As Asella's eyes slowly opened, her gaze drifted to the luxurious stucco ceiling—a sight she had grown numbingly accustomed to. She turned her head carefully. Such a simple movement cost her tremendous effort.
Beyond the window, a bloody sunset was dying.
"You're awake."
Asella flinched at the sudden voice. In that instant, pitch darkness swallowed the room. The last crimson rays had slipped below the horizon, and night had descended.
"How are you feeling?"
The click of a lamp. Warm light flooded the space.
_Better if it stayed dark,_ Asella thought bitterly. _Then I wouldn't have to see this man._
"I expected something like this." Calix's voice carried no inflection.
"...?"
"But I didn't anticipate the news would shock you quite so severely."
Asella bit her lip until she tasted copper. Her skull throbbed with the weight of the terrible reality she was forced to confront once more. She clutched the sheets with white-knuckled fists, fighting to maintain control.
_A plot against the Emperor. The destruction of the Charts family._
So she truly had seen the future in her dreams. And now it had come to pass.
She had no idea what to do next.
_Mariel..._
Even through the fog clouding her mind, she struggled desperately toward clarity.
_I have to protect Mariel._
Her sister was in grave danger. When someone was accused of treason, their entire family faced execution. Young children who weren't direct heirs might be killed outright—or stripped of all rights and sold into slavery, condemned to drag out a miserable existence until death claimed them. And though Mariel now sheltered behind Benvito's walls, she remained a direct descendant of the Charts bloodline.
_This is a dead end._
The complete hopelessness of her situation crashed over Asella like a collapsing wall.
A silent scream tore through her chest.
_I can't save Mariel. She cannot be saved._
Her body felt crushed beneath an unbearable weight. Each breath came harder than the last. Consciousness began slipping away again. And Asella's final thought, before darkness took her, was that everything was over now.
"Asella." Calix's hands trembled as they cupped her cheeks. "Asella, look at me."
But she didn't want to see him. Having concluded that neither she nor Mariel would survive, she no longer wished to think about anything at all.
---
When awareness returned, Asella sat upright in bed, staring blankly at the floor. What had this man said to her before leaving the castle?
> "I'll be back soon with good news."
_Is that what a husband says when he sets out to destroy his wife's family on charges of treason?_
He had planned this from the very beginning. What had he muttered in his sleep?
> "The history of the Charts family is over."
_So that's why he married me._
He had simply needed to save face. Now that the Charts family no longer existed, she too had become useless.
_No one cares about an aristocrat who is no longer protected by her family name._
How did Calix Benvito plan to dispose of her?
Would he poison her, just as he had in her dream?
Her cracked lips finally parted. "Did you do this, Your Highness?"
She already knew the answer. But she needed to hear it from his mouth.
"Did your people exterminate my entire family?"
"What do you mean?" His composure was absolute. Somehow, that made it worse. This man felt not the slightest shred of guilt.
Though speaking cost her dearly, she pressed on. "I know you're behind all of this."
"I don't understand." He tilted his head slightly. "What are you referring to?"
"...?"
"Your family is Benvito now, my lady."
The casual way he invoked that name sent ice through her veins.
_Was it always meant to end like this?_
Even stripped of the Charts name and every privilege it carried, some part of her had clung to hope. After all, Mariel's awakening was still progressing.
She had dared to imagine that once Mariel's abilities fully manifested—once she gained the power she was meant to wield—perhaps her sister could eventually reclaim what was rightfully hers.
But now such dreams were pointless.
The family had been sentenced for treason. It was only a matter of time before Mariel was dragged to the capital and executed.
_And I will die too._
She was certain Calix Benvito would execute her as well.
_This political marriage has lost all meaning. And it's customary to dispose of useless things._
_I'm so sorry, Mother._
Guilt for failing to keep her promise—grief for being unable to save her sister—welled up until tears blurred her vision.
_Forgive me. I couldn't do anything._
Asella drew a shuddering breath and raised her head, forcing herself to meet his eyes.
"No!" The word tore from her throat. Perhaps because she knew death was inevitable, she found herself speaking words she never would have dared before. "I am **Charts**! I never once thought of myself as Benvito."
