The moment Calix crossed the threshold of his bedchamber, Asella stirred.
She had been deep in exhausted sleep, but something pulled her toward consciousness—perhaps the shift in the air, the warmth of arms holding her, or some instinct honed by years of survival. Her eyelids fluttered. Her stunning silver lashes parted to reveal eyes the color of a winter sky.
Then those blue eyes widened in terror.
She recognized the man carrying her.
A scream tore from her throat. She twisted violently, desperate to break free, her hands pushing against his chest with what little strength remained in her battered body.
"Don't move." Calix's arms tightened around her, iron bands that refused to yield. "We're almost there."
She struggled for a moment longer—writhing, thrashing—but her limbs were weak, her muscles screaming with exhaustion. Finally, she went still. Resigned.
Only then did he lower her carefully onto the bed.
He stepped back. Two paces. Three. And then he simply *looked* at her.
Asella's body went rigid beneath his gaze. Calix read her tension instantly—the nervous trembling of her shoulders, the way her fingers pressed white-knuckled against her thighs.
"Asella Benvito."
She flinched when his quiet voice shattered the bedroom's heavy silence.
*Why is this woman so afraid of me?* The thought surfaced unbidden, tinged with something unfamiliar. *It's as if I'm about to devour her where she sits.*
Calix exhaled slowly, suppressing the strange melancholy that had begun to coil around his heart.
"Why did you run away?"
He tried to keep his voice neutral—tried to conceal whatever peculiar emotion was gnawing at him.
Her small frame trembled more violently now. She seemed to be gathering her strength, summoning courage from some depleted well. Then, apparently unable to bear his gaze any longer, she turned her face away.
Calix wanted to force her to look at him. To seize her chin and drag those blue eyes back to his.
But he decided to be patient. Just a little longer.
"I asked you a question. Why did you run away?"
Slowly—so slowly—she turned her head. Her cracked lips parted as if searching for words, then pressed together again. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely audible:
"...I'm sorry."
"That's not what I want to hear from you." Calix frowned, momentarily thrown off balance. Then he pressed forward with his interrogation.
"Where did your sister go? And why did you hide the fact that she had awakened her powers?"
The moment she realized he knew about Mariel's awakening, something flickered in her eyes—a brief flash of alarm, quickly smothered. But she only pressed her lips tighter together.
*I hope she reached the Temple safely.*
The thought was a lifeline Asella clung to in the darkness of her mind.
*Mariel is a clever girl. She's probably already found Father Roshan.*
Even though Asella herself had been captured again, a small measure of peace settled over her at the thought of her sister's escape. Father Roshan had claimed to be a longtime friend of their mother. He held a position of power within the Church—surely he understood Mariel's situation, understood that she needed protection. If he could help her safely across the Empire's border, Mariel might survive. She might find freedom.
*Unlike me.*
The Grand Duke would never allow a worthless, useless woman like her to remain alive. All Asella could do now was keep silent about Mariel's whereabouts.
Buy time. That was her final gift.
"Asella. I'm asking you a question."
She did not answer. She simply turned away, avoiding his gaze.
"So that's how it is." Calix's brow furrowed, and a strange discomfort spread through his chest—something he couldn't quite name. It felt as though his blood had turned cold in his veins. "You won't even look me in the eye."
"Answer me." His tone hardened, sharpening to ice. "Why did you run away from me? Where is your sister now? And why did you hide the fact that her abilities had awakened?"
Silence.
The bedroom became a tomb—airless, suffocating.
Then Calix's jaw clenched. His teeth ground together audibly. His gaze turned razor-sharp, and he lowered his chin with predatory menace.
"Are you telling me you refuse to answer?"
Still nothing.
His face twisted with barely contained fury. He stepped closer, looming over the bed like a thundercloud about to break.
Asella closed her eyes.
"**Open your eyes.** Immediately."
No response.
"Asella Benvito! **Look at me!**" He was still fighting to suppress his rage—barely.
But Asella only squeezed her eyes tighter shut. She didn't want to see anything. Didn't want to say anything.
*It's over now.*
The truth had crystallized the moment she first considered escape. She had known, even then, that failure meant death. Escaping Calix Benvito was nearly impossible. The fact that Mariel had managed it was nothing short of miraculous.
*She's safe now. That's enough.*
*All I have to do is keep silent.*
Asella knew what lurked in the cellars of castles like this one. She had heard whispers, seen the aftermath. Whatever awaited her would make Philippe's cruelty seem like child's play.
