Although Calix believed there was nothing worth bargaining over, he had briefly entertained the Emperor's envoy out of sheer curiosity. He wanted to see what Fernando might offer in exchange for the antidote's secret.
As expected, it had been a waste of time.
He raked his fingers through his dark hair, the gesture sharp with irritation.
"You may inform His Majesty that I will find a suitable use for his gift."
He made an impatient gesture—a dismissive flick of the wrist that meant *remove this annoyance from my presence*.
"But Your Highness—" The envoy's composure cracked, indignation bleeding through his carefully maintained facade. "What about the Benvito recipe?"
Calix lifted one corner of his mouth in a slow, dangerous smile. Then he pinned the envoy to the floor with a gaze heavy as iron chains.
"Why should I give it away?"
The man's face contorted—shame and anger warring for dominance across his features as he realized he had been toyed with. Played for a fool. Heat flooded his cheeks, and in his outrage, he forgot entirely whom he was addressing.
"How can you treat His Majesty's gift so disrespectfully?" His voice rose sharply. "Is this how you repay his kindness?"
"*Kindness?*" Calix's blood-red eyes flashed with predatory amusement. "What kindness are you referring to? What he sent will last a year, at most. And I'll share a secret with you." He leaned forward slightly, his smile sharpening. "He already sends what you brought—periodically, once a month. And he'll continue to do so in the future. Unless he chooses to die."
Of course, if the Emperor had decided to risk his life in this game, that would have been a different matter entirely. But Calix knew Fernando well. The man would never dare such a reckless move. He was far too greedy for survival—far too certain that only hellfire awaited him beyond death's door. He would fight for his miserable existence with every weapon at his disposal, even if it meant slaughtering hundreds of innocents.
"What about His Imperial Majesty's ambassador?" Zeke suddenly interjected, his tone light and conversational.
The envoy turned to him, bewildered. "What do you mean?"
"I suppose *you* don't want to die either?" Zeke raised his hand and drew an invisible blade across his own throat, his grin widening.
Cold sweat beaded at the man's temples as he recalled the Emperor's legendary cruelty. Words abandoned him entirely. He chose silence.
Calix, thoroughly entertained by the spectacle, finally issued his ultimatum:
"Perhaps your master will offer me something more... *interesting*."
---
The sight of the delegation forced to return to the capital empty-handed was truly pitiful.
"Thank you for visiting us." Raizen's tone remained impeccably courteous. "I hope your return journey proves safe."
"Yes, yes—be careful out there," Zeke added cheerfully. "Safe travels, and *good riddance*."
Needless to say, the red-haired man's behavior made the ambassador and his entourage profoundly uncomfortable. However, Zeke quickly lost interest in tormenting them and, citing the need to inspect the guards, vanished from the scene.
---
As soon as Lord Cardon entered the Grand Duke's private quarters, a familiar chime sounded from his pocket watch. Calix's gaze cut toward Raizen, sharp with irritation. The steward hastily silenced the signal.
"Already?"
This alarm rang at the same hour every day. And though Calix knew there was nothing to be done about it, at times he hated that sound with a passion bordering on violence.
*It must have been difficult for the Emperor to prepare such a quantity of powder in his current state.* In any case, Fernando was the only one who knew the secret of crafting this particular poison—and its antidote.
*The Blessed Source.* What an absurd name for such a vile concoction. The First Emperor clearly had possessed no taste whatsoever.
While Calix, in his foul mood, mentally disparaged his ancient ancestor, Raizen retrieved a silver case from the ornate box. The month's supply of the remedy had run out just today. It would have been preferable if His Majesty had dispatched the powder a few days earlier, but Fernando always preferred to wait until the final moment—an unspoken demand that Calix bow to imperial authority.
Calix had no intention of bowing.
"The color is dark and rich." Raizen examined the dissolved powder with practiced eyes. "It appears he put extra effort into this batch."
He placed the cup before the Grand Duke.
Calix watched the liquid still swirling in the vessel, and a cold smile curved his tightly pressed lips.
"His Majesty will be... *somewhat* upset."
"You deliberately refused his request, then."
"Obviously." The smile widened, acquiring a cruel edge. "Just imagining how furious he must be makes me feel considerably better. No one is permitted to touch my wife. I warned him of this personally. But he ignored my warning and attacked first."
His voice dropped, hardening to steel.
"A tooth for a tooth. An eye for an eye. I had to return what I received to ease my anger. He started this fight. Very well—I am more than ready to fight back."
He drained the cup in a single swallow.
As the bitter liquid slid down his throat, memory ambushed him: the moment he had spotted the demonic beasts attacking the carriage. All the blood had drained from his heart in an instant. Incomprehensible rage had seized his mind—a fury so absolute that rational thought had simply ceased to exist.
When awareness returned, the entire area had been littered with piles of monstrous corpses.
And then... the relief.
When he realized the woman in the carriage had survived, something had shifted inside him. A surprising sensation. Something he had never experienced before.
*Nonsense.*
Calix laughed inwardly at the thoughts intruding upon his consciousness. They held no rational meaning. None whatsoever.
*Asella Benvito.* She was merely a woman. He had married her for carefully calculated reasons. That was all. He needed an heir, and he didn't have much time. However, because she was now the only other person who bore the Benvito name, he had simply sought revenge for an attack on his own house.
Nothing more.
"Your Highness!"
Raizen's voice cut through his reverie.
Calix set the empty cup on its saucer and, without quite realizing it, asked: "How did the treatment go?"
The question had nothing to do with their previous conversation, but Raizen immediately understood who was being discussed.
"Everything went well. Her wounds are completely healed—not a single scar remains. She dined earlier, and she's currently in Lady Mariel's room."
