from above. He had seen everything, Terrel¡¯s frustrated expression, the punch on his servant and the vines coming from inside the carriage. Curiosity rung from within as he had found the whole situation far too amusing.


    Who could¡¯ve gone against the Wharton¡¯s first son? Someone with power for sure, but why?


    Questions roamed his mind until there was a knock on the large, dark wooden door. Quickly, he pushed the curtain back, rose from his comfortable seat and headed towards the entrance. Only one person would visit him.


    ¡°Her Royal Highness is here to see you.¡±


    ¡°Let her in.¡± And with that, the door opened, the maids left, and Donovan remained in the room with his mother.

 Chapter 59: Dreams of the Weak

    A week ago, right after Ophelia left the Hillgarden¡¯s estate, Patricia was thrilled. Almost immediately, she called for her servants, asking for a paper and a quill, knowing who to share such grand news with.


    Patricia always thought Amanda¡¯s younger sister was sickly, a route that by itself was impossible to take and yet, she appeared far more useful than predicted. Who knew she was a simpleton, a silly girl who simply yearned for some love and some affection from another?


    Her explanation made sense. It was not unusual to hear about nobles that ended up too drunk or heavily drugged at Lady Catherine¡¯s parties, especially during her regular masquerades. Everyone knew how eccentric her balls were, however, having hosted an annual event for everyone to attend, such pleasantries were considerably toned down, looking far more normal than usual. Of course, that didn¡¯t prevent people from smuggling the goods around and escaping to the inner parts of her estate just to give in to the demons they constantly yearned for.


    Drugs poured one¡¯s rawest thoughts out in the open, and Patricia knew how much of a bitch Amanda could be. How much harassment had Ophelia gone through to make her inner thoughts become so twisted? It was only natural to resent her to that extent, after all, they were like sister in arms, both suffering at the hands of that wicked woman.


    ¡°Milady, your writing material.¡± The servant placed a handful of scented paper sheets on top of the table.


    Hastily yet graciously, the young maiden began writing two different letters: one aimed towards her father who had left to settle some matters in the south for a handful of days; and another to her good friend Holly, who would be eager to hear about the upcoming celebration.


    ¡°Send them right away.¡± She smiled before heading to the entrance. ¡°Let¡¯s go, I must see a tailor immediately!¡±


    The next day came far quicker than Patricia was expecting. Her body ached slightly as she had spent an entire afternoon in the capital grounds, searching for the perfect dress to use on such a special occasion.


    ¡°So, what are these exciting stories you told me about, Lady Patricia?¡± Holly grabbed a small piece of carrot cake, leading it straight into her light pink lips.


    Young and na?ve, Holly Statton had arrived at the Hillgarden¡¯s estate early in the morning as she remained too enthusiastic to sleep. Patricia had told her she had news to share, but they seemed far more interesting than she led to believe on the short sentences placed on the paper.


    ¡°Lady Holly...¡± Patricia rested the pink-colored teacup on the table. An ambitions smile on her lips. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve felt it too... the tides are changing.¡±


    Holly wasn¡¯t foolish. She was always listening, always observing. High-society loved to gossip and rumors about The Black Rose, Ophelia Criswell, had already spread. Some said she had captured the heart of many bachelors, being Amanda¡¯s fianc¨¦, one of the unlucky few.


    Even lurking in the background, both Patricia and Holly had seen Ophelia¡¯s display of power. How she left the most wanted man alone, just for him to be engulfed by a swarm of noblewomen right after. After that, no one dared to approach her as they feared their humiliation might be next.


    It was almost as if she was out of our league... Holly recalled the feelings she had when she saw the young noble lady for the first time. She was gracious, humble, noble, and yet, extremely cunning and resentful ¨C a completely different breed from the vixens they were used to face.


    ¡°Only a blind person wouldn¡¯t notice that My Lady. Could you get straight to the point? You¡¯re boring me.¡± The guest brushed her short and curly blonde hair to the side, blinking one of her brown eyes playfully.


    Patricia smirked as if she had been waiting for this opportunity for years. ¡°Ophelia came to visit me yesterday... you see... she needed a space to throw a tea party next week.¡±


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    ¡°She¡¯s cursed Patricia.¡± Holly frowned, not liking the way the conversation was headed. ¡°Why are you even trying to approach her? She might have done well on Catherine¡¯s ball, but she still lacks influence...¡±


    ¡°Holly!¡± Promptly, the host got up and sat next to the girl, grasping her hands tightly. ¡°Amanda¡¯s clearly fallen out of grace and her sister is surrounded by wealthy men! The Verne¡¯s, the Trace¡¯s, the Wharton¡¯s... all of them want her! We mustn¡¯t fall behind!¡±


    Holly grew quiet, her mind pondering. After drinking a bit of the warm lemon tea, she finally intervened. ¡°You know the Duke despises her. She will never gain his power, not like Amanda.¡±


    ¡°Alone she can¡¯t, but you know the Criswell¡¯s vassals are strong. We are strong.¡± Patricia had already seen this scenario ahead, she knew what had to be done, what needed to be said. ¡°Look at Amanda! We spent years kissing her ass and for what? Our status are still the same!¡±


    Seeing her friend¡¯s stern expression, Patricia continued. ¡°I¡¯m not saying we should give up on Amanda... but we should keep our options open. You never know what might happen...¡±


    Ophelia Criswell could never attain power directly, but the Duke had no sons. If the vassals placed enough pressure, she could carry the title with her second son. And knowing how perverse Terrel¡¯s desires were, that would only take a handful of months, in worst case scenario, two or three years.


    Even then, Holly remained slightly conflicted. She had never spoken to her before, but she didn¡¯t appear to be gullible enough to be used. ¡°She¡¯s a menace Patricia. Don¡¯t you remember that night?¡±


    Swiftly, the host began explaining the events of the cursed girl¡¯s visit religiously, each one leading to the suggestion of the tea party. As she spoke the guest¡¯s expression twisted and turned, knowing fully well things couldn¡¯t be that easy but eventually, all became surprisingly clear.


    ¡°So, are you saying she simply needs some friends to guide her?¡±


    ¡°And who else would be friends with a cursed girl besides the Saintess Statton and the kind Hillgarden?¡± Patricia smiled as Holly finally understood her wicked thoughts. They were going to use Ophelia¡¯s status to climb up, to connect with higher nobles, to achieve richer sources.


    ¡°Indeed...¡± Holly¡¯s pink lips twisted into a quarter of a moon, displaying a devilish grin. ¡°Let¡¯s guide a lost puppy home.¡±


    When they met, they weren¡¯t exactly friends. Both had one goal: to befriend Amanda and rise their status with their close relationship. Yet, they continuously failed to do so as their influence was scarce and not taken seriously in the slightest; not to mention the lack of marriage proposals ¨C all falling on Amanda¡¯s lap like leaves that are bound to fall on the Hunting<sup>1</a></sup>. Besides, that wretched brat was far too self-centered, too narcissistic to form any bonds with other girls. All she did was brag about Bradley and speak ill of her younger sister.


    It was only when they acknowledged each other¡¯s existence that they formed an unwritten contract. Both were daughters of Earls, meaning they were pawns in Duke Criswell¡¯s game. That¡¯s why they wanted power, influence, status. They yearned to be adored, respected, feared.


    And yet, their ultimate goals couldn¡¯t go further astray. Patricia wished to marry the son of a Duke, especially Bradley Trace as she¡¯d fancied him since God knows when. Everyone knew he had exited the Royal Academy<sup>2</a></sup> with the highest grades, graduating a full year before everyone else. He was kind, beautiful, smart, and rich. What else could a woman ask for?


    Holly¡¯s wish, however, laid far higher. As the ¡®Saint¡¯, she aimed to marry a prince, making him the next king. When she was younger, her mother read fairy tales rather often, hoping they would help settled the girl¡¯s mind. In these tales, the queen was always a kind-hearted woman who helped the poor, who was humble and graceful, not wanting anything from herself, and in the end, she was always the one that got it all. That was why she used this mask, this display of charity, this purity wherever she went.


    ¡°Do you think they will come? It¡¯s a tea party, not a ball.¡± Holly commented, remembering these types of parties were rarely frequented by men.


    ¡°Are you kidding? Everyone will come. No one will want to miss an event hosted by The Black Rose.¡± Patricia replied, finishing her slice of carrot cake in one go.


    This situation was of significant benefit for both since, for the first time, they would be at a party for themselves, not serving someone else. They would make connections, especially with the heirs and the heads of the houses, for their life goals to be accomplished. Everything would work out the way they wanted to.


    ¡°Well then, I hope to hear from you soon.¡± Patricia took her partner to the door.


    ¡°Likewise.¡± Holly smiled, exiting moments after.


    The cards rested on the table; the players eagerly awaited the start of the game. And, as Patricia and Holly thought about the beginning of her dream lives, Ophelia was already setting the bait for her next target.

 Chapter 60: Dreams of the Weak

    <div>


    Mace¡¯s feet stomped hard on the ground, pushing the dirt into the thick mold of his sole. Ralph¡¯s body was meters away, lumped into a ball, his fingers taking the life of innocent pieces of grass by the sidewalk. Hearing the galloping sounds of the horse, their stance changed, focusing their attention on our figures, becoming closer by the second.


    ¡°Ophelia!¡± The eldest yelled, rushing towards the strolling mare.


    Almost automatically, I jumped down, landing perfectly on my feet. The maid grabbed my hand, slowly pushing her body onto the ground.


    ¡°Ivy.¡± Was the first word escaping my lips. She shrieked. Weak and slightly dazed, the maid lost most strength, swinging back and forth, hands covering her tomato-colored right cheek born from the sudden impact. ¡°Who do you serve?¡±


    Her eyes glanced at me, horrified. Faint blood drops fell from her bottom lip, tainting her snowy complexion. She gulped. ¡°I serve you, milady...¡±


    ¡°Did I command you to leave the mansion?¡±


    The maid¡¯s chocolate pupils wandered around, jumping from window to window on the mansion¡¯s silhouette. Time had stopped for everyone as shadows lingered behind the half-opened curtains, disdainfully glaring down, as if they were Gods entertaining themselves with such shallow amusement.


    ¡°No, milady.¡±


    No one here could question my judgement. Other than myself, the only person who she ought to report to was the Duke, and yet, she refrained from doing so. Her actions were treacherous, but I understood her reasoning. Terrel may not possess full control of the mansion, but his supporters grow by the day. Women don¡¯t have a choice; they need to fight for their survival within this forsaken land.


    I wonder how long it will take until she breaks...? Unconsciously, my mind had created psychotic scenarios, situations where she would lose all her reason, turning into a lifeless doll just as I once was.


    ¡°So, tell me, Ivy... after your betrayal, how do I know where your loyalty lies?¡± I approached; she hasted back. Her trembling hands grabbed her dress, crumbling it within her grasp. ¡°Are you running from me?¡±


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    ¡°Milady...¡±


    As she was about to speak, I darted my body forward, gripping her wrist strongly. She gasped, eyes widened like an owl¡¯s. ¡°Tell me, who are you truly loyal to? Me? Terrel? The Duke? Or is it... my father?¡±


    ¡°I would never betray you, milady! Please! Believe me! I wouldn¡¯t... I never...¡± Almost immediately, her knees sunk on the floor, tears flooding the dirt. Ivy¡¯s figure trembled, her voice stuck in her throat as if another thought had stolen the words from their belief.


    ¡°Ophelia... she just returned, calm down...¡± Mace intervened, yet the maid¡¯s head remained pressed against the hard dirt floor. Her beautifully crafted dress was now dirtied from the environment I had forcefully placed it in.


    ¡°I was wrong... maybe you are loyal to Terrel...¡± My figure approached hers, kneeling right by her side, leaning forward. With the help of my fingers, her head rose and, seductively, I whispered into her ear. ¡°Should I send you back there again?¡±


    Ecstasy flew through my body as I could only imagine the face she was making. Was she terrified? Or perhaps horrified at the thoughts running through her weak brain? Regardless, no words left her mouth, no breath escaped her lungs.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you be happy to have your master take your first time, Ivy? Tell me, wouldn¡¯t you like to be pregnant with Terrel¡¯s child?¡± With every mumble, the maid¡¯s body stiffed. ¡°I can help you achieve such dream.¡±


    ¡°Ophelia, you are being too harsh on her... it wasn¡¯t her fault...¡±


    ¡°Not her fault? Then who is to blame? The Duke for not educating the maid properly? You for not preventing it from happening?¡± In mere seconds, my height rose, eyes locked into the eldest son¡¯s figure. Deafening silence followed. ¡°My maid, my responsibility.¡±


    The younger sibling hid behind his brother, slightly scared by the scenario unfolding before him. ¡°Come, Ralph, we¡¯ll play with Ophelia later...¡±


    Mace leaned into his sibling, whispering a handful of words before embracing his frail body in his arms. Their figures slowly headed towards the mansion, disappearing after the loud sound created by the closed entrance door.


    ¡°Ivy... tell me, why did you do it?¡±


    Her eagerness to cooperate had disappeared. Tears twinkled in her eyes, her knuckles paled compared to the magenta dress covering her body. It wasn¡¯t enough, nowhere near enough.


    My figure lowered to her level once again, facing her pale expression. My hands seized her attire by the collar, pulling her face closer to mine. Her eyes widened seeing the wide grin on my lips.


    ¡°I heard a rumor the other day... Terrel seems to enjoy planks and whips... how about it? Becoming a masochist doll, beaten and bruised as he leaves his seed within you. Don¡¯t you yearn for it, Ivy?¡±


    <div>

 Chapter 61: Dreams of the Weak

    ¡°No... please, milady...!¡± Her pitiful sobs created a row of loud hiccups which prevented words to freely flow from within reason. Tears continued to moisturize her face, dripping straight onto the expensive dress. ¡°Lady Ophelia, I am only loyal to you! I¡¯ll do anything to prove it!¡±


    Pleased with her answer, my hands pushed her back, making the maid fall straight to the floor. She coughed repeatedly, hoping to regain some sort of standing, some sort of pride. In the meantime, I rose my torso and removed a small dagger from my boots, cleanly wrapped in a pearly white cloth, pure and brilliant.


    In a single movement, the item fell to her feet, causing her to look at me, confused. ¡°In that case... cut your index finger. Show me how deep your loyalty lies.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t hear it, but I could feel it. The gasps from our audience, the faint whispers strolling in the wind, Mace¡¯s frosty glare from the first-floor window. Without being there, my senses could feel it all ¨C and so could she.


    ¡®Ophelia! That¡¯s too much! Please, stop this!¡¯ Were the words Mace would yell at me, disregarding my decision yet again.


    ¡°You seem indecisive... Ivy.¡± Feeling the pressure increase, her soul shuddered. Her trembling right hand struggled to grab the dagger, fighting off the hesitation of committing a self-mutilation act, hoping to slither away going forth with such sinful act in front of God. ¡°It seems you are indeed...¡±


    Right before I finished my sentence, Ivy grabbed the sharp object with no hesitation. Her left hand captured a stick from the floor, leading it to her mouth. The maid¡¯s teeth strongly carved their way onto the dead nature piece, her fingers completely stretched, the cold dagger from her right hand touching its victim. Her harsh, heavy breathing and faint tremble made the steel of the dagger glimmer against the sun¡¯s rays.


    Adrenaline rushed through my veins as the dagger moved back and forth. Her determined eyes focused on me, challenging me. She wanted me to trust her; she yearned for such emotion, for such security. Blood quickly began popping out, as if a pump of emotions forced such event to occur - unconsciously, a wide grin appeared on my lips. Has Ivy always been such an interesting character?


    I kneeled in front of her; she frowned. The cut was getting deep. Soon it would reach the bones, displaying its pearliness for everyone to see. And yet, she glared at me, tears dripping from her eyes, saliva falling from the openings in her mouth, loud pained groans and a beautiful red carpet right beneath us.


    ¡°Stop.¡± I mumbled and like an obedient child, she did. Her arms froze into place, her breathing calmed.


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    My left hand touched her wet cheek while my right grabbed the dagger. In a single movement, I pulled it upward, and she gasped, in a mixture of pain and relief. A squirt of that bright red substance flew, mimicking a small fountain, before obeying to the rules of gravity, yet again.


    ¡°I believe you.¡± The item was thrown away onto the floor, several meters away from us before pulling out the saliva-filled stick from her mouth. ¡°Ivy don¡¯t forget what happened today. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°Yes, milady...¡± She had muttered all her leftover strength to say these words. Cold sweat dripped from her pores, which mimicked chicken skin and her body trembled intensely, as if she was being frozen alive.


    ¡°Now go.¡± I rose back to my feet. ¡°Get yourself treated.¡±


    But she remained there, on the ground, watching me walk back to the mansion. Olivia and a few other maids quickly opened the door and rushed to her side, helping her up before heading to their rooms.


    ¡°Are you satisfied now?¡± Mace leaned right by the entrance door, his chocolate eyes judging me. ¡°You know why she did it, Ophelia. Why didn¡¯t you just let it go?¡±


    ¡°My Lord, since you are an avid lover of chess, answer me this.¡± I coldly smiled. ¡°In a game, when a player loses their queen, they usually surrender. Might you know why?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s got nothing to do with this...¡± Seeing how my figure started to walk away, he sighed, giving into my request. ¡°Fine. The queen is the second most important piece of the board, without her there¡¯s not much you can do.¡±


    ¡°And why is that?¡±


    ¡°Because she is not bound by any rules, she can move freely while taking the opponent¡¯s pieces.¡± Slowly walking back towards my chambers, Mace followed, blabbing about his extensive knowledge of the game. ¡°If a player loses their queen, their oppression is over, and their moves are counted. It is highly liked they will lose.¡±


    ¡°Then wouldn¡¯t you say one should play carefully with the queen?¡±


    His feet stopped in place, his eyes widened, a dumbfounded expression resting on his face. Yes, now he had understood my reasoning, my own personal goal.


    This whole charade had been a threat to all of them. Words of my actions would soon spread among the servants, eventually reaching Terrel¡¯s curious ears. This had been a power display, a contest to show who was the actual threat to their own lives ¨C the maiden they served or the man who requested their presence.


    Reality wasn¡¯t a game of chess. One can¡¯t just give up a pawn and replace it with the taken queen, as death rules absolute over this realm. And yet, here I stood - alive after death, anywhere yet everywhere, somewhere in between. The king is but a foolish piece, bound to his solitude, relying on his people¡¯s sacrifices to survive. But his wife controls the board, controls the game, one might even say, she controls the throne.


    Now everyone knew. Terrel¡¯s influence was limited, bound to his quarters; mine, however, was everywhere I wished it to be. And God knew how much these people yearned for such a figure, for a true king to rely their faith upon, for a rightful villain who¡¯d fulfill all their ambitious fantasies.

 Chapter 62: Traitors must be Punished

    Several days later, the news had reached the Criswell¡¯s estate. Amanda had received a letter from Ophelia, that insipid snake of a woman who hoped for her attendance at the Hillgarden¡¯s estate.


    ¡°Father!¡± Amanda yelled after bursting into the Duke¡¯s study room, yet again. ¡°She¡¯s having a tea party! You cannot allow this!¡±


    Alvin jumped from his chair, dropping a pile of books on the floor. He had fallen asleep while working. His drowsy eyes tried their best to adjust to his surroundings as quickly as possible.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this!?¡± His daughter yelled, slamming the crumbled letter onto his desk. ¡°Father!¡±


    ¡°I know, Amanda...¡± He sighed, causing the girl¡¯s cheeks to become red.


    ¡°You said you¡¯d deal with her! And yet, she¡¯s throwing parties and inviting everyone!¡± Amanda¡¯s knuckles punched the table loudly, muscles as tense as rocks, clearly frustrated with the outcome of the situation. ¡°She hasn¡¯t even debuted yet!¡±


    ¡°Watch your tone, young lady.¡± He glared at her, knowing full well her feelings were about to escalate into something far bigger pretty soon.


    Amanda swallowed all her remaining rage as an icy shiver flew down her spine. She could tell her tantrum had gone far enough. Her father¡¯s reaction was living proof.


    ¡°Forgive me, Father... but what should we do?¡±


    ¡°The party is in a couple of days and we cannot stop it.¡± As he sat straight in his chair, his hand began massaging his forehead. ¡°You need to be as magnanimous as you can, Amanda. No one can outshine you.¡±


    Her father¡¯s reaction did not please her, but she knew better. Right now, no one could do anything. Duke Wharton was the only one who could prevent such an event from happening, but she couldn¡¯t show her face there without appearing hypocritical. She couldn¡¯t beg him to prevent this from happening, that man was far too resolute, and her pride laid far too high. It was too shameful, even for her.


    Annoyed, the young girl grabbed the letter and threw it on the floor, stepping on it with all her might. She glanced at Lanna with a haughty glare. ¡°Clean this up.¡±


    As his daughter left the room, followed by her maid moments later, Alvin¡¯s preoccupation grew. The situation seemed to have become far more complex than what he had originally envisioned.


    ¡°She¡¯s here, Your Grace.¡± A butler entered, head hanging low.


    A slim woman hid beneath a large dark hood - its shadow concealing her face perfectly. Even then, one could assess she was a maid as she promptly kneeled on the floor, gracefully - appearing as if she had served another for millennia. Her stature was rather small, causing some gaps on her cape to display part of her orange-colored dress - chic yet utterly ordinary. Too common to be a noble, yet too expensive to belong to a commoner.


    ¡°Is it done?¡± He asked once the servant closed the door.


    ¡°Not yet, Your Grace. Gilbert was punished severely.¡± Surprisingly, her voice was rather sweet. A sense rather ironic since the woman hid two - if not more - perfect facades. ¡°He is still recovering.¡±


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    ¡°Do you think she knows?¡± The timing of these events was far too convenient. From all the servants, the assassin he had hired was the chosen one, as if God was aiding his youngest with its trickery.


    Some might believe in fate, others in destiny, or even luck. Alvin didn¡¯t believe in anything but his own catalyst. The world was like a gigantic domino in his eyes; one simply needed to find the right incentive, the right piece to create an unstoppable - yet predictable - chain reaction. Nothing was unattainable if one could learn how to meddle with the actions of the world, with the consequences provided by God.


    ¡°If I may...¡± The woman peeked upward, forcing the hood to slightly open. A white mask adorned with pearls appeared, shining against the faint blaze from the candles in the room. Even from how little it showed, Alvin could see beautifully crafted lines painted through it - almost mimicking a face. ¡°I witnessed it and, in my humble opinion, I would say it was simply an unlucky coincidence.¡±


    Her rather seductive words flowed through the room, explaining how Gilbert had placed Ophelia¡¯s wrath on him after his small display of disrespect. Everyone knew nobles were people from angels, people with the right type of blood. One of the lower ones could never show their lack of faith or the fury of Divinity would fall upon the defiant of truth.


    ¡°I see...¡±


    Even though he heard everything the spy had to say, an uneasiness still lingered in his soul. Something wasn¡¯t right; something was severely wrong. He could sense a piece of the domino missing, a crucial element that would end up with all the consequences he had so carefully planned. Yet, he couldn¡¯t quite put his finger on it.


    ¡°What about the slave? What is your judgement?¡± The Duke got up from his chair and peeked through the curtains, observing the busy servants running around the garden with piles of washed sheets and baskets filled with fresh ingredients.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think there is a need for concern, Your Grace. Slaves can easily be bought, especially the ones that came from the mountains.¡±


    Alvin nodded. Gold was the only thing that forced the world to rotate, the commerce to exist. There was nothing that couldn¡¯t be purchased with gold - something that brat didn¡¯t have.


    ¡°Can you poison her?¡±


    The woman shook her head, forcing him to frown. He already knew it was a risky move, and yet he was being reckless, far too greedy. ¡°There are too many risks, Your Grace.¡±


    This suggestion didn¡¯t sound like something he would consider at all. A stinging headache formed as he realized his judgement was being clouded by frustration, despair and rage. He knew poisoning Ophelia was too much of a liability, as the outcome wasn¡¯t predictable. He¡¯d seen it countless of times.


    What if Ophelia didn¡¯t consume the poison, and gave it to a maid instead? If that were to happen, Duke Wharton would begin an investigation, closing any opportunities to approach her for the longest time.


    What if Terrel had people working under him in the mansion? If Ophelia were to die in such a mysterious way, he wouldn¡¯t spare any means to find the culprit behind it. She was his precious doll, after all.


    What if she did consume the poison on the Wharton¡¯s estate? The peace between the two houses would easily crumble and, if it didn¡¯t, people would judge, label Alvin as the cold-hearted man who let the murderer wander free.


    ¡°Alright... keep me informed.¡±


    The woman quickly rose and leaned her torso forward. The butler, who had remained silent in the room¡¯s corner, opened the door, allowing the guest to leave.


    Ophelia... how did you grow up to be like this? At this thought, his hands pushed all the papers on the desk onto the floor, causing them to shatter a cup that rested at the end of the table. His eyes widened, as a unique idea had been created in his twisted little mind.


    The tea party. That was the piece he needed to place into the domino, an extra element that would prove extremely beneficial. A grin popped on his lips, forcing his butler to promptly close the door after leaving.


    That was it. The end of his headaches would happen at a social theater. This would be the last act of Ophelia Criswell.

 Chapter 63: Traitors must be Punished

    Time had passed by rather quickly. Ivy was already working, even though her finger remained covered with bandages. But things were different.


    The maids respected me, some even feared me. The more courageous ones provided me with information I hadn¡¯t even asked, talking with each other loudly enough for me to hear. They were truly wicked yet smart creatures.


    ¡°Milady, His Grace is ready to meet you.¡± Olivia entered my chambers while carrying a small bottle of perfume in her hands. Quickly, she sprinkled some of its essence on my neck before I left the room.


    The tea party was tomorrow, and everything had gone according to plan. Patricia had done her job, just like her father. All that was left for me to do was to simply show up, and their futures would be secured - or so they thought.


    Strolling down the hall, I noticed an individual with his head hanging low, back curled like a ball, feet lumping on the floor, body swinging side to side as if his figure stood on the middle of a tempestuous ocean. He peeked, attempting to see where he was going.


    ¡°I see you have recovered.¡±


    Gilbert simply stared at me in silence, with his bloodlust eyes. He swallowed harshly and forced a smile to appear. ¡°Yes, milady, I am indeed feeling better.¡±


    Slowly, he tried to bow, but I grabbed his shoulders with my hands, pushing them upwards. A kind smile rested on my lips. ¡°Please, there¡¯s no need to push yourself so much.¡±


    His dumbfounded expression lingered for a handful of minutes before he proudly snorted. ¡°I shall take my leave then.¡±


    Almost instantly, he dashed towards the kitchen, leaving me alone in the hall. I glared at my hands, the same pieces of skin that touched his filthy body - and yet, satisfaction flew through my veins. Seeing him cry, hearing him beg like a kid, becoming a complete disgrace, had been enough to expel all the fear left in me.


    ¡°Come in.¡± The Duke commanded after hearing me knock outside of his room.


    Inside, his figure sat on the couch as his slender fingers held a warm-colored teacup, clearly holding pipping hot coffee within.


    ¡°Thank you for having me, Duke.¡± I bobbed my head.


    ¡°Ophelia, dear... please, call me Father.¡±


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    ¡°Forgive me, Father.¡±


    ¡°No, no... I¡¯m the one who should ask for your forgiveness.¡± He coughed slightly as my body sunk into the divan in front of him. ¡°I have been too busy... I didn¡¯t even get to ask about meeting with my son. Did you enjoy it?¡±


    My muscles stiffened, forcing me to hold the teacup in mid-air. I knew Edgar hadn¡¯t invited me simply to chit-chat. He had ulterior motives, wanting to know more about how our relation was moving.


    ¡°It was pleasant, even though it was too short.¡± I painfully smiled. Acting like a desolate maiden was easy, and that was exactly what his soul yearned to hear.


    Terrel now knew how much my being loathed his, everything about him. There was no relationship between us, besides a strange competition of hatred and lust. Even then, Edgar couldn¡¯t know we were walking on pins and needles. He needed to believe we were fine ¨C as in his eyes, we should be two love birds, yearning to be approved by God in holy matrimony.


    ¡°I see... I am truly glad.¡± His thumb caressed the cup gently, as the Duke tried his best to hide away his conflicted yet pained feelings. ¡°Ever since he was an infant, Terrel was a complicated child, but I hoped someone would accept that side of him, perhaps even change him for the better.¡±


    A sudden sense of guilt embraced me knowing full well such dreams weren¡¯t going to come true as the apple of his eyes would die by my bare hands.


    When he knows of it, how will he react? Will he want vengeance? Will he send me to prison, execute me in the public square?


    ¡°I understand. I will do my best.¡± A blunt lie.


    I wouldn¡¯t try to fix him, to make him a better man. No, that was a foolish dream from a blind human, from a father filled with illusions having lost touch with reality. The moment Terrel placed foot on this estate, he¡¯d die and not a bone in my body would hesitate to do so. That was a resolve that wouldn¡¯t waver for silly emotions like compassion or care.


    ¡°Are you prepared for your party tomorrow?¡± Rather satisfied, he changed the subject, hoping to ease the mood of the conversation.


    ¡°Of course, Father.¡± I drank a bit of the tea as my being was still far too young to attempt drinking coffee. ¡°Will you be able to attend?¡±


    ¡°I will try, child.¡± His voice was low, slightly disappointed.


    He seemed tired. His eye bags had become bigger, darker. His hair was longer, clearly not cut for a handful of weeks. Even his attire was slightly messy as his collar wasn¡¯t closed to its upper area, opening right at the middle of his chest, allowing some of his white hairs to peek. Some red rivers found their way onto the chocolate iris in his eyes as his skin hanged even lower than usual.


    He must be having a tough time with the mercenaries...


    I don¡¯t recall when it started, but other noblemen and their paid robbers heavily assaulted the mines owned by the Wharton¡¯s, taking a great percentage of their loot. This problem lasted for years, being solved by Terrel only a few months prior to my death. Somehow these daily occurrences stopped, and profit emerged rapidly, like magic.


    My mind kept on trying to remember Terrel¡¯s words, his conversations with the servants who would visit us in the cellar. But I couldn¡¯t. Their voices were too far away, muffled by the sound of the horse¡¯s neigh, who rested right outside of that alcoholic paradise.