*But I will endure it.*
*For Mariel.*
*Until she crosses the border.*
Terror clawed at her chest. Her body shook uncontrollably as memories of past pain rose like specters. But she forced herself to think of her sister's smile—the way Mariel's face lit up with innocent joy, the warmth in her eyes.
*If I imagine Mariel smiling at me, I can bear anything.*
She would await her fate in silence.
But what she heard next shocked her to her core.
"Fine. So be it." The hateful voice cut through the darkness behind her eyelids. "Raizen!"
Asella's breath caught.
"**Bring the Veraxium.**" Calix's blazing red eyes never left her face.
"Your Highness?" Raizen's voice carried a note of stunned disbelief.
Veraxium.
A rare and devastatingly powerful drug—a true narcotic capable of loosening the tongue of even the most guarded soul. Under its influence, a person would spill every truth they possessed, drop by agonizing drop.
But the ingredients were so rare, the preparation so complex, that many nobles had only heard legends of its existence. They would never hold a vial in their own hands.
Raizen recovered himself and studied his master's face carefully.
"Did I hear you correctly, Your Highness? You intend to use Veraxium... on your *wife*?"
Count Cardon had sensed the shift in atmosphere the moment he entered the room. The woman trembled with terror. His master's gaze had turned to ice.
Raizen's pupils flickered. *What now? Why does everything always go wrong with this woman?*
"Your Highness, Veraxium is—"
"**Immediately.**"
There was no stopping this man now. Raizen bowed his head in reluctant acceptance and departed to fulfill the order.
---
A moment later, a small crystal bottle stood on the table before the prince.
Calix uncorked it and extended it toward Asella.
"**Drink.**"
Something ignited in her tear-filled eyes—a sudden, furious spark.
"I won't drink that."
"I said **drink it.**"
An invisible force closed around the room like a fist. Asella gasped. An overwhelming pressure seized her body, crushing the air from her lungs. It felt as though she were drowning on dry land.
Unable to resist, her trembling hand reached out and took the bottle.
"You only need a few sips."
Her gaze dropped to the vial. The blood-red liquid inside seemed to *squirm*—alive, dangerous, hungry.
*You cannot drink this, Asella.*
The command rang through her mind like a bell.
With every ounce of strength she possessed, she hurled the bottle to the floor.
**Crack.**
Glass shattered. The crimson liquid spread across the stone like a bloody stain, pooling in the cracks between tiles.
"**What are you doing?**" The red eyes blazed with barely contained rage.
Her heart hammered so violently she thought it might burst. But Asella met his gaze with desperate defiance.
"I won't drink it." Her voice was quiet. Perfectly clear.
Calix went still for a single, frozen moment. Then his eyes narrowed—studying her as though she were some unfamiliar, wild creature he had never encountered before.
"You would be wise to drink it willingly while I still offer you the choice." His words dripped with venom. "It will be far more pleasant than having someone *force* it down your throat."
Asella's eyes blazed with fury at the vile threat. Her already pale face turned white as chalk.
"Choose." Calix's voice was cold, final. "Answer honestly. Or take the Veraxium. One or the other."
In that instant, a sharp crack echoed through the room.
His head jerked slightly to the side.
The blow had been weak—nothing more than the desperate strike of an exhausted woman. But the *fact* of it...
"What did you just do?" Calix roughly pushed his hair back into place and turned toward the woman who had dared to raise her hand against him.
It was absurd. Incomprehensible.
But he stopped short the moment he saw her face.
Her eyes—those calm, lake-blue eyes that had always seemed so still—were now ablaze with fury. And something else.
*Tears.*
"How *dare* you threaten me like that?" She stood straight despite the violent trembling of her body, meeting his gaze with fierce, unwavering resolve. "How dare you even *consider* such a thing!"
Calix could never have imagined facing her wrath.
"Why did you run away?" His throat tightened. His voice failed him.
Tears carved rivers down her unnaturally white cheeks.
"Why did I run away?" Her voice cracked. "**Because I hate you!**"
In an instant, Calix's expression transformed—hardening like an ocean seized by sudden storm.
"What?" Her voice rose, trembling with bitter laughter. "Are you going to order me to stop again? To be quiet?"
She hated herself for being helpless. For the life she had been forced to live—constantly groveling, begging forgiveness, pleading for mercy. A life saturated with fear, pain, and longing. An eternal, unbearable longing for something she could never have.
For so many years, she had endured Philippe's beatings and Anthony's insults. The mockery of servants who should have protected her. Countless times, she had thought it would be simpler—*far* less painful—to simply end her own life.
