Asella's eyes widened in shock.
But a moment later, that shock twisted into something far worse—pure, undiluted horror.
"What... what did you do to them?"
"I haven't decided yet." Calix paused, tilting his head as if genuinely considering the question. Then a wry, dangerous smile curved his lips. "I could take your opinion into account when determining their fate. So? How should I punish them?"
He inclined his head slightly, and a few strands of jet-black hair fell across his crimson eyes. His gaze never left her face.
"But they... they're not guilty of anything!"
"You think so?"
"I planned everything myself!" The words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "None of them helped me. I did it all alone—*I* escaped, not them!"
"Really?" His tone was almost conversational. Almost pleasant. "And what exactly were the maids and guards doing while you walked out of my castle? Is there any point in sparing the lives of servants who so thoroughly neglect their duties?"
His answer told her everything she needed to know.
*These people cannot be saved.*
A bone-deep chill enveloped Asella's entire body.
"Come here," Calix ordered suddenly—but not to her.
One of the mannequin-maids walked forward with mechanical precision, her movements eerily smooth and inhuman. She handed him a stack of documents, executed a flawless bow as etiquette demanded, and stepped aside. No emotion flickered across her face—it was less a face than a beautiful, lifeless mask. The other figures remained utterly motionless, frozen like wax sculptures.
The sight was so disturbing that Asella had to look away.
"Are you curious about what I intend to do with your little sister?"
When Asella forced herself to look back at him, Calix had already opened the documents. The first thing that caught her eye was the unmistakable crimson wax of the imperial seal. Then came the bold, formal script.
*Title registration?*
With trembling hands, she seized the document he extended toward her.
> *Mariel Loctrin is hereby recognized as the sole legal heir to all real estate, titles, and holdings of the Loctrin family...*
Asella couldn't believe what she was reading. She stared at the lines again. And again. The words seemed to dance and blur before her eyes.
"What is this?" Her voice emerged as barely more than a whisper. "What does this mean?"
"Exactly what you see." Calix met her gaze with unsettling intensity. "Mariel Loctrin is now the official heir to the Loctrin legacy. All formalities have been observed." He pointed to a blank line at the bottom of the page. "The document will take effect the moment you give your consent and become her legal guardian."
Asella's mind reeled.
*If everything is as he says...*
Mariel would escape the lifelong stigma of a traitor's blood. No one could seize her and drag her to the capital for execution. There would be no need to hide, no need to spend her life running and looking over her shoulder.
A fragile ray of hope kindled in Asella's chest.
"But there is one condition."
"Condition?"
Calix placed another document before her—this one also bearing the heavy imperial seal. Asella's eyes darted anxiously across the text.
> *The Benvito family shall bear full responsibility for Mariel Loctrin until she reaches the age of majority. However, should Asella Benvito attempt to flee her husband or cause harm to herself...*
Asella bit her lip, her mind racing.
Such a contract was nothing more than a threat wrapped in legal language. If she violated its terms—if she tried to escape, if she so much as *considered* harming herself—Mariel would not be left alone. The document essentially transformed her love for her sister into a leash. The lowest form of blackmail, designed to crush any thought of resistance before it could take root.
"If you accept these terms, Mariel will become the rightful owner of the Loctrin title and fortune." Calix's voice was smooth, almost gentle.
He raised his hand and carefully tucked a stray lock of silver hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered at her temple, then traced slowly downward.
"It all depends on you," he murmured. His thumb brushed across her lower lip—soft, deliberate, possessive. "These are quite favorable conditions. Wouldn't you agree?"
Asella shuddered but forced herself to meet his eyes.
"If you promise never to do anything like *that* again," he continued, "and if you agree to be a good wife... I will leave all those people unharmed. And Mariel Loctrin will remain safe. Naturally."
"You think I'll believe you?" The words escaped before she could stop them. "That's not enough."
"You still doubt me?"
"Even if Mariel escapes execution, that doesn't mean she'll be safe from *you*." Asella's voice hardened with desperate conviction. "You could harm her at any time. Whenever you wished."
Calix clicked his tongue—a sound of genuine disappointment.
"I've told you before. More than once." His tone grew sharper, edged with frustration. "I did not kill your mother. The mark on that button is the brand of the Emperor's dogs."
"I still cannot trust you." Her voice dropped to a near-whisper. "It's impossible."
"But *why*?" He leaned closer, his crimson eyes burning. "What makes you so certain that I'm your mother's killer?"
"Because she told me your name herself."
The words hung in the air like a blade.
Asella's emotions surged, her voice rising despite her efforts to control it. She took several deep, shaking breaths before continuing:
"Before my mother died in my arms, she gave me that button. She warned me to be careful. And I know—" Her voice cracked. "—I *know* that symbol represents Karma."
