A strange dream—far too vivid to be a mere nightmare. It drilled into her consciousness like a warning, refusing to fade. Her heart grew cold with mounting dread.
Asella curled into herself, crossed her trembling hands, and tucked them deep within her sleeves. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the images away.
---
## — The Archduke's Study —
The Archduke's office lay silent. Too silent.
Raizen released a quiet sigh and regarded his master with growing concern. At first glance, nothing appeared unusual. As always, the prince's face remained cold, his gaze indifferent.
However, the overwhelming energy emanating from him proved so oppressive that the Count didn't dare open his mouth.
_This is how he appeared on the battlefield._
_The last time I witnessed him like this, blood soaked the earth for miles._
_Why am I so perpetually unfortunate?_
Some time earlier, Karma had reported that—per the Grand Duke's orders—they were maintaining surveillance on his wife.
On the table before the prince sat a magical sphere capable of transmitting messages as images. Mist swirled within the crystalline orb, then gradually cleared, revealing the princess seated at a table, conversing with a little girl.
All appeared well.
But very soon, another figure entered the prince's field of vision.
_We're in serious trouble._
That was Count Cardon's immediate thought upon recognizing the newcomer within the magical sphere.
The young man was undeniably handsome—fair-haired with striking violet eyes and impeccable manners. The type who could easily captivate countless women's hearts.
Initially, Raizen assumed it was merely casual conversation between strangers. However, somehow they found themselves sharing a table. And clearly, they were discussing something of substance.
The longer the prince observed them, the heavier the atmosphere in the study became. The tense air sharpened like a blade. Even Raizen—trained for years to withstand pressure—found breathing difficult.
But when the Grand Duchess smiled warmly at this unknown man...
Raizen genuinely believed he might die.
A terrible expression suddenly contorted that perfect face. Those crimson eyes blazed with such fierce intensity it seemed the prince intended to tear the man apart with his bare hands.
"Perhaps we should recall the Grand Duchess to the castle?" Raizen ventured, seriously risking his life with the suggestion.
"Leave it."
For several subsequent hours, the Archduke remained in this terrible state.
On the surface, everything proceeded normally. Work continued smoothly. As always, he issued clear instructions and orders. Even his signature remained flawless.
But beneath that composed exterior, something sinister and uncontrollably primal seethed. The furious blood of his ancestors boiled within him.
_I hope everything will resolve itself._
Raizen cast another wary glance at his liege lord.
This bloodline carried traces of ancient, carnivorous instincts—primal desires that constantly yearned to erupt. Over centuries, the Benvito had learned to harness these impulses, channeling them into terrifying physical prowess.
_If my suspicions are correct,_ Raizen thought grimly, _then the desire now consuming my master can be summarized in a single word: possession._
Every Grand Duke of the Benvito line remained utterly devoted to his desires. When he wanted something, he pursued it with frightening persistence and voracious greed. Even if the prey suffered in the process. Even if it had to be discarded afterward. The only thing that mattered was that it belonged to *him*.
And his current master had been born with stronger traces of this ancient blood than any predecessor.
So Raizen remained constantly vigilant—nervous, uncertain what might happen next.
It was difficult to accuse the Grand Duchess of any actual wrongdoing. But her actions had proven extraordinarily reckless.
She still knew her husband far too little.
No—more precisely, she knew far too *little* of what he truly was.
Raizen released a resigned sigh.
"Your Highness. I've just received word that Her Highness's carriage has entered the castle gates."
---
## — The Return —
Asella, preparing to descend from the carriage, paused mid-motion and froze.
_Something is wrong._
There were far too many people assembled. The guards stood at attention alongside the entire household staff—including Fabian.
And even Raizen.
"You must go to His Highness immediately. He's waiting for you."
Asella's face drained of color as her gaze traveled toward the richly decorated entrance. At the end of a long, beautifully paved path, beyond the wide-open doors, an elegantly appointed hallway was visible.
But to Asella, it all resembled a demon's gaping maw.
She forced her parched lips to move.
"I need to visit my chambers briefly. I've only just returned. I trust His Highness will understand."
"Yes, of course, Your Highness."
"Mariel—she's still in the carriage. And she's sleeping."
Asella watched in silence as a servant carefully lifted the slumbering girl from the carriage and carried her toward her rooms. Then she proceeded to her own chambers.
_The Archduke cannot be kept waiting too long._
She simply washed her face, arranged her hair, donned a relatively simple house dress, and stepped into the corridor.
"Allow me to escort you, Your Highness."
As Asella navigated the numerous passages accompanied by Raizen, she fought to suppress her mounting anxiety.
_It's merely a dream, Asella._
But her hand, clutching the hem of her skirt, tightened with every step. Finally, she understood the source of her agitation.
She slowed her pace and halted.
When her footsteps ceased, Raizen turned back.
"Your Highness?"
"But His Highness's study..."
Though the castle was enormous, she'd visited his office several times before and knew the route. Yet they were traversing an entirely unfamiliar corridor.
"Forgive me, Your Highness—I should have explained immediately." Raizen appeared slightly embarrassed. "I was instructed to escort you to the dining hall. You haven't taken dinner yet, have you?"
"No. But why did the prince—"
"Does a husband and wife require a reason to dine together?"
A low voice resonated through the quiet hallway.