But she had clung to that hopeless existence because of Mariel.
Weak as she was. Useless as she was. She could not abandon her sister. Mariel *needed* her.
*But there is a limit to everything.*
She couldn't hold on any longer. Now she wanted only one thing: for it to end. To finally rest from the endless pain, the anguish, the crushing weight of exhaustion.
Mariel was safe now.
Somehow, that knowledge set her free.
"You were going to kill me from the start." Her voice was hollow, empty of fear. "So what are you waiting for?"
Now she didn't care what happened to her. The fear was gone. The worry had evaporated. Knowing death was inevitable, she wanted to feel *free*—just once—before the end.
"**Because I was afraid of you!**"
There was strange comfort in the thought of death. Afterward, there would be peace. They said there was no sorrow in the afterlife, no pain, no despair. Even lost souls found rest there.
Death would be her salvation.
And yet the tears would not stop. They flowed even when she squeezed her eyes shut—endless rivers carving down her wet cheeks. Despair and resignation warred on her haggard face, impossibly intertwined.
"Why did I run away..." Once she started speaking, she couldn't stop. The dam had burst. Words of resentment poured forth like floodwaters.
"You *bought* me like a thing. You ordered me to live like a *doll*—an instrument for producing your heirs."
"Asella—"
She recoiled with lightning speed the moment he stepped toward her.
"Stay back!"
Sharp glass shards—remnants of the shattered bottle—drove deep into her bare feet. But she didn't even notice.
"**Don't come near me!**"
Her furious scream froze Calix in place.
He had never seen her like this. Never.
She shook her head desperately, silver hair whipping around her.
"I'm not a doll! I have feelings too! I have a *heart*!" She caught her breath, her hand flying to her throat.
Even now, the words came with difficulty. For years, she had been forbidden to speak them—forbidden even to *think* them. Honesty had always been a luxury far beyond her reach.
But now she could finally say it.
Because she had nothing left to lose.
Words she had buried deep in her lonely soul for years—words that had festered there, poisoned by guilt—finally clawed their way to the surface.
"Have you decided to toy with me before you kill me?"
The man's eyes went blank with confusion.
"Isn't the death of your sworn enemies enough for you?" Her voice cracked, raw and bleeding. "Isn't it enough to kill me and my mother? Do you think you'll find pleasure in *amusing* yourself with my fear and despair—your helpless little *thing*?"
Calix stood frozen, his face utterly stunned. He had no idea what she was talking about.
"Asella, what do you mean?" His voice was hoarse. "Explain this to me. I don't understand."
But she didn't want to hear anything anymore.
She had hidden the truth since the day she became the horrified witness to her beloved mother's death. Now that she had finally confessed—to her mother's *killer*, the man she had feared for so long—rational thought had abandoned her completely.
"**You**—!"
Her fingers clawed frantically at her neck, found a thin chain, and in one violent motion she ripped the medallion free and hurled it at Calix's feet.
The medallion's lid cracked on impact. Something small and round rolled across the floor, coming to rest against the toe of his boot.
A button.
Calix's expression shifted—complex emotions flickering across his features—as he recognized the engraving. The pattern. The *symbol*.
"What is this, Asella?" His voice was barely a whisper. "Where did this come from—"
But before he could finish, she screamed directly into his face:
"**You killed my mother!**"
"What—?"
"**You used Karma and murdered my mother!**"
"Ha!" The sound escaped him—a gasp of pure, stunned disbelief. He rubbed his face roughly, as though trying to wake from a nightmare. "Who told you that? Was it Philippe?"
"Does it matter?" Asella's tear-streaked face was a mask of resentment and hatred.
*Impossible.*
He had known Asella was afraid of him. She was always nervous—always uncertain how to react when his expression darkened even slightly. But *this*? This fierce hostility? This was something else entirely.
Unconsciously, his hand rose to press against his chest. His heart had gone cold. Frozen solid.
For the first time in his life, he found himself *feeling* another person's emotions with devastating clarity. Her nervousness. Her anxiety. The strange, deep-rooted fear he had never been able to fully explain.
All of it pierced through him, mixing and churning somewhere in the depths of his being. It was new. Incomprehensible. It shattered his composure completely.
And in his confusion, he lost sight of her resolve.
It happened in an instant.
"I don't care if you kill me." Her voice was eerily calm. "I've been ready for this for a long time."
Asella's hand closed around a large shard of glass.
"**But not Mariel.**"
"**Asella!**" Calix lunged toward her—
But her movements were faster.
Without hesitation, she drove the jagged point of broken glass into her neck.
---