Calix's expression hardened to stone.
"Your Highness never considered me his wife either."
"What?"
"A beautiful doll. Always obedient. An excellent, *pedigreed* instrument for producing heirs—suitable decoration for the position of Grand Duchess." Asella's face contorted with pain as she spat out each hateful word. "A worthless commodity. Not even worth the price it was sold for."
"Asella Benvito." His tone carried unmistakable warning.
She fell silent and regarded him with unnatural calm.
"The man I was supposed to be afraid of. Always."
She *had* been afraid. There hadn't been a single second when fear released its grip. She feared everything—his cold gaze, his expressionless face that revealed nothing, the power and wealth he commanded. She had tried so hard not to show it. But the knowledge that he could crush her beneath his authority at any moment had been suffocating.
_But now it's all over._
And strangely, when she thought of it that way, she felt... lighter. After finally releasing the hope she had clutched so desperately for so long, an unexpected calm settled over her.
Memories surfaced unbidden—her first meeting with him.
Those heartless crimson eyes, studying her like prey he had already caught. His careless actions. His cruel words. The events of those early days returned in a relentless flood.
_Until now, I never let myself acknowledge it._
_But why? Why am I remembering this now?_
Asella realized, with sudden clarity, that she had been in agony the entire time.
Though everything had appeared normal on the surface, inside, a wound filled with poison had throbbed and ached. Just as an untreated injury grows inflamed, swells beyond bearing, and finally ruptures—so too does the human heart.
There had simply been another wound. A fresh one. A gaping one.
The pain and terror from *that* wound had been so overwhelming that she hadn't even noticed the other, no less excruciating agony festering beneath.
Asella squeezed her eyes shut. The sorrow she had suppressed for so long filled her to the brim, threatening to overflow. She knew she couldn't bear it any longer if she didn't do what she had now resolved.
Tears escaped down her cheeks. But she no longer cared.
"Me too." Now that she had set aside her fears and doubts, she felt she could be more honest than ever. "I know exactly what situation I'm in."
"**Stop.**" Calix's voice rang with command.
But behind that cold facade, her words had thrown him into turmoil. Outwardly, he maintained his expressionless mask. But inwardly, things were quite different.
*In truth...*
Everything she said was accurate. He *had* married her for precisely those reasons.
But the moment he heard it spoken aloud from Asella's lips, he realized with sudden force that he would have preferred all of it to remain hidden forever.
"I don't know who I truly am to you."
"I told you to **stop**."
Yet he couldn't silence her.
"Your Highness's prey."
Calix's heart lurched. He remembered the words he had spoken at their first meeting.
> "War is worth it. Especially if the spoils are valuable."
At the time, he had genuinely believed he had purchased her—a beautiful, purebred doll.
The threat woven into that phrase had been deliberate. A demonstration of her place. So she wouldn't dare to think. To refuse. Not even before the altar.
"Do you remember?" Her ruby eyes flickered with something unreadable.
It seemed so foolish now. She wasn't a doll at all. He had tried so hard to treat her like one. But she was *human*.
What would a person feel upon hearing such words? Of course she couldn't forget them. She had simply buried them deep in her heart and pretended they didn't matter.
But to truly forget...
> "Shall I arrange a personal meeting for you?"
> "That won't be necessary."
What would a woman think of a man who couldn't even be bothered to meet his future wife?
> "If you want it so desperately, I will give you what you desire."
> "Have you forgotten your duty?"
> "Whether you like it or not is for me to decide."
Words worse than curses. Spoken to a woman who trembled at his slightest touch.
What could she possibly feel in a situation where not the smallest resistance was permitted?
And her description of herself as worthless merchandise, sold to the highest bidder—that was nothing more than the concentrated essence of the countless, unbearably painful emotions she must have endured all this time.
Without realizing what he was doing, Calix reached out and cupped her tear-streaked cheeks in his palms. Thin streams of moisture traced paths from beneath her closed lids.
"Asella." Those typically indifferent eyes had grown infinitely warm. But she couldn't see it.
He searched for words that might comfort her. Something to ease her pain.
_It doesn't take many words to fix everything. Just the right ones._
Those exact ones.