    Noticing my thoughts were lost somewhere far away from his study room, Edgar got up and patted my head gently. ¡°It is getting late. You should get ready for dinner.¡±

 Chapter 64: Traitors must be Punished

    ¡°So, the party is tomorrow...¡± Lady Catherine opened the invitation yet again, after placing a cigar on her crimson lips. Every time she read her name on the rose scented paper, her eyes glimmered.


    She knew that the second daughter of the Criswell¡¯s was special. She¡¯d known this ever since she found her eyes drawn to her during the ball. Ophelia hadn¡¯t seen her, but Catherine followed her within her mind, observing her graceful, calculated moves attentively.


    Whenever she thought of her slim figure, her long charcoal hair and those eyes that caused the tides to cower in envy, Catherine¡¯s mind reminisced back to that night. She couldn¡¯t contain the growing desire, how she yearned to see more of her, learn more about her.


    After receiving the invitation, her heart began thumping again. It was new, exciting.


    Every day, she would open the envelope and read the letter, allowing an anxiety-filled adrenaline to flow through her veins. Catherine couldn¡¯t wait for tomorrow since, in her head, there was only space for The Black Rose.


    Many words had reached her ears. She knew all about Duke Criswell¡¯s plans; how he had hired an assassin to kill his own blood, and how he hungered for such even to happen soon. And yet, she couldn¡¯t help but wonder how Ophelia would react to this, what thoughts would roam her mind, what actions the young girl would take. She couldn¡¯t wait to see how the theater would play, just for her amusement.


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    ¡°Milady...¡± A young man in his twenties got up from the bed as his robust, tanned body shun against the moonlight. His brunette hair fell straight onto his shoulders, barely rubbing his muscles. ¡°The bed is getting cold...¡±


    His long fingers touched Catherine¡¯s neck, allowing a tingle of pleasure to rush through her body. Sneakily, they found their way onto her breasts, caressing them slightly as his lips kissed the back of her neck. The woman¡¯s body was icy, but with every move, it became warmer, yearning for something only this unknown man could provide.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you like...¡± He whispered in her ear, causing small volcanoes to erupt on her skin from excitement. ¡°... to play with me some more?¡±


    The man¡¯s hands reached her lower half, causing the woman to moan and his own pleasure to stiffen. He wanted this lady, to consume her yet again on this fourth night of delight.


    ¡°Kids sure are impatient these days.¡± Catherine commented, before getting up, her hands traveling through his body. She could see him thumping with excitement, with a lust for her own being.


    Seductively, her hands pressured him to approach the bed, before pushing him onto the sheets. Swiftly, Catherine removed her vivid red robe, dropping it on the floor. Her pale, voluptuous body was on display for such peasant eyes to see.


    Instinctively, like a predator eating its prey, she opened her legs, inserting herself on top of him. Her torso leaned forward, reaching for the man¡¯s ear. ¡°Now, entertain me.¡±

 Chapter 65: Throwing the Dice

    As the serene afternoon sun warmed the land with its presence, the servants eagerly rushed from one side to the other, finishing all the preparations for the big event. A few Barons, close friend with the Earl, had already entered the grounds, alongside some of their peers who were obnoxiously friendly. They chatted in the inner part of the garden, waiting for those of higher standing, hoping to catch a big fish in a stagnant pond.


    ¡°Lady Holly, I am so glad you could make it.¡±


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, I am truly thankful for your kind invitation.¡± She gracefully grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it upwards while bobbing the torso slightly forward. Her forced, gentle looking smile, her beautifully long and curly blonde hair, her almond-shaped blue eyes; mimicked an angel who¡¯d taken a human¡¯s shape.


    ¡°Please, don¡¯t be so formal with me. I am truly happy to finally meet you, My Lady.¡±


    As Holly heard the cursed child¡¯s words, Patricia¡¯s words became comprehensible. Ophelia was a sheep, a naive girl who had no clue of the influence and power her lineage possessed. The young noble woman smirked momentarily, imagining how this girl would be the perfect pawn for her goals, how her stupidity would become the best weapon a weak noble could attain.


    ¡°In that case, Ophelia, please call me Holly!¡± Her smile was warm, yet her words were filled with disrespect, abusing on the casualty department. Noticing Patricia stood by the hostess¡¯s side, smirking from ear to ear, Holly¡¯s heart raced. Their plan would work. ¡°I am sure you have many guests to greet. I wouldn¡¯t dare to disturb you any further. Lady Patricia...!¡±


    Rapidly, the fake Saint dashed towards her friend, who promptly guided her into the inner garden. Ophelia could hear them giggling loudly as they walked, probably mocking her, probably celebrating their momentary victory.


    But she didn¡¯t respond. Patricia and Holly were right where Ophelia wanted them to be. They thought she was a sheep, but they knew nothing. Their own ignorance was bound to be their doom, even if not today.


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    Once their voices became baffled by the voices of the remaining nobles and servants, the hostess¡¯s attention focused on the garden. Behind a handful of trees and bushes, several tables rested, being covered in gorgeous snowy pieces of cloths, falling straight onto the green grass. On top of them, perfectly made transparent glasses rose, blending in with the pale blue porcelain plates adorned with many delicacies. A central table had a small tower separated into several floors, each with unique layered cakes, fitting any tastes. Even the servants¡¯ uniforms had been colored in a light blue, reminiscing of the bright Blistering sky. Earl Hillgarden sure surely knew how to impress, having gone above and beyond for such gathering. Besides the lack of high-society members present, one couldn¡¯t distinguish this party with a Duke¡¯s gathering, as everything seemed far too similar, dwelling in riches and thriving with exquisite items.


    Ophelia glanced towards some bushes, some meters in front of the iron fence. Jade¡¯s eyes connected with hers as he watched her from afar. She knew the deadliest threats were the ones surrounded by silence, and his presence as a shadow would allow her to have the upper hand.


    She knew this party would become the buzz in the capital for weeks, if not months. Gossips, rumors and hidden truths would roam around like a maniac spreading faith to the false God. And no one could prevent it.


    ¡°Milady, your ribbon is falling off.¡± Ivy approached me, her hands grabbing the thick strand of her master¡¯s raven hair. ¡°Should I tie it for you?¡±


    Everyone knew how one¡¯s appearance clouded a mind. All the attendants needed to be perfect, to be at their peak performance, in their best shape, with their best attire.


    The noble lady quickly nodded, allowing the maid to remove the silky looking purple bow from the bottom of her hair moments before redoing her braid in a matter of seconds. Its color blended in perfectly with Ophelia¡¯s long, dark purple dress. At the hem of its skirt, a custom-made black flowery embroidery had been carefully crafted, matching the darker pattern in the corset. A big amethyst jewel rested between her breasts, right at the center of her cleavage. Black gloves made of lace which rose to her elbows, contrasting her pale skin. Her earrings carried two medium-sized amethysts almost laying at the middle of her neck, forcing one¡¯s attention to shift onto the silver necklace which connected to the corset of the dress, with its two gray chains, adorned by some smaller pieces of jewels. Her breasts popped out just enough to leave others wondering, wanting to know more.


    She looked beautiful, mysterious, slightly seductive, as her dress was a perfect fit.

 As the serene afternoon sun warmed the land with its presence, the servants eagerly rushed from one

    ¡°Earl Hillgarden, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± Ophelia bobbed her head to Patricia¡¯s father as he arrived in his carriage. His appearance was a lot older than what she had previously expected: his brown eyes appeared tired, already carrying the burden of age alongside his hair, whose color began to fade, embracing white and gray.


    ¡°You flatter me, Lady Ophelia. I am the one who is honored to have deserved your trust for such a special event.¡± The Earl politely replied after bowing.


    He appeared to be licking the young lady¡¯s boots as she was from the Criswell¡¯s lineage, the one family he needed to consider. And yet, seeing her polite smile, her graceful stance, he couldn¡¯t help but feel suspicious. Wasn¡¯t she far too perfect, far too... unrealistic?


    For the vassals of the Criswell¡¯s house, Ophelia¡¯s treatment wasn¡¯t a secret. They knew how she had been exiled in Alvin¡¯s mansion for years, how her illness was a simple lie to prevent any prospect partners from approaching the Duke¡¯s fortune. Even then, these were speculations as none had a glimpse of her; simply relying on information from the servants¡¯ conversations. Not a single noble tried to deny the whispers forming in high society; none tried to help her in any shape or form out of fear and neglect.


    And yet, the fifteen-year-old girl who knew nothing of the world, of etiquette, stood in front of him, graceful as the wind, kind as a flower. According to the servants, they locked her in her room, like a caged beast, ever since her birth so how could a person like that attain such eloquence with just one social appearance?


    After being informed of the event, the Earl investigated the girls¡¯ past. From some former employees¡¯ point of view, they showed her complete neglect. She didn¡¯t know how to read, how to write, how to dance. She lacked any type of education, any type of teachings.


    He glanced at the entourage standing behind her. Not a single handmaid nor lady-in-waiting, only servants hired from the Wharton¡¯s duchy. It was common knowledge that royalty and daughters of Dukes could ask for two ladies-in-waiting, both women from similar aging but from other noble houses that would serve as companions and sometimes, servants. That was the position Holly and Patricia so eagerly wished to take for themselves, as that meant they would be following Amanda to every social event, yet the blood-haired girl was so egocentric and cruel she kept them around like dogs, as if they weren¡¯t humans at all.


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    As the Earl continued to observe her attentively, Ophelia understood she had met a rather interesting foe. He was careful, cautious, not easily tricked by facades or bound by sudden bursts of emotions.


    Devlin Hillgarden. A man who was born a commoner yet attained his title through heavy monetary contributions to the crown. Most of the high nobility, including the Criswell¡¯s, despised him since he didn¡¯t possess the rightful blood of a noble. Even then, this man didn¡¯t care.


    According to words floating in the wind, the Earl was born out of wedlock on a small farm in the Evan¡¯s duchy. Somehow, he had a lucky investment who gave him an extensive fortune. He had a knack for business, knowing when to enter and when to leave, barely having any losses in his bets. Besides this more accurate rumor, other gossips turned darker, heavier. Some said he kidnapped a noble child, blackmailing them to enter the blue-bloods; others simply believe he had an affair with an older widow, who ended up dying and leaving her entire fortune to him in her will; some even thought the Devil himself sent him, striving to disrupt the natural order of the world, of the ones blessed by God.


    Of course, no one knew for sure what had happened, but where mystery existed, gossips were bound to appear, and where there was fire, there was fuel.


    The Earl was now a social figure, a martyr, some may say, for the low-born who aspired to attain his power, his type of status. The lower classes favored him since he had been the first commoner to attain the title of Earl, beating the few Barons scattered here and there. In fact, his influence ran so deep, one word from him could ostracize a man and, in the worst-case scenario, their business.


    ¡°Father!¡± Patricia ran from the tables, a wide smile stamped on her lips. Her arms open, quickly hugging the man who¡¯d brought her into this world. ¡°I am so glad you could make it!¡±


    ¡°Of course, my dear. I wouldn¡¯t miss this for the world.¡± He kindly smiled at his daughter, patting her blushed cheeks. Moments later, his attention shifted to his servants. ¡°Make sure you work diligently and don¡¯t stain our family¡¯s name.¡±


    ¡°Our prestigious guests have arrived.¡± A young butler appeared, trying to catch his breath from the hasty run his body had just undergone.


    ¡°I shall take my leave then. Lady Patricia.¡± Ophelia smiled politely before turning her feet and walking towards the big entrance, followed by Devlin. They both stopped in front of the thick gates while a vast line of several carriages patiently awaited.


    Finally, the game was about to begin.

 Chapter 67: Throwing the Dice

    Several days ago, at the Carlyle residence, Bradley was in a foul mood. He was annoyed, frustrated, infuriated with the events of that day. And now he couldn¡¯t approach Ophelia. The guards would simply prevent him from entering the estate, no matter how many times he tried.


    Bradley rested on the couch as a book hid his face from the sunrays entering through the half-opened window. ¡°Another letter? I already told you to throw them all away.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ from Lady Ophelia, Master...¡± Aiden stated, just to see his body immediately rise, returning to its energetic state.


    ¡°Is that so...¡± He coughed, pretending to be calm. However, his aide could see how anxious he was. ¡°Give it to me.¡±


    In a single movement, he opened the envelope being embraced by a sweet scent of a freshly picked rose. As his eyes read each word carefully, a glimmer would sparkle in them; a wide smile spread on his lips.


    After reading its contents several times, his body froze. Why would she invite him?


    His heart was thrilled, yet his reason made him suspicious. Ophelia was clearly not on his side; she had made him perfectly aware of that fact, just like her feelings towards him - which was one of the few things that made her so alluring.


    Could this letter be a challenge? A way for to get even?


    ¡°Send word to my tailor. We have a party to attend!¡± Having decided, Bradley was eager, hungry to face her, to win.


    This time, he would make her play his game. She wouldn¡¯t win, she wouldn¡¯t defeat him again. He¡¯s seen her, several sides of her, and he knew she wasn¡¯t a frail bunny waiting to be captured; instead, she was a fox, luring others into her traps. Until now, Bradley had played the game thinking she was innocent, na?ve - but things had changed. He wouldn¡¯t face her with mercy. She was going to handle the real deal, the one lion of Ashen who preyed on foxes, who trapped them in their own webs.


    Even then, his heart raced. It wasn¡¯t just the excitement of this little charade of a competition; his mind already knew it was merely a matter of time before Ophelia truly became his. And, to him, this futile display of power, of resilience she had, was a pitiful yet entertaining last hurrah.


    ???????


    Finally, the Earl commanded the gates to be opened, and the carriages approached. Nobles began leaving their rides, greeting them with great excitement.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, you look beautiful.¡± Bradley was one of the first to leave his luxurious transport.


    Ophelia couldn¡¯t understand this man¡¯s mind.


    How long has he been waiting there to be first in line? Was this his way of capturing my attention?


    She cordially smiled. ¡°Lord Bradley, you too look angelical today.¡±


    Much to her surprise, he simply bobbed his head and greeted the Earl before quietly taking his leave. Following him was Aiden, whose head hung low, hoping to prevent any unwanted attention.


    As guests kept on entering the garden, Patricia and Holly guided them towards the main area of the event. Their excited smiles couldn¡¯t hide their colors, even the perfect Saint who appeared to be far too pleased with all her new social connections, had lost part of her composure.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, I¡¯ve heard great things about you...¡± A sweet, alluring voice, much like sirens leading sailors into sinking their ships on the hidden rocks, spoke.


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    Reactively, she turned her attention to the woman standing in front. ¡°Lady Catherine, I¡¯m delighted to finally meet you. I¡¯ve heard many great things about you as well, My Lady.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they were.¡± Her sarcastic voice made the Earl cough, as he impatiently wished to intervene. Catherine frowned, displeased. ¡°Wait for your turn, old man.¡±


    Ophelia¡¯s eyes widened with surprise at her shocking comment. She glanced at Devlin, who looked unbothered, almost as if he had grown used to these types of insults, creating a special armor just for them.


    She knew the rumors surrounding Catherine were embellished, but she would never think they were so far-fetched. They described the woman as an extremely graceful noble who expressed her opinions whenever she felt the necessity to, even if they were harsh to some ears. But she was simply plain rude, as if everyone was below her, as if she was the jewelry on the king¡¯s crown.


    ¡°I had hoped to meet you during your ball, My Lady, but luck wasn¡¯t on my side.¡± Trying to lighten up the mood, Ophelia intervened but the woman simply smiled, as if she knew exactly what the girl was trying to do.


    In a single swing, the noble lady closed the bright red fan, allowing her vivid red lips to pop out. ¡°Well, I shouldn¡¯t make your other guests waiting, My Lady. My Lord.¡± She glanced at the Earl, bobbing her head slightly before passing by him, preventing any type of conversation. Momentarily, she stopped next to me. ¡°Do entertain me, Black Rose.¡±


    A shiver ran down Ophelia¡¯s spine as she realized Catherine wasn¡¯t an ordinary noble. She was far from her league, a greater opponent, a smarter person. She gulped, knowing that, by accident, the attention of someone dangerous and erratic now laid on her.


    Guests continued to arrive but, besides Bradley and Catherine, only a handful of high-ranking nobles showed up. Ophelia bit down her bottom lip strongly, frustrated that her prey, Marquess Verne, hadn¡¯t taken the bait. She already knew it would be hard as her influence in social circles was small, faint to be truthful, but not all was in vain.


    ¡°Oh! My dear sister! I am so glad you could make it! I missed you dearly...!¡± Ophelia spoke obnoxiously loud when she noticed Duke Criswell and Amanda leave their carriage. Without hesitation, she dashed to her sister, grabbing her hands, just to see her face twist in pure disgust. ¡°I am truly relieved you could recover from your sickness...! I was so worried...!¡±


    ¡°Thankfully, it was only a mere cold...¡± Amanda replied, pulling away her hands harshly while averting her eyes.


    A warm, gentle smile appeared on Ophelia¡¯s lips as her sister placed some distance between them. ¡°Please do not strain yourself... this is simply a humble party...¡±


    ¡°Oh, do not worry. I am indeed feeling better and I wouldn¡¯t miss such a joyous opportunity! It is your first party after all...¡± Mimicking her sister¡¯s attitude, Amanda smiled.


    She only came to this little charade for two reasons. She needed to turn Bradley into his old, caring self while sabotaging this gathering simultaneously. Her goal was to bring shame to her sister¡¯s name, forcing her to become a secluded woman, living solely for her husband, too ashamed to even show her face to the outside world ever again.


    Should I just break her teeth? Ophelia could see the intentions hidden behind her sister¡¯s fake smile. That prideful, snobbish smile disgusted her.


    ¡°Ophelia, it is good to see you, my child.¡± A polite sentence, with a polite tone, alongside a polite smile. Perfect to keep up with appearances.


    ¡°Of course, Duke, I am honored you could attend despite your busy schedule.¡± Ophelia grabbed the hem of her skirt, bowing slightly. She couldn¡¯t let her emotions get the best of her.


    Conveniently, now she was part of his blood. How ironic, how hypocritical. It sounded just like him.


    As the Duke and Amanda greeted the Earl, trading daggers in their smiles, Ophelia quietly observed them. Every noble had brought some sort of entourage; however, they were alone. She frowned slightly, suspicious of such a strange situation.


    Alvin wanted to kill her, that much she was certain. His appearance at today¡¯s event only confirmed her suspicions further and yet, he had brought no one to keep her in check, to carry on his wicked plans. She glanced at Jade, reassuring herself about their teamwork, about their bonds of loyalty and trust.


    Let¡¯s see if you can control your greed. She thought as she saw Patricia take them both into the inner garden, rather reluctantly.


    ¡°Shall we head inside then, Earl?¡± Ophelia cordially smiled; however, as she was about to walk away, the sound of horses galloping echoed in the wind. She turned, seeing a known carriage with a familiar crest on its side.


    As it stopped right in front of her, her head fell into the ground, her hands turned into pairs of knuckles, crumbling then dress between them. Time froze, passing by slowly as the door opened, as footsteps were heard.


    ¡°I hope I am not too late...¡± Her whole body stiffened as his voice rung in her ears. ¡°... Lady Ophelia.¡±

 Chapter 68: Something about Her

    ¡°Lord Terrel, I see you received my invitation.¡± Ophelia stated politely, averting her eyes to the younger siblings standing in the back. Mace and Ralph held hands as the eldest tried to provide some kind of reassurance to the youngest.


    ¡°My loving fianc¨¦e recognizes me solely by my voice; I am, indeed, one lucky man.¡± Terrel grabbed her hand forcefully, pressing his lips on it, eyes connected to hers.


    Ophelia¡¯s skin erupted, wishing to crawl back on its own, hoping to escape his touch. And yet, his grasp on her wouldn¡¯t disappear, just like the cynical smile on his rather crooked lips. She frowned momentarily, giving her fianc¨¦ an ounce of extra joy.


    The girl¡¯s mind kept on jumping around, from one scenario to another. She despised this man, hoped to see him rot underground, in the Blasphemy he had come from, but her emotions couldn¡¯t let it show. Terrel wouldn¡¯t control her resolve, her brilliance.


    Noticing the overwhelming silence and Ophelia¡¯s dark stare, Mace intervened. ¡°Brother, we should go.¡±


    ¡°What did you say, little shrimp?¡± Terrel crept back, facing his siblings, eyebrows drawn in a thick line of hairs across his forehead. ¡°Who are you to order me around!?¡±


    Mace¡¯s body backed as a reflective movement once his brother¡¯s arm rose, ready to strike him. Ralph had let go of his brother, now watching everything unfold from behind the carriage. His little arms trembled as he grabbed the wheels, terrified of what was about to happen.


    The Earl remained quiet, carefully watching this scenario unfold. Even if he wanted to, he wasn¡¯t a Wharton¡¯s vassal, nor was his status higher than the heir of a Duke - he couldn¡¯t intervene.


    He¡¯s a complete beast... Ophelia¡¯s mind was becoming clearer by the second. This man cared not for appearances, cared for nothing but his own selfish desires. He lacked awareness, etiquette, morals. He would truly be more handsome with his head severed, cut in a clean swing of a sword. Seeing how the situation was escalating quickly, the noble lady inhaled deeply and stepped forward.


    ¡°Are you going to abandon your fianc¨¦e?¡± Her words made Terrel¡¯s attention shift back to her, like a one-year-old infant with an attention span of a dog.


    ¡°Of course not, my dear. I would never do such a thing... shall we go?¡± He stretched his arm covered in that thick brownish colored suit he constantly wore.


    A shiver ran down her spine once their bodies intertwined, connecting through the touch of their palms and clothes. Even then, she muttered up the courage to keep up her facade, to pretend everything was alright. Devlin simply followed behind, next to Mace and Ralph, as Terrel had completely ignored his presence.


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    Gracefully, they walked toward the inner garden, feet stepping on the bright blue cloth covering the dirt floor. Delphiniums and blue poppies lingered in beautifully carved jars, rising in greatness on a handful of carefully placed cornerstones. The sweet scent of lavender and freshly cut grass emanated from the nature surrounding them, creating a rather refined environment.


    Once they passed the tall trees, entering the event area, silence formed. Servants and nobles alike focused their attention on them, like hawks hunting down their prey. Reality had finally hit them: The Black Rose was the Wharton¡¯s fianc¨¦e. All those eyes, compelled by desire and curiosity, were nothing but shattered dreams that once strived, illusions that were dissipated with the simple sight of a man.


    ¡°I am afraid I have to excuse myself. The guests are waiting.¡± Ophelia stated while removing her hand from his arm; however, as she was about to leave, Terrel grabbed her wrist, pulling her closer towards him.


    She bumped into his chest harshly, being hurt by the several golden buttons adorning his rather pompous attire. Without being able to suppress her true feelings, Ophelia glared at him, causing his grin to widen.


    Terrel couldn¡¯t help but to wish those fiery eyes to be his, to become bound to him, to subdue them to his will. All her theatrical displays, her carefully built facade of yearning, of being a good fianc¨¦e was simply that: a mere deception.


    Her light blue eyes, filled with a spiking resolved, a pure hatred, only made him want to ruin her further. From everything he had done in life, this would be one of his greatest acts, the best choice for his sole pleasure.


    ¡°You may go, my dear, but don¡¯t forget...¡± Terrel grabbed Ophelia¡¯s chin, lifting it up. His lips smashed into hers forcefully as her arms struggled to leave. Eyes focused on hers, as if this was another competition of greatness, of power. His teeth bit her bottom lip strongly, allowing the sweet taste of blood to flow into them before letting her go. ¡°... you belong to me.¡±


    Faint words traveled through the wind as guests talked about what they had just witnessed with their own two eyes. Some were experiencing frustration, as they wished to be in Terrel¡¯s shoes; others simply found this scene an irresponsible display of affection between a couple; and the minority laughed at the poor girl¡¯s misery.


    Bradley could only watch this unfold from his table. The cake in his grasp had crumbled onto the floor, causing cream to cover his fist. Right at the knots of his articulations, a certain paleness could be seen, contrasting the popping veins traveling all the way to his jaw. His emerald eyes were sharp, observing, planning, cursing. How could Terrel dare to taint his possession?


    He could see it. The horror in her eyes as she backed away, the faint tremble in her hands, the small drops of blood pumping from the cut on her pale lip. That man was truly a menace, a creature who didn¡¯t deserve the life he had received.


    I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him. I¡¯ll kill him.


    Were the thoughts roaming their minds, even though neither Bradley nor Ophelia knew of such a fact.

 Chapter 69: Something about Her

    <div>


    ¡°Master, you should calm down... this is not the time nor the place...¡± Aiden intervened, hiding Bradley¡¯s cake covered fist with a large handkerchief. ¡°There are too many witnesses.¡±


    As the young nobleman calmed down his intense urge to kill, Ophelia straightened her body, regained her graceful stance, and politely smiled. ¡°Of course, I am well aware of my standing, My Lord.¡±


    Terrel looked at her, his mind now filled with disappointment. He enjoyed seeing the fear in her eyes, the fury, the wish to retaliate - and yet, here she was, acting all-mighty, untouchable. It was annoying.


    How could she consider herself better than him? She was a woman; a creature created to provide pleasure and continue the lineage; God had said so himself.


    Ophelia cleaned the blood from her lip with her fingers before placing her right hand on his cheek, passing through his skin softly. She smirked seductively. ¡°Do you perhaps, like chess, My Lord?¡±


    Seeing her eyes involved in pure greed and a strange type of lust made him gulp. For her age, her figure had truly matured, her skin was fair, her curves not overly voluptuous but perfectly arranged for her body type. Two pearly like breasts popped out from her purple dress and her lips were soft, too soft. Terrel wanted to steal her away, to prevent anyone else from seeing her, to smell her, to touch her. She was his, and his alone.


    This feeling was overwhelming. He wished to be the only one to appreciate such beauty, even if that meant to incarcerate her somewhere far away, in another realm, another world, another dimension. His soul was so fixated on the girl before him that the figures surrounding them, innocent nobles, became sinful beings, creatures born from Blasphemy; enemies who wished to take her away.


    ¡°Yes...¡± His voice was calm as his head swung back and forth. A strange pleasure tingled through his skin when her fingers began lowering, reaching for his neck.


    In a moment of pleasure and ecstasy, Terrel¡¯s grip loosened, allowing Ophelia to quickly pull her hand while placing some distance between them. She grinned. ¡°Then you must know the most important piece is the queen... she is the only one who protects the king, after all... I¡¯m sure... you don¡¯t want to lose yours so soon, right?¡±


    Terrel clenched his fists, furrowed down his eyebrows, sharpened his eyes. She had played him. ¡°Do you take me for a fool!?¡±


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    His voice was loud, echoing through the garden as he yelled anger-driven words. Gossip then floated, yet again. But this time, no one attempted to conceal it. Everyone could hear their words, their judgements on the man standing before them.


    ¡°Look at that... what a disgrace...!¡± A feminine voice from the back spoke loudly, intervening on the girl¡¯s behalf.


    ¡°Poor child... being married to that monster...!¡± A man somewhere in the front row said to his peers, causing them to agree.


    It wasn¡¯t long until there was a mutual agreement between the present nobles: Terrel was a beast, attempting to hurt a frail, innocent girl at plain sight. What monster would do that?


    Even then, Terrel¡¯s attention wasn¡¯t focused on the words of the world. His attention was solely on Ophelia, on the sentences expelled from her body.


    ¡°Of course not. How could I consider such a profane act?¡± She sarcastically replied.


    ¡°Who do you think you are, Ophelia!?¡± Her mockery only made his emotions burst, his voice to grow louder.


    It was only when she glared at him coldly, her voice serene as a Blistering day. ¡°Lord Terrel, we are yet to be wed. Don¡¯t forget your status.¡±


    He gritted his teeth. This slut dared to give him orders? Who did she think she was?


    The noble man could sense it, the overgrowing disdain from his companions, the girl¡¯s superiority towards him. She looked down at him, as if he were a mere lump on the road, something useless, unworthy of her concern.


    ¡°You little...!¡± Terrel rose, his arm back, preparing to swing it with all his strength. She was bound to learn how to respect her husband, one way of another.


    ¡°My Lord, you must remember where you stand... do you truly wish to stain the Wharton¡¯s image?¡±


    As his hand was about to hit Ophelia¡¯s cheek, it stopped, just a few centimeters away. The girl hadn¡¯t even flinched. She continued to glare at him, in her grace, in her invulnerable stance. Frustrated, he closed his hand as it trembled slightly, pulling it back to his torso.


    ¡°Wise decision.¡± She commented, approaching him slightly. When she got close enough, she mumbled onto his ear. ¡°Do behave, darling. I wouldn¡¯t want people to think the heir to the Wharton¡¯s is a beast driven by urges, would you?¡±


    Ophelia back away again, a winning smile on her lips. She was right and Terrel knew it. He was the heir, but that title could easily shift onto his brothers if his father seemed fit. If a scandal were to happen, what would Edgar think? He could easily give the title to Mace, or worse, give him Ophelia as a prize trophy.


    Annoyed but without being able to utter another word, he forced a smile and left, followed by his younger brothers, who stood only some meters behind him.

 Chapter 70: Something about Her

    <div>


    Terrel walked away, each step he took, the thinner his figure appeared to be, and yet, I felt the pressuring eyes of all nobles on me. Their judgmental attention relied on me, their spiteful mouths recorded with my name in them.


    I could feel it. The trembling on my arms returning, the cold sweat dripping from my pores, gluing the fabric to my skin. All that strength, that pitiful charade, was closing its curtains, causing my genuine fears to lurk out yet again.


    Knowing my mind didn¡¯t allow me to stay further in the garden, my soul somehow found the courage to straighten my back and pop a cordial smile. ¡°My dear guests, I hope you are enjoying the party. I will be with you shortly.¡±


    Almost immediately, haste in my feet, I dashed towards the Hillgarden¡¯s mansion. Most of it was empty, as the servants were far too busy serving the guests and keeping everything fully stocked. It was only after a handful of minutes of wandering around that my gaze fell across the waiting room, sitting rather deeply into the hallways. Luckily it was void of life.


    Desperately, my body fell on the couch, having no further strength left, no further will to move.


    My mind kept on remembering Terrel¡¯s lips pressed on mine, his teeth carved on my skin, his touch on my body, his voice, his glare, his grin. I had eaten little, but my insides twitched, hoping to expel the little nutrients they had received earlier on.


    Slut.


    Whore.


    Useless.