That last piece of information was entirely unnecessary. But it didn't even occur to Calix to point this out.
Silence descended upon the study.
For some time, Raizen waited patiently for his master to speak again. But Calix remained deep in the embrace of his chair, lost in thought, his expression unreadable.
*What is he thinking?*
The sun had long since set. Full darkness pressed against the windows. Finally, when Raizen could bear the silence no longer, he broke it himself:
"Your Highness, forgive my impertinence—but may I ask you a personal question?"
"Speak."
Those darkened crimson eyes fixed upon him. Raizen swallowed dryly, fighting to avoid being hypnotized by that penetrating gaze.
"Tonight... where do you intend to sleep?"
---
## — The Grand Duchess's Chambers —
After bathing, Calix donned a light shirt and made his way toward his wife's apartments.
*We cannot delay the wedding night any longer.*
That was how he briefly justified his reasoning.
They were a legal couple. Marriage carried both rights and obligations. In noble households, countless factors played complex roles in the relationship between spouses—politics, alliances, family expectations, personal temperament.
But the most important purpose was always the same: the continuation of the bloodline.
Therefore, if the head of a family failed to spend the first night together after officially welcoming his wife into his home, it was tantamount to an insult. Such neglect placed an unspoken burden of guilt upon the bride. Her position in the household could be destroyed before it had properly begun. A wife so publicly disrespected by her husband held no more status than fallen leaves beneath one's feet—and it often happened that even servants treated such a person with open contempt.
Of course, there wouldn't be a single soul in Benvito Castle mad enough to be so brazen with *his* wife. But still—the reputation of the Benvito name must remain impeccable.
*I simply don't want the servants whispering behind her back. There's no other reason. I cannot allow anyone to tarnish her reputation as mistress of this house.*
Calix attributed his uncharacteristic impatience to this entirely rational explanation.
"Your Highness!"
The servants and guards positioned outside the door to the Grand Duchess's apartments bowed in polished unison.
"Is she within?"
"I am following Your Highness's orders," Margot answered crisply.
Count Roman, who commanded Karma's third detachment, served constantly on the principality's borders—with the exception of two months each year. He could remain absent from his territories for such extended periods only because of his wife's extraordinary capabilities. From the moment she had been granted authority over the household, Margot had thrown herself into her duties with formidable energy, demonstrating exceptional skill and resourcefulness.
Aware of these abilities, the prince had made her an offer she couldn't refuse—a month ago, just before his departure for the wedding.
She had immediately delegated all significant matters to her trusted managers, issued her final instructions, and traveled to the Grand Duke's residence without complaint.
"I'm pleased to see you, Margot. I will ensure you're properly compensated for your efforts."
"It is a great honor to serve His Highness." She inclined her head with perfect grace.
"Is she inside?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
He had decided not to summon Asella to his own chambers. Since this was their first night together, let it take place somewhere she had already grown somewhat comfortable. Calix believed—quite reasonably—that this choice would benefit her.
At Margot's commanding gesture, the maids attendant opened the doors for him.
"Good night, Your Highness."
The polite farewell followed him through the threshold. The doors closed behind him with a soft click.
And suddenly, Calix felt his heart beat faster.
But silence reigned throughout the apartments. Nothing could be heard except his own footsteps on the polished floor. There was no trace of any presence—no movement, no sound, no breathing.
*Perhaps she's already asleep?*
It was quite late. She must be exhausted from the long journey—surely she had simply fallen asleep without waiting for him. That was understandable, of course.
Unaware that he was consoling himself with such thoughts, Calix strode into the bedroom.
*What—?*
His eyes narrowed at what he had not expected to see.
The bed was empty.
Only a faint breeze drifting through the slightly open window stirred the delicate lace of the canopy, making it sway like a ghostly curtain.
"Asella?"
His voice echoed through the silent bedroom.
No answer.
A strange panic seized him—sharp and sudden, completely unlike anything he had felt before. *What had she done?* Had she *run away?*
His lips twisted with a sharp, painful sensation that defied identification—
And then he noticed a thin sliver of light filtering through the crack beneath a closed door.
*Ha.*
Calix clicked his tongue quietly. *So there you are.*
He pushed aside the thought that had nearly torn his heart apart a moment ago, dismissing it as though it had never existed.
His wife might be timid, but she understood her position. She wouldn't have acted so irresponsibly. Especially since she had brought her younger sister along—the child was essentially a hostage to Asella's good behavior.
*...!*
Only now did he register the sound of running water beyond the door.
Without conscious decision, Calix moved toward the sound. His steps were silent, predatory. He reached for the doorknob. Lowered it gently. There was a soft click, and the door swung open without a whisper of resistance.
He peered through the narrow gap.
Beyond lay a small hallway—robes, nightgowns, and toiletries arranged tastefully on shelves along both walls. At the far end stood a frosted glass door, clouded with condensation from the temperature difference between the hot bathroom and the cooler corridor.
A graceful white figure moved behind the translucent barrier.
The sound of water—which had seemed so distant a moment ago—suddenly pierced his ears with deafening intensity. It filled his consciousness, drowning out all thought.
Without realizing what he was doing, Calix stepped inside. His hand reached for the glass doorknob, fingers closing around the metal with hungry desperation—
And then he realized what he was doing.
*...!*
He turned sharply and fled the hallway.
Even with the open window keeping the bedroom cool, his body felt as though it were on fire. His skin burned. His pulse thundered in his ears. He slammed the door shut behind him and pressed his palm against his forehead, fighting desperately to regain control.
*You're insane,* he told himself, the words raw and horrified.
***You're completely insane.***