Chapter 25
His declaration that he would turn me into a beast.
Even the resistance I had mustered with all my might was merely art to him.
The collar tightened around my neck.
The strange sensation of it constricting my neck.
The metallic sound of the collar's lock clicking shut echoed through the room.
The chain wound around his wrist.
Once, then twice, around the halfway point.
It was secured firmly.
I stared at it with an empty gaze.
I couldn't move.
I was now physically connected to him.
Now we were less than four meters apart.
The radius of my movement, limited to whatever he allowed.
Everything was over.
My escape plan, Mary's help, and my pride as a human being.
My body, slumped on the wet floor, felt repulsive.
The brand on my collarbone throbbed in time with my pulse.
The weight of the collar pressed down on my neck every time I breathed.
The smell of urine beneath me stung my nose.
My hands trembled with shame, but that lasted only a moment.
It felt as though my shame and embarrassment had all burned away along with my trampled pride.
His voice, lost in ecstasy, lingered in my ears.
He turned even my pain, humiliation, and resistance into materials for his art.
No.
No.
I couldn't let it end like this.
There was no way I could forget.
There was no way I could give up.
The reason I had come to this hell.
The faces of those who had made me like this.
I felt the touch of cold metal beneath my fingertips as they pressed against the floor.
The ring on my middle finger.
The warmth it had held when Father handed it to me was gone, and it had grown cold as a corpse.
My father's voice apologizing to me struck my ears.
The sensation of Noah's hot blood soaking my face.
The last words of his that I never heard.
Kyle, who had killed Noah and captured me.
Marquis Beaufort, who had ordered all this and personally cast me into this hell.
Everything warm had disappeared.
All that remained for me now was a chill that seemed to penetrate to the marrow of my bones.
Something stirred within my hollow chest.
The ember buried in the ashes began to burn.
I couldn't abandon my revenge against them over such paltry humiliation.
I couldn't collapse like this, live and die as this madman's pet dog.
A cold, piercing hatred began to burn, feeding on the ashes.
I slowly raised my head.
My tear-streaked face twitched.
My lips curled upward.
Like a beast baring its fangs in warning.
I looked straight at Kaelan without flinching.
My empty navy-blue eyes traced the chain from my neck, up his body, until they took in Kaelan's satisfied face.
I looked straight at him as I had looked at an enemy on the battlefield.
‘Yes…Kaelan. I’ll do exactly as you want.’
I would wag my tail and bark as eagerly as you wanted.
I would resist with all my strength, then, at the very end, let you hear the melody you wanted.
But remember this.
Every beast has fangs.
I imagined the moment when Kaelan's eyes would go dark.
Flowing blood.
A crumpling body.
And I would ride that river of blood out, tear out Kyle's heart, and break Beaufort's neck.
Your hand gripping the leash.
You are holding the leash of a starving beast.
Family.
Friends.
Freedom.
Pride.
A beast stripped of everything, with nothing left to lose.
The most dangerous kind of beast.
I would use every humiliation as food to sharpen my fangs.
Until the moment you were most off guard.
And then.
I would bite your throat out.
My body was still aware of the damp floor and urine stench, along with the pain in my collarbone.
The weight of the collar pressing against my neck had not lightened in the slightest.
But all those unpleasant sensations sharpened my mind even further.
As though every nerve had become taut and razor-sharp in an extreme situation.
From where I stood, I could see pleasure gradually building in his eyes.
They were like his eyes when we had faced each other on the battlefield, but far fuller now.
My fiercely burning eyes were reflected in his.
In an instant, every expression vanished from his face.
As though he were seeing something for the first time—or had found something he had been waiting for—his navy-blue eyes trembled faintly.
_______
Kaelan's breath caught.
Ella's eyes.
Those beautiful navy-blue eyes.
Something was burning in those navy-blue eyes that had been clouded by shame and despair only moments before.
A flame.
No. It was different from a flame.
Unlike a flame, it did not waver.