    His words kept on rolling in my head, like a sickening sailor¡¯s melody as they hope to attain an illusionary treasure. Instinctively, my arm covered the light flowing into my eyes, causing some runaway tears to drip through my cheeks. As my figure trembled, attempting to conceal the panic flowing through, reason shattered, piece by piece.


    Some people said, ¡®out of sight, out of mind¡¯, but they were wrong. Being in the darkness didn¡¯t make it go away. I could still remember it all, feel it all, see it all. Every time I closed my eyes, he was there, on top of me, dominating me, abusing me, dirtying me.


    I wanted to scream.


    I wanted to peel my skin and wash his touch off.


    I wanted him to fade from this world, to dissipate from my memory.


    I wanted so many things. Yet, none of them were real.


    ¡°Master, are you alright?¡± Jade¡¯s voice.


    Promptly, my figure straightened, messily cleaning up the tears still rolling down my cheeks. ¡°Yes, I am fine.¡±


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    We both knew it was a lie. We both knew I was far from being fine. Even then, no one dared to pursue the matter further.


    In silence, he simply sat next to me. Neither of us said a word, yet we acknowledged each other¡¯s presence. Somehow, it was reassuring to have someone to lean on, someone that maybe, just maybe, my soul could come to trust.


    ¡°In my land, there¡¯s a tale mothers tell their children.¡± Jade leaned his back into the couch, sinking his body alongside mine. ¡°Men cannot move mountains, but God can do anything. At first, I thought that was stupid; God doesn¡¯t exist. But it is true, I¡¯ve seen it. I saw mountains move.¡±


    ¡°Mountains moving by the will of God?¡± I sighed. ¡°That¡¯s surreal.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you noticed, Master? Terrains change. Rock becomes sand, nature expands to new horizons... your pain is the same. It will change, disappear.¡±


    He was trying to comfort me. I knew that. And yet, his words sounded ludicrous. My pain wouldn¡¯t heal with time, my scars wouldn¡¯t become scarcer, fading as my body and mind aged. What a stupid, foolish thought.


    ¡°I already know how my fate will play out, Jade. Nothing will change, no matter how many lives I live, how much I try.¡± He gulped, being greeted by a rather cold glare. ¡°Men cannot control time; only God can, and I am nothing but their puppet.¡±


    Even with my harsh words, he still hung his belief on a small strand of hope. ¡°The pain you feel... I cannot understand it, but it can heal. Have some faith, Master!¡±


    ¡°Jade...¡± As my body rose, so did his and our eyes connected, trading unknown whispers with each other. ¡°You cannot bring someone back from the dead, just like you cannot bring my innocence back.¡±


    ¡°But Master...!¡± Seeing I was walking towards the door, he grabbed my arm, pulling me.


    ¡°Stop meddling and do what I bought you to do!¡±


    He released my arm, a pained expression on his face after hearing my yell, my strange reaction ¨C far more aggressive than it ever was. That was the reality. He was a slave. I was a noble. We weren¡¯t friends, lovers, kin. We were simply two people using each other for our own benefits; beings tainted with greed, with an illusion of a brief camaraderie.


    I was alone. During all these years, I¡¯ve always been alone and such truth wouldn¡¯t change, even if God tried to move the mountains the past was something they couldn¡¯t attempt to meddle with. And if the ultimate man couldn¡¯t change this, how could a mere slave try to?


    With no hesitation, my hand turned the knob, and I exited the room, leaving many words unsaid.


    The back door to the garden was rather close by but as my figure wobbled through the corridor, a maid bumped into me. Her hair was messy, sweat dripping from her forehead, her figure hanging far too low as if she hid from sight.


    ¡°I am sorry, milady!¡± She hanged her torso way too further down, clearly trying to hide her face with her overly gratifying bow.


    ¡°It is quite alright.¡± I commented before seeing her rise.


    And, for just a moment, I saw her. Her brown eyes, tanned skin, light brown freckles on the upper part of her face. I knew this maid: Millicia, one of Duke Criswell¡¯s people. Quickly, she lowered her head again and left, cleaning the sweat in her hands on the bright blue attire.


    I grinned.


    The pieces were finally fitting together, gluing themselves to one another. Gilbert¡¯s failure and silence must¡¯ve put Alvin in a peak of anxiety, forcing him to take drastic measures. I knew that man had only showed his face because he had a plan, yet planting a spy in the Hillgarden¡¯s... who would¡¯ve thought?


    A sense of ecstasy ran through my skin as the door opened again, feeling the cool wind press against my blushed cheeks.


    Little rabbit, let¡¯s play some hide and seek, shall we? I chuckled while heading towards my dear sister¡¯s table.

 Chapter 71: Her Pain, His Heart

    ¡°Sister.¡± Ophelia approached Amanda, interrupting the conversation she was having with some other noble ladies, all hiding away their mocking grins with feathery fans. ¡°I am so happy to see you in such high spirits!¡±


    At that moment, the crimson-haired girl shot her sister a glance, sneering at the attitude she wore so pridefully well. The group of ladies quietly bobbed their heads and moved a few meters away, observing their surroundings like wolfs, circling their prey before attack. Tension lingered between the siblings and only a fool would want to partake in such a dangerous game, after all.


    ¡°Of course. It was only a mild cold.¡± Amanda politely smiled, attempting to keep her composure.


    Alvin stood by their side, carefully placing a piece of pumpkin pie in his mouth. His dark eyes glared at Ophelia, who appeared to pay him no mind, yet watched his every move from the corner of her gaze.


    ¡°How are you enjoying the party?¡±


    ¡°I would have done it better. It is sorrowful, to say the least.¡± With no sense or tact, Amanda spurred out her inner thoughts. Realizing this, the Duke approached and placed his hand on her shoulder causing her figure to shudder. ¡°I mean, it is your first time organizing such... event. I am sure the next one will be far greater.¡±


    Alvin glanced at Devlin, who sipped on his tea just two tables ahead, a wide smile on his face as he chatted with one of the Baron¡¯s. Yet that man¡¯s gaze would often linger on them, observing the relationship between the two siblings far too closely. But he wasn¡¯t the only one as all the attention fell on them ¨C on the forceful love between two sisters.


    ¡°You have done well, my child.¡± The Duke tried to caress his daughter¡¯s cheek, but she swiftly backed away, leaving his hand hanging on the air to the world to see. She was publicly humiliating him, ignoring him, as if the fact that he was her father was meaningless.


    Facing her sister once again, Ophelia grabbed the hem of her skirt. ¡°I understand... thank you for your honest advice, sister. I shall return shortly. Other guests await.¡±


    The aromatic scent of lavender filled her nostrils, causing her to frown moment before she was able to turn around. Only one man wore such a powerful essence on his being and was able to pull it off: Bradley Trace.


    ¡°Lady Ophelia, you look... exceptional.¡± He bowed, grabbing the hand before him and kissing its back. As he did so, his burning emeralds glared at her, observing her, yearning for her.


    And she knew it. She could see through his facade, through the lustful greed in his soul. ¡°Thank you, Lord Bradley. That is truly very kind of you. Are you enjoying the party?¡±


    ¡°It is truly a wonderful event, but...¡± He charmingly smiled, stretching his figure once again, seconds before approaching her ear. ¡°... it would be better if I could have a moment of your time.¡±


    The words Ophelia told her before finally made sense. Amanda would never have Bradley¡¯s heart, since it had always belonged to her little sister. The way her fianc¨¦e looked at her, that desire in his eyes, that gentleness in his touch. He¡¯d never done so with her, not even when they were but children, dreaming far and wide.


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    But she wasn¡¯t the only one to learn of such truth. Gossip had already formed, mingling into the pleasant breeze that flew along the wind ¨C maidens traded wicked words as the elders mocked Amanda¡¯s poor luck, and the men, simply pitied her demise, knowing no better of her deeds.


    ¡°She was always so full of herself...¡± One of the women said, hiding her bitter words behind a fan.


    ¡°Serves her right.¡± Another commented, laughing rather loudly afterwards.


    Amanda wanted to dig the floor and insert her body inside, just to never return to such a shameful reality.


    Was she truly that selfish? Were her desires so far-fetched? Was she truly so evil, she couldn¡¯t have one little thing? The only thing her heart ever yearned for?


    As the girl¡¯s mind played tricks on itself, her hands grabbed a piece of the handmade vivid red tailored dress, crumbling it as her knuckles paled from the strength imbued into it. Her teeth found their way onto the plump cherry lips, biting them harshly enough to cause its color to grow far more realistic than it should.


    Ophelia and her father simply observed the girl¡¯s emotions sink into despair. The latter finding himself conflicted, still not understanding how his perfect pawn could shift his plans so drastically.


    Should he perhaps, intervene? Or should he simply wait and watch everything unfold like he had originally planned?


    ¡°You flatter me, My Lord...¡± Ophelia turned her face, hands resting on her blushed cheeks.


    Bradley looked at her, dumbfounded, not being able to understand this sudden change of behavior. She¡¯d never reacted to his approaches like this; she¡¯d never talked to him in such a tender tone, with such stereotypical words used by those who wished to attain his heart.


    But no one in this pity party understood the true reasoning behind such display of affection, no one was smart enough to comprehend that they were all inside a theater, each with the perfect part to play. The innocent, na?ve girl was but an act that was carefully practiced just to provoke Amanda, forcing her to do something she¡¯d later regret.


    The master of illusions can only control the minds of the fools. Ophelia thought to herself, noticing how loss for words her opponent had become.


    ¡°Would you be so kind as to take a stroll with me around the garden, My Lady?¡± Bradley smiled, stretching his hand, foolishly thinking he had finally snatched the maiden¡¯s interest.


    Ophelia¡¯s hand slowly rose to meet up with the nobleman¡¯s, yet time stopped for everyone but Amanda. No matter how she saw it, how she saw them, this was love ¨C utter, foolish love. But how could such feeling come to be? She¡¯d worked so hard to be the perfect woman, the perfect wife, the only woman in his eyes ¨C and yet, it was her sister who¡¯d manage to charm him.


    It was always Ophelia.


    Ophelia this.


    Ophelia that.


    The poor Ophelia. The pretty Ophelia. The cursed Ophelia.


    Just for once, couldn¡¯t it be Amanda? Just Amanda, the way she was, the way she¡¯d always been?


    But she knew such reality could never come to be, not while her beloved sister stood in the picture. If only she could disappear¡­


    Amanda¡¯s thoughts led her good reasoning astray, sinking her soul into a abyss of darkness, surrounded by the ghosts locked away in the nightmares that haunted her nights. If only Ophelia hadn¡¯t been conceived ¨C her mother would be alive, the maids would love only her, her father wouldn¡¯t be upset and Bradley, her dear Bradley, would only be hers. How come it wasn¡¯t possible to remove a single girl from her life, from her memory, from the Criswell¡¯s lineage?


    The moment their hands touched, her fianc¨¦ preparing to escort her own sister through the garden, Amanda¡¯s sanity turned into shards after being pierced by an arrow of madness. All her reasoning embraced despair, burned with rage, fueled by hatred.

 Chapter 72: Her Pain, His Heart

    An audible gasp haunted the garden and her fianc¨¦¡¯s eyes widened seconds before the Wharton¡¯s dogs came barking, running as quickly as possible. Ophelia¡¯s arms rose, admitting defeat, completely unable to escape the grasp of her assaulter.


    Amanda¡¯s hand held a sharp knife against the side of her sister¡¯s neck, threatening to cut its pale flesh in a single, sadistic movement. The girl¡¯s resolve was firm but so was the faint hint of moral lingering in her soul, causing the frail strength left in her to tremble. Sweat poured from her pores as the maiden¡¯s lungs craved for air, feeling as if someone was stealing it for her own demise.


    Bradley¡¯s expression turned bitter, feeling a hatred he couldn¡¯t begin to put into words. He had been careless, not taking care of the trash when he could and now such disgusting creature dared to try tainting Ophelia¡¯s life. His body could sense it, the burning flames consuming his soul as an unknown fear grew ¨C the thought of losing her passing through his eyes far too rapidly, far too realistically.


    With his heart on his throat, veins attempting to pop from tension, his hands slightly trembled, hoping his words weren¡¯t in vain. ¡°Amanda¡­¡±


    ¡°Lady Amanda... please put down the knife...¡± Mace attempted to meddle in, trying to appeal to the girl¡¯s sense of self, but it was too late. Her eyes only faced her fianc¨¦ whose figure was far too stiff, far too fearful to think straight.


    Impatient, Terrel dashed, just to be grabbed by his brother. ¡°Let me go! That¡¯s my fianc¨¦e!¡±


    ¡°And if you move, she will die! Do you want to be a widower without even being married, brother!?¡±


    Frustrated but knowing his sibling was right, Terrel shoved his grip away, calming down his nerves. Everyone¡¯s emotions were on edge, lungs softly sobbing for air, veins popping with adrenaline, all eager to know what would happen next.


    Amanda knew everything was over for her, all she¡¯d ever worked for had been thrown away, stolen by her own sister. If Ophelia were to die, what would she truly lose? No one in this party actually liked her ¨C none even attempted to hide their judgmental gazes, their wide, amused grins, their inner thoughts stamped all over their faces.


    Yes, her fianc¨¦ was in love with another woman. Yet, she foolishly yearned for him, as he¡¯d been the only one, she¡¯d ever loved. If he commanded, Amanda would kiss the floor he stood, losing all her pride, commit even treason with just a handful of words. How had her life turned into such tragedy?


    ¡°What are you doing, Amanda!?¡± Duke Criswell intervened, grabbing the girl by her shoulder. She immediately shoved him off, pressing the knife further into her sister¡¯s neck. ¡°Have you no shame!?¡±


    Feeling the sharpness sink further into her skin, Ophelia frowned. Bradley gulped, unsure of what route to take, heart pounding out of his chest.


    ¡°Amanda... dear...¡± His voice was sweet, yet his acting was terrible. His concern wasn¡¯t aimed at the abuser, instead, it focused on the victim and even the most foolish human could see it. ¡°Don¡¯t do that... let go...¡±


    ¡°Shut up! You don¡¯t mean anything you say, Bradley! You are a liar!¡± Amanda yelled, tears beginning to drip from her dark blue eyes.


    ¡°We can go to the capital, darling... to that shop you love so much... you just need to drop the knife...¡±


    Amanda¡¯s trembling increased, her strength weakened, and Ophelia felt it. Of course, her stupid sister didn¡¯t possess what it took to finish the job - she completed nothing, any chore she was given she¡¯d always fail, like a broken being. She was a mess, an incomplete mess.


    Trying to find some sort of hope, Bradley looked at Ophelia. His body shuddered with the sight in front of him.


    The sharp knife was pointed at her neck, close to her veins, close to her death; yet she didn¡¯t flinch. Her eyes were driven by a strange sense of determination, harboring an unknown glimmer - one might dare to say they appeared delighted. Her lips curled up, psychotically pleased.


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    He¡¯d never seen this side of her. It was new, dark, addicting - like a drug that one can only dream of obtaining. But he wasn¡¯t alone. Everyone else possessed the same thoughts, the same desires, the same curiosity towards such strange development.


    ¡°My dear sister...¡± Ophelia¡¯s voice rung through the space, sweet and alluring. Like a siren, preparing for another¡¯s demise.


    ¡°Shut up! I will kill you!¡± Amanda¡¯s voice cracked from the agglomeration of nerves. Bit by bit, her heart became purer, her mind returning to its sanity, her killing intent wavering.


    The raven girl¡¯s lips grinned. Bradley gulped, with a strange desire forming within. Was the being in front of him truly human? Or a demon from Blasphemy, ruled by bloodlust?


    ¡°Do you know what happens when you kill a curse?¡±


    ¡°I said, shut up!¡± Amanda was truly weak, not being able to follow through on her empty threats.


    ¡°But... do you know...¡± Ophelia¡¯s left hand grabbed her sister¡¯s, forcing the knife to sink deeper into her skin. Small drops of blood slowly dripped out, covering the blade, tainting the dress. ¡°Amanda?¡±


    Seeing the viscous substance leave her sister¡¯s body, reality finally struck. She was truly murdering her sister, in broad daylight - just like she had dreamed; just like she had hoped. Yet all she truly wanted was to leave, as fear crawled on her spine, knowing full well her bones weren¡¯t the ones of a killer. She¡¯d never be able to live with the guilt that followed.


    Holly and Patricia stood by the sidelines, watching the scenario unfold, horrified.


    How is this a woman we¡¯re supposed to use!? Was the question roaming wild in their minds as their plans slowly deteriorated into nothingness.


    ¡°Stop! I don¡¯t want this!¡± Amanda yelled, trying to escape her sister¡¯s grasp. ¡°Ophelia! Let go!¡±


    ¡°Wrong answer!¡± In a single movement, the cursed girl turned around, facing her sister. Both their hands still holding the knife tightly, penetrating the blade further into Ophelia¡¯s body, causing a small river of blood to pour out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! Please! Let go!¡± Her sapphire eyes harbored many tears who threatened to leave at a moment¡¯s notice, struggling to keep their composure as her members trembled horrified. Amanda was being taken hostage by terror, not understanding how the situation had turned into this.


    Even regretting her actions, the crimson haired girl had placed a knife against her sister¡¯s throat in a public setting, with far too many witnesses. Surely this would be considered attempted murder and then she would¡­


    ¡°In that case, my dear sister...¡± Ophelia approached, chuckling loudly, almost as if feeling the sharp pain in her neck was exhilarating. ¡°Should we find out?¡±


    ¡°No...!¡± Amanda yelled as her vision became blurred by the overwhelming tears who had finally managed to escape their captors. ¡°No...! No!¡±


    ¡°Who is the actual monster here, Amanda...? The cursed one? Or her murderer!?¡±


    At these words, Amanda¡¯s mind broke, causing her to fall straight onto the dirt ground, staining her bright red dress with pieces of the green grass. She had passed out.


    ¡°How unsightly.¡± Ophelia mumbled, letting go of her hand. Her eyes were bored, as if her most precious toy had become lost in oblivion. And the knife tainted with blood, fell.


    Everyone was quiet. No one uttered a word. Bradley, Terrel, Mace, Alvin and Catherine only watched her, speechless. What had they just witnessed? Was it the truth? The harsh reality of her twisted personality? Or just a mirage; a vision between the real and imaginary?


    ¡°My dear guests, I organized this event for a single reason...¡± Ophelia broke the silence after approaching the Duke¡¯s table. Her hands grabbed a light porcelain cup, resting at the edge of the wood. Swiftly, she poured some tea from the one pot Alvin couldn¡¯t stop glaring at. ¡°At Lady Catherine¡¯s ball, someone drugged me. I am afraid to say the culprit is here with us.¡±


    Hearing such a pitiful justification made Catherine grin. She knew everything that happened in her parties, and in high society and of course, she knew the girl¡¯s words were but lies since her frail figure hadn¡¯t consumed anything that night. Even so, everyone actually believed her words, causing buzz to flow through the air at a rapid pace, and people gossiped, sending guesses to whom could¡¯ve done such cruel act. The Black Rose was indeed an interesting girl.


    Earl Hillgarden put down his cup, causing a loud sound to echo through the trees. ¡°How do you know that?¡±


    Certainly, at least one person needed to question her reasoning, and it was only natural for someone as smart as the Earl to pick up on her plan and embrace it to the fullest. It seemed she had made her first noble ally with a simple display of power.


    ¡°I know because...¡± Ophelia smirked. ¡°... they filled my tea with poison.¡±


    And before anyone could stop her, she placed the cup on her lips and drank the contents in one gulp.

 Chapter 73: Human Sacrifice

    <div>


    ¡°What did you say!?¡± Bradley quickly snatched the cup from her hands. His emerald eyes focusing on the pearly inside of the porcelain. ¡°You knew it had poison! Why did you drink it!?¡±


    ¡°Ophelia! It¡¯s a lie, is it not?¡± Mace rushed towards her, his hands strongly grabbing her arms. But her expression didn¡¯t change. ¡°It... can¡¯t be...¡±


    ¡°Are you implying we allowed an assassin to infiltrate our estate!? On such a prestigious date at that?!¡± Devlin spoke obnoxiously loud for a man whose honor had yet to be questioned.


    Calmly, Ophelia moved slightly forward. The noble¡¯s gazes stamped on her back, piercing through her very soul. ¡°How should we solve this situation...?¡±


    The Earl leaned towards an older butler with a large mustache adorning his upper lip, like a chandelier hanging on a ballroom ceiling. ¡°Erwin, gather all the servants here.¡±


    Patricia¡¯s eyes were filled with concern, a curse of her own negligence. Not even once had she glanced at her father, seen the intrigue in his eyes, the calmness in his stance after such grave incident. She failed to see the tingling comradeship between Ophelia and Devlin, a faint connection created just moments before.


    Whispers flew in the air as butlers and maids alike began to appear in the garden, lining up by gender and position.


    ¡°Come here, Patricia.¡± The Earl called out to his daughter once everyone was outside.


    Slowly, they walked, surveying each servant¡¯s features before moving onto the next candidate. First were the butlers serving the Earl and his son, the heir to the estate; then the maids who focused on pleasing the guests in the garden; and then the cooks.


    Rumors subsided as the relatives reached the last line. But Ophelia could see it, the girl with sweaty hands impulsively being pushed onto the dress; her head low as an ostrich¡¯s, hoping to dig itself into the dirt ground - Millicia stood out like a sore thumb.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain none of this is necessary, Earl.¡± Duke Criswell intervened, his throat slightly dry. ¡°Everyone here is well aware of your good name. We know such thing couldn¡¯t succeed in your home.¡±


    But they didn¡¯t stop. And eventually they saw her, the anomaly in the bunch.


    ¡°Lift your head.¡±


    The maid¡¯s fingers trampled her dress as she ignored Patricia¡¯s commands. She could sense it, all the noble¡¯s eyes on her, all the pressure on her person. But it wasn¡¯t her fault. How could she predict Ophelia to appear at the back door right after she poisoned her tea?


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    ¡°Are you deaf? Lift you head.¡± The Earl¡¯s voice was sharper, stronger, making the maid¡¯s body shudder.


    Remaining still like an icy lake in the middle of Frosting, Millicia gulped down hard, cold sweat dripping down her back. Reluctantly, she took a quick glance at the Duke, who stood next to his second-born child, nerves clogging up his popping veins. Their souls connected but immediately lost touch.


    This mission had always been a double-edged sword, however, its danger never laid on that man.


    ¡°Impertinent maid!¡± Noticing Devlin¡¯s growing impatience, Erwin dashed towards the maid, grabbing her by the cheeks. ¡°Obey your lord!¡±


    I¡¯m his scapegoat... Millicia gritted her teeth and held her breath, hoping to deny the consequences from reaching any closer.


    ¡°Riddle me this, Duke. There are two individuals, one filled with greed for what he doesn¡¯t possess; other tainted by an unspeakable lust for revenge, stopping at nothing for it. Who would you say survives the encounter?¡± Ophelia grinned, causing the Duke¡¯s body to stiffen.


    She couldn¡¯t know... there¡¯s no way... Alvin kept on trying to deceive what his gut yelled. He needed to believe his daughter to be the na?ve, quiet, obedient child she once was. How could she have turned into such a monstrosity?


    ¡°My daughter is fine. I am certain this is simply a misunderstanding...¡± In a shallow attempt to save his own skin, Alvin approached the Earl, patting his shoulder gently. ¡°In fact, I just heard the other day... new ships are docking in the East. You¡¯ve seen them in person, isn¡¯t that right, my friend? Are they as grand as they say?¡±


    The Duke¡¯s intentions were crystal clear. His charmingly friendly way of changing the conversation topic was smooth; however, he was far too desperate, far too eager. He had forgotten the most basic rule in the elite¡¯s mind. To nobles or aristocrats, there was only one thing that surpassed power and wealth: raw entertainment.


    ¡°Your Grace, are you, perhaps, suggesting I leave doubts regarding the Hillgarden¡¯s honor?¡± The Earl¡¯s reply forced Alvin to quietly back away, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.


    Devlin signaled his butler with his right hand, and, in a single movement, her head rose.


    Patricia gasped. ¡°Who are you?¡±


    Flushed cheeks being pressured by two calloused fingers; a trail of signs passing from her almond eyes, threatening to collapse onto her sleek nose, Millicia¡¯s face was unique, recognizable.


    So this was your plan... The Earl covered his wide smile with his hand, hoping to hide it from the piercing stares of the guests. He knew this girl, this peculiar maid - he had seen her many times before at the Criswell¡¯s mansion.


    ¡°I asked, who are you!?¡± Patricia yelled, frustrated by the maid¡¯s constant silence.


    ¡°I...¡± Struggling to speak, Erwin removed the grip from her cheeks. ¡°I am a new maid, milady... I was hired to help in this luxurious event...¡±


    ¡°Crap...¡± Ophelia mumbled as her hand grabbed the table. The unknown substance was beginning to show its power. Slowly but consistently, strength had been leaving her body and her body temperature had risen. She wouldn¡¯t last long.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t hired maids in more than half a year. Who hired you?¡± The Earl¡¯s eyebrows lumped down, drawing together. But she didn¡¯t say a word. ¡°Erwin, tie this woman up. We must report this incident to the royal guards.¡±


    As the maid was being escorted out, Ophelia gasped. Her hands trembled, tears dropping from her eyes. ¡°It is you... I recognize you!¡±


    <div>

 Chapter 74: Human Sacrifice

    <div>


    Erwin stopped and so did Millicia. Murmurs grew louder, divergent opinions grew scarcer.


    ¡°You are one of His Grace¡¯s maids!¡± It was only when Ophelia played her last card that everyone stood in utter silence. The words floating in the wind dissipated as a sharp blade forced souls to turn pathic, shocked by the sudden development of events.


    All the eyes now focused on Alvin who had gone to Amanda¡¯s side, caring for her unconscious self like a righteous father figure.


    ¡°What are you talking about, child? I have never seen that woman in my life!¡± The Duke frowned, faking the part of ignorant to utmost perfection. Some were fooled, however many suspicions still lingered - his part wasn¡¯t enough to save him from these atrocious accusations.


    Ophelia could feel the world around her becoming twisted, as if an illusionary mist had claimed her sight as its own. Her own energy was failing her.


    ¡°Her name is Millicia! She used to serve me tea...! I remember her!¡±


    ¡°Preposterous! How could you accuse your father of such... sinful deeds!? You are my beloved daughter!¡±


    ¡°No... it cannot be. Don¡¯t tell me... my own father tried to...¡± Ophelia¡¯s hands covered her mouth. Tears ran down her cheeks at a rapid pace. Her acting was far superior, far more believable than that man¡¯s.


    ¡°Ophelia Criswell! Remember who raised you! You owe me!¡± And there it was, the cherry on top of the cake, the true greed of a man. Noticing he had lost his composure, Alvin softened his tone. ¡°You know I care for you dear, I would never do such a thing.¡±


    ¡°Then explain it to me! How come she is here? Who else could¡¯ve planned all of this!?¡± Ophelia¡¯s words were like sharp daggers cutting through a corpse, swiftly aiming at the flaws of Alvin¡¯s plan.


    The Duke could see it. How everyone looked at him, their distasteful snorts, their judgmental comments. They all saw Ophelia like a pitiful maiden, a beautiful and innocent girl who had been betrayed by her own kin. Unless one¡¯s heart was solely made of iron, anyone would feel for her.


    But not everything had been a loss. The brat had drank the poison and there was no way she had a cure. He could see the sweat falling from her pores; her wavering body, slightly swinging from side to side; her bright, flushed cheeks. Some bright red stains were already possessing her figure, slowly appearing in faint dots moments before expanding into crimson pools.


    Soon someone would see it, the many symptoms in her body as they quietly formed. It was far too late to brand this as a mistake, as a misunderstanding. Someone else needed to take the blame. Alvin¡¯s importance far surpassed everyone¡¯s else. He wouldn¡¯t suffer the fall for this - he couldn¡¯t.


    Should I say someone hired her? His eyes glanced through the several nobles and aristocrats present but none suited the requirements. They were all needed as pawns for his plans - none were disposable. It was only when Amanda groaned in his arms that a new plan embraced his mind.


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    ¡°I thought I had raised my children properly, but I was wrong. How could Amanda do such a thing?¡± His voice was serene as his fingers patted the crimson curls on the girl¡¯s head. It appeared caring and thoughtful if he wasn¡¯t accusing his own seed of planned murder. ¡°I knew of her jealousy and did nothing to stop it... I never thought...!¡±


    You really are the worst... Ophelia¡¯s hopes crumbled down like a tower of cards.


    She truly believed Alvin cared for Amanda, that even if he hated her, he truly loved her sister. And yet, he didn¡¯t. That man had no heart, no soul in any vein, muscle, bone of his.


    Glancing to the nobles, she realized her defeat. With Amanda¡¯s previous actions, the Duke¡¯s accusations weren¡¯t far from a possible truth. That beast would leave this situation unshattered, as he always did, even if he had to sacrifice his own blood for it. Ophelia¡¯s fists clenched, pulling the towel into her fingers. She despised Amanda, but she was still her sister.


    ¡°You...¡± She couldn¡¯t finish her sentence. Ophelia¡¯s strength left her body, causing her to fall back into Bradley¡¯s chest.


    His emerald eyes glimmered, his trembling hands held onto her. ¡°You will be alright... don¡¯t worry, I will...¡± Reassuring words who appeared to be hopeful, yet fearing of the worst.


    He had been watching her, seeing her body grow weak, seeing her pitiful attempt to keep this atrocious charade. And now he was terrified, horrified that this was their last conversation, their last moment together.


    ¡°Are you alright, Ophelia!?¡± Mace dashed towards them, his voice nowhere near calm. Faintly, Terrel¡¯s voice also rung in her ears, causing reality to strike.


    Ophelia¡¯s hand reached Bradley¡¯s cheek, causing his runaway tear to fall straight into her face. ¡°Keep Terrel... away...¡±


    There was one person whose authority would match that monster¡¯s - Bradley¡¯s. Right now, among all these people, he was the only one who could protect her from that man¡¯s lust.


    When her hand fell down, they knew she had finally lost consciousness.


    ¡°Ophelia! Wake up!¡± Bradley immediately touched her moist face, feeling the high temperatures of her skin.


    Big, bright red stains crawled over her body, asserting their domain over her fair skin. Even passed out, her breathing was rough as her pained expression displayed how much it hurt, how much she suffered.


