Chapter 15.11

Clang.  

As Livie extended her leg toward the Duke, she felt a heavy weight pull it back down. She looked down and froze.  

“…”  

Around her slender ankle was a heavy iron shackle, connected to a thick chain.  

The Duke of Resette smiled even more deeply as he watched her horrified expression.  

“Well? Do you like it?”  

“What… what is this? Let me go! Boris… Boris…”  

Livie frantically reached for the shackle, struggling to free herself. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t break free.  

“Oh dear, if you keep struggling like that, you’ll hurt your delicate skin. You’re a precious commodity, you know. I can’t have my possessions damaged. My collection must always remain in pristine condition.”  

“What are you talking about?”  

Livie frowned at the Duke, who was spouting nonsense.  

“You belong to me.”

The Duke of Resette bared his yellowed teeth as he grinned.  

“You’ve been sold to me. In exchange for transferring your ownership rights to me, I handed over several of my castles. So, you must fulfill your worth.”

“Who gave you the right… to buy and sell me?”  

Livie let out a disbelieving laugh at the absurdity of his words.  

“The King himself. Look here, can’t you see the royal seal?”  

The Duke of Resette pulled out a document and waved it in front of Livie. The royal crest was unmistakably stamped on it.  

“Now do you believe me? The King has officially recognized me as your owner.”  

“…This is a lie.”  

Livie muttered in disbelief, her mind flashing back to the King’s earlier words.  

“How fortunate that you resemble Elga so closely.”  

“…”  

The Duke of Resette, noticing Livie’s shocked expression, smirked wickedly.  

“What’s wrong? Did something come to mind? Do you finally understand the nature of this transaction?”  

As the Duke spoke with evident delight, Livie’s eyes widened in realization.  

“Boris… Boris.”  

The first thought that came to her mind was Boris’s face and name.  

“Are you looking for your husband? He’s probably locked away deep in the underground prison by now.”  

“What did you say?”  

Livie’s hands, which had been desperately clawing at the shackles until her nails were worn, froze in place.  

“Being a monster, it seems he wouldn’t fall asleep easily with just the usual dose. But for his beloved wife, he’d even swallow poison. Tsk, such devoted love.”

“What… what did you do to Boris?”  

“Oh, there’s no need to get so angry. Your husband is being kept safe, without so much as a scratch. That was part of the deal, after all.”  

“Part of the deal?”  

“I get this white bird, and the King gets that man. Oh, and I also handed over a few of the castles we recently conquered. You’ve been sold to me.”  

“…What?”  

Livie couldn’t believe her ears. She couldn’t comprehend the words she had just heard.  

“What does the King desire?”

“The thing he’s coveted for a long time. Kalini, the legendary crow.”

A chilling fear swept over Livie, as if her entire body had frozen solid.  

“No, Boris, Boris isn’t……”

“I thought I’d get to see those wings this time, but it seems that’s not going to happen. How does one pluck those wings, hmm?”  

The Duke of Resette licked his lips as he drew closer to Livie, gripping her face and tilting it upward.  

“Tell me, how can I see those wings…?”  

“Ugh!”  

Livie bit down hard on the Duke’s hand, causing him to throw her aside in fury. As she wiped the blood from her lips, the Duke’s expression darkened, his bloodied hand trembling in anger.  

“You insolent little…”  

His gaze turned cold and menacing. The lecherous glint in his eyes gave way to a deranged madness.  

“You wicked wench. I was going to be kind to you in your mother’s stead, and you dare bite your master?”  

With a slap, Livie’s head snapped to the side. Her vision blurred from the sharp pain, but she gritted her teeth and endured it.  

“Oh? Still keeping quiet, are you?”  

The Duke’s rough hand closed around Livie’s neck.  

“You’re not… my master. Let go of me… this…”  

As if daring her to resist further, his grip on her neck tightened.  

“Kugh… kuh…”  

Livie gasped for air, her hands clawing at his to no avail.  

“Yes, this is much better. You’re more suited to crying than talking.”  

The Duke’s eyes gleamed with twisted satisfaction.  

“Argh!”  

Livie reached down and clawed at the Duke’s groin, causing him to collapse onto the bed, clutching himself in agony.  

Thud.  

Without hesitation, Livie kicked him again, her foot finding its mark. The Duke’s scream echoed through the room as Livie slid off the bed.  