A cold blade, honed razor-sharp and aimed at him.
His heart began pounding frantically.
“Ah.”
An admiring exclamation escaped his lips.
Perfect.
Killing intent that had not broken, even after being driven to the very bottom.
Beautiful.
His hand trembled, and the wrist gripping the chain tensed.
Ella no longer avoided his eyes.
She neither turned her head away nor lowered her gaze, but looked straight at him.
Eyes filled with nothing but killing intent.
A resolve to kill him without fail.
He wanted to see more of that look, that killing intent.
His breathing grew rough.
This was it.
The melody he had wanted.
At the thought that she would show him a melody even more beautiful than this, his heart felt as though it might burst.
“Yes, those eyes. Burn brighter. A flame that burns hottest when it has fallen to the very bottom. That fierce vitality bursting forth for the last time just before it turns to ash. That is the melody I wanted to hear.”
He couldn't simply continue admiring her.
He had to prepare to make the things he wanted to do a reality.
This room was far too small to train her in.
But outside the room, the Count's dogs roamed.
He didn't want them to see Ella.
He immediately began walking toward the table.
This south wing was his domain.
Though this effectively shut him off from the Count, it made no difference to him.
‘I’ll fill this south wing only with newcomers untouched by the Count’s influence.’
He picked up a pen and wrote down the names he remembered on paper.
A list of the audience who would view his work.
They would make the melody even more beautiful.
_____
Kaelan suddenly began walking toward the table.
Only about two meters of the chain remained between us.
The chain grew taut and strangled my neck.
“Ugh…”
But I didn't move a single step.
I would never submit to him.
I would resist to the very end, then be broken at last.
My body couldn't withstand Kaelan's strength, and I lost my balance.
I fell helplessly, face-first, onto the floor.
My legs rolled through the puddle, and my body scraped across the floor.
The floor stuck unpleasantly to my sweat-damp cheek.
I lacked the strength to raise my head, but my eyes never lost track of his movements.
The sound of something scratching across paper.
The sound of a sheet of paper turning.
Kaelan was writing something.
A knock, followed by the sound of the door opening.
Footsteps entered the room.
It was Mary.
I could feel her gaze directed at me, but I stared only at the floor.
I couldn't bring myself to look at her face.
“Mary. Deliver this list to Muen. These are the servants permitted to enter the south wing from today onward. Tell him to bar everyone else from entering.”
Mary's legs appeared at the edge of my vision.
They were trembling.
“Ah. And bring a cloth to wipe the floor, too. The dog I keep hasn't been house-trained yet, so it had an accident.”
Dog.
Mary's foot flinched at the word.
“And from today onward, I’ll have my meals in this room, so bring two portions each time.”
“Y-yes…yes!”
Mary's trembling voice was the last thing I heard before her footsteps faded.
Silence settled over the room once more.
“Ngh!”
The chain was suddenly yanked.
The chain tightened around my neck, cutting off my breath.
I planted my hands against the floor to resist.
But they slipped with humiliating ease.
As my body scraped across the cold floor, I was dragged beside the chair where he sat.
The toe of Kaelan's shoe entered my view.
His hand descended slowly before me and began gently scratching my chin.
“Hmm… I suppose we should start with house-training. You mustn't have accidents just anywhere.”
House-training.
The word lodged itself in my mind.
The hand scratching my chin.
The satisfied smile.
I could tell this meant more than its literal meaning, but I couldn't fathom what he intended.
Was he simply teaching me how to relieve myself?
Who would teach livestock to relieve itself?
But I knew one thing: whatever act he intended to make me perform would be cruel.
Would he make me relieve myself only at set times, and only in front of him?
Or was he trying to make me defecate only in a designated place?
Was he saying I wouldn't even be allowed to use the bathroom without his permission?
It felt as though my blood were turning cold.
His intention to strip me of even the last shred of human dignity was unmistakable.
But I had already made my decision.
I would never stop using every humiliation as food to sharpen my fangs.
Until the day I bit his throat out.