    Seeing the girl¡¯s state, Mace¡¯s voice yelled. ¡°Someone call for a doctor!¡±


    Gently, Bradley grabbed the rest of her figure, taking her into his embrace. Every time she groaned, he frowned. How could such a thing happen? Why didn¡¯t he prevent it?


    ¡°Ophelia, are you...!¡± Terrel quickly stopped in his feet, his face distorted with disgust. ¡°What happened to her skin!?¡±


    Hearing the Wharton son¡¯s comment, Bradley¡¯s body stiffened. He was her fianc¨¦e. How could he treat her in such a manner?


    Sensing the intense pressure, Terrel gulped. ¡°Well... you take her, Mace. We should head back.¡±


    He wouldn¡¯t even touch her. As if she was a flaw, a used good which made his stomach twist, his desire to dissipate into thin air.


    ¡°Do you truly think I will let her go with the likes of you?¡± Bradley held Ophelia tighter in his arms, feeling the overwhelming heat emanating from her body. Her words were simple: keep Terrel away. And for once, he would follow her wishes.


    ¡°She¡¯s my fianc¨¦e, Lord Bradley!¡± Terrel yelled before facing his brother. ¡°Go grab her! And let¡¯s go!¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Even fearful, Mace stood his ground. ¡°If you want her so much, go get her yourself.¡±

 Chapter 75: Human Sacrifice

    <div>


    The environment grew tense. Terrel couldn¡¯t touch her, she was ill, sickly. How could he bulk the courage to touch something so... disgusting?


    ¡°Please take her into one of our rooms upstairs... let her rest here for the time being.¡± The Earl intervened, causing Terrel to promptly leave. ¡°Erwin, show them the way.¡±


    As they left towards the mansion, one of Catherine¡¯s servants followed them quietly. Little did they knew, a single leaf was the antidote for the Duke¡¯s poison.


    Patricia¡¯s skin was pale as a ghost. Amanda was a murderer, cold-hearted enough to kill her sister in a public event. Everyone saw it. The knife pointed at the poor girl¡¯s neck, the blobs of red in her skin courtesy of the potent poison roaming through her veins. If she was capable of such things, weren¡¯t Ophelia¡¯s actions truly justified? How much had she suffered at the hands of this crimson demon?


    Holly glanced at her friend, her arms trembling slightly. It could¡¯ve been them, the ones suffering that atrocious reality.


    ¡°We have summoned the guards, milord.¡± The head maid calmly approached Devlin, her frail figure bobbing her head slightly.


    Time wasn¡¯t at their side. The girl needed to talk before the peacekeepers arrived or everyone would be bought out, twisting their stories to fit the Duke¡¯s needs.


    ¡°Why did you poison Lady Ophelia?¡±


    Millicia was kneeling down, her body tied strongly with a thick rope. ¡°I needed the money.¡±


    ¡°Who paid you?¡± Firm pressure accompanied the Earl¡¯s questions, enough to make every bystander gulp in a pure state of anxiousness.


    The maid grew quiet. She knew she couldn¡¯t speak. Duke Criswell wouldn¡¯t help her and, if she brought any more suspicious onto that man, their deal would be as good as dead.


    Truthfully, she never intended to murder Ophelia, but she had no choice. Her younger brother was severely ill, and the money was too scarce. Medicine was far too expensive for a commoner such as herself to gain. The deal was simple. She would take someone else¡¯s life to allow her own blood to live. And she took it.


    ¡°I will ask you one last time. If you do not comply, it will be extremely painful for you.¡± Devlin¡¯s eyes were like a pool of mud in the Frosting, ready to swallow its prey whole.


    But she couldn¡¯t speak. Even if they tortured her, abused her. She simply couldn¡¯t. All it mattered was the survival of her brother.


    After several minutes of silence, the Earl¡¯s voice rung again. ¡°Have it your way. Take her away! Do whatever it takes to make her speak the truth.¡±


    His words were set in stone, causing her body to emanate its horror. She thought herself to be ready for this, but reality was nowhere near her assumptions. Her frail arms trembled heavily as tears dripped to the grass, wetting it.


    She needed to save her brother, but at what cost? Millicia didn¡¯t wish to die, to disappear like the sun on the horizon, never to rise again. What would happen to her brother? Her parents passed away years ago, a year after his birth and yet, she raised him, cared for him. They survived on whatever they could attain, leftover or spoiled food, shelters in empty houses filled with mold.


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    Her life was never a fairy tale. Millicia wasn¡¯t like them, these noble ladies who were born without suffering, without working for their own survival. They had everything, and she had nothing.


    That¡¯s the only way... isn¡¯t it...? To survive, a sacrifice needed to be made - that¡¯s how it was for her, for common folk.


    Two male servants grabbed her arms, forcing her to rise back on her feet. Her resolute eyes glared at the Earl, who quickly understood her plan.


    ¡°Stop her!¡± He yelled, but it was already too late.


    Millicia¡¯s tongue was out of her mouth when her upper jaw carved its teeth into it. Blood squirted out, forcing her eyes to close as she groaned in pain, adrenaline rushing through her veins. And again, she bit down on her own flesh, causing it to fall onto the grass, twitching slightly as it greeted death. The servant¡¯s eyes widened as their torso became stained by the overwhelming blood expelling from her open wound.


    Reactively, she coughed out red, tainting the Earl¡¯s attire with bloodstains. When she smiled, weakly yet proudly, displaying the vivid crimson mouth with her freshly cut out tongue, his soul became petrified. This was her plan, the only way to avoid torture, to avoid speaking the truth.


    As this succeeded, Patricia¡¯s stomach had enough. Almost immediately, it threw away every single thing she had eaten that day, straight onto the ground, yet no one cared. Everyone¡¯s eyes focused on the maid, who had just displayed the greatest height of loyalty to another. The men were disgusted; the ladies paled. And yet - not one soul could stop watching. It was far too amusing, too unique, too unrealistic.


    ¡°Milady, we should head inside...¡± A young maid serving Patricia approached her, placing her hand on her waist.


    Today was supposed to be her day, the only occasion she had to make Bradley interested in her. Why did this happen? How come her dream was so easily shattered by such evil schemes? With tears in the corner of her eyes, she left towards the mansion.


    Frustrated, Devlin slapped her right cheek harshly, forcing more blood to pour out. Millicia¡¯s sight connected with Alvin¡¯s, who looked quite horrified. She smiled yet again.


    Her brother was safe. She was safe. Only some maids and butlers knew how to read or write, and she wasn¡¯t one of them. No matter what they did, she couldn¡¯t speak, so the truth would be buried with her.


    Now Millicia would try to survive, perhaps attempt to become a farmer in a faraway land, in a faraway future but, if those weren¡¯t God¡¯s plans for her, and execution was all that remained, then she would gracefully receive it as an atonement for her sins.


    ¡°Filthy!¡± The heavy silence in the air broke, being shaken by Holly¡¯s high-pitched voice. The shock had revealed her true colors.


    Even then, no one cared. All they wanted to see was the maid¡¯s figure, the pain and the misery - the tragedy inside the comedy.


    Catherine chuckled behind the bright red fan that hid her lips. To her, this scenario was pure entertainment, pure amusement. She never considered Ophelia would drink the poison herself. She was truly... something else.


    Her flushed face and rushing heart showed how thirsty she was for that child, for that curse. She wished to see more, more of this theatrical play where everyone was her pawns, where she was king.


    By Erwin¡¯s command, the servants dropped Millicia to her knees, causing the fabric of her skirt to become tainted by her own fluids. A steady stream of blood poured out of her mouth, mimicking a long river of drool. Feeling the numbness from the pain and heavy loss, Millicia¡¯s soul was lost, forcing her to pass out on the crimson tainted grass.


    ¡°What are you all doing!? Get a doctor right now!¡± Mace intervened, dashing towards the woman laying on the ground.


    Millicia was a sinner, but he needed her alive. Even without a tongue, she could learn how to write and finally tell the truth. She was an important chess piece to deal with the Criswell¡¯s tyranny and greed.


    ¡°Why should I bother helping a murderer?¡± Devlin answered sarcastically.


    So short-sighted... that¡¯s why you won¡¯t be anything more than a mere Earl. Mace thought, shifting his attention to the remaining nobles who simply gossiped. None invested in helping the girl in his arms. They only care about themselves...


    He knew how this disgusting society worked, filled with sinners compelled by greed, lust, and lack of humanity. But he knew he couldn¡¯t reprimand them too much, as deep down, he knew he was no different.


    <div>

 Chapter 76: Memories of a Dream

    <div>


    The sweet fragrance of roses melted into my being, causing my senses to awaken and my eyes to blink gently. Warm sunlight reflected from the closed windows, straight into my skin. Slightly muffled, the chirping of the birds and the conversations of the leaves traveled with the faint Seedling breeze.


    Out of the bed, my hands pushed the windows open, allowing the intense smell of dew drops, muddy ground and wet grass to fill my lungs. Was this land ever this pure? This peaceful?


    Someone knocked on the tall door. ¡°Milady, are you awake?¡±


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    A young girl, around my age, popped in with her long voluptuous carrot-colored hair; all strands tied themselves in a bun, hidden beneath a pearly white cap which glimmered against the shimmering light of the sun rays. Her light green eyes contrasted with the dots embracing her snowy complexion, slightly flushed from the arduous tasks. Anne.


    Her hands opened the closet, revealing a long line of luxurious dresses in all shapes and colors. As if taking care of pieces of art, her fingers passed through each piece of fabric carefully, feeling their silkiness sink into her beautiful, soft skin. ¡°Do you have any preference for today¡¯s attire?¡±


    ¡°Anything will do.¡± I stated as my fingers touched the petals of a freshly picked rose who grew inside a beautiful glass container.


    ¡°What do you think about this dress, milady?¡±


    In her hands, a light pink dress with a voluptuous skirt had its corset covered with small pearls and silver pieces. White layers peaked through its base, making it seem alive, compelled by joy and purity.


    ¡°That one will do.¡±


    ¡°Shall I prepare a bath?¡± She questioned, her arms packed with used bedsheets.


    ¡°Maybe later.¡±


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    Anne bobbed her head, quickly removing herself from the room. Moments later she returned, and I gazed, observing her eagerness, her innocence. She was always so calm, so composed that one could easily mistake her for an angel¡¯s apprentice, just casually strolling through this plane of existence with no hatred nor sorrows. Attentively, she placed fresh sheets on the bed before dipping a faint rose fragrance on them.


    My body rested on a beautifully sculpted oak chair, matching with the dressing table at its front. Noticing this, Anne grabbed a small object, round and fluffy, surrounded by a warm golden color. In meticulous - almost mechanical - movements, her hands flew as the brush combed my long hair.


    ¡°I heard Her Grace baked a cake today. She woke up especially early for it.¡± She smiled happily, but then her body froze. Something pained her soul.


    ¡°What troubles you, Anne?¡±


    She bit her bottom lip, insecure. ¡°You know her ladyship saved me, and I am extremely grateful for that, but¡­ I never met my mother.¡± Her kind eyes glimmered, threatening to free their emotions. ¡°I wonder if she regrets it¡­ leaving me.¡±


    ¡°I see¡­¡± I didn¡¯t know what to reply. ¡°You may never know why your mother left, but I am certain she is thinking of you. Anne, we might not be the type of family you would like¡­¡±


    Before I completed my sentence, Anne intervened, interrupting me. ¡°That¡¯s not it, milady! I care for you and your mother dearly! I am truly thankful for everything you have done for me.¡±


    ¡°I know, calm down.¡± My body turned, grabbing her hands. They were slightly cold. ¡°We are not your family, but you must not forget where you came from. You must remember them, even if it is painful.¡±


    Some runaway tears found their way out of her beautiful green eyes. ¡°I know milady¡­¡±


    Reactively, I rose and hugged her tightly, not being able to withstand her pained expression. My hand softly patted her head as she sobbed on my shoulder. ¡°You know, Mother usually says music heals the soul; that¡¯s why you always hear her, no matter where you go.¡±


    A calm humming echoed through the room as our bodies slowly swayed in unison. Anne merely cried, her hands gripping strongly onto my nightgown, tears flowing like an overflowing river, her feelings being fully delivered to God. The chains that held onto her ankles were still heavy, but her ghosts had become lighter, purer, less daunting.


    When her emotions regained their senses, she placed some distance between us. Her gentle eyes were tainted in red, matching her heavily blushed cheeks and nose. Several hair strands had escaped the cap, having become glued to her skin through the wetness of her nostalgic tears.


    ¡°Thank you, Ophelia.¡± A chuckle escaped her lips, displaying her relief, her acceptance of God¡¯s fate. But all I could do was deliver her a faint smile in response.


    <div>

 Chapter 77: Memories of a Dream

    <div>


    ¡°Good morning, Mother.¡±


    Lilith¡¯s graceful smile greeted me, her pure blue eyes gazing into mine. In a beautiful garden, embraced by the wonders of a prosperous Seeding, she sat in a front of a small table. Her long, curly ginger hair fell down to her waist, reflecting the rays of warmth back to their owner. Slowly, her fingers place down a porcelain cup in its rightful tray, a faint scent of cinnamon lingering in the air.


    ¡°Good morning, my dear. How was your night? Did you sleep well?¡±


    I approached calmly before sitting right next to her. The coldness of her hands embraced my own when we touched.


    A faint mint colored fluid decorated the cup¡¯s interior, which ended up contrasting the carefully sculpted amethyst details surrounding its outside. A gush of wind made the bright green grass sway, wishing to attain wings, to fly away. And, as if it was magic, a small sparrow found its way onto the light wood, chirping as it jumped closer to the cookie crumbs resting on the table.


    ¡°Yes, I did. How about you, Mother? How was your night?¡±


    I glanced at her frail figure, a sharp sting hurting my heart. She may have survived, but not without a price, not without losing something precious: her ability to walk. Because of me, she was glued to a chair, bound by the servant¡¯s will to move where she wished and, even though she taught me not to feel guilt, I still did.


    Every time I saw her, blame would consume me - my selfishness, my own egoistical desires - for ruining her precious life.


    ¡°Very pleasant.¡± She replied tenderly. ¡°The roses are blooming beautifully today, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°Would you like me to get you one?¡±


    Lilith simply chuckled, her hand patting my cheek. ¡°Do you know what love is, Ophelia?¡±


    What could I answer? How could I answer?


    ¡°No.¡± My answer was unexpectedly cold, slightly ruthless.


    But she didn¡¯t care. Her hands wrapped themselves around the cup, warming up its outer skin with the warmth of the tea. ¡°Love is like a rose, dear¡­ you want it even though it hurts you¡­ You wish to pick it, but you can¡¯t, or it will wither. Love is watching the roses bloom every Seedling, wanting to harvest them but choosing not to do so.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t understand. Her words were surreal, unrealistic.


    Love sounded far too painful, far too sadistic for a person to bear. That was why my heart had locked itself away, so I wouldn¡¯t feel it again, so I wouldn¡¯t hurt again. Whenever this illogical emotion appeared, reminding me of its existence, an empty space perked in my chest, as if a missing chunk of my heart had been stolen, taken away.


    Who was the person I loved? And why¡­ why can¡¯t I remember?


    ¡°What worries you?¡± Her beautiful green eyes knew me way too well.


    ¡°Mother¡­¡± I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say it, to admit the truth.


    ¡°When you get older, you understand certainties are but shells of your pride, shattering with your new perspective.¡± She smiled warmly, her warm hand on top of mine. ¡°I do not know what clouds your soul, but you are strong¡­ I am certain you will figure everything out. You always do.¡±


    Her body was growing colder, her smiler fainter. Time only stopped for God, and I had simply watched it pass by.


    ¡°Oh, my¡­ look at the time, dear. You should go.¡± Her hand goes back to the teacup, her blue eyes becoming dull, focused on the twirling finger caressing the borders of the item.


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    ¡°No, I do not want to, Mother. Just a moment more, please.¡±


    ¡°You must, my dear Ophelia.¡±


    Her voice rung through my ears before her lips displayed their last act of kindness. Suddenly, a harsh wind blew, turning everything around me into sand, except the table and the teacup, who still lingered, forcing me to accept the harsh reality.


    ¡°I have to go, I always have to go because¡­ you are not real. Isn¡¯t it¡­ Mother?¡±


    Tears flew down my face rapidly as my body rose. With a blurry sight, I glanced back, seeing everything had turned to sand - what an ill joke.


    None of this had been true. Anne wasn¡¯t with me. Mother was dead. These were mere memories of a future I yearned for. A day belonging to tomorrow with moments that would never come to me, that would never be mine.


    I bit down on my bottom lip. The beautiful nature, the perfectly cut garden, the Criswell¡¯s mansion - everything was gone, replaced by a strong, deafening, silencing bright light.


    ¡°Lilith¡­¡± I whispered her name, cleaning away my sorrows. ¡°If only I¡­¡±


    ¡°Do you think it would change?¡± A man¡¯s voice spoke. It was¡­ familiar.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it? Mother wouldn¡¯t die and I wouldn¡¯t be¡­¡±


    The shape of a person appeared before me; his figure hidden away by an intense fog. I glanced at the floor - he had no shadow.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    He ignored my question. ¡°Do you blame her?¡±


    Instantly, my head shook sideways, denying such a possibility entirely.


    How could I blame Lilith? She was my mother, the only person who ever loved me, who truly cared. The true fuel for my hatred wasn¡¯t her. The reason I despised all those nobles and aristocrats, all those who harmed me, wasn¡¯t because of their actions. It was always because deep down, the recipient of my most disgusting feelings was none other than¡­


    ¡°Myself.¡± I mumbled, sinking into my knees.


    ¡°If you truly blame yourself¡­¡± Somehow his voice was as soothing as a lullaby. ¡°¡­ then why do you want them all dead?¡±


    My eyes widened, my soul lightened. Was this what people felt like when they confessed their sins to God?


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it their fault? You are right to blame them.¡± His voice was alluring, causing my burdens to become fuzzy, becoming lost - forgotten even. ¡°Humans are weak creatures, their hearts tainted by greed. You did nothing wrong, Ophelia¡­¡±


    My heart thumped rapidly; my cheeks slightly flushed after hearing my name. He kneeled in front of me and amidst the fog, his arm appeared, a long snake-like tattoo going from the back of his hand into the mist. I wanted to grab it, to rely on it.


    ¡°We are the same, you and I¡­¡± The monotonous tone quickly turned eager, displaying his actual intentions. ¡°Humans are despicable creatures, greedy demons who should only know despair¡­ Yes, they are to blame!¡±


    Sensing the intense remorse and hatred coming from this unknown figure, I pulled my hand back to my chest. ¡°I am human too; wouldn¡¯t that make me the same? A despicable creature?¡±


    He froze before taking his arm back into the mist, causing its essence to thicken. I grinned, knowing our feelings were mutual, our guards both held up high. Rising back to my feet, the only sound echoing in this sickening light was deafening silence.


    ¡°Ophelia, do you truly consider yourself a human? Even after dying nine times?¡±


    Something was different. His words were sarcastic, but not born out of mockery. They appeared rather¡­ curious. I stood there in silence, not knowing what to reply.


    When humans die, they do not come back to live. But I have, not once, not twice, but nine times. Could I truly consider myself human at this point? If I couldn¡¯t, what was I?


    My body shook uncontrollably, comprehending my own ignorance. I was merely a fool who knew nothing, a useless person - if I could consider myself that. Pain echoed through my skin as my nails scratched the skin in my arms in repeated motions. Blood drops left my body, tainting the bright floor.


    I can bleed¡­ doesn¡¯t that make me¡­?


    ¡°Humans can bleed, animals can bleed, demons can bleed¡­ even I can bleed.¡± Several bright red drops covered the floor, travelling right to my side, as if being guided by that man¡¯s will.


    Doubts ran wild in my mind, trying to find any justification, any reasoning. What was I?


    A human? A curse? A demon?


    Or a flaw created by God?


    ¡°What am I? You must know, right?¡± The clouds began to dissipate, causing me to panic. I needed an answer. I needed to know. ¡°Wait!¡±


    I launched my body forward, but the mist was gone, causing me to fall on the ground, leaving me alone in the middle of that overwhelming brightness.


    <div>

 Chapter 78: Memories of a Dream

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    I woke up to an unfamiliar ceiling. Bradley¡¯s head laid beside me as his hand held mine, both feeling the rays of the moon warm our skins, each shard merging into his golden hair. His long lashes were closed, his chest raising just to fall once again and his curly hair completely messy, a sight that not many got to experience as his soul found itself sinking deeper into its slumber. Meters away, Jade¡¯s platinum strands swung as he breathed soundly in his chair. In his arms, a sword I¡¯d seen before, the one Bradley often carried around, beautifully adorned with golden coats and Seedling jewels. Beneath their resting eyes, large dark circles formed contrasting the paleness on their skins.


    Slowly, I removed myself from the bed, praying not to make a single peep, a sound that could bring them back from the realm their souls rested upon. Leaving the room, the familiar halls of the Hillgarden¡¯s estate greeted me; long yet thin, packed with paintings and sculptures - eager to display their wealth. The mansion was empty, peaceful even, with no servants wandering around, no nobles bickering about.


    The night sky was gradually becoming lighter, announcing the beginning of the day to its worshipers. I opened the back door, allowing an icy breeze to touch my cheeks, flushing them. The green grass tingled my feet as my bare skin stepped on its being. Glancing around, nature controlled all, declared its domain in any living creature, past, present or future, as if the events that preceded had never come to be.


    Prosperous were the hills surrounding the estate, tainted by life, covered in color. And my lips hummed a melody as I walked, as my figure voyaged through another¡¯s man¡¯s home, through an unknown land - like my mother wished to do.


    ¡®People change if you try.¡¯ She used to tell me.


    I never embraced that advice. Deep down, I¡¯d always known it wouldn¡¯t matter, that nothing would ever change. But back then, after seeing her warm gaze, after experiencing that unforgivable kindness, the feelings that had been lost gathered in me yet again ¨C like a plague that rapidly spread through the people, dwelling around the slums, weighing everyone down.


    It was ironic how my lives were but a frightful story, the type one tells children as a lesson, as a result for their mistakes, yet because of her a hint of humanity still remained resolute in such a frosty heart.


    ¡®If you leave bed, the monster will come and get you.¡¯


    That¡¯s what parents usually said to their kids, hoping to scare them away, to prevent them from doing something harmful. Even if they grew scared, once the sun kissed the land, these fears would become meaningless - at least until the darkness roamed about. But for me, they were not monsters who hid beneath your bed; they were men, women, demons shaped like people who willingly swallowed you whole, ripping your soul apart by their greed - leaving nothing of your old self behind.


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    For many years, my soul held onto the thin strand of hope that if I were kind, suffering would pass by; karma would not reach. But I was wrong. Crowds of ghosts, of sorrow, of guilt, of regret dug deep into my soul, haunting it from its core.


    At some point I dreamed. I hoped. I had faith.


    I prayed to God, to all entities that guide Men into their righteous path. I begged for their mercy, for their help to stop the clock - to prevent it from ticking. But their silence hurt more than any flame, than any pain ever inflicted in my body.


    And then that man appeared. A being whose hunger was wide enough to consume a world, clawed his way into my heart, taking away everything good that remained. My dreams turned to shame, my soul darkened, my wishes were nothing more than regrets and my hopes were simple illusions ruled by despair. No matter how hard I tried to fix it, the pieces wouldn¡¯t glue themselves together ¨C how could they, if they didn¡¯t match anymore?


    I didn¡¯t remember him, how he was, what he did, the way he treated me. But I could feel the burning hatred carved in me; the wish to rip his heart away, like he did to mine. His actions had created something bigger, something he couldn¡¯t contain. He wished to attain a rose, but I didn¡¯t wither - instead I grew, became tainted in putrid black, luring every sinner out of their nest.


    Still, I never wanted to be like this.


    I begged.


    I cried.


    I yelled.


    But His silence remained. He wouldn¡¯t take my soul as it had become far too dark for God¡¯s hand - impossible to cleanse by His mercy, by His kindness.


    That¡¯s when I knew better that to fight it. Nothing would change, no matter what I did.


    When my soul was good, it didn¡¯t change. Now that it is wicked, it won¡¯t either.


    As I arrived at the top of the hill, the sun was already rising, causing the deep sky to turn bright into a kind orange before shifting to a beautiful, cold light blue. Tears ran down my face as its greatness caused my shadow to appear - the same shadow that was ignorant of my pain and yet kept following me around, hoping for something more.


    Deep down, I knew I wasn¡¯t fully lost. Deep down, I still prayed.


    I prayed for the day my memories would disappear.


    For the day, my emotions would go numb.


    For the day my childhood would return.


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 Chapter 79: Monsters and Men

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    Several days before, Ophelia was still unconscious, not showing any signs of waking up. On the other hand, the effects of the poison had been almost completely healed, causing her complexion to appear even fairer than it ever was. Because of such beauty, gossip among the servants rapidly grew to the point male servants wished to catch a glimpse of such greatness, always failing miserably in their quest while the women had nicknamed her after the children¡¯s fairy tale, The Sleeping Beauty.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I cannot let you enter, My Lord.¡± Bradley¡¯s voice was bitter enough to cause all the surrounding servants to slither away from the corridors, fearful of what would soon come to pass.


    With Ophelia¡¯s body completely healed, experiencing no fevers nor convulsions, word reached the Wharton¡¯s estate, causing her loving fianc¨¦ to claim his so-called prize. ¡°Bradley! She is my wife. I have the right to take her!¡±


    You filthy life form... you should be thankful for the air you breathe. The blonde man thought as his rude competition pointed a disgusting finger at his face. Such action merely caused the hidden side of the angel to switch, forcing Bradley to conceal it with all his strength, knowing fully well where he stood. If it weren¡¯t for such powerful will, Terrel would be lucky if a broken finger was all he got from such pointless confrontation.


    ¡°Your wife?¡± Bradley snorted and looked down, as the man was slightly shorter than him. ¡°When was your wedding held? And please justify why the prestige house of Trace wasn¡¯t invited to such grand event?¡±


    ¡°She will soon become my wife, so these are mere formalities.¡± Terrel gritted his teeth, fingers passing through a thick layer of oil in his dirty hair. Clearly, he¡¯d done quite an effort this week, all because of the strong preoccupation for his beloved, no doubt. ¡°Nevertheless, as her fianc¨¦, it is my job to care for her in dire times, but I can only do so in my estate.¡±


    The angel smiled, causing a shiver to run through the man¡¯s spine. ¡°Lord Terrel, are you perhaps implying that His Grace has passed? Some have been charged with treason for less.¡±


    Like a slithery snake, the bastard merely grinned, knowing the perfect comeback. ¡°Of course not, My Lord. I wouldn¡¯t dare, but we know death comes to all and I will be the one carrying the Duke¡¯s legacy.¡±


    Avarice, greed and craving locked his desires into place, merging his logic into a lustful mess, which was easily defeated by a handful of coherent words; however, such reality didn¡¯t seem to bother him as he¡¯d prioritize his emotions over social etiquette. That was why, even though Bradley glared down at him intensely, ready to separate his head from his disgusting body, he appeared unfazed, only observing the ultimate goal: the unconscious woman behind the door, the perfect pawn for his needs.


    ¡°Indeed... in some cases, death even comes earlier than others. Isn¡¯t it such a shame?¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡± Finally, some sense dawned on him, causing his resolve to shiver.


    They may be both the sons of Dukes, each with their own extensive power, but even without comparing the two duchies, Bradley had the social upper hand, being invited in the most high-class circles peasants could only dream of observing from afar. If it came to it, society would never take his side.


    ¡°A threat? How could I think of something so treacherous, Lord Terrel... but it is always wise to remember one¡¯s place.¡± Bradley¡¯s charming yet frosty smile caused his competitor¡¯s body to shake, his fists to clench until the knuckles paled.


    Anxiously, his attention travelled through the entrance door, glimpsing the remaining two guardians. Ivy, the woman whose blood should belong to him and the slave he¡¯d heard so much about, the platinum-haired boy. Even though the kid was from lower birth, his stance was threatening enough to make the noble think twice before approaching - a smarter, wiser choice.


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    With no other way out, his attention fell on the maid, who still appeared rather fearful of his presence. With a sleek smile stretched across his lips, he approached. ¡°Ivy, come here.¡±


    Attempting to keep her composure straight and knowing she couldn¡¯t ignore a request from the first son of her employer, she walked towards him, stopping right in front of his dominant figure. ¡°What can I help you with, milord?¡±


    The maids talked among themselves so his deeds didn¡¯t go by unnoticed as the youngest, freshest catches, were always gifted to the young Lord, right under the nose of everyone with real power. Duke Wharton, due to his already old age, locked himself in his room focusing on keeping his businesses afloat, giving the remaining of his influence to his sons: one acted as the socialite while the other acted in his name whenever he went, with whatever he did. No one could escape his grasp nor his interest, at least, until Ophelia had intervened, like a God-send envoy from the higher realms.


    ¡°I¡¯m certain you and I can come to an agreement...¡± His hand fell on her shoulder, pressuring her with his overwhelming presence. The moment Terrel¡¯s lips passed by her ear, his putrefying hot breath drowning in her neck caused her to shudder. ¡°If you don¡¯t wish to please your master, such can be arranged; all you must do is allow me passage. If you don¡¯t, I¡¯m afraid a frail ivy like yourself will carry my seeds.¡±


    Ivy¡¯s eyes widened as her figure walked a few steps back, wavering. That wretched man wanted her to betray the only person who actually cared about her, who stood up for her, and for what? To protect the sole precious thing a woman possessed.


    Bradley¡¯s arm stretched in front of Jade¡¯s figure at the precise moment he was about to intervene; however, this was a decision the woman needed to make for herself. What was more precious to her? A woman¡¯s virtue or loyalty?


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, milord. I cannot aid you with your request.¡± Reactively she bobbed her head and turned around, but the nobleman grabbed her wrist forcefully. The woman shuddered, gasping in pain from his tight grasp, feeling most of the circulation in her hand to be shut down mercilessly.


    ¡°You dare disobey my commands!? You ingrate...!¡±


    ¡°Lord Terrel, I¡¯m afraid if you continue to speak you won¡¯t have any more seeds to give.¡± Bradley commented, causing Terrel to glimpse at them. The platinum-haired boy glared at him with such an intense hatred that if it weren¡¯t for the arm in front of him, preventing his body from darting forward, his rage wouldn¡¯t be contained.