Clang.  

The heavy shackle around her ankle dragged along the floor. Walking was nearly impossible, but Livie pulled herself forward, dragging her leg toward the door.  

Her escape was short-lived. Before she could take more than a few steps, the door burst open, and armed knights seized her, forcing her to her knees.  

“Let me go, you perverted bastard! If even a single hair on Boris’s head is harmed, I won’t forgive you!”  

Livie screamed at the Duke, who was still writhing in pain.  

“Shut that woman’s… mouth.”  

At the Duke’s command, one of the knights stepped forward. Moments later, darkness enveloped Livie’s vision.  

The blow to the back of her head left her struggling to remain conscious. She fought to keep her eyes open, but her eyelids grew heavier and heavier.  

“Boris…”  

Even as she slipped into unconsciousness, Livie’s thoughts were consumed by him. Boris, Boris. She repeated his name endlessly, praying for his safety.  

***

Drip, drip.  

The sound of water falling woke Boris from his stupor.  

“…”  

What he had thought was water turned out to be blood—his own blood.  

It trickled from the gash on his head, darkening his raven-black hair even further.  

Creak.  

The sound of a door opening reached his ears, followed by the steady approach of footsteps.  

Each step sent a jolt through Boris’s already heightened senses. He could hear better than most, see farther, and even smell things others couldn’t.  

This was second nature to him.  

What wasn’t natural was his current predicament.  

Boris looked down at his arms and legs. Both were bound in shackles.  

The chains connected to the shackles stretched across the floor, and a heavy iron ball, the size of a child’s head, was attached to his ankle.  

Escape was impossible in this state.  

“…”  

Boris raised his head slightly, his gaze fixed on the high window. Beyond the iron bars, the white moon hung in the night sky.  

Blood pooled in his eyes, casting a crimson tint over the moon. Normally white, it reminded him of the rose crown he had placed on Livie’s head.  

The moon had shifted significantly westward since he first noticed it, indicating that quite some time had passed.  

Clomp, clomp.  

The approaching footsteps grew louder, stopping directly in front of him. Boris didn’t need to look up to know who it was.  

The owner of the footsteps stood still for a moment before speaking.  

“Even a monster bleeds red, it seems.”  

The voice was laced with disdain.  

“I thought your blood would be as dark as your filthy hair.”  

The man’s tone grew sharper as his boots brushed against the pool of blood on the floor.  

“A monster is still a monster. Just because your blood is red doesn’t mean you can pretend to be human. It’s revolting.”  

Despite the scathing words, Boris remained unresponsive. Whether he was a monster or a man had never mattered to him.  

What mattered was…  

“Where is Livie?”  

The question escaped his lips, short and direct.  

The man laughed.  

“Even a monster cares for his wife. How touching.”  

The laughter abruptly stopped.  

“Oh, she’s safe, of course. She’s my niece, after all. Do you think I’d harm her?”  

At those words, Boris slowly lifted his head. Through his bloodied vision, he saw King Andros standing before him.  

“She’s in a safe place, untouched. She’ll live there, cherished and loved. I guarantee it.”  

“…Where is she?”  

Boris’s voice dropped, cold and menacing.  

“Do you want her to be happy? Then forget her. It’s for the best… Beast.”  

King Andros clapped his hands, and a guard stepped forward, presenting him with an object.  

It was a whip, made of black leather, with sharp iron spikes at its tip—more a weapon than a tool of t*rture.  

Testing its strength, the King pulled the whip taut and examined the spikes, ensuring they were sharp enough to tear flesh.  

Even knowing what was coming, Boris didn’t react.  

During his time in captivity, he had wished for only one thing: Livie’s safety.  

For that, he would endure anything—even being thrown into a pit of fire. A whip like this was nothing.  

Snap.  

The whip lashed out, striking Boris squarely across the chest.  

Splat.  

The spikes tore into his flesh, leaving a bloody trail.  

“What a beautiful sight.” 

King Andros murmured, admiring his handiwork.  

Snap.  

Another lash landed, crossing the first wound. Blood dripped onto the floor as the King’s face twisted into a satisfied grin.  

“This monster doesn’t even flinch.”  

Snap, snap, snap.  

The King swung the whip repeatedly.