But they were so difficult to speak aloud.
"You're my wife." He watched her lashes flutter. "You're my wife. And that will not change. No matter what happens."
He gazed at her tear-stained face in silence. And waited.
Finally, her swollen eyes opened. For just an instant, a strange sensation pierced his chest. He felt... upset. As though someone had stuffed his throat with wool.
"Everything is fine." The words came out hoarse, almost involuntary.
"Really?" She seemed dazed. Clearly she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to speak.
He didn't rush her. He simply waited.
At last, her lips parted.
"I ask only one thing. My sister..."
The words were unexpected. Before Calix could process them, Asella seized his hand.
He froze.
His wife had never been this forward.
"I'm all right... It doesn't matter what happens to me... But *please*—I beg you—at least save Mariel." Her voice cracked with desperation. "It's possible! All it requires is a little effort from Your Highness. *Please*..."
She choked on tears, speaking incoherently, almost deliriously—but with such raw sincerity that Calix understood immediately.
_She still doesn't know that Mariel is no longer Charts, but Loktrin._
He had deliberately withheld that information, anticipating exactly this moment. His wife needed to understand that only by relying on him could she ensure her younger sister's safety. That was why he had instructed Margot to deliver the news of the Charts family's destruction shortly before his return—so Asella would have time to think and properly assess her situation.
He had hoped she would realize the truth: the only person capable of saving her beloved sister was her husband.
But this woman's thoughts had traveled much further than he'd anticipated. Upon learning that Calix Benvito had personally destroyed her estate and slaughtered her entire family, she had clearly interpreted it as betrayal.
That was why she had suddenly become so open. She had almost certainly concluded that her own death was imminent.
This terrible misunderstanding, however, had allowed him to glimpse into his wife's heart.
Calix's gaze traveled from the slender fingers clutching his wrist to her desperate, tear-ravaged face. Her expression held nothing but anguish now.
He had never wanted to push her this far. He had never intended to break her like this. Somewhere deep within, that strange, unfamiliar feeling stirred again—a sensation he experienced so rarely, and only with Asella. He had never felt anything like it with anyone else.
"If you save Mariel, I will do *whatever* Your Highness wishes!"
"You don't have to do anything." He brushed tangled silver strands from her face with careful fingers. "There's no need. Because nothing will happen to your sister."
"...?"
"So stop crying." Calix drew her closer.
Asella blinked, momentarily stunned. She didn't know what to say. How to react.
He waited patiently for comprehension to dawn.
*In truth...*
When Calix had intercepted her letter warning Philip, his fury had been boundless. He had sworn to himself that he would never allow her a moment's freedom again. If necessary, he had even considered base blackmail—leveraging her younger sister's safety as Marielle Loktrin.
But the moment he saw his wife again, his resolve had crumbled.
And now...
"Come here." He opened his arms.
Asella finally understood what he was waiting for. She hesitated—just for a heartbeat—as though making a decision. Then she moved forward and fell into his embrace.
Calix exhaled with quiet satisfaction. He wrapped his arms around her carefully, savoring the gentle pressure of her soft, warm body against his chest. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in its sweet fragrance. Then his hand traced slow, soothing circles across her fragile back.
Asella, who had initially hidden her face against him, slowly lifted her head to meet his eyes.
"You promise?" The words came out broken, desperate. Then, as though she couldn't quite believe it, she brought her face closer to his. "You're truly going to save Mariel?"
"Everything will be fine." His voice emerged rough, barely above a whisper.
Perhaps from the very first moment his wife had taken Calix's hand, this strange addiction had begun to form.
Every time she touched him, he found himself wanting to grant whatever she asked. He recognized how irrational her pleas sometimes were. At times, this peculiar obsession—the nature of which he could not comprehend—genuinely alarmed him.
But he couldn't help himself.
Here. Now.
Every instinct screamed danger. His ancient blood whispered constant warnings.
But the touch of her fingertips was so impossibly sweet that his mind melted like **wax**, dissolving completely in sensations he could become addicted to.
Just once.
"I will do whatever you want."
And so there was nothing to do but surrender helplessly to this feeling.