    The brunette snorted, letting go of his grip on the young maid. ¡°I¡¯m sure you know what this action means, Lord Bradley.¡±


    With his typical, charming smile, the angel simply observed him walk away like the filthy dog he was, running with the tail between his legs, unable to do anything decent without his father¡¯s aid. As servants passed through him, his arms pushed them away as they were merely the receptors of his accumulated frustration. The Trace¡¯s and the Wharton¡¯s had never been great friends but, after this, their relationship was bound to turn sour beyond repair.


    A loud sound echoed in the corridor, as Ivy fell straight onto the wooden floor, tears slipping through her cheeks at a rapid pace, reality sinking in. She¡¯d been holding her composure until now, hoping to not lose face against such a threat. ¡°Thank you...¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do this for you.¡± Bradley¡¯s arm lowered, causing Jade to hastily head towards the woman, helping her regain some composure. ¡°If you are done crying, go wash her body. It¡¯s hot today, and she¡¯s probably filled with sweat... we don¡¯t want her fever to rise again.¡±


    ¡°Yes, milord.¡± With two powerful thrusts in her dress, she shoved away the dust and walked down the stairs, ready to grab a bucket filled with lukewarm water.


    Jade looked at the noble, who appeared unbothered by his own insensitivity. ¡°Don¡¯t you know pity?¡±


    ¡°Oh? Dogs can talk?¡± Bradley commented, attempting to shake the resolve of the man standing before him. His figure approached the slave, hands grabbing the thin collar surrounding his neck. ¡°Look at you, a slave who knows pride; aren¡¯t you a lucky one? Don¡¯t deceive yourself with fantasies. You are far below her station.¡±


    And, at that moment, no answer could escape his lips, as he knew all the words the nobleman had said were true. He was but a slave, with a life that he didn¡¯t even own, bought off to someone else by a handful of gold coins. In the social hierarchy, even animals had more rights than him, yet, deep down, a shred of hope still remained.


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 Chapter 80: Such Sweet Trickery

    It was then, in a calm Seedling day, that the Earl¡¯s house was awakened by a woman¡¯s scream, followed by the loud clash of wooden objects. Startled, Jade reactively woke up, seeing the bucket on the ground, its lukewarm water spreading into the carpet, drowning it with its essence.


    ¡°Ivy?¡± When his attention fell on the bed, his heart clenched, chest as tight as a sailor¡¯s knot. The warm sheets had been pushed to the wooden framing, partly falling onto the floor, and their host, Ophelia, was nowhere to be seen. ¡°Where is she!?¡±


    The slave¡¯s loud yell was enough to wake up Bradley, who had exhausted most of his energies dealing with the curious eyes lingering around. His usual fierce appetite had travelled to a faraway land, not showing any intention of returning, and the fair complexion on the skin was paler to the point dark circles caused his bright green eyes to contrast further.


    His fingers passed through his eyes, attempting to awaken his senses. ¡°What... what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Jade! She was here when I left...! I...!¡± Ivy pitifully attempted to explain herself, but the firm grip of the slave¡¯s hands on her upper arms made it impossible to.


    ¡°I swear to God, Ivy, if something happened to her...!¡±


    Bradley¡¯s attention shifted to the empty bed, feeling the lack of warmth emanating from between the sheets. Instinctively, he rose to his feet and headed out the door, leaving both of them alone. His wicked mind thought of many possibilities, yet none harbored a happy ending.


    Could Terrel be here...!? As the noble¡¯s figure flew through the extensive set of stairs, the slave rapidly surpassed him, darting into the servant¡¯s exit. It seemed like their minds thought of the same horrifying threat that persisted in the shadows of their hearts.


    Arriving at the entrance of the estate, further down the mansion, a hint of relief passed through their souls. There was no carriage in sight, nor wheel marks left behind. Ophelia was still within the Earl¡¯s territory.


    At this point, other questions began running through everyone¡¯s minds. Ivy had awakened most of the maids and butlers, creating a large search group to scatter all the hidden places inside the mansion and its surrounding woods, yet Jade and Bradley had other plans. They¡¯d seen how much the poison had affected her, how ill her body had truly become, surely, she couldn¡¯t have left the bed on her own. And, even if she did, with the remnants of the substance in her, Ophelia couldn¡¯t have gone far.


    As Bradley wandered through the estate, peeking through every tree surrounding the terrain, checking behind any small hill or bumps in the dirt, screaming her name at the top of his lungs, a sense of despair settled in - the exact same feeling he¡¯d gone through when she consumed the poison. He was right there with her on both occasions, but he had been too powerless to do anything, to protect his only rival. At that moment, the noble had already come to terms with his fate, preparing himself to ruin Alvin Criswell and his bloody daughter for such impertinence, for meddling in a challenge that didn¡¯t belong to them.


    However, neither of the self-made knights found the girl, no matter how hard they searched. In fact, it was the young maid, Ivy, who spotted her master¡¯s raven hair between the green leaves of the trees, her face as pale as if she¡¯d returned from the dead.


    ¡°Milady! There you are!¡± Ivy¡¯s yell echoed through the grounds as she raced towards the figure leaving the woods. Exhausted, her torso leaned forward, hands using her knees for some time of support as the poor woman tried to catch her breath. ¡°We were all so worried... you disappeared and...!¡±


    ¡°I am perfectly fine, as you can see.¡± Ophelia coldly responded, not understanding why she appeared so preoccupied; after all, it was not like her little stroll took more than a couple of hours.


    ¡°We should return. Your body is still weak, milady.¡± Rapidly, the maid¡¯s arms attempted to slither into the noble¡¯s waist, hoping to provide some sort of support. ¡°You¡¯re freezing! Yes, we must go at once!¡±


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    Much to the woman¡¯s surprise, Ophelia didn¡¯t move, yet her discerning gaze fell upon the bruise on the maid¡¯s wrist. Understanding her underling was attempting to slither away, the girl grabbed her arm, raising it enough to pull down the fabric and to reveal the deep purple bruise on her skin. If one looked closely enough, the shape of a hand was clearly displayed, as if this had been no accident but intentional.


    ¡°Who did this to you?¡± Her voice was icy, pressuring the maid to respond.


    Ivy shuddered as her guilty eyes attempted to hide themselves in the rattling bushes and rebel birds, stopping in the tree branches. Deep down, the maid wished to conceal the truth if not for a moment longer, to prevent her master from learning what had transpired during the past week, yet such hopes were futile because God had already abandoned this hopeless land long ago.


    ¡°Milady, that¡¯s...¡± She tried to slither away from the noble¡¯s grasp, but every time her body moved, the stronger the grip became. ¡°Lord Terrel.¡±


    Of course, between monsters and men, there was little to no difference, especially when it came to the greed and lust of a single individual. Unsurprised, Ophelia let go of her maid, understanding such action was but another warning, another way of that bastard to tell her he could take everything she owned with a mere click of his fingers.


    His message was a clear warning to her power, stating that no matter how much his fianc¨¦e struggled or tried to achieve a standing of her own, she would fail, as everything and everyone was bound to the will of the heir.


    ¡°That bastard...¡± She mumbled between her teeth, mind already pondering on the best way to respond to such a romantic gesture.


    Terrel thought any woman in the realm was his for the taking, as if they were mere objects, animals created by the ones up above to satisfy his selfish desires. And yet, such thoughts were dumb and ignorant, the perfect fuel to cause his upcoming demise. Reminded of what had come to pass during the tea part, Ophelia¡¯s knuckles clenched as a wide, painful grin spread on her lips.


    ¡°Go apply some ointment. I¡¯m sure you haven¡¯t gotten it treated.¡± Her words hit the bull¡¯s eye, causing the maid¡¯s cheeks to flush and her gaze to avert to the daisy flowering next to one of the trees. Of course, Ivy couldn¡¯t go treat it so casually in this mansion as questions would only arise the moment they realized the wound held the shape of a man.


    At that moment, both Bradley and Jade passed through the building, hoping to find the source of the earlier yell. Glimpsing the girl they¡¯d been searching for, their voices unconsciously called for her before their bodies darted, with all their speed, to her reach.


    Exhausted from wandering through the estate, they took a moment to catch their breath as the handful drops of sweat that slithered from their pores dried up. Recovered, their gazes immediately darted to the side as if they¡¯d just gazed upon something they shouldn¡¯t have.


    Within her overly pale complexion, the white nightgown falling onto her weakened body caused her goods to shape themselves into the thin fabric, leaving its form almost completely exposed. Her feet, filled with dirt and some grass, had been completely consumed by a deep brown color which made the lightness of her skin and bony figure contrast even further.


    It had truly been a miracle, according to the Earl¡¯s doctor, that she had survived the poison while keeping some of her basic reflexes alive, making it possible to feed her through small spoons several times per day.


    ¡°Why are all of you searching for me so frenetically?¡± Ophelia chuckled slightly, knowing this situation was rather peculiar. ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯ve been asleep for ages.¡±


    ¡°Actually, milady...¡± Ivy¡¯s voice was low as she wished to deliver the news as calmly as possible. ¡°You¡¯ve been asleep for a full week...¡±


    ¡°What!? One week!?¡± Reactively, the young girl grabbed her upper arms strongly, trying to process the information. How could she have been asleep for an entire week? This was completely unprecedented.


    Wait... does that mean Terrel has returned to the estate? A sudden realization hit her, causing her grasp to grow stronger.


    The maid flinched, feeling her master¡¯s nails penetrate her frail skin. ¡°Milady...? You¡¯re hurting me...¡±


    ¡°Forgive me, Ivy.¡± Ophelia¡¯s attention turned to Jade, who kept on averting his gaze, unable to face her in such attires. ¡°Go back to the Duke¡¯s mansion immediately.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, Master?¡± The slave questioned but quickly came to regret such a decision as she shot him a bitter glare. Time was not on her side and the preparations still had to be made. ¡°As you command.¡±


    And just like that, he left, running to the stables in order to borrow a horse for his travels. However, as Ophelia¡¯s mind was consumed by distress and worry, Bradley simply observed her with both curiosity and fascination, attempting to understand what made her become so unsettled.

 Chapter 81: Such Sweet Trickery

    He knew his own tastes in women; he had always preferred the ones with the greatest of graces, the most slithery with their words, surpassing all other women with just their looks - like Amanda when they first met. Yet, as he stood before the younger child of the Criswell¡¯s, his mind seemed to be imbued into a strange trance, as he enjoyed seeing this unfamiliar expression on her face.


    ¡°Ivy...¡± Her pale hands cupper the maid¡¯s warm cheeks, causing her to flinch slightly. It was only when her words came with a whisper, inaudible for all but them, that her expression grimed. ¡°Do remember who saved you.¡±


    ¡°Of course, milady.¡±


    ¡°Go pack everything. We have a long journey ahead.¡± Ophelia declared, causing the maid to rapidly bob her head and leave.


    No one, including Bradley, knew the reason for such strange behavior. The girl had just woken up when most doctors had no to little hope in her recovery and now, her authority echoed the servants¡¯ senses like a fine, aged wine.


    She was resolute, almost as if fate whispered in her ear everything and anything that was bound to happen in the upcoming future. It was clear Ophelia was hiding something, and it was related with the Wharton¡¯s, probably even their eldest.


    It seems I should bribe someone from the inside... Bradley thought as the maid took a turn, disappearing into the main building.


    ¡°Ophelia, are you alright?¡± He questioned, still averting his eyes as a certain flush hit his cheeks. He¡¯d seen women in nightgowns before, so why was this time so different?


    ¡°Lord Bradley, it would be wise to understand your standing.¡± As these words flew into his senses, his thoughtfulness dissipated, remembering the woman before him was nothing more than his competitor, the only one who had managed to screw him over repeatedly. ¡°I don¡¯t think we are familiar enough to treat each other without honorifics, wouldn¡¯t you agree?¡±


    She smiled rather coldly, causing the two dimples in her cheeks to appear cockily. Bradley knew women from their tastes to their wishes, thus he¡¯d never struggled to get the ones he set his sights upon - it was far too easy to melt a maiden¡¯s heart. Ophelia, however, was different, being like a slippery fish who seemed to be immune to his charms, ignoring his social standing and stepping on his pride with such ease, it made all the other nobles sneer in jealousy.


    He possessed but a single, hidden trick that was far more effective than love potions, than prayers to an unknown God. ¡°I love you, Ophelia.¡±


    The environment grew silent as a gentle, chilly breeze flew by, causing the leaves and the bushes to rattle in excitement. At that precise moment, the girl¡¯s eyes widened, her figure froze, completely taken aback by such words. Surely, she wasn¡¯t expecting to hear them, especially when he appeared so pitiful with his glimmering eyes, with the faint smile his lips carried.


    ¡°Bradley, I...¡±


    Before Ophelia could continue her sentence, he approached, cupping her cheeks between his large hands, feeling the warmth of her blushed skin and the desire in her eyes to pass through. Timidly, as if this action was something done in the spur of the moment, his face leaned forward, lips aiming at the final prize. His arm, wrapped itself around the waist, raising her slightly in the air as her torso touched his, causing the nightgown to reveal even more of the hidden shape of the goods beneath.


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    I win. He thought the moment their faces were close enough to feel the warm breath coming from her anxious lips. Confidently, his eyes closed, already anticipating the pleasures to come.


    Those dreams were short-lived since his torso stopped midway, pushed back by her hands. ¡°I won¡¯t fall for that. But it was a good attempt.¡±


    To her, this had been his best shot so far, making her heart even flutter slightly, however, she wouldn¡¯t give in to her resolve, especially not to this madman.


    Bradley just watched her slowly back away with a prideful grin on her lips, understanding she had won yet another round. She¡¯d impressed him over and over again, causing his interest to reach extents he didn¡¯t think could be possible - how could she be this captivating?


    Her determination and cunningness were something rare in the days of today, especially in women, as most only cared about trivial gossip and competing by showing off their husband¡¯s wealth and power.


    ¡°You are playing a game you can¡¯t possibly win, My Lady...¡± The kind, charming fa?ade fell completely, revealing the sole angel that had fallen from grace, being forced to live a miserable, solitary life without a shred of love. Seeing this, Ophelia shrugged and turned, but her travel was cut short as the noble grabbed her wrist, pulling her attention to him. ¡°I always get what I want.¡±


    ¡°Lady Ophelia? Lord Bradley?¡± A female voice echoed through the garden, causing his hand to reactively release the girl. He didn¡¯t intend to soil both of their reputations, after all. ¡°What are you doing down there?¡±


    ¡°Lady Patricia, good morning.¡± He politely replied to the woman leaning on the window ledge, her flowery orange nightgown reflected the rays of the sun as a wide smile spread across her lips. She appeared rather happy, yet Bradley cursed her sudden appearance, praying the window would grow weak and cause her to smash that nosy curiosity onto the ground.


    ¡°Oh! Indeed, it is! Are you out for a walk?¡± Her voice grew louder, causing the noble to not notice how his prey had slithered away from his claws, already heading into the manor. ¡°Please wait a moment, My Lord, I¡¯ll be right there!¡±


    During his stay at the Hillgarden¡¯s, Patricia had been a complete and utter annoyance as her cheap tricks to capture his heart were far over used and unimpressive. Whenever Bradley left Ophelia¡¯s temporary chambers, she stood at the entrance door, waiting for his presence, for a moment of his time, that could prove to become a priceless piece of investment.


    Clearly, she was striving to gain his affection on the back of her friend, his fianc¨¦e, however, much to her dismay, the nobleman¡¯s heart had been locked away under layers a woman such as herself couldn¡¯t dream of reaching.


    Once the girl entered the room again, her frantic screams echoed in from the window, clearly forcing her servants to hurry with their chores. Bradley¡¯s gaze, however, was far more attentive to the maiden disappearing into the mansion, her fluttering nightgown dancing with the wind as her body turned, crystal eyes glancing at him from afar before disappearing from sight. Like a small dove flying in broad daylight, Ophelia was far too bewitching, far too perfect to sneak past his grasp.


    ¡°Fly as much as you want, butterfly. You will be mine soon enough...¡± A sense of adrenaline bolted through his body, recalling how her figure was so close to him, how her body was locked on his, their lips almost merging into a beautiful disaster. But it was also at that moment that a sudden realization dawned on him.


    She was engaged to that filthy life form, Terrel, and he also was to wed her own sister - an event he was trying his best to prevent. Even then, his mind began imagining her, all alone within the mansion, far too close to that man¡¯s lustfulness and desires. Surely, he would do what pleasured him the most: the complete ruination of a woman, as she begged and screamed for mercy in his monstrous heart. But such wouldn¡¯t happen as he would make that man beg just to attain a mere one second glimpse of her face, since the place where he would stay was far too lonely for any man to bear.

 Chapter 82: Between Lies and Deceit

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    Just a few hours ago, the dreadful news had struck my soul, irking an anxiety that was far too powerful to ignore. Somehow, my body had been asleep for a full week, having barely survived because of Lady Catherine¡¯s mysterious servants who happened to carry a handful of herbs, one of them being the sole savior of my humane body. But wasn¡¯t it strange? Why would a servant carry those expensive items so casually?


    When the doors opened to Devlin¡¯s study room, a small white space was displayed, contrasting the remaining of the house that was filled with warm, cozy tones of brown and shades of Seedling flowers. The ceiling and the walls were completely void of color, as if God himself had blessed the wood with such peculiar tonalities. However, the several furniture elements scattered around were all tainted black or consumed by a strangely appealing dark grey. This room was an anomaly in the middle of such a warm looking house, bringing the coldness of the Frosting winds with it.


    ¡°It is my brand new importation from over the western seas... they call it wall paint. Curious, isn¡¯t it?¡± The Earl commented, his figure turning from the windows, facing me with a sleek smile spread across his lips. ¡°I am glad to see you have finally recovered, My Lady. Our hearts were aching with concern, you see?¡±


    The butler stationed at the door bobbed his head and snapped his fingers, causing two other of his kin to enter the room, each carrying distinct drinks - from two kettles, one harboring warm coffee while other hid away the presence of some tea, alongside some water glasses and freshly squeezed orange juices. Once all the items were placed on the center of the black table, which appeared rather heavy as it had been crafted with chunks of stone and pieces of dark wood on its center, Devlin sat down, grabbing one of the coffee cups. His face melted in pleasure once the tingling sensation of energy consumed his taste buds.


    With a cordial smile and after sitting on the cushioned couch, my hands placed the tea cup on top of a small porcelain plate, allowing the servant to pour me the drink. ¡°I am truly thankful for your hospitality and aid with such a delicate matter. I¡¯ll make sure to keep such kindness close to heart.¡±


    ¡°It was my pleasure, Lady Ophelia.¡± The Earl smiled as his hands brought one of his knees on top of the other, pulling his back straight with a graceful stance, his cup already emptied. ¡°If you require any assistance, do not hesitate to ask.¡±


    At first glance such heart-warming words were simple, easy to be misguided by care and affection, however, the line underneath was far too sharp for most to read. This foolish man had chosen to take my side, leaving the rest of the Criswell¡¯s hanging to dry - certainly he had weighted the options presented in front of him, realizing his dream could never be achieved if he kept waiting on the Duke¡¯s promise. It was clear he thought of using me yet, such relationship was symbiotic as we would both benefit from such sudden partnership.


    ¡°Well, I shall be taking my leave, Earl. Once again, it was a pleasure.¡± Finishing my own drink, I got up and my fingers grabbed the hem of the expensive orange dress borrowed from Patricia¡¯s wardrobe, pulling up the row of frills touching the white stone floor before leaving.


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    As the carriage thumped over the stony path, the horses galloping on the dirt rung into my ears, causing my attention to focus on the woman standing before me. Ivy was quiet, simply gazing at the window, observing the greenery and the wild animals that happily wandered through the land, completely immersed in such scenario.


    ¡°What exactly happened after I passed out?¡± My voice brought the maid¡¯s attention back to this plane of existence, yet she didn¡¯t seem bothered in the slightest.


    ¡°Where to start, milady...¡± Unsure of what to talk about first, Ivy¡¯s teeth chewed on her bottom lip, her fingers twirling on each other at a strangely rhythmic pace. Eventually, she explained everything as she recalled, from Bradley taking me to the room before being miraculously saved by Lady Catherine¡¯s servants, to Terrel¡¯s little burst of emotions, eagerly lustful to attain me at my weakest state. ¡°We all thought you¡¯d...¡±


    ¡°Why would a servant be carrying herbs around? Was he an herbalist?¡± The girl shook her head, completely denying the most reasonable explanation just to leave a rather sickening one behind. ¡°So she already knew...¡±


    When I drank that poison so valiantly my soul knew it wasn¡¯t going to die as the cards had already proclaimed my fate, allowing me to only gracefully pass on that sickening day, however, such event wasn¡¯t in my plans. It seemed like the peculiar Catherine knew far more than she led to believe and somehow, she¡¯d saved me from an eminent threat. What was she truly planning?


    ¡°What milady?¡± Not understanding my mumbling, Ivy¡¯s confusion only grew.


    ¡°What herbs were they? The antidote?¡± At my question, the maid grabbed a small pouch from within a large cloth bag, where she carried most of her assets before opening it up with a twist. An unknown fragrance filled the carriage when her hands scooped out three vivid yellow leaves that appeared to be brighter than the sun itself. ¡°I see...¡±


    Throughout all my lives, such strange entity had never appeared before me. Maybe it was something imported from abroad, yet how could they still look so vivid and hydrated? My mind flew back to Catherine and the man in charge of allegedly saving my life.


    How much does that woman truly know? What exactly is she after?


    We¡¯d never made any contact and, even in the past, our interactions were completely inexistent. Rumors were easy to spread, thus she was poorly seen by most nobles and aristocrats whose hypocrisy clung higher than a desperate man, holding to dear life at the top of a cliff. They talked about her and the paramours<sup>1</a></sup> she wore like jewels in a crown, not even trying to hide her strange habits, all guided through sole pleasure and convenience - the Woman of a Hundred Men, the public called her. Yet, their insults weren¡¯t enough to prevent their curiosity and intrigue as all of these ass-licking, unscrupulous nobles kept on attending her parties, wearing stereotypical compliments on their sleeves.


    That woman had always been peculiar, a unique individual who valued her own happiness above all else; the sole member of high-aristocracy whose lust surpassed the typical power-hungry greediness. Her interest in growing the status of her house was inexistence, even if her own sister was one of the King¡¯s many lovers. That unorthodox identity and those strange values would, undoubtedly, prove to become a poisonous fruit for those who attempted to take a bite.


    ¡°We stayed with you the whole time, milady...¡± Her hands stored the leaves back into the pouch, sealing the intensity of the smell away within the thick fabric.


    ¡°Lord Bradley too?¡±


    ¡°Of course. He barely left your side even when Terrel would...¡± The maid bit down on her own words, feeling doubtful about revealing the thoughts escaping through her lips.


    <div>

 Chapter 83: Between Lies and Deceit

    <div>


    Bradley held this strange obsession with winning and, just because I¡¯d accidentally struck his fragile ego, he seemed to have become overprotective, as if my soul was the sole objective he needed to attain. Had his pride gone so far as to protect me until he won, dumping me afterward, or had such competition caused his heart to be clouded with infatuation?


    Don¡¯t tell me... does he actually like me?


    No matter how much my mind picked possibilities, such as the only one able to justify such behavior, all seemed weird. He wanted to own my heart, to steal it like he had done so many times before. That was the focus of our little competition, however, he could do so regardless of where I stayed. However, the rumors of Terrel¡¯s wrong doings had been the hot topic of high society¡¯s gossip for a handful of years - meaning that even now, where no one seemed to care about such transgressions anymore, such truth still lingered in the back of their minds, being a constant reminder of the Wharton¡¯s son true essence.


    Could he be trying to protect me from that monster?


    Briefly, the thought of using that man¡¯s feelings to my advantage flew through, knowing if well polished such could come to be; but, one who plays with fire gets easily burnt. I wouldn¡¯t be fomenting the feelings of a man that could prove himself to be far more dangerous than the demon of my husband-to-be.


    ¡°You know I hate repeating myself.¡±


    ¡°Lord Terrel tried to take you away many times after your condition improved but Lord Bradley didn¡¯t allow him to even see you so one time...¡± The maid¡¯s hands gradually begun to tremble, clearly feeling frightened by the memory of that beast¡¯s touch, her fingers covering the bruise sinking on her wrist. ¡°... he grabbed me and tried to force me, but the lord helped me.¡±


    Terrel was truly a self-centered man with little tact or culture, not being aware of the existence of self-control, thus being constantly bound by violence and his rawest, most wicked desires. Surely, such predictable behavior would become nothing but his own demise, like the downfall of those villains from the stories in children¡¯s books.


    ¡°What about Millicia? What happened to her?¡±


    Ivy¡¯s complexion palled, eyes completely widened. ¡°It was awful, milady... Earl Hillgarden questioned her but she bit off her own tongue and then was taken by the royal guards... I heard from the other maids her execution will be held two days from now.¡±


    It took me completely by surprise. Millicia had always been a rather innocent but reckless child, prioritizing her own values and life far more than mere concepts such as undying loyalty; yet, she¡¯d made a tremendous sacrifice for a scoundrel of a man. It seemed like that silly country-bumpkin had more to lose by remaining alive, as if the Duke held some type of leverage on her. Luckily, my heart was so, but so ever kind.


    ¡°What about my family?¡± Such words left a bitter taste in my mouth, causing my insides to twist in utter disgust.


    ¡°I saw them leaving the party, milady, but it wasn¡¯t long since I followed Lord Bradley inside... I couldn¡¯t bear to leave you alone like that.¡±


    Ivy was truly the perfect maid. She didn¡¯t try to gain my favor nor to intervene unless called upon and anything she did came out perfectly, almost as if she¡¯d been training her entire life to attain such position. After Terrel¡¯s incident, where my intervention saved her from the worst experience of her life, she¡¯d started to respect me and go to the extra mile to ensure my well-being.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Tell me... why did you begin working at the Wharton¡¯s estate?¡± With nerves darting through her skin, erupting little volcanoes on her bare arms, the maid¡¯s fingers twirled on each other, hoping to find a way to slither from such question. ¡°Did you know Duke Criswell has planted a spy on the mansion? That wouldn¡¯t happen to be you now, would it, Ivy?¡±


    All of her movements stopped, as if the grim reaper had arrived to steal her away to the afterlife. Yet, when she straightened her back and showed me the most determinate, stern expression I¡¯d ever seen, my breath was swallowed whole, unable to escape my being. ¡°Yes. I came here on his orders.¡±


    Silence then settled. The sound of galloping from the horses mingled with the faint breeze coming from the barely opened window, causing a whisper to flow in. Our gazes faced each other, sharpening the daggers hidden in our upcoming words.


    ¡°He was going to pay me to deliver him information, but I was never summoned back. I think he might¡¯ve hired someone else and was getting it from them instead.¡± Even with such conclusion, the environment was still tense, filled with a pressure one could only feel with heaviness on the chest, with the harshness irritation on the throat. The maid bowed in front of me as much as the carriage allowed her to. ¡°I will gladly receive any punishment you see fit, milady, but please allow me the honor to continue serving you.¡±


    ¡°Do you take me for a fool?¡± I kept her there, trembling for a handful of minutes, still unsure of whether the truth was actually this easily attained. ¡°Why are you confessing it now? You had plenty of opportunities before.¡±


    ¡°Milady came to my rescue when I thought everything would be lost.¡± She rose her torso, facing me once again, a strange act of insubordination that my soul didn¡¯t seem to mind. Her hazelnut eyes were as clear as day, sharpened like the iron spikes that surround the noble¡¯s estates, preventing liars and rats from slithering in. ¡°I am well aware you didn¡¯t do so out of kindness as I¡¯ve been observing you more than the rest of the maids, but even then, I am proud to serve you.¡±


    A maid is actually proud to serve someone? Is this some sort of distasteful joke?


    ¡°Why would you be proud to serve me? I hold no power, no status other than the one given by my gender.¡±


    ¡°You are different, milady. I have only served one noble lady before, but I can tell it. I know that if I support you, my goals will be fulfilled.¡± Her hands grabbed part of the dress, crumbling the fabric with the strength placed in the grip.


    ¡°And what might those goals be?¡± It didn¡¯t come as a surprise when she finally revealed her true colors, displaying her ambitions out loud, the ones many kept hidden behind a two-goody-shoes fa?ade.


    ¡°I want to wed well. To leave this wretched life of working my bones off just to die in a ditch somewhere.¡±


    A chuckled escaped my lips, sneering at such delusional dream. ¡°Those are really pretty words Ivy but I¡¯m afraid I don¡¯t believe them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m simply asking for a chance to prove it.¡± The maid bowed down yet again, gaze facing the floor of the carriage as it passed through several bumps, causing her body to waver from side to side.


    Do I need to read between the lines? Such development seemed too simple, just like her so called life ambitions.


    Ivy¡¯s confession and willing affection towards me seemed planned, like a theatrical play yet her words didn¡¯t appear to be completely untruthful. She¡¯d almost sacrifice one of her fingers at my own request, something one wouldn¡¯t do if they didn¡¯t possess a strong resolution and loyalty but, the same can be said for the real manipulator, foolishly deceiving others by thinking they hold all the cards.


    ¡°Rise.¡± As Ivy¡¯s figure straightened, an amusing thought came to mind. ¡°If you find the spy working for that man, I¡¯ll consider your sins cleansed.¡±


    <div>

 Chapter 84: Picking the Roses

    A week earlier, during the tea party at the Earl¡¯s estate, everything had gone mayhem. Noble women fanned their faces with sleek movements of their slender hands, as their servants struggled to keep up with the growing demands of the men, who eagerly complained about the ingrate peasant girl, culprit of such a treacherous act. Once the royal guards arrived, followed by a large carriage to carry the prisoner, gossip flew through the air at an unprecedented pace. All members present made their own assumptions behind the maid¡¯s insanity - for she had to be utterly lost to threaten the life of a noble in broad daylight. But then silence ensued and all the cautious glares shifted to the one who had been accused of being the puppeteer, the one ruthless enough to murder its own blood.


    ¡°Father...? What, what¡¯s happening...?¡± Amanda woke up just to see all the haughty glares of the nobles falling upon her, judging her from afar with their prideful stances. Her gaze then fell on her father¡¯s frame, whose disgusted expression twisted as he observed something from afar, something that her senses couldn¡¯t yet capture.