She turned slowly, clenching her hands so forcefully that her nails carved crescents into her palms.
Calix, wearing black trousers and a white shirt, strode directly toward her.
_Too casual for the Grand Duke,_ flashed through her mind.
This was unprecedented. Until now, Asella had never shared a meal with her husband. The castle had been designed so that the spouses' quarters remained considerably separated—the princess's chambers in the southern wing, the prince's in the northern. Therefore, she and Mariel typically ate together in the dining room adjacent to her apartments, or even in her private sitting room.
_But why this dinner, so suddenly? Why now?_
If she'd understood the reason, perhaps she would feel less frightened. But at this moment, she felt profoundly scared and deeply uncomfortable.
"I've instructed my cooks to prepare everything according to the Grand Duchess's preferences."
"Thank you." The answer emerged automatically, and she shuddered at her own mechanical response.
_I'm like a puppet from that nightmare._
"I thought you weren't quite accustomed to alcohol, so I ordered something sweet to be brought."
"Thank you..."
He poured the wine slowly, never removing his cold gaze from his wife. Then he extended the glass toward her. His beautiful lips stretched into something resembling a venomous sneer.
"Are you uncomfortable? If you dislike this setting, we could dine in your private dining room. Or your sitting room."
"Oh no—everything's fine." Asella's response came too quickly.
_Too hasty._
She clenched her hands beneath the table, struggling to regain composure.
_Calm yourself, Asella. It was merely a terrible dream. There's no need for such alarm._
"The young miss mentioned that you two never ventured out for a walk through the city together?"
"That's correct. Today was the first occasion."
"And how was it? Did you enjoy yourselves?"
The voice posing this question was utterly dry. The face remained impassive, but those eyes...
They seemed to burn with something wild and malevolent.
Asella felt profoundly unsettled—as though countless invisible blades had suddenly surrounded her, their edges gleaming with menace.
"It sounds pleasant." And again, that poisonous smile distorted those beautiful lips.
Asella's heart began hammering like a trapped bird battering itself against cage bars.
_Why? Why is he asking these questions? Have I done something wrong?_
In a situation where she couldn't comprehend anything, her fear threatened to escalate into outright panic.
_What was the purpose of this dinner? What did these questions mean? What were his true intentions?_
However, the man uttered no further words.
Asella felt as though she were treading across thin ice, each step threatening to plunge her into freezing depths. Her nerves stretched taut as bowstrings. The hem of her skirt grew so thoroughly wrinkled beneath the table that imagining its original shape had become impossible.
If not for the sound beyond the door, she most likely couldn't have withstood the suffocating tension. She might have fainted.
"Your Highness—we're prepared to serve!"
The oppressive atmosphere instantly eased, and Asella secretly drew a shaky breath.
"Enter."
The quiet meal commenced.
Asella silently contemplated the plate before her. Beautiful, elegant presentation—a perfectly prepared steak arranged on pristine white porcelain.
But she possessed no appetite whatsoever.
However, she had to at least create the appearance of eating. With a graceful gesture, she lifted the silverware and touched the tip of her knife to the roasted flesh.
*Squelch.*
Asella dropped the knife with a strangled gasp.
Thick blood spurted from the cut and slowly spread across the plate. The crimson stain stood in eerie, horrifying contrast against the stark white surface of the finest, most precious porcelain.
"You've only taken a sip. Why? You must drink it all."
_Poisoned wine?_
It had been exactly that same bloody color.
She suddenly remembered the terrible agony that had incinerated her entire body. Air—there had been none. No way to breathe. And she couldn't move, couldn't struggle.
Her heartbeat, so strong initially, had grown quieter... slower... and then...
**Death.**
Asella could no longer breathe properly. She felt as though she'd been cast into churning water, floundering like an exhausted animal desperately struggling to remain afloat.
"Your Highness—here's a replacement knife." The footman spoke quickly, swiftly exchanging the utensil for a clean one.
Asella reluctantly accepted the new knife. However, the blood pooling on her plate remained, triggering a severe wave of nausea.
"You don't care for it?"
Calix suddenly ceased eating and fixed his attention on Asella.
The girl moistened her dry lips.
"No—everything's fine."
She attempted to swallow at least a bite of salad from the plate's edge, but barely suppressed the urge to gag—swallowing convulsively and gasping for air.
However, she couldn't deceive Calix's watchful gaze.
Those crimson eyes scanned Asella's expression with unsettling intensity. Then he stared pointedly into her eyes.
"Then why aren't you eating?"
But despite his gaze relentlessly demanding an answer, she couldn't produce words.
A dangerous silence descended over the table.
"Raizen." Calix's cold voice finally shattered the quiet.
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Did I not instruct you to ensure everything was handled with care?"
"Those were your orders, Your Highness."
"Then explain why my wife cannot bring herself to raise what's on her plate to her mouth."
"My apologies, Your Highness."
"Is there any reason to permit those who fail to satisfy their master's expectations to remain alive?"
In a single heartbeat, the hall fell deathly silent.
The footmen attending the meal froze in place, unable to move—the posture of men who understood that the slightest misstep could result in immediate decapitation. The Grand Duke's reputation for cruelty had never been an empty threat.
"They must answer for their negligence."
Uncontrollable groans erupted from the lips of those unfortunate enough to be present on this fateful evening.
The air suddenly carried the distinct metallic scent of blood.