"But Karma has no symbol—"
"So it's true, then?" Asella cut him off, her eyes blazing. "Your Highness truly does command the Karma?"
Calix froze.
Realizing his mistake too late, he rubbed his forehead in frustration.
"I don't know where you obtained this information. But Karma had nothing to do with your mother's death. If only because I had no reason whatsoever to kill Adele."
Silence.
She pressed her lips tightly together—a gesture he had seen before, more than once. The only difference was that this time she wasn't clutching a shard of glass or preparing to throw herself from a window.
Calix studied his wife for a long moment. Then, slowly, he rose from his seat.
"Let's leave this discussion for tomorrow. You need to calm yourself and think carefully."
Before Asella could respond, he slipped one arm beneath her back and lifted her effortlessly into his arms.
Her head snapped backward. Her legs shot up. The walls and ceiling seemed to spin and invert around her. Instinctively, she grabbed the collar of his shirt, fighting for balance.
"Please put me down."
"I'm only carrying you to the bed. So behave yourself."
"But I can walk—"
"Ha!" A cold laugh escaped him. "This from a woman who can barely stand upright?"
Ignoring her feeble attempts to free herself, he crossed the vast room with measured steps and placed her carefully on the edge of the enormous bed.
"You simply need more rest." His voice softened—almost tender, almost human. "If you need anything, tell the attendants."
"Wait!"
The word burst from her before she could reconsider.
Asella glanced at the motionless mannequin-maids, their blank faces eternally pleasant and eternally empty. Then she turned her gaze back to Calix.
"I'll accept your offer." She forced the words out. "Just please—*please*—let me out of this place."
"No."
His answer was immediate. Absolute. It was clear he would not entertain discussion.
"Then at least tell me where I am."
"You don't need to know that."
"You expect me to remain locked away for the rest of my life..." Her voice trembled, tears audible in every syllable. "...in a place I know nothing about?"
This magnificent space—these dazzling walls, this breathtaking splendor—held no warmth. No presence of life. Even the maids were mere semblances of humanity, beautiful shells without souls. The only living being in this entire place was Asella herself.
*To remain here alone for the rest of my life...*
In a room where no window could be opened. Where no door existed.
The full horror of her situation crashed over her like a wave, and fresh tears of despair spilled down her cheeks.
Looking into her frozen, hopeless eyes, Calix felt something unexpected stir within him.
*Disappointment.*
"I cannot bear this," he murmured.
He knelt before her bed—this powerful, terrifying man lowering himself to her level. His large hands rose to cup both her cheeks, cradling her face as though it were made of spun glass.
"You have *me*." His thumbs traced gentle arcs across her tear-stained skin. "I will visit you every day. So you have nothing to fear. Simply wait for me here."
Asella's body went rigid. She couldn't comprehend what he was saying.
"You will grow accustomed to me in time." His voice was soft, hypnotic, terrifying. "If you see me every day... hear my voice... feel my hands upon you... eventually, you won't need anyone else."
The blood drained from Asella's lips as understanding finally dawned.
She had become nothing more than the prey of this man's obsessive desires.
It was as though she were being drawn into a hungry, insatiable swamp. The more she struggled to escape, the deeper she would sink.
If everything unfolded as he wished, she would truly be trapped in this beautiful, lifeless prison forever.
She shook her head violently.
"Please let me out of here." Her voice rose toward hysteria. "I'll never run away again—I swear it. I won't do anything like last time. I promise—"
"Asella." He cut her off, his tone flat. "I told you. I cannot do this."
A strange, dark melancholy flickered in his eyes.
"But *why*?" She was begging now, dignity abandoned. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Do you truly not understand?"
Asella's shoulders shook as he answered her question with a question. Then his eyes narrowed, and a dangerous smile spread across his face.
"My wife deceived me." The words were almost gentle. "And then she ran away."
"What—"
"I do not make the same mistake twice."
Asella's voice died in her throat.
His eyes now burned with a heavy, predatory light—the gaze of a hunter who had finally cornered his quarry.
"Especially," he added softly, "*when it concerns betrayal.*"
In that moment, Asella understood with terrible clarity: no matter how desperately she begged, no matter what she promised, this man would never release her.
Despair crashed down upon her like a physical weight, crushing the breath from her lungs. Her mind went utterly blank.
*Calm yourself, Asella. Calm yourself.*
*This isn't over. Not yet.*
*Perhaps not now—but you will find your chance.*
She forced herself to breathe. To think. To *survive*.
"Then please..." Her voice emerged quiet and steady—surprising even herself. "At least allow me to see Mariel every day. And release my maids and guards."
Calix stared at her, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden composure. But he recovered quickly.
"Fine. They will be released." He paused. "And I will permit you to see your sister once a month."
"A month is too long!" Asella's calm cracked. "How am I supposed to know she's safe? How can I trust—"
"Lady Margot will care for your sister personally."
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