    Feeling movements in his arms, Alvin¡¯s attention rapidly shifted to his daughter, a warm smile slicing his cheeks. ¡°My child...! We must leave at once, but you have to keep your eyes closed, alright?¡±


    ¡°But what happened? Why do I have to...?¡± Before she could finish her sentence and settling her thoughts straight, the Duke placed his hand under the girl¡¯s torso, unwillingly raising her up with a harsh movement. She groaned, feeling her body sore and hurtful from laying on the ground for far too long.


    ¡°We shall take our leave, Earl.¡± Without saying anything else, Alvin walked towards the front gates, hoping to reach their carriage as rapidly as possible. Without the maid serving as the center of attention, all would befall on him and his daughter - something he couldn¡¯t allow as it was common knowledge that certainties couldn¡¯t be changed, yet doubts and questions could still be twisted to the will of the richest.


    Suddenly Amanda¡¯s body froze, feeling her heel had stepped on something rather squishy, causing her balance to falter. A squirting sound rung through and moments after, her head turned back. Maybe it was mere curiosity, but maybe, just maybe, fate wanted her to see the actual truth behind her father¡¯s greed.


    A squeal followed by a loud scream echoed through the garden, causing all the nobles to sneer at such unsightly behavior. Mimicking a ghost¡¯s, Amanda¡¯s cheeks paled and her heart aggressively pounded in her ears, like an iron hammer sinking its being into the wood with all the strength it held, all because of the thing surrounded by a pond of vivid crimson. Alvin pulled his daughter¡¯s body from her waist, forcing her to walk instead of standing in the middle of the garden, where all the gazes befell on her, blaming her.


    ¡°What happened...?¡± Was the only thing Amanda could ask when they entered the carriage, feeling her insides twist, eating themselves alive.    The vivid image of the tongue on the grass, of the way it felt as her heel dug into it was rooted in her mind like a sickening loop, repeating itself every second.


    At that moment, Amanda¡¯s face turned, forcing her to face the window as the horses galloped, pulling the carriage forward. Her once pale cheek turned beet red, a stinging pain piercing the nerves under her skin. With a trembling hand and a fearful glance, she cupped the pain, hiding it from the sun, shielding it from the anger of her father.


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    ¡°Everything is ruined, Amanda! God! Who knew my own child could be so useless!¡± His voice was loud, causing everyone to hear, from the coachmen to the servants who followed behind on a cheaper, uncomfortable ride.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what got into me, Father... I am sorry...¡± Not knowing what to say, or how to even react, the girl¡¯s self-esteem slowly turned into an empty ball, void of any confidence. Certainly, her earlier actions were condemnable, but were they truly the instigators of such rage? He also hated Ophelia, so why was he being so drastic towards her?


    ¡°Why did you try to kill your sister!? Everyone there saw you, you foolish girl! There¡¯s no way you won¡¯t be punished for it...¡± Alvin¡¯s fingers clenched on his knees strongly enough to pull his trousers slightly upwards.


    ¡°Punishment...? Don¡¯t tell me I¡¯ll...¡± Amanda¡¯s eyes teared up once again, already picturing her head flying on the public square in the middle of her execution, like most common criminals. Her trembling slender fingers wrapped themselves around her neck, faintly feeling the sharpness of an invisible blade against it.


    ¡°Of course not. You are still a noble and I will do whatever is possible to lighten the consequences, but you mustn¡¯t, under any circumstances, leave the house. Do you understand? No parties, no balls, nothing!¡±


    Keeping a low profile for the weeks to come was certainly the best route to be taken, preventing rumors and unknown stories from shifting like the coldness of the winds during the irrational Hunting weather. Her social presence would undoubtedly take a strong hit, as she¡¯d lack the means to defend herself, but seeing her father¡¯s eyes without any shimmer, Amanda knew there was no other choice.


    ¡°What about Ophelia? Did I...?¡± Everything had happened so quickly, too rapidly for her mind to cope with. All she remembered was pointing the knife at the girl¡¯s throat and then seeing blood, nothing else. ¡°Was it hers?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, no. That brat fucked everything...¡± Alvin¡¯s jaw clenched, his veins resolutely raising their status on the temples of his head. ¡°She knew the tea was poisoned, so everything was a total catastrophe!¡±


    Poisoned...!? Amanda¡¯s eyes turned into two round almonds, completely taken aback by the words coming out of him. She knew her father was plotting something - he always did - but how could he consider such an extreme solution? How could he bring himself to actually poison his own daughter¡¯s tea?


    Yes, she had little morale to judge him as in her dreams the corpse of her sister had always been her doing, but when faced with the possibility and opportunity, her soul couldn¡¯t bring itself to commit such an act. She was still her little sister, after all.


    ¡°Actually... everything is perfectly fine.¡± At that moment, a wide grin spread across the Duke¡¯s face, understanding his concern was useless as he¡¯d ultimately won the war. The poison inserted in the girl¡¯s system was harvested in foreign lands, weeks by carriage or boats - it was impossible for anyone here to have the antidote. She was bound to die, meaning the only problem left was to fix his daughter¡¯s reputation, which was a rather easy feat considering his wealth and status.


    Even feeling slightly relieved from seeing her father¡¯s mood improve, her chest clenched, anxiety roaming within. Amanda was confused, not understanding what had come to pass yet, from all the doubts roaring in her mind, the one with the strongest impact was none other than the fact that Alvin could easily discard his own flesh and blood as if it was nothing but bumps in the road. And if he could do it to Ophelia, what stopped him from doing it to her?

 Chapter 85: Picking the Roses

    <div>


    One week later, right at the end of the morning, the news arrived at the Criswell¡¯s estate rather mercilessly. ¡°Lady Ophelia has recovered and is returning to the Wharton¡¯s estate as we speak, Your Grace.¡±


    ¡°What did you say!?¡± Alvin¡¯s voice was loud, but it was no match for the loud bang of his tightened knuckles on the wooden desk, causing his spy at the Earl¡¯s estate to shudder.


    How could she have survived? That poison was lethal, so how did she...?


    ¡°Arnold, deliver the message to the recipient. He is to pick the rose tonight.¡± At his master¡¯s words, the servant standing by the door exited the room, causing the temporary guest to raise his figure slightly more comfortably. Alvin glanced at the window, seeing the sun at its blast, covering the land with an abnormal warmth. ¡°What a mess...¡±


    Awkwardly, the Earl¡¯s servant rolled one finger onto the other, his voice stuttering slightly. ¡°About my pay-payment, Your Grace...¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s on the table. Take it and leave.¡± The nobles hands waved through the air, causing the man to rapidly move and exit, a wide smile spread on his lips, his pockets now filled with a handful of gold coins.


    Not that you will live long enough to spend it all though... Alvin never let witnesses survive unless they were crucial to his plans, or had taken his side so faithfully, being only crooked men just like him. The ones that were easily replaceable often received a hefty payment just to die on that same day since the golden coins had been coated in a poison that would infiltrate a human¡¯s body through the minimal touch. After two days, such potent poison disappeared, leaving behind no trace of its existence - thus most believed his victims to have passed from strokes or mild diseases.


    The Duke rose from his chair and pulled the curtains to the side, his eyes observing Arnold leaving the estate as rapidly as he could, riding on his favorite brown horse. It was clear he had underestimated Ophelia, how much of a menace she could truly become, taking her by a girl who was easy to deal with, easy to control - yet she¡¯d turn into a complete liability, patiently waiting to ruin everything he¡¯d worked so hard to achieve.


    ¡°I should¡¯ve gotten rid of her before...¡± He couldn¡¯t stop resenting his past actions, having ignored the urge within his gut the moment her figure stepped into his study, the moment her hands stole one of his apples. Surely it wasn¡¯t just luck, it couldn¡¯t be, but if it was, had he truly become that unlucky?


    Some hours passed by like a sickening melody who seemed to never end and Gilbert found himself in front of Ophelia¡¯s chambers, his eyes focusing on the amount of passing maids who appeared to have regained their once lost life - after all, their master would come back from the dead and so would their jobs. His hands wiped the dust out of a rather old statue as he tried to steal one of the extra keys to enter the noble woman¡¯s room. His wounds had now fully recovered, leaving only some bruising alongside a thick set of nasty scars, but nothing that inflicted enough pain to hinder away his ultimate goal.This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    ¡°The rose needs to be picked tonight. That¡¯s an order.¡± A female voice whispered but, before the assassin was able to catch her face, she¡¯d already mingled with the overflow of maids, all carrying far too many gifts, sheets and God knew what else.


    Tonight... so that bitch is coming back today, is it? Since she¡¯d put him to bed, he¡¯d been anxiously waiting for her alleged recovery, all just to shower her with the same humiliation he felt back then, on that dreadful afternoon. After the embarrassment she¡¯d put him through, how could she dare die to another - not allowing him to taste the sweet flavor of revenge?


    For the last week, he¡¯d been investigating the mansion, as that was the final step of his plan that needed to be settled. Even after hearing the news of her poisoning, he knew she was far too resilient to die, as that string of hope was the sole thing keeping his resolve going forth. One of the maids tripped on her dress, or so he made her think, causing her set of folded sheets to spread across the floor. Like a morally correct man, Gilbert lowered his body, helping the young girl up.


    ¡°Thank you, John.¡±


    ¡°Just be careful not to hurt yourself, they just washed the floor, so it¡¯s very slippery...¡± He commented, causing the girl to giggle before grabbing the large cloths and placing them back into the hay basket. With just a mere second, she was heading into Ophelia¡¯s chambers, yet the assassin¡¯s hand held a surprisingly pleasant treat: the key he needed to unlock her door at night.


    Suddenly, his body froze, feeling an intense bloodlust fall on him. His anxious gaze flew through the corners of the building, darting from one place to another, attempting to find its source. Was he being watched? Had his disguise been compromised?


    But such intense desire to kill wasn¡¯t in any ordinary man nor woman, no, as it was a trait given solely to assassins. Someone here had killed another, someone here was just like him - a murderer compelled by their own set of twisted morals and greedy sins.


    Did he send another one? Annoyed, Gilbert clicked his tongue and turned his body around, facing the task he had been given once again.


    He was one of the best in the capital and his reputation preceded him - he¡¯d helped more nobles than he could count and just with that he¡¯d gathered a considerable wealth, which was inevitably spent in booze, women and his other addictions. They knew he was able to make certain problems disappear without leaving any proof, any trace behind except the memory of the ones who bought their death.


    Duke Criswell was what some people called a regular, often hiring Gilbert for his skills even though they both despised one another - like a dog and a cat who were bound to bite each other to death if given the chance. But work was work and he couldn¡¯t afford to be picky, especially when the debt collectors knocked on his door, eager to receive their easily spent gold.


    Even then, he dismissed this lingering uneasiness meddling with his mind. If this was a competition to prove one¡¯s value, he¡¯d surely bring the award home.


    ¡°Bring it on, bastard...¡± Excitedly, his body whistled a happy song, feeling the adrenaline voyage through his body at a rapid pace, anxiety settling in, eager for night to come.


    <div>

 Chapter 86: An Assassin’s Fate

    <div>


    <u>Gilbert¡¯s Memories</u>


    With an absent father, kindness wasn¡¯t a man Gilbert knew. His mother, a hard-working tailor who barely managed to get by, was often neglected as her husband indulged in pleasures only grown-ups knew of. Every day was the same old melody, the same old story where their paths wouldn¡¯t meet and their presences neglected - each focusing on what they wished to. Being a complete wreck, his father caught a contagious illness from his nightly visitors and just two months after, he met with the maker of Men.


    The young kid should¡¯ve felt sorrow, regret, a pit of sadness in his chest but instead his emotions seemed void of color, of essence. His mother, on the contrary, only found peace in the pleasantries of alcohol, spending a dime a dozen and all she could get her hands on in such an unmerciful foe. When the money ran thin, she had no choice but to become a woman of the night, the kind she used to hate with all her being, cursing them from stealing away the man she¡¯d married that day.


    Gilbert had no choice but to resort to distrustful means to survive. From stealing smaller shops on the secluded avenues to the healthier commoners who passed by, bragging about their high income, anything that was caught in his web ended up being put to good use - to be traded for food. Of course, in the beginning, he was caught and his body received a merciful end from God, being tainted with the forgiveness of his painful sins, showered by the hands of justice, of the ones who had done nothing wrong but being born in the right family.


    Life was the survival of the fittest, and he knew that. He¡¯d seen how his father grew weak to women, how his mother succumbed to alcohol instead of facing her regret and how such a decision had doomed her soul. But a villain isn¡¯t born wicked, as deep down, his feelings of affection for his mother lingered, right at his core.


    Somehow, he managed to get a job at a shady restaurant on the side of the slums. Every day, his hands would be soaked with soap and water until he felt nothing else but the wrinkles on his skin yearning for a moment of dryness. And then, one night, his mother didn¡¯t come back.Stolen story; please report.


    For hours on end, he searched the streets, inquiring any passerby¡¯s, hoping to attain some sort of information about his mother''s whereabouts. Such action merely gave him a harsh beating from some punks, leaving him far sorer and more wounded than he¡¯d ever been. The ditch where they threw him in ended up being the one, he was fated to be as his mother¡¯s corpse rested right then and there. Her skinny figure hid between some dumpsters as trash accumulated outside; her cheap dress was completely ripped, exposing most of her body, displaying the blood and sperm exiting her entrance; some of her members had even been pushed aside, almost completely moved out of place. Wild rats and birds had already begun their feast, pecking and munching on the rotting flesh as if they were the ones who had suffered starvation.


    At that moment, many questions passed through his mind, yet he couldn¡¯t understand how such could come to be. How could destiny be such a cruel master?


    You are destined for someone.


    You are destined for something greater.


    That was what commoners told to each other, hoping to gather some compassion from another but, such shallow words couldn¡¯t even drown a fly as they possessed but an ounce of truth. But Gilbert was different; he was the sole exemption of this sick rule as he - and he alone - was destined for something far greater than he could imagine.


    After his mother¡¯s death, he wasted months of his life investigating the man who had been unlucky enough to steal the only thing he cared about. And such culprit was but a mere Baron, the lowest ranking in the kingdom, a man no better than a commoner like himself.


    At the tender age of twelve, he infiltrated that man¡¯s property - if one could call it that - and carefully set up the pieces of his plan. He observed the schedules of the workers; he stalked his prey; he gathered intel on the whole building, until everything had been set into place; all that was left was the trigger.


    <div>

 Chapter 87: An Assassin’s Fate

    <u>Gilbert¡¯s Memories</u>


    ¡°Who are you? What do you want?¡± The Baron¡¯s voice wavered, feeling the blade of the dagger press against his neck. His crooked finger pointed to the small cabinet at the end of the room, peeking between the closet and the entrance door. ¡°Is it money? You can take whatever you want! The safe is right over there...!¡±


    Gilbert chuckled at the man¡¯s foolish assumption, causing him to gasp as a piercing, excruciating pain travelled through his nerves. The dagger had penetrated his skin, sinking into the flesh of his right shoulder, tainting the expensive white shirt with the vividness of bright red. With a rapid movement, the kid removed the blade, causing the man to groan in pain.


    ¡°Money can¡¯t buy what I want...¡± His voice was soft and tender, as if his soul wasn¡¯t burning with pure hatred. With a push, the man¡¯s body fell on the floor, allowing a pool to form on top of the cracked wooden surface, drops sneaking into the cracks. At that moment, the moon escaped its captors and peaked into the greed of a man, seeing an act so atrocious it willingly sheltered itself again.


    ¡°What do you want then!? I will give you anything!¡± By the tone of his voice, the nobleman was finally understanding the gravity of the situation - that money wasn¡¯t all a human soul yearned for. Yet, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to understand how such a small child could be blinded by sinful thoughts, homicidal tendencies.


    What did I do to deserve this...? The Baron thought, not remembering any of his previous sins.


    ¡°I want my mom back.¡±


    ¡°Papa...?¡± A girl no older than seven pushed the door open just to see her father laying on the floor, blood pouring out of his body. Her bright eyes then glanced at the boy standing above him, in his right hand a dagger tainted red. ¡°What¡¯s happening...?¡±


    ¡°Pumpkin, go back to your room... Papa will be with you soon.¡± The Baron tried to keep his composure, noticing the lack of awareness of his daughter who had yet to fully awaken, still patting her eyelids gently with her fists, yawns escaping through her lips one after the other.


    ¡°But Papa... I¡¯m scared...¡± She said, slowly starting to grasp the situation unfolding before her, realizing this was but a silly nightmare.


    ¡°Do you want to help your Papa?¡± Gilbert¡¯s voice was gentle, causing the young girl to be lured into him, as if Divinity had granted him such a perfect gift. ¡°Then come here, let¡¯s help Papa together...¡±


    ¡°Esther! Don¡¯t!¡± Attempting to get up, the young boy pushed the noble¡¯s wound firmly, causing him to groan back into place. He would not interfere with the will of God.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°Come, Esther... come...¡± The boy¡¯s kind smile made the girl¡¯s feet move on her own, as if in a trance. But the truth was, she didn¡¯t like this dream, it was too confusing, too painful, so she simply wanted it to end quickly.


    ¡°Please stop! Anything but my daughter! Please!¡± At this moment, tears flew down the man¡¯s flushed cheeks, praying he wouldn¡¯t lose the sole thing in this world he treasured the most.


    How could he lose his precious flower when she hadn¡¯t even been tainted, living in the bliss of ignorance of kindness and warmth? How could he bear to lose the sole thing that was far more precious than a lifetime''s worth of gold?


    ¡°Now help Papa up.¡±


    Esther stood in front of Gilbert as she steadily stretched her empty hand towards her father, the other holding a light brown teddy bear with beautiful fur who had already tasted the red fluids coming from the man¡¯s body. When their hands touched, the Baron smiled, relieved but such moment was short-lived.


    ¡°Pa...pa...?¡±


    The brightness of a blade piercing her torso reflected against the faint moonlight just before the item was consumed by a pouring bloodstream coming from her frail figure. Her hands dropped the bear on the floor, and she fell on top of her father, losing all the strength in her body, feeling her soul grow colder. Slowly, the stain of red in her attire consumed the pink dress, yet her eyes continued to lose their shine, losing the life within.


    ¡°Esther!¡± The nobleman grabbed her falling body in his arms, feeling her soul slowly leaving her body alongside her faint heartbeats and warmth. ¡°Why!? She was but a child!¡±


    His figure slowly rocked the girl back and forth, keeping her figure close to his torso, praying for the angels to return her soul to this house, to regret taking her away from him so soon. A soft lullaby left his lips as he tried to ease the pain flowing from his heart.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright pumpkin... everything is going to be alright... Papa¡¯s right here...¡± His fingers passed through his child¡¯s golden hair softly as she rapidly coughed chunks of blood, staining everything surrounding her. Tears fell on her flushed cheeks as the girl hiccupped, struggling to breathe.


    ¡°You took something from me and now I took something from you. We¡¯re even.¡±


    And with that, Gilbert left the room without a shred of guilt lingering in his icy heart, just to hear the Baron¡¯s desperate scream. He felt satisfied, as if a debt had been paid, yet a part of him wished for a love just like that, a father that would rather sacrifice himself for his own flesh and blood - not like the one destiny had given him. His mother, may God have her soul, had used up all her love with unknown men, leaving nothing but scraps of what some could consider kindness.


    But the worst part of it all wasn¡¯t these idle thoughts. Deep down, in his core, taking away that girl¡¯s life sparkled something in him, causing a thrill to run up and down his nerves at an uncontrollable pace. Gilbert enjoyed the feeling of planting the knife in the bodies of another, of seeing them beg for despair, humiliating their souls before entering Blasphemy. He wanted to see it again, so many more times.


    That night, a killer was born. Murdering souls who didn¡¯t deserve to be alive was the calling of God, the job they had prepared for him, and he gladly accepted such fate, such will of the ethereal beings that guided the kingdom with their merciless ruling.

 Chapter 88: Love of a Father

    <div>


    ¡°Ophelia, my dear.¡± Edgar¡¯s tired eyes looked at the door, noticing my presence passing through the gap on the wood. Almost reactively, but at his own pace, the Duke rose from his chair. ¡°I heard from Mace what happened... how are you feeling now?¡±


    ¡°I am grateful for your concern. As it stands, I am quite alright.¡± My answer was overwhelmingly polite, as if growing attached to this man was but a treacherous crime.


    The moment he was close enough, Edgar¡¯s arms stretched and wrapped themselves around my body, sinking my face into the cinnamon cologne stamped all over his dark brown shirt. ¡°I wanted to visit you, but there was so much to be done... yet nightmares haunted my mind every night, warning me that you would soon leave us. Truly, I am so relieved to see you are alright.¡±


    It is a curious thing, trust that is. How some mere words are able to start wars that could last for centuries to come or heal hearts that were far too broken to be mended. And yet, my soul found some serenity in his arms, feeling the warmth of what should¡¯ve always belonged to me - of a father¡¯s love, a father¡¯s care, a father¡¯s affection.


    ¡°Please forgive my selfishness, it is but a dying man¡¯s wish.¡± Guiding me to the couch on the end of his study room, Edgar¡¯s hands urged me to sit, knowing full well my body still had some remnants of poison left within. He appeared slightly troubled, probably preoccupied from having crossed a boundary not many fathers-in-law used to. ¡°Have you talked to your sister?¡±


    ¡°Not yet... but to be fair, I don¡¯t intend to.¡±


    Before, these words would¡¯ve left a bitter taste in my mouth, knowing full well that this action would be something I¡¯d come to regret later on; however, after cutting ties with the Criswell¡¯s not even a sorrowful or regretful thought remained. It was as if a tide had washed away the presence of those creatures, taking them to a place where only the pitiful souls could reach.


    And, even without telling him upright, Edgar knew of the thoughts roaming through my mind. He was aware of the treatment they¡¯d subjected me to in that house, how my status was overlooked, my presence neglected, my soul standing lower than a pig¡¯s - unable to be treated as an individual. Yes, Terrel may be a completely fucked up man, with fucked up tendencies and fetiches but that didn¡¯t mean the rest of his family shared the same values. After all, it would take a fool not to capture the intense love the Duke held towards me, as if his blood actually pumped through my veins.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°The late Duchess and I always wanted a daughter, you know... but alas, God wasn¡¯t benevolent enough to grant us one. She died after little Ralph¡¯s birth...¡± As the words rolled through his tongue, slipping in my ears, certain cracks of pain voyaged alongside it, displaying a bit of his shattered soul just for me to see. ¡°I couldn¡¯t bear getting married again but our desire never grew weak. When I met you for the first time, you were seven if my memory doesn¡¯t deceive me; my heart was taken. All I could think was how Lydia would¡¯ve loved you.¡±


    Edgar Wharton was the beginning of my tragedy: a man whose dream went past the desire of revising his dead wife, the eager desire of having what they never managed to, a daughter. And being the ever so cautious man, Duke Criswell was the first noble to supply with such a feasible and easy solution - all he had to do was to set the board, each piece playing its very important part in the eyes of the fool. Yet, even knowing he¡¯d been my demise, my heart couldn¡¯t bear to curse the dreams of a broken soul, as we were one and the same.


    ¡°I can still remember everything so clearly, dear... the brown dress you wore, the autumn leaves that fell on your hair... I remember it all.¡± His hand passed through my raven strands, as such allowed him to reminisce about the past, from what he hoped his mind could never forget. ¡°But I also remember the way you were treated. The way those maids looked at you, how your dress was used and with holes at the edge of your sleeves... I¡¯d never thought them capable of trying to go through with such a horrid thing... if I knew I¡¯d... Will you ever be able to forgive this old fool?¡±


    ¡°Father, please don¡¯t blame yourself. You are not the culprit behind the darkness in their hearts.¡± My fingers intertwined onto his patting wrinkled hands softly. ¡°I may not have your blood, but you are more of a father to me than that man ever was.¡±


    Frail, unsure tears escaped from the corner of his eyes, trembling all the way down, until meeting at the base of his chin, slowly dripping onto his dark collar. ¡°Whatever you might need, my dear Ophelia, please tell me. Allow me the honor to help you with anything you might need.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Father.¡± Noticing his messy gray hair was falling forward, my remaining fingers passed through, revealing his chocolate brown eyes gazing into mine attentively. Somehow, my words seemed to have relieved some guilt lingering in his soul, clouding his mind.


    <div>

 Chapter 89: Love of a Father

    <div>


    Not wanting to take any more of his precious time, I got up, bobbed my head and left Edgar to do his bidding - or to dwell in his own thoughts. Once the echo of the wooden door closing behind me was heard, my body sunk against it, feeling a certain heaviness grow in my chest. Somehow, the Duke¡¯s words were stuck in my head, being repeated over and over again as if they belonged to the chorus of a stupid melody. Tears threatened to slip by realizing how much my soul had yearned for this warmth, for this fatherly type of love.


    Ever since we first met, my heart always belonged to Lilith, my beautiful mother who couldn¡¯t help but to shower me with her love - however, deep down, a part of me still wished to be born somewhere else, anywhere else but the Criswell¡¯s household. Perhaps, if I¡¯d been born here, as the daughter of Lydia, things would¡¯ve been far different than they were - maybe, just maybe, the scars in my soul wouldn¡¯t run as deep as they did.


    With a brief nod to the guards stationed outside the door, my body regained its strength and started walking through the halls; mind still focused on the hopes of a naive young child. Loneliness seemed to never leave my side, even when my presence was anything but alone - even when surrounded by maids, or watching over Jade, everything seemed so... unreal.


    People had their own lives, as individuals always do, defending their morals, beliefs and praying to their God, yet I seemed to be an extra piece of the puzzle, a mistake accidentally crafted by the game maker whose counting skills had grown gray. A master, a lady, a daughter, it seemed like I could be anything yet, even with such resolute titles, nothing could ever be mine. Everything, anything and everyone were part of fate¡¯s schemes, and my soul was simply the one that didn¡¯t know where to fit in - an utter, deplorable judgment error.


    A servant bumped into my shoulder, awakening me from my own depressive thoughts. ¡°Apologies, milady.¡±


    A rat with manners, is it? It was easy to recognize the bird¡¯s nest on the man¡¯s hair, the way his beard flew all over the place, wishing to be sliced by someone who knew how to. Gilbert was alone, strolling around the mansion like a cockroach, his cautious gaze avoiding mine; certainly, to hide the intense burning hatred behind it. It seemed like something was afoot.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°John, is it?¡± With a kind smile, our eyes connected. ¡°Be at ease, it was my fault as well. Are you feeling better?¡±


    ¡°Yes, milady, thank you for your concern.¡±


    ¡°Good, good... I heard you requested a day off tomorrow; will you be going to town? A family visit, perhaps?¡± My hand fell on his shoulder, patting them slightly as if my intentions held all the kindness available in the world. With the friction, some pieces of dust fell off, probably from his little escapes into the garden, the perfect way to observe the outer layer of the building.


    Gilbert appeared to be confused, unable to process what was happening, unable to understand if this caring side was truly a part of my personality or just another one of my games.


    ¡°Yes, milady. I¡¯ll be visiting my older brother.¡± His response was awkward, as if he tried to make himself seem aloof, embarrassed by saying such words.


    ¡°I see... do take him some flowers in my stead. Consider it my apology gift for all the stress I caused you.¡±


    ¡°Milady, that¡¯s...¡± His doubt kept on rising, and so did his conflict as my true intentions remained hidden beneath endless rows of masks. Maybe he was merely attempting to understand if I was finding new ways of beating him up or abusing my power over his shameful self.


    Seconds of silence turned into rather long minutes, stretching out in the middle of a dead corridor, haunted merely by the sound of our breathing. ¡°Please, do accept it. I¡¯d be devastated if you didn¡¯t... Won¡¯t you take my kindness?¡±


    ¡°If you so insist, milady.¡± With a rather forced smile, he bobbed his head. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Then I won¡¯t take much more of your time. Have a wonderful day and do take extra care of your brother...¡± My feet twirled, causing a chuck of hair to hit his lowered head. ¡°...since you never know when it might be the last.¡±


    The sunlight now caused the shadows of the Wharton¡¯s extensive garden to flow onto the grass, gradually consuming the land with its darkness. Yet, as the higher skies shaped themselves into a beautiful sapphire blue, a current of clouds slowly flew in, guided by the harsh southern wind, carrying far more than warmth and dust.


    <div>

 Chapter 90: Souls Made of Envy

    <div>


    ¡°Olivia, fetch me some writing material.¡±


    At my words, the maid left, leaving me alone with Ivy. Her hands held a soft brush that combed through my hair, untangling any knots, leaving it as fluffy as a wolf¡¯s fur, however, her cautious gaze sneaked into the mirror, appearing far too curious for her own good.


    ¡°Are you writing a letter to someone, milady?¡±


    I shot her a glance from the mirror, hoping to see any shred of curiosity, of necessity to know more yet, her expression was completely numb, focused on her duties diligently, utterly unbothered by the words she¡¯d spoken, as if they hadn¡¯t meant anything at all. But my experience knew better, since it had already seen worse - not everything was what it seemed, not everyone revealed all the cards they wished to play.


    Hoping to test the waters, my words indulged in her hidden interest. ¡°Yes. I¡¯ll be writing a letter to Lord Layton Verne.¡±


    The maid¡¯s eyes widened; completely taken aback by the information she had just received. ¡°Lord Layton? Are you two friends, milady?¡±


    ¡°We aren¡¯t but I borrowed something from him and I was hoping to return it.¡±


    Her fingers created a long braid with several strands of my hair, yet her questions seemed to be far from over as her gaze peeked from the corner of her eyes. ¡°What did you borrow?¡±


    Cautious words followed by a calm demeanor. It seemed the maid was testing her boundaries, seeing how far she could go, seeing how much her foolishness could stretch. ¡°Nothing of importance, Ivy. I simply intend to repay his kindness. Isn¡¯t that something we should all do?¡±


    My voice ended up being far louder than usual, causing all the remaining maids, to whisper as their figures stopped moving, minds completely absorbed on the imminent threat, too focused to continue their mundane tasks.


    ¡°Certainly, milady.¡±


    It was common knowledge that the Verne¡¯s weren¡¯t loyal to the Criswell¡¯s household, as they¡¯d sworn their allegiance to another, however the Marquiss was but a businessman, knowing full well how to play the cards he¡¯d been given. Even though both houses couldn¡¯t stand each other, as their egos were far too similar to come to a compromise, their greed had something in common - while the Duke wanted to increase his wealth even further, the Marquiss wanted to reach a higher status. That was how I¡¯d been married off to my second husband, to the cowardly Layton who couldn¡¯t bear to kill even a fly, no matter how much the creature¡¯s presence upset him.


    ¡°Surely this matter won¡¯t leave this room, right?¡± My voice was obnoxiously loud, warning all the women who sank their attention on the chores at hand.


    With Olivia out of the picture, it would be easy to see if Ivy had been truly speaking the truth with her allegiance. This information was meaningless as no one could prevent a noble from interacting with those from equal or lower standing, yet it was far too important for those who wanted to keep my social power at bay. If the Duke mentioned this event, surely someone from the few maids in here was working for him.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    In Ashen¡¯s Kingdom, all commoners lived by a single truth - money comes from status. Many believed marriage to be the easiest way to earn the life they so eagerly dreamed, especially young maidens who came from dire living situations. That was mostly true in noble households, as the maids tended to act gracefully when a prospect partner came around; however, marriage with a lowborn was extremely rare and it often carried a future that was ruled by uncertainty, financially and politically. Most had their hopes shattered as the love of a lifetime turned out to be an icy morning disguising itself as a warm night, in a half empty bed with a mere broken heart within. Even then, no matter how many evil doings they did to attain their goals, the young maidens still tried to climb their way up the social ladder, not caring about who became the steps they so proudly strolled upon.


    Contrary to commoners, most nobles held a different ideal - most believed that with strength, power would follow - but the harsh truth was nowhere near as black and white. To most, gold had become a materialistic thing, an entity that came and went as it pleased, being nothing more than a channel to display one¡¯s status.


    However, when one possessed strength, the social power and respect they yearned for was easily granted. Of course, such only came to be because of Vivian, the queen that took over the kingdom¡¯s affairs in the name of the Evan¡¯s duchy. Now, most noble households have their own guards and knights, steadily growing in size to protect their own citizens... or to respond to that woman¡¯s calling.


    But they were both wrong, as one didn¡¯t need to be blessed with strength nor have a piled-up treasury to possess power over another, as the reaper was a wicked entity that came to all, some far sooner than others. Being shallow minded, no one understood the true influence information possessed, how knowledge could move armies, could create starvation, could implement doubt. This was the sole reason Alvin was able to stand firmly against the other Dukes who all possessed far more manpower, wealth and land. It was never luck, or a gift given at birth - it was merely a sickening education with filthy, wicked ideals.


    ¡°Milady, your writing materials per your request.¡± Olivia placed the quill and paper in front of me, rubbing a piece of the black ink in the stone.


    ¡°Leave.¡±


    Just like obedient dogs, they followed my command and closed the door as they went. Outside, the wind appeared angry as its screams echoed through the garden, forcing the leaves to rattle among themselves, complaining about such peculiar attitude. A couple of rays lurked through the window as its origin had managed to slither through the thick clouds, threatening to shoot their sorrows down on the land.


    My hand grabbed the quill and dipped its tip onto the wet ink, yet words seemed unable to leave my mind, to write themselves onto the empty sheet.


    Layton was hiding from me, attempting to slither away from my grasp with such an intensity that earned nothing but praises, which didn¡¯t come as a surprise. I knew the type of man he was, how he reacted to most situations, how his distancing was but his way of protecting himself.  He¡¯d rather become a secluded man, living with his lover in the middle of misery than to attend the social events held by the nobles and aristocrats - the people who constantly belittle his feelings, that took his lack of response as submission.


    Should I invite him for tea...? A rather silly assumption as he¡¯d probably deny my request, if he dared to send any replies, that was. Besides, inviting another nobleman to my fianc¨¦¡¯s house would only fuel rumors of an affair and God only knew what that would do to Terrel¡¯s pea sized brain. If I pushed Layton too hard, he would hide away and find shelter in whatever he could yet, I couldn¡¯t give him time to forget about me.


    <div>

 Chapter 91: Souls Made of Envy

    ¡°Master, may I?¡± Jade¡¯s voice echoed from the other side of the door, like a gentle, subtle lullaby, causing me to wake up from the growing doubt within.


    ¡°You may.¡± I turned, facing his figure who sneaked past the door. His body, hidden away by some rather shabby clothing, had grown stronger in so little time, making me wonder if magic was truly mythical. ¡°What did you find?¡±


    Reactively, the slave kneeled on the ground, head hanging lowly like a well-trained dog. ¡°It is as you suspected. Gilbert is wandering the mansion, leaving his post whenever he¡¯s alone... it seems it will happen tonight.¡±


    ¡°Rise.¡± When he caught a glimpse of my hand waving in the air, signaling him to return to a more comfortable position, his figure rapidly rose, back straightened like a sharp sword. ¡°The Duke must be awfully impatient, pressuring him like that... surely my survival didn¡¯t bring him much joy.¡±


    Alvin wanted my rotten corpse at his door and that, for better or for worse, was an undeniable truth that had already rooted its essence in my soul. Even then, he had the strange ability to surprise me, as if my heart kept on clinging to foolish hopes - hidden prayers that he would regain some sort of humanity, that he would actually regret murdering his own flesh and blood. Yet, such reality would never come to be as a monster like him could only find peace in misery, in the middle of the flames of Blasphemy, alongside his kin.


    ¡°Jade...¡± I rose from the chair and approached his body, head looking up, right into his eyes before his skin flushed slightly, feeling the coldness of my hands cupping his cheeks. His beautiful chocolate eyes connected with mine displaying a strange emotion, an unknown affection that seemed to yearn more than it should. ¡°You are my wildcard, my joker... and you must only think of me until I die; nothing else, no one else, must matter.¡±


    ¡°Master, I owe you my freedom and my life and I¡¯ve sworn both to you. It is a vow I won¡¯t break.¡± His warm hands covered my own, allowing the once icy skin to slowly gain some sense of hope. ¡°This time, I promise you, I won¡¯t let you die, not until your hair turns gray and your body grows weak.¡±


    His eyes had become filled with a resolution one would only see within the strongest feelings human possessed, the two opposite sides of the coins: love and hatred. But, be as it may, such emotions were shallow, faked by the ones who enjoyed to gain cheap thrills from deceiving the ones born in lower wombs. Jade¡¯s expectations and hopes were as stupid as a kid, who at one point in time, truly believed that catching a glimpse of a comet would grant any wish - something I¡¯d cut out from my own mind long ago.


    ¡°I won¡¯t die because you will protect me? I did not take you for a fool.¡± My hands slithered off his face, causing his expression to soften, pitifully. ¡°I told you once, didn¡¯t I? Don¡¯t cling yourself to false hopes.¡±


    ¡°Master, I¡¯m strong, stronger than you might think. If you just give me a chance, I¡¯m sure I can...¡±


    Before he was able to complete his sentence, my head turned back, facing him with what surely was a pained expression drawn in the darkest shades a human can have. ¡°And then what? You¡¯ll burn to death with me if you try. I want you to have your freedom, the days in the sun I could never have.¡±


    ¡°At least grant me the power of choice, please.¡± His words took a while to leave him, as if they weren¡¯t exactly what his heart wanted to say.


    Understanding he wouldn¡¯t back down so easily, my figure kneeled next to the bed frame, removing a small locked wooden chest from beneath it. The wood was already rather old, yet its lock was sturdy and strong, clearly still in its prime for some years to come. It was only when the loud sound of the object falling onto the desk echoed that the key entered the hole, revealing a golden necklace hidden beneath a pile of loose sheets - all from the notebook which had, by now, lost its form.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Slowly taking a handful of papers from the chest, my fingers shifted between sheets, eyes gazing at the clean writing, all messed up from its correct order. ¡°These are my lives, at least everything I can remember.¡±


    Hesitantly, he approached me, however, his eyes widened the moment he saw the foreigner language written in them. ¡°This is...¡±


    ¡°Lacen, yes.¡±


    ¡°But I thought you¡¯d never left the kingdom, master?¡±


    Of course, Jade was bound to be confused - how could someone like me, a shut-in girl without any power, be able to learn so fluently the language of Lacen¡¯s Kingdom? Being the sole realm with connecting terrains with our own yet, lacking any type of cordial relationship with Ashen, lacen, their home language, was extremely hard to learn... unless you lived on the borders or in their own territory.


    ¡°I successfully escaped to Lacen but an entertainment troop caught me...¡± He slowly read the pages, one after another and I merely watched. His expression twisted and his face paled, as if mere words were capable of giving him such a fright. ¡°They beat me again and I couldn¡¯t move. The inn was caught on fire and the flames burned me alive...¡±


    Knowing exactly, he was about to read something far more personal, my hands snatched the paper away, eyes cold as a Frosting night. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m dumb enough to believe I won¡¯t burn? It has always happened, and it always will. It¡¯s a reality I cannot change.¡±


    ¡°Master...¡±


    ¡°Kids that try to play with fate end up sinking into a despair they cannot crawl out of Jade, but if your resolve rungs true, then be my guest. Let¡¯s see how you counter God.¡± The paper sheets in my hands rapidly crumbled as a trembling frustration darted through me, knowing exactly how futile trying to escape this destiny was.


    ¡°Gods can¡¯t...¡± Jade swallowed down his own words once he noticed a psychotic grin flourish on my lips. He had stepped through a boundary that was far more dangerous than he thought.


    ¡°God¡¯s can¡¯t what? Decide a Man¡¯s fate? Then are you perhaps saying that my deaths were merely bad luck? Or maybe... that I didn¡¯t fight hard enough to prevent them?¡±


    As my body approached him, his figure stiffened allowing only thick chunks of saliva to be swallowed in mechanical movements. He slowly backed away until his being reached the door, expression horrified by this side he¡¯d never seen, by a wickedness I¡¯d never shown. Words kept trying to escape his pressed lips, yet not a single peep left him.


    ¡°Then by all means... show me the true power that controls fate!¡± My voice was obnoxiously loud as the papers once in my hands were thrown into the air, falling swiftly like leaves from the trees in the middle of the Hunting.


    ¡°That¡¯s... I... I can¡¯t...¡± Reactively, he averted his eyes, focusing on one of the potted plants on the side of the room.


    There was no way to prove there was no higher power interfering with my life as such a thought was but irrational, being our King, Julius II, the one chosen by such entity to guide us through our darkest times - the flame in the night, they called him.


    ¡°Jade, if you ever try to fill my mind with such disgusting ideals I swear on my blood and honor, I¡¯ll stab your heart myself.¡± Noticing the confusion from the papers, all scattered around the floor of the room, my figure headed to the door, hand surrounding the handle. ¡°This better be clean by the time I return.¡±


    After meeting the reaper so many times, one thing was certain: such events don¡¯t harbor any logical nor rational explanation, being far too unrealistic and void of humanity. No matter who greeted me in my path, where my body laid to rest or how eager my life was to end itself before that day, nothing changed and no one, absolutely no one, was like me - a human cursed by the gift of time.


    Soon, this reality would come to an end and so would everything else; Jade would forget me, Alvin would misjudge me, Terrel would want me. Like a perfectly board of chess, every piece was bound to rest in its rightful place, eager for the Gods to begin their mischief once more. Because that was all that I had - the blame on something bigger than myself, on those whose sole existence couldn¡¯t be proven without solid belief. Gods, demons or angels, none of it mattered as they all shared some guilt, some weight on the reality that had been bestowed upon me.

 Chapter 92: Sting of a Rose

    The day passed in a blink as darkness eagerly roamed the land, carrying its deadly whispers along the wind. Consumed by shadows, Jade stood in the corner of the chambers, blending in with its essence as if he was but a piece of furniture, lifelessly asserting its dominance. From outside, a strong breeze blew, causing the rattling of the leaves to echo into our senses - a storm was brewing.


    Gilbert... I wonder what face you will show me... Anxiety grew within the girl¡¯s body, already anticipating how the assassin would shred himself, begging for mercy as his soul succumbed to the demons of despair.


    As time ticked by, the moon hid its beauty behind the clouds, fearful of the events to come. Even the God knew atrocities were bound to be committed, lines who were about to be crossed, stealing yet one of the last pieces of humanity lingering in Ophelia¡¯s soul. But was such actually her fault? In the wild only the smartest survive; in the war only the most cunning thrive; in a fight only the strongest win.


    It¡¯s a sickening world of kill or be killed... She thought, pulling the bedsheets closer to her head. The warmth from within alongside the excitement pumping through her veins made her muscles tense up, her pores gradually becoming humid. He would come today; she was certain of it.


    The doorknob turned, causing a faint clack to pass through the room. Both Ophelia and Jade¡¯s bodies froze, lungs storing all oxygen within, as if the assassin held the power to listen to the faintest of sounds. As adrenaline pumped in their veins, a creaking sound pass through as the man stepped on a piece of loose wooden flooring. Fearful his victim had awakened, he stopped. Everything turned silent.


    But the maiden didn¡¯t move, mimicking as if she was in a slumber so deep not even the harshest tides could wake her.


    ¡°Found you... whore.¡± Gilbert¡¯s voice whispered into the girl¡¯s ear, his coffee breath entering her senses - he stood right by her side, slowly making his way onto the bed.


    In his mind, he thought of the many ways she could be killed, from the most amusing to the ones who provided the most suffering. He needed to have his sweet revenge from all the embarrassment she had put him through, for the pain he had experienced at the hands of another man.


    His calloused hand grabbed the cover of the sheets, his knees sinking into the bed moments before uncovering Ophelia¡¯s sleeping face. The girl attempted to ease her beating heart, to hide the thrill in her face with the most peaceful expression possible.


    What a waste of a pretty face... The assassin thought, seeing her sleeping so soundly, so purely. Her face was rather innocent looking, making one able to mistake her for a living doll, bewitched by her good looks - even enjoying more mature women - he couldn¡¯t deny the soft thumps in his heart.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Suddenly, her crystal eyes darted open, reflecting the moonlight who had managed to escape the grasp of the clouds.


    ¡°What...!?¡± Gilbert said, startled, moments before feeling an intense presence behind him.


    ¡°I was waiting for you...¡± No one would mistake this girl for pure as her grin spread across her cheeks with a wickedness he¡¯d never seen. A shiver ran down his spine, knowing he had been set up. However, when he attempted to leave, turning his body around, the slave¡¯s hand struck the back of the man¡¯s neck resiliently and he fell, completely knocked out.


    Ophelia rose from the bed, giggling like a small child, completely consumed by the euphoria of what was bound to come. As she grabbed a small knife, Jade observed her from afar, his right hand holding the assassin by his collar. His lacen wasn¡¯t the best, but he was able to read quite a few parts of the texts written in Ophelia¡¯s memoirs. She¡¯d gone through so much, but how could someone end up like this - so wicked, so cruel?


    During the tea party, everyone was taken aback by her actions. Comments from the nobles flew through, congratulating her for such brave act but he knew better - those lifeless eyes only sparkled when inflicting pain on another or when their own death was imminent. When his hands surrounded her frail neck back then, he knew he hadn¡¯t snapped her bones because of her otherworldly beauty; in fact, the sole reason she¡¯d survived was due to the grand dying wish lingering within her core. Why would someone wish to rush their death without wanting to fight back in the slightest?


    Ophelia wasn¡¯t aware of such estranged feelings, as she didn¡¯t consider them problems, but Jade knew how she was, he¡¯d seen it with his own two eyes. His master was a monstrosity who was unable to be contained if let loose, whose morality could plummet further if not prevented. That day, after hearing the girl¡¯s story, he wished to help her, to be the one dirtying his hands, hoping to protect and nourish any kindness left within her - hoping to make her good, once again.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± The girl asked, eyes glimmering with expectation.


    Gilbert¡¯s unconscious body was then placed inside a large cloth bag and his mouth gagged with a thick piece of white fabric. No one knew when he was bound to wake up and attempt to alarm the residents with loud yells, groveling at the base of his throat.


    Sneaking out of the Wharton¡¯s mansion was far harder than expected as the patrolling guards stuck to their positions through thick and thin. It was only when Ophelia got a hold of a small rock and threw it as far as she could that they left the side door, hoping to check the source of such sound. At that point, they had become one with the dark, merging into the woods surrounding the back of the estate, until their presences were out of sight, far into nature¡¯s realm.


    ¡°We should be far enough.¡± The girl said, causing the slave to ruthlessly drop the man onto the floor and remove the bag surrounding his body. He groaned, awakening himself up with the painful impact before realizing his wrists and ankles had been tied up with rope, slithering away pieces of his skin with every movement.


    Gilbert¡¯s eyes widened once he caught glimpse of Ophelia, her slender shape sitting on the trunk of a cut down tree, glaring down at him as if he were nothing more than a bug, easy and quick to be disposed of. Tight trousers glued themselves onto her body as a loose white shirt glimmered against the moonlight, contrasting against the dark blue hood, shadowing most of her face.


    ¡°Take it off.¡±

 Chapter 93: Sting of a Rose

    <div>


    With a harsh movement, Jade¡¯s hands grabbed the sluggish piece of cloth, now completely covered with saliva, and threw it on the ground. The assassin coughed several times, finally being able to breathe properly, to speak actual words.


    ¡°Where am I?¡± Gilbert asked, understanding his surroundings were far too unfamiliar.


    The night made everything around him too dark to be perceived and all the trees were tall, their leaves covering most of the light pouring down from above. Bushes spread from nature as if they had been infested by an illness, causing most of the place to be covered in spikes and branches, all perfect tools to prevent someone like him from escaping, from sneaking past their cautious gazes. A howl echoed through the woods, causing the man¡¯s heat beat to rise - as if everything wasn¡¯t against him, even wildlife wanted to join the feast.


    ¡°Gilbert Averton.¡± His body flinched after hearing his real name roll out of the noblewoman¡¯s tongue.


    Anxious but still trying to feign ignorance, the assassin¡¯s gaze fell upon hers, seeing that her expression was surprisingly calm, not appearing worried, joyful, or anything in between. She had to be bluffing; that was the only possible answer. He had always been cautious as to not leave clues regarding his real identity, so how could a child know?


    ¡°Who is that?¡±


    ¡°So, that is the game you want to play...¡± Ophelia said, an icy gaze falling on the man messily sitting on the floor. ¡°Tell me, do you know why you were brought here?¡±


    The girl didn¡¯t buy his excuse. Certainly, he could continue pretend not to know, use the mask of someone else, at least until he found a way to escape this situation, but he could sense it, the slave¡¯s presence right behind him, leaning on a tree, shredding him alive with his gaze.


    ¡°I don¡¯t milady, I¡¯m just a mere butler... I don¡¯t know this person you are referring to...¡± Averting his eyes, Gilbert lowered his head, displaying some sort of respect. He wanted to survive and if that meant kissing that bitch¡¯s boots, then he would lick them clean.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°You dare to lie!? You filthy...!¡± When Jade was about to punch him, Ophelia raised her hand, causing the man to stop in his tracks.


    Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, opening one of the pocket bags around her waist and taking out a sharp dagger from within. With a swing, the sharp item struck the inner part of the trunk, right next to her, causing the man¡¯s head to lower even further. She giggled at the dramatic display of submissiveness, as if such foul act could entice any feelings other than utter disgust.


    ¡°Should I help you freshen up your memory?¡±


    ¡°A lady shouldn¡¯t carry such dangerous objects around, please milady...¡± His voice was tender like venison meat, perfect to be sliced into.


    Silence sunk in. For minutes, no one but the wind made a sound, said a word. Yet, being the impatient man that he was, he rose his head, noticing that the smile spreading across the lady¡¯s lips was now completely gone. She had grown tired of his pathetic excuses, of his stupid justifications. It was time for some adrenaline.


    Taking off the cloak surrounding her body, the dark items shrunk into the darkness, blending in with the shadows as if they were one and the same. And somehow, her bright blue eyes sparkled with the penetrating moonlight, threatening to rip anything that came across them to utter despair.


    This girl... she¡¯s insane... Gilbert knew those eyes far too well as they matched the ones he saw every time he gazed upon his own reflection. Knowing they had no intention of letting him go alive, his attention spiked, eyes falling on everything and anything that he could use, on any route that he could take. But such faint hope was useless as the leaves covered the northern stars, as the slave stood too close behind him, ready to tear his body apart.


    ¡°Just give me a reason, Gilbert...! Please, I beg of you!¡± The girl yelled, hands grabbing the hem of the knife so strongly her usual pale knuckles lost all color. Her wide eyes matched the grin stretching across her lips, perfectly amused by the scenario unfolding before her, by the fear clouding the killer¡¯s mind.


    ¡°You¡¯re insane...¡± He mumbled, feeling the coldness of the knife at the base of his throat, his muscles tightening, eyes sharped like swords. ¡°What the fuck do you want? Money? Vengeance? Information?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re no fun.¡± Ophelia sounded disappointed. ¡°Who ordered the hit?¡±


    ¡°Well, you are a smart girl, surely you already know, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The girl¡¯s right hand impatiently played with the edge of the knife, touching the side of her slender fingers and making deep crimson drops to flow into the ground, feeding the demons lurking beneath. ¡°Gilbert, it would be wise not to test my patience... I assure you it hasn¡¯t ended well for those who tried.¡±


    <div>

 Chapter 94: A Rat in the Sewers

    <div>


    The signal was too fast, too quick for the assassin to react. Jade¡¯s fist was already on his left cheek, punching into his jaw, pounding on his head. A sweetness he knew hit his tastebuds, consuming them entirely before being spat onto the dry dirt.


    ¡°Fine. I will tell you, but you will let me go.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sorry, but it seems you are mistaken.¡± Gracefully, the girl walked towards him, kneeled and grabbed his cheeks, pulling his face forward. Her fingers then dropped to the man¡¯s chin, causing her own blood to mix itself with the dark brown beard resting on it. ¡°This isn¡¯t a negotiation.¡±


    I¡¯ve never seen anything like this... this bloodlust is just... There was no denying the desire lurking at the end of her soul, placing a shroud of distorted personalities in different sides of the spectrum. He¡¯d heard of people who¡¯d gone insane, who were locked away in prisons for the shattered, but he¡¯d never seen someone like that so close. Ophelia had made a fool out of him, out of everyone at that mansion, portraying the most innocent child whose darkness within ran far deeper than any ocean, than any circle of Blasphemy.


    ¡°I am not stupid enough to give you information without any guarantees.¡± Surely, he was in no place to bargain but he had been left with no other choice. Maybe she would honor her word as such was the most prized possession to nobles, to those who vouched to the crown, who vowed to God.


    ¡°Of course, Gilbert. I will let you go free; I promise on my good honor.¡± With the cold edge of the knife passing lightly through the man¡¯s right cheek, she caressed the assassin¡¯s face, her hands trembling from such powerful restraint.


    Some nobles were known to have certain fetishes, weird hobbies that most commoners couldn¡¯t begin to understand but this girl took the crown. Her cheeks were completely flushed, her lungs breathless as if her frail body had run through the entirety of the woods in one go, and her gaze couldn¡¯t stop but to fall on the blood pouring out of his ripped lip. Gilbert¡¯s soul went colder than the northern desert understanding this girl wasn¡¯t doing this for vengeance, for money or information, in fact, it was merely for pure pleasure - a truly lustful sin.


    So, this is fear... After killing so many, his core slowly deteriorated, losing touch of basic human emotions. He thought himself to be immortal always murdering the ones on his trail, never failing on a job and enjoying it to the fullest. It had been so long since his heart thumped like a maniac, since his muscles clenched in such strength they threatened to rip. Deep down, he was horrified.


    ¡°Duke Criswell paid me to do it.¡±


    Contrary to his predictions, Ophelia merely got up and began laughing, her hands covering her stomach as it ached from the constant contractions. Even the slave was surprised by such reaction, unable to understand how she could react like this in such a way after having her suspicions confirmed.


    Who would¡¯ve thought this man to be so problematic... Gilbert¡¯s attention fell on the platinum-haired slave who appeared to be looking at his master rather pitifully, as if seeing her pass through such frantic emotions actually hurt him. He¡¯d always behaved passively, doing mundane butler chores like any other servant, however, he couldn¡¯t watch his habits or routines from his bed. Jade had been a wildcard that the assassin had neglected out of pure thrill.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Ophelia¡¯s figure straightened, face stern as the trunk of a tree. Deep down she hoped he¡¯d know the identity of the spy as such would save her a headache, but be as it may, things were never easy. ¡°Who gave you information in the mansion?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± His reply was cold, bitter.


    Not liking such rapid response, the girl went down to her knees and placed the tip of the dagger on the man¡¯s left cheek, now completely bruised by Jade¡¯s previous punch. ¡°That¡¯s not the answer I want to hear Gilbert...¡±


    Seeing the blood slowly dripping from his tanned skin, the assassin¡¯s loud voice echoed. ¡°It¡¯s true! I don¡¯t know! It was always through letters that appeared under my pillow! All I know is that she¡¯s a woman.¡±


    ¡°And where might these letter be now?¡±


    ¡°In my room! I can go get them for you if you¡¯ll let me!¡± Glimpsing at a shred of freedom, Gilbert¡¯s eyes sparkled with expectation, his voice filled with an excitement he couldn¡¯t contain. If he could go back to the mansion, it would be easy to escape this, to slither through this girl¡¯s grasp.


    Ophelia rose back to her feet and sat on the trunk of the thick tree bark; her legs crossed like two piercing arrows. A grin spread across her lips knowing full well neither a professional assassin neither her father would leave evidence lingering around. Surely those letters had already been sent down to Blasphemy, greeting the demons that lurked below.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid you need to repent for your sins first.¡±


    At that moment, Jade grabbed the assassin¡¯s dark hair and pulled his body upwards, right before delivering a heavy punch on his abdomen. Saliva darted out of his mouth as his torso leaned on the slave¡¯s arm, hoping to regain some of its footing. Gilbert¡¯s organs burned through the pain, screaming as the blood within found ways to leak into them. Seconds later, his body was pushed onto the floor, causing his head to hit one of the trees accidentally. A dreadful cough, filled with saliva and red chunks of that sweet substance, flew through the quiet environment in a sickening, mechanical rhythm.


    ¡°Ple-please stop...¡± He stuttered, feeling each piece of his muscles struggling to even dare moving.


    ¡°We¡¯re far from done.¡± Jade responded with his cold-blooded eyes, an unchanged expression on his face. Torturing a man was something that didn¡¯t made him flinch as if this was something he¡¯d done over, and over again.


    It¡¯s not possible... Gilbert knew his destiny was to be an assassin, to get rid of annoyances in society but now, observing the ruthless behavior of this slave, he realized such truth was but another lie from God. His entire existence was void, a deceit of fate, as he would never be able to attain those heartless eyes, that unwavering soul, that determination in torturing another.


    ¡°You... you¡¯re a monster!¡± Feeling a hand pull his head upwards, revealing his dirt covered face, he screamed at the top of his lungs, tears slowly dripping from the corner of his eyes.


    ¡°A monster? A rat dares to insult what is mine?¡± At that moment, Ophelia darted from her seat and pounded the assassin¡¯s head onto the ground, just before stepping on it with all her might.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry!¡± He apologized, face muffled by the dirt and stones lingering on the surface. ¡°Please!¡±


    <div>

 Chapter 95: A Rat in the Sewers

    ¡°Now, you still don¡¯t seem eager to talk...¡±


    ¡°I am! Seriously, I am!¡± After rolling through the ground, he begged, feeling the humiliation sink into his soul even further. But how could he not do whatever she wished, when his will to live surpassed the wish to greet the grim reaper?


    ¡°Then, will you tell me...?¡± Ophelia whispered in his ear after Jade pulled his head up by the rat¡¯s nest resting on his scalp. An excruciating pain struck his body, hearing an intense buzz pierce his ear drums. ¡°... does it hurt?¡±


    His gaze fell to the dirt beside him, seeing the perfectly cut ear resting on the ground, blood surrounding its figure and then on the slave, holding a sharp dagger, drops of blood falling from its body. Gilbert screamed horrified, feeling the pain far more intensely than before, tears rampaging across his cheeks, reminding him of the sense of true pain, something he¡¯d lost long ago.


    ¡°You fucking bitch!¡±


    The girl simply grinned, reaching the peak of her euphoria. That was the expression she yearned to see, to capture its essence and to seal it away in her memories alone: a mix of despair, hatred and horror as reality sunk in; the moment he knew there was no escaping death itself.


    ¡°Bitch?¡± She chuckled, mocking him. ¡°Don¡¯t you mean... curse?¡±


    Feeling their victim¡¯s soul starting to leave his body, Jade grabbed the assassin once again, forcing his body to stay still and observe. Gilbert¡¯s eyes saw a girl standing before him but, somewhere deep down in his wicked soul he knew she was no longer human - she couldn¡¯t be. The lack of kindness in her eyes, the curled lips that portrayed her sadistic pleasure, the shivers that darted through her nerves as if she¡¯d reached new heights... Ophelia could only be what the rumors whispered, a fucking curse.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Please, please... I¡¯ll tell you everything I know, just let me go...¡±


    ¡°Are you scared?¡± Seeing how the man kept his eyes closed, she approached and grabbed his face forcefully. ¡°Look at me, Gilbert Averton.¡±


    He didn¡¯t want to die, after all he still had so many things to achieve, so many dreams that had been left to be fulfilled, yet he couldn¡¯t bring himself to face her, to see the girl who would undoubtedly be his doom.


    ¡°For every second you don¡¯t reply...¡± Feeling a hint of adrenaline passing through her veins, Ophelia snatched the dagger from Jade and made a deep cut on the man¡¯s arm. ¡°One little friend... Two little friends...¡±


    Gilbert¡¯s dirty clothes slowly began to embrace the fluids pouring out of him as he slowly felt the agglomeration of pain from each pierce of the blade in his skin. ¡°Stop!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked... Nine little friends... Ten little friends...¡±


    ¡°Yes! I am scared, yes!¡± He finally yelled and at that moment, the new pain stopped.


    With a grin spread across her lips, the girl¡¯s cheeks were completely flushed, little volcanoes erupting in her skin as if she¡¯d enjoyed this far too much. ¡°Good Gilbert, good... now tell me, do you want to live?¡±


    Is she going to let me go...? Without understanding the reasoning behind her words, the assassin found himself dumbfounded.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s play a game little rat...¡± Her right hand cleaned the dagger onto her trousers, causing a bloodstain to sink into the fabric. ¡°Kill me and you¡¯re free.¡±

 Chapter 96: Memories of a Ghost

    <u>Ophelia¡¯s memories, 2nd life</u>


    "Eat." Marquess Verne stated moments before banging his hand on the dinner table, causing most of the glass cups to shudder. His voice was loud, and every syllable rung in my ear like a drum, pounding within me over and over again. "I said... eat!"


    The warm tablespoon touched the base of my lips, allowing me to consume the tomato soup rather slowly. In this house, everyone had no choice but to obey the Marquess as his word equaled the law and having been wed into the family, I was no exception.


    "The ball is tomorrow so you must look your best, Ophelia. We can''t have your father thinking something is wrong." Verne''s eldest son, Julius, declared while handing me a loaf of bread. His chocolate eyes appeared to be quite similar to his father''s but, contrary to the Marquess, his hair color was the shade of a beautiful blonde, like a sunflower blooming wildly in the midst of the green plains surrounding the capital.


    "Julius, you must bring out the matter of the ships. We need the Duke''s patronage otherwise..." James'' voice sharpened, emphasizing the importance of his words.


    "I know Father. I won''t disappoint you." With a charming smile stamped on his lips, Julius responded, his spoon grabbing a hefty chunk of tomato soup before consuming it in a gulp.


    "And you, Ophelia, you have to do your job or..." Like a wolf threatening to rip the neck of a sheep, the Marquess''s eyes were like daggers, carefully analyzing me, following me wherever I went.


    Every single night we would have these so-called family dinners, yet my stomach seemed to barely get hold of the delicious foods passing through, always ending up with an indigestion born out the stress that man put me through. His expectations were high, that was the sole reason he''d married me into the family - to use my presence as leverage to snatch and influence father''s choices and investments, a true leech, sucking our funds dry.


    But he hadn''t yet realized that father only knew how to love my elder sister, Amanda. She was the flower of his eyes, the most perfect, beautiful child who had bloom into a flower all men wished to snatch. And then, there was me, someone who hadn''t seen the life out of four sickening walls for over a decade, someone who knew nothing of this world filled with shallow words and hidden intentions. How could he expect me to do whatever he wished of me?


    "I will do my best, sir..." My hands trembled, struggling to fit anything into my stomach as it twitched and twisted on itself, eager to let loose of the few tablespoons I''d already consumed.


    "Good." The Marquess''s finger raised in the air and mere moments later the dining hall was enveloped by the charismatic scent of roasted beef.


    "Aren''t you excited? You will be able to be with your sister again?" Maeve, the maid that had been assigned as my handmaid after framing Vanessa and Penny, chuckled in a rather mocking tone, combing my hair sloppily, knots thriving almost everywhere.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    At first, Maeve was exactly the person my mind pictured a perfect maid to be, composed, unable to meddle in other''s affairs, however everything changed when my handmaids arrived. Somehow, rows of empty alcohol bottles were found under their beds and thus, they had no choice but to leave the estate, being considered complete drunkards who only knew how to spend their money in temporary pleasantries. Without them, a sense of loneliness embraced me, as it became clear I was in this house alone, with no soul to rely on - but then she appeared. Kind and welcoming, she crawled into my heart, just to step on it later on.


    Once Layton eloped, Maeve''s attitude changed, becoming careless, ruthless and sarcastic with anything she said - always disregarding my status, ignoring the fact that I was the daughter of a Duke. It was clear to see she''d always despised me, just like everyone else in this house.


    "Yes, very..." With nerves darting through me, my words came out low and hesitantly, stuttering slightly in the process.


    "Good, now go to bed Ophelia. I have other matters to attend." Covering her mouth with her hands, hoping to trap the wide yawn escaping her lips, Maeve rapidly left the room. The comb laid on top of the desk and the bed, possessing the same sheets for over a month, had been left unopened.


    Never once had she received permission to address me so casually, yet her wickedness knew no bounds, being constantly taunting me with her words, teasing me, attempting to get a reaction out of me just to rat out to the Marquess. Her intentions were quite clear and yet, I couldn''t bring myself to condone her for it. Being the cursed child, all my existence brought was bad luck so maybe, this ruthless treatment, was but my sole way to repent of such sins.


    In the mirror standing before me, my gaze traveled through each nook and cranny of my expression. Dark eye bags pulled my eyes down, courtesy of the fires that haunted my dreams, like sickening nightmares, leeching off my sanity; a pale complexion that made porcelain cower in envy, appearing to be paler than a corpse, a consequence of the lack of sunlight; and a frail figure who yearned for a decent meal but was unable to eat without the Marquess around.


    Mentally, my mind was already preparing itself to encounter them. Certainly, the moment they laid their gazes on me the ruthless comments would begin.


    Of course, you can''t even keep a man. You are nothing more but a cursed beast. That should be something between the lines of what Amanda would say, using the opportunity of Layton''s escape as a triggering point to harass me, once again.


    I didn''t raise a child to lose a husband like this... just when I thought you couldn''t disappoint me further, you manage to exceed my expectations. Was probably what father might say.


    The harsh rain fell outside, knocking on the windows as the brute wind blew it further and further away, attempting to break the windows for its own pleasure. It was such a cold and dark night, as if the skies knew of what was bound to come, warning me to escape this dreadful mansion.


    "Happy birthday to me..." I mumbled, singing to myself in a low voice, before blowing the candle at the edge of the table, providing the space with a flickering light.


    No one remembered. Why would they? Layton, with all his flaws, at least handed me flowers on my birthday, probably out of guilt for being unable to give me the love he thought I deserved. Reminiscing about those times, a stinging pain struck my heart. Never once had my soul loved him, yearned for him, and yet, it found itself missing him dearly. Why was I such a foolish sample of a woman?


    Tears dripped through my eyes moments before my body sunk into the mattress, covered by the oily sheets. With the settling exhaustion and lack of sleep, my tears ran dry, and my consciousness faded away into a different plane of existence.

 Chapter 97: Memories of a Ghost

    <u>Ophelia¡¯s memories, 2nd life</u>


    I woke up with rattling noises on the windows. The pouring rain had stopped, and the wind had grown as quiet as a mouse, as if nature''s tantrum had grown to a close. With drowsy eyes, my gaze traveled through the room, thinking Maeve was trying to sneak in to scare me, as she often did, but everything seemed the same. Moments after my head drowned itself on the pillow, I fell asleep.


    But the events of that night were endless as the sound of a window knocking over and over again awoke me from my slumber. Ruthlessly, the wind pushed and pulled the item, as its obnoxious sound rung through the whole estate, certainly causing some discomfort to those who attempted to rest.


    Without hesitating, my figure got out of bed and stretched as far as it could just to grab the wooden edge of the window, closing it with a single movement. Certainly, this was another prank from Maeve, who often loved to belittle me in these types of situations, causing me the most discomfort possible. My gaze fell outside, noticing the blinding sights of the moon, unable to see the land as dark clouds stole all its light to themselves, causing everything beneath to be swallowed by intense darkness.


    I hope it won''t rain again...


    About to lie on the bed, a sharp pain struck my abdomen, slicing me through my back. "Found you..."


    "What... it hurts..." I groaned, losing the strength in my legs, body falling onto the bed. Unable to understand what was happening, my figure attempted to move, just to realize it was far too weak to do so.


    "You shouldn''t be sleeping with the Marquess you know... some people don''t like that type of service..." A man''s voice. Right in my chambers.


    Yet, once I looked back, all that appeared was a thick brown bearded man with a rather neutral brown hair - not possessing any unique features except his sharp gaze who glared down at me and curled up lips who carried a rather evil smile, clearly pleased about something lurking in the corners of his mind.


    "But I don''t... I haven''t..." Before being able to complete my sentence, nerves rushing to my cheeks out of frustration, he interrupted me.


    "You don''t have to play games with me, missy, you see... I know women like you from the back of my hand, I''ve fucked quite a few." He chuckled, cleaning the knife with a small piece of black cloth taken from his pocket.


    At that moment, rain started to pour down, almost as if it was laughing at my pitiful luck. The sound of droplets falling on the mansion, on the windows, on the green grass echoed through our surroundings, causing the noises of the rattling of the leaves to fade, all other sounds to be cancelled by its existence. However, a lightning struck a nearby tree.


    The man''s gaze widened, seeing my complexion, laying on the bed, sweat dripping from my pores, body growing colder by the second. A thin line replaced the wide grin on his lips, as if his mind was playing tricks on him.


    "It can''t be... you''re way to young..." His figure approached mine, hovering over my body. When his hands grabbed my hair, he pulled my face upwards. "How old are you, girl?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "I''m... Ophelia Criswell... Layton... Verne''s wife..." Breathlessly, the words took its sweet time to roll out of my tongue.


    "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!" The man''s voice gradually became louder as he ran around in circles. "I messed up... I messed up! Shit!"


    As the assassin walked around the room, an intense dizziness struck my being, feeling weaker and colder by the second. Foolishly, my arms pulled the torso upwards but ended up falling once again. Blood now tainted my white sheets red, consuming its purity with its essence, as if they had been created for this sole purpose. The pain darting through my nerves was excruciating, making me want to yell, making me want to beg for mercy - and yet, my soul couldn''t bring itself to.


    Maybe this was it, the ending of the unlucky curse, just like she deserved. Who was I, to go against the will of fate?


    Suddenly, the man stopped in his tracks, lips curling upwards in a sickening smile. "That''s perfect... well, since I can''t have you snitching on me missy, I must bear another sin in my cross."


    He grabbed my legs, putting them carelessly on the bed until I laid fully on the mattress, stomach sinking in the sheets. As he did, the wound on my abdomen stretched further, ripping pieces of my flesh with every movement.


    "Please... I... I won''t... say anything... I swear..."


    "Of course, you won''t... dead men tell no tales after all." His figure was now beside me, heading to my bedside table.


    My heart thumped rapidly, noticing the assassin''s hands grabbing the oil lantern, his sharp gaze searching to the handle to open its contents. Like a broken clock, my destiny was repeating itself again, but this time, at the hands of another man - he was about to burn me alive, all to bury the evidence of his wrongdoings.


    "Don''t you... feel any... guilt?" Things were starting to rotate mercilessly, and my words seemed to be dragging through mud, unable to reflect the feelings lingering in my mind, to the human compassion I''d heard so much about.


    "Guilt? You may be young missy, but you are a noble. Certainly, your closet as many skeletons, and even if it doesn''t now, it would have in the future. Maybe you should consider this... early atonement?" As he spoke, the oil of the lantern dropped onto the sheets, onto me, into my wound.


    "Please... I beg of you... anything... anything but that..." I tried to speak as coherently as my body allowed, as loud as my voice could reach.


    "It will be over soon, don''t worry." His fingers grabbed a matchbox on the first drawer of the cabinet and lit it.


    The moment the flame landed on the sheets the fire rapidly spread, quicker than the sound of thunder, taking my body as its last meal. Again, the irking sensation of burned flesh covered me, consumed my thoughts, making it seem like the earlier wound was nothing but a minor cut, a wound that could barely be addressed as such. As my screams echoed through the mansion, hoping to get help, to be saved by the kindness of another, the assassin jumped down, leaving the window open as he went.


    With all the strength left in me, my body attempted to crawl to the drops of rain that sneaked in from the window but before I could reach its release my figure was unable to move further. I could feel it, how the skin had already melted, how my muscles were exposed, allowing a piercing pain to travel through my nerves who would soon be consumed by the blazes.


    What did I do wrong this time...? Were the only thoughts roaming in me, as the remaining of my consciousness slowly faded away. Why does this keep happening to me...?


    The door opened and Maeve entered - somehow, she''d heard my screams even in the middle of such thunderstorm - but her face paled, completely horrified. Knowing there was no way to save me, or so I wished to believe, she ran away, screaming her lungs out, knocking on every single door as she went.


    And thus, the last thing my senses could capture were the panic sounds of people running through the hallways, screaming for dear life, attempting to survive the flames of Blasphemy.

 Chapter 98: Screams from Down Below

    ¡°Kill you...?¡± Gilbert couldn¡¯t figure out the hidden meaning behind the girl¡¯s words, and the more he attempted to unveil the concealed thoughts hiding beneath her cold blue eyes, the worse his reason became.


    Jade¡¯s hands untied the assassin, his gaze falling on him with a thirst for blood he couldn¡¯t begin to describe. It was only when the girl sat back down that the pressure from the slave dissipated. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Jade. Now, Gilbert, won¡¯t you entertain me?¡±


    ¡°What about him?¡± His index finger pointed at the platinum-haired man, hands shaped into fists, gaze threatening to rip the assassin¡¯s head from its body with a single movement. Surely, with him around, he wouldn¡¯t win, especially considering the heavy wounds his body had just gone through.


    ¡°He won¡¯t interfere.¡±


    As those words left the girl¡¯s lips, the assassin dashed towards her at full speed and his dirt covered hands grabbed Ophelia¡¯s thin neck, causing her torso to lean on the trunk. Yet, as he squeezed with all his might, she smiled as if her soul had craved for this moment for its entire existence, enjoying it to the fullest.


    ¡°Kill me, Gilbert.¡± Ophelia¡¯s hands cupped his, peacefully accepting her death and his strength increased, despite that, there was no pain in her eyes, no doubt in her words. ¡°Do it!¡±


    For years, he¡¯d killed more people than his mind could recall, thus he was very familiar with nobles. He knew how to behave around them, how to lower their guards just to make them act in certain ways but as his grip tightened, as blood pumped through his veins, dropping onto the girl¡¯s skin, he found himself hesitating. What exactly happened to you?


    No matter how much his hands attempted to snap her neck in two, his soul crumbled, being unable to bring himself to kill her. His eyes, clouded by doubt suddenly glimpsed sorrow in the girl¡¯s gaze, as if living was a pit of pure sadness. And, even thought, Gilbert¡¯s body screamed in pain, his gut sending red flags left and right through his nervous system, his mind found itself stuck in that expression, that dreadful, pitiful expression.


    Suddenly, the assassin fell on the ground, screaming in pain, rolling through the dirt like a dog. ¡°It burns! Shit! Fuck! It fucking burns!¡±


    ¡°Of course, it does. Salt doesn¡¯t mix well with wounds, didn¡¯t you know?¡± Ophelia massaged her neck slightly before uncovering the top of her chest by removing the thick cape surrounding her body. In her hands, grains of vivid red salt lingered, taken from the small pouch she carried around like an amulet. Her face and clothes had been completely tainted by that man¡¯s blood, however, she appeared rather unbothered. ¡°You are such a disappointment.¡±Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°Salt!? Don¡¯t you know no mercy!?¡± He cried out loud, feeling his blood pumping out of his body as a rush of adrenaline voyaged through his veins.


    ¡°Jade, bring her to me.¡± Ophelia commanded and the slave hesitantly left, bumping into the assassin who tried to get back to his feet once again. When their eyes connected, a shiver ran down his spine and he finally understood he wouldn¡¯t make it out of there alive, not if that fucking slave had a word in it. ¡°Mercy is nothing more than an idealism of righteousness that we both lost far too long ago, wouldn¡¯t you say?¡±


    ¡°I will fucking kill you! I swear to God I¡¯ll...!¡± Trying to lift his body back up, the man kept on stumbling, dizziness clouding his sight, numbing his senses. He couldn¡¯t accept this; he couldn¡¯t deal with the fact that a mere 15-year-old would be his murderer.


    ¡°Then please, by all means, come and kill me.¡± Her arms opened up, and a smile stretched upon her lips. He launched his body onto her, but his movements were slow, sloppy, equal to the ones of a very drunken man. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me this is how far your determination goes?¡±


    ¡°I swear I...!¡± Regaining his footing on a nearby tree, the man turned and tried once again; however, this time Ophelia stood still, being embraced by the man. ¡°You bitch!¡±


    The assassin¡¯s body fell on hers and they both found their way onto the ground, the noblewoman¡¯s hand carefully grabbed the back of the man¡¯s head. Her sweet voice whispered into his remaining ear. ¡°Does it hurt? Do you want me to take it out?¡±


    He tried to hold back his screams as the dagger penetrated onto his leg, soaking his trousers with blood. ¡°Why...? How...?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯ve killed me once already.¡±


    ¡°Why...?¡± The assassin kept on muttering to himself, crying compulsively, unable to listen to the words leaving the girl¡¯s mouth.


    When his hands surrounded the dagger, Ophelia rapidly realized his intentions. The anger burning within had turned into pure despair and now all he could see was the death of the curse before him. ¡°Are you sure? You will die if you remove it.¡±


    Hatred. Disdain. Anger. Come, take your pick.


    Gilbert removed his grasp on the blade, knowing her words rung true. Everything around him was coated in blood, from the now muddy terrain to the girl¡¯s clothing, who appeared to have been dyed in dark crimson red. And yet, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to not despise her, to curse the woman in the seven corners of his mind, to wickedly imagine how beautiful she¡¯d look with all her limbs cut out, with her head hanging on a spike at the entrance of the Wharton¡¯s estate - like a trophy of sorts.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already told you... everything I know, so... let me go.¡± He glared at her, trying once again to negotiate his release.


    ¡°A commoner like you dares to order me around?¡± At that moment, Ophelia pushed his body down with her feet and stomped the man¡¯s head, causing it to sink into the muddy ground. Feeling his skull crack open, his freshly cut ear twitching alongside the sole of her shoe, the man screamed. ¡°Please tell me more Gilbert. What would you like me to do next? Bring you a kettle and pour you tea!?¡±

 Chapter 99: Screams from Down Below

    <div>


    As if they were in a sickening theatrical tragedy, the assassin struggled to breathe as a river of blood covered his face, filling his mouth, escaping into his lungs. And yet, in the middle of such chaos, the sole sounds echoing through the woods were his screams, as even wildlife had grown fearful of the monster lurking among the trees, hiding in the shadows of the moonlight.


    ¡°You are misunderstanding something of great importance, Gilbert...¡± She removed her footing on his head, causing his body to roll to the side, the dagger on his leg sinking further into the muscles. ¡°Your life always belonged to me. I was only gracefully letting you live until your soul was ready for harvest.¡±


    The rattling of the leaves passed through the woods as a sickening chilly breeze flew through, causing nature¡¯s creatures to crawl away to their domains. Drop by drop, the cloudy skies poured their sadness from above, attempting to shower away the sins of the land, attempting to erase the past of Men. Eventually, Gilbert¡¯s screams became baffled by the piercing sound of the heavy rain, turning the dirt into mud, the seeds into flowers.


    Soaked to the bones, Jade arrived and so did the most precious guest of all, with her horrified eyes, hands sheltering her mouth in a pitiful attempt to remain composed.


    ¡°John!? Milady... what¡¯s going on...?¡± Ivy was obviously confused and frightened as her gaze wandered through Ophelia and the butler whose figures had been tainted in crimson red.


    ¡°Ivy! Help me... she¡¯s insane!¡± The moment Gilbert¡¯s senses saw the maid, a plan ensued in his mind. She would be his guardian angel, the sole person who could save him from his demise.


    He foolishly thought that Ivy was the perfect tool to threaten Ophelia with, to make her regain her lost senses yet, his despair was so grand that his gaze didn¡¯t capture the wide grin on his captor¡¯s lips, knowing exactly what devilish thoughts roamed through his mind.


    ¡°We must get you treated immediately! You¡¯re so badly wounded, what do I do...!?¡± Ivy attempted to rush to the man¡¯s side, but Jade¡¯s arm prevented her from moving forward. ¡°What are you doing!? We have to help him, otherwise he will...!¡±


    At that moment, reality sunk in. She didn¡¯t call for me to help, did she...


    This hadn¡¯t been a mere accident, nor a wild bear attack, as she¡¯d been told. John had been purposely wounded, turning into a weakened prey. His leg held a sharp small dagger within, blood slowly dripping out of it as its sharpness had most likely struck a vein; one of his ears had gone missing, probably having disappeared onto the land or washed away with the rain; his arms held a row of deep cuts, exposing part of his flesh to the drops falling from the sorrowful skies, who rapidly turned into a light red; and his middle-aged face, was now almost unrecognizable, possessing a swollen cheek, a cut lip and two missing teeth from his upper jaw.


    Ivy glanced at Ophelia, who smiled joyfully, around her neck a hint of a bruise, probably from an earlier fight. How could her master have grown up to become like this? She knew her personality, how ruthless she was, but it never crossed her mind that her lady¡¯s soul would be able to murder a man in cold blood.


    She¡¯s nowhere near normal... is she? The maid knew working under her was a colossal risk as everyone her master got involved with ended up suffering an ill fate, however, one single thought kept her at ease. Never once did Ophelia deliver a punishment to those who were undeserving or void of guilt - all them deserved what they got, including her own action of following another master¡¯s orders.


    ¡°Did I order you to save him?¡± Ophelia¡¯s cold voice sent a shiver down the girl¡¯s spine, causing Gilbert¡¯s screams and pitiful attempts to beg for help become nothing more than pure, devastating silence.


    ¡°No, milady. I beg your forgiveness.¡± Almost reactively, Ivy kneeled on the ground, staining her nightgown with chunks of mud.


    ¡°Approach.¡± The maid obeyed and once her figure was close enough, her cheek turned, allowing a large red spot to appear on her pale skin. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare disrespect me again.¡±The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Yes, milady.¡±


    ¡°Do you know why you are here?¡± At her question, the maid¡¯s head shook. Surely the response was easy, but she couldn¡¯t understand why she¡¯d been called to see the execution of a man. ¡°Your loyalty will be tested today. Kill him.¡±


    ¡°What? Milady, I can¡¯t...¡± The slave threw a knife to the girl¡¯s feet, causing her to grow silent.


    ¡°I would advise you to carefully make your decision. You know how I hate empty-hearted promises...¡±


    So, it¡¯s either him or me...? Everything became clear.


    This was never a warning nor a test, this was a ploy to bind Ivy to Ophelia. And she had to choose a side - die a good, kind woman or taint her hands with the blood of another, becoming one and the same with her master.


    As Jade grabbed the man by the back of his collar, forcing his weak body to kneel on the floor, the assassin yelled. ¡°You said you would let me go! You lying whore!¡±


    ¡°But isn¡¯t that what I am doing? I am letting you go to meet all those you¡¯ve killed.¡± Ophelia¡¯s head fell on her crossed fingers, a psychotic smile slashing her cheeks, a hidden blush peaking beneath the rain. ¡°Can you hear their screams, John? Because I can... and they are begging for your attendance.¡±


    ¡°No... no...! You can¡¯t! No...!¡±


    During the night, Gilbert would have nightmares with the voices of the one¡¯s he¡¯d killed, of the pile of corpses he hid in his closet, of the young little girl he¡¯d once murdered for the sake of his revenge. How they eagerly called for him, how Esther stood down there, anxiously waiting for his presence at the lower levels of Blasphemy, the true realm of the sinful. He knew he would be reunited with those rotting souls eventually, but he never thought it would be so soon.


    ¡°Ivy, please... don¡¯t do this. We can sort things out, please...!¡±


    The maid¡¯s hands shook as she struggled to grab the dagger, mind rampaging between angels and devils, between purity and destruction. Could she truly take a life and continue to live? Wouldn¡¯t guilt consume her being? Or could she accept dying here and now, at such an early age? She still had many years in front of her, but wouldn¡¯t those be the ones that never belonged to her in the first place, stolen mercilessly from the life of another?


    Ivy¡¯s resolve, however, settled the moment her gaze fell on the scar left in her index finger. Ophelia¡¯s words, punishments and rules were the law, and she never decided on such dreadful actions without a reasoning behind it. Certainly, John had done something truly terrible, something truly evil to suffer such fate.


    ¡°Ivy, please...¡± Gilbert begged, seeing the woman walk towards him in small steps, slowly as a snail in the middle of a storm.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry John, I truly am.¡± Was all she was able to say before darting towards him, her eyes shut tight as if such would prevent any guilt from clouding her heart later on.


    Not like this...! Gilbert knew there was no way out and he was the sole person to blame, even then, his body moved around, struggling to escape. Jade¡¯s grip only grew stronger. Life passed in a flash before his eyes, as he was able to count his mistakes, to munch on his regrets, to cry away his future dreams.


    ¡°John... I¡¯m...¡± The knife penetrated something.


    The assassin looked down, seeing how the blade had pierced his lungs, causing his mouth to cough up blood. His heart rate increased, and his body became colder than the northern plains; for a moment, he wondered if Esther had felt like this when she passed away, in the peak of innocence, as she was the sole life he actually regretted taking. As his figure fell on the ground, a large blood pool formed and the voices screaming from Blasphemy became louder, echoing through him like the pounding of a hammer, celebrating the arrival of their mortal reaper.


    As his consciousness slipped away, Ophelia shot him a wide grin. At that moment, he understood - Gilbert never possessed the upper hand in this story and this was always going to be the final outcome. Since the beginning, he thought the girl wouldn¡¯t know the rules of the game, being an innocent sheep, yet as her figure blurred, he realized she wasn¡¯t even a player. Ophelia was the game maker itself, creating the rules, influencing the players, deciding the settings; she was the only one with a guaranteed win, no matter what.


    Feeling sick to her stomach, Ivy turned her body and leaned on a tree, throwing up all that her frail body possessed. Her pale expression portrayed pure horror, complete disdain, and regret for her own actions. How could she have done this? John¡¯s blood would always be on her, stuck to the back of her mind like glue, like a sickening melody kids can¡¯t seem to forget.


    ¡°You did well.¡± Without realizing, Ophelia had gotten up and her hand lingered on the maid¡¯s back, patting it slightly. ¡°You may go rest.¡±


    Without even bowing down, the girl rapidly grabbed the hem of her nightgown and trudged away, figure leaning on close by trees for support. No one could know about this, or her head would be the one rolling in public square because, at the end of the day, who would believe a mere maid?


    <div>

 Chapter 100: Clouded Feelings

    Jade stood beside me, his eyes gazing at the figure of the woman disappearing in the distance. Her footsteps were quick yet rather messy, causing the frailness of her shadow to wobble from side to side like a sinking ship being consumed by the powerful currents of the ocean.


    ¡°What do you make of it?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s hiding something.¡± He answered, brown eyes filled with certainty.


    My attention then fell to Gilbert¡¯s cold corpse, laying on top of the mud as his soul slowly sunk into the land, forcing a messy puddle of rainwater and blood to form. With a quick movement, my feet pushed his, allowing the blade planted on his lungs to squirt out and his inhuman gaze to slowly mimic the cloudy sky.


    Ivy¡¯s actions were still rewinding in my mind as memories attempted to revive everything again. The dagger had penetrated the man¡¯s body with no hesitation, something only killers were able to do; yet her behavior seemed far too peculiar, far too humble to possibly wear such fact as a harsh truth.


    ¡°Keep an eye on her.¡± I touched the corpse with the base of the boots. ¡°Now, what should we do with you?¡±


    Like a beautiful canvas, Gilbert¡¯s body had become an exquisite work of art. There wasn¡¯t a shred of his skin that hadn¡¯t been sliced, a piece of flesh that hadn¡¯t been greeted by the coldness of the drops falling from the skies. It was truly such a waste to keep such display to ourselves, surely the Duke would enjoy it greatly.


    Should we just bury you somewhere? A sigh escaped me, knowing fully well the risks of chasing my sadistic ideals. As it stood, the part of the ignorant child needed to be played perfectly which would only cause his sharp judgment to become doubtful.


    ¡°Master, if I may be so bold... maybe we could send his head to your father.¡±


    ¡°If we do so he will know my motives.¡±


    ¡°Only if we don¡¯t use The Nomads signal.¡± Jade¡¯s lips stretched into a large grin, his mind clearly taking the thoughts within to somewhere darkened by the evil in the world.


    How did I not think about this earlier? I¡¯d been stupid, completely disregarding the ones that lurked beneath the shadows of the capital - the organizations that were exempt from the laws, or so their members claimed.Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    The Nomads were merely one of many ambitious people that operated in the glooms of Ashen. Most of their members were commoners who had never managed to find a home or live a plentiful life within this system, however, the power they publicly displayed was but a mere fa?ade, a forceful stance to hide their true purpose. Contrary to most mercenary organizations, they didn¡¯t act upon gold nor silver as their services were only delivered to the victims of injustices, regardless of status. Guided by the main attributes of a hero, they took pride in their honesty, justice, and integrity.


    ¡®A daughter kept in isolation and tormented for 15 years by her family wasn¡¯t enough so her father attempted to end her misery,¡¯ was the perfect headline, the undeniable justification that would pass through Alvin¡¯s mind once he caught glimpse of our handmade gift.


    The message was clear and credible, serving as a warning to his incessant greed. If The Nomads were truly supporting me from behind the curtain, Duke Criswell would have to be far more careful with his assassination attempts in the future - something that would cause him great distress no doubt.


    ¡°Do what you must. I will be cleaning myself at the lake.¡± With a tingling sensation traveling through my senses, I took my leave.


    With each step, the squishing sound of mud echoed through the dark night, bouncing back into every tree trunk it hit. The wind had now turned into a peaceful breeze, allowing shreds of moonlight to pass through the tall leaves, sinking its essence into the land. Even the skies seemed to have no more sorrows left, pushing the angry clouds away until the bright full moon fell on the horizon, reflecting its base at the large pond extending far and wide into the distance.


    Slowly, my bloody fingers unbuttoned the shirt and then found their way onto the boots and trousers. At that moment, the red clothes dropped on the dirt floor, turning its light pink color into a muddy brown. Completely exposed, my figure walked onto the calm water which only appeared to be disturbed by every single drop that fell from the nearby trees and bushes, still harboring some dampness from the earlier pour.


    The warmth of the liquid embraced my body like a strangely uncomfortable pillow, knowing full well the wind outside would soon make me feel even colder than before. Like a darting sensation, the small fishes swimming around passed through my feet, tickling the base of my skin with their slimy coats, yet, such strange feeling didn¡¯t seem to bother me in the slightest.


    My head dug itself into the icy water, brain pounding like a hammer as oxygen flew from my lungs until there was nothing. In the middle of the pitch-dark fluid, all that was left were the faint sounds of wildlife swimming in the distance, having been startled by my aggressive movement, and the rather silent wave of the kelp, gradually making its way to the top of the lake. I loved water as it was a calm, peaceful thing that allowed me to feel secure from the one flicker that terrified my soul.


    Gasping for air, my head darted out of it, hands pushing the remaining of my hair strands back. The wind blew into my face, sinking into my bones until a shiver ran through my nerves like an ominous warning.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯ve won?¡± A voice echoed from within the leaves, a presence hiding away in the darkness of the night. A coward.