No one came looking for Cyrene today. In an unfamiliar and peaceful day, she peeked through the curtains at the world outside.

She wanted to see Ilion.

But she didn’t have the courage to approach the iron bars again. She had been seen countless times in the arms of other men. So why did it bother her that she had been caught giving Areos a bl*wjob? Cyrene tilted her head in puzzlement.

Time passed without her doing anything. She wandered slowly through the corridors of the Crown Prince’s palace like she used to in the past. Sometimes she lazed around in her room, sprawling on the sofa. Yet, for some reason, an inexplicable unease lingered. Cyrene let out a sigh and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“His Highness has summoned you.”

“…His Highness?”

It was already nearing evening. If he was calling her at this hour, there could only be one reason. Cyrene shrugged her shoulders and made her way to his office.

“Your Highness.”

When she opened the door and stepped inside, a man who seemed strangely familiar was standing in front of Areos.

Ah.

Cyrene swallowed hard. She didn’t know his name or rank, but she had had s*x with him several times. She vividly remembered him obsessively touching every inch of her body and rubbing his p*nis against her face and br*ast.

The glint of emotion in the man’s gray eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

“Your Highness, are you certain this is acceptable?”

“Yes.”

She instinctively took a step back. Her body warned her repeatedly, screaming that this was not a good situation. Yet all she could do was keep her mouth shut.

“Cyrene, this is the man who will be your master from now on.”

“…What?”

For a moment, she couldn’t comprehend what was being said. Her dazed response prompted Areos to make a subtle expression—a blend of satisfaction and irritation, an inscrutable look.

“W-what do you mean?”

“It means that I am no longer your master.”

The man stepped forward. His hand grabbed her elbow, and Cyrene twisted violently, as though having a seizure, trying to shake him off.

“Your Highness!”

She ran to Areos, clutching his clothes tightly.

“Y-you’re not abandoning me, are you?”

“No, I’m not abandoning you. I’ve decided to hand you over to Count Katara.”

Hand her over. She needed a long moment to process the meaning of those words. Cyrene instinctively moved further away from Count Katara, who approached her with a thin smile.

She was leaving Areos’s hands and falling into that man’s. Her dazed mind slowly began to comprehend what he meant. Not a single part of her believed this was a good thing.

The emotion flickering in Count Katara’s grey eyes alone sent a shiver down her spine, her body covered in goosebumps. It was a different kind of fear than the one Areos had inspired. Count Katara really wanted to break her – somehow, some way.

“Y-Your Highness, why are you doing this?”

She clung tightly to the Crown Prince’s sleeve, pulling at it desperately.

“I was wrong.”

She had no idea what she had done wrong, yet she begged all the same. Areos glanced down at her, his indifference cutting deep as he coldly brushed her hand aside.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness. I was wrong.”

Her entire body shook as Cyrene clung desperately to his clothes, grasping them with all her strength. She fell to her knees, clutching the hem of his trousers as if her life depended on it. But the Crown Prince didn’t spare her a glance.

The terror of truly being handed over to that man made her body quake uncontrollably.

If she left this place… what would happen to her?

She had spent her entire life inside these walls. She had never stepped out on her own, never known anyone beyond these confines. And if she were to leave, how would she ever see Ilion again?

Cyrene’s lips trembled violently. Count Katara, with a displeased look on his face, grabbed her arm and pulled it roughly.

“Can’t you stop this nonsense?”

“Your Highness, Your Highness… I’m sorry. I’ll do better. I promise I’ll never do it again.”

Desperately, Cyrene wrapped her arms around Areos’s leg, sobbing as she pleaded with him. He let out a soft chuckle and leaned down, lifting her chin with his hand.

Her face was drenched, tears streaming ceaselessly down her cheeks.

“Your Highness, Your Highness… I was wrong. Please don’t abandon me. Your Highness.”

She cried out, repeating her apologies over and over. Clinging tightly to his solid leg, she struggled to shake off Count Katara’s grip as he tried to pull her away.

Areos wiped her tear-soaked cheek with his thumb, but it was quickly wet again as fresh tears flowed.

“I’m just tired of you.”

Cyrene’s lips parted in stunned silence.

The gentle touch of his hand starkly contrasted with the razor-sharp words that pierced her ears.

“That’s why you irritate me.”

“Y-Your Highness.”

“You should consider it a great mercy that I’m not killing you, Cyrene.”

Did that mean he was tempted to kill her out of boredom? She couldn’t say which was worse – death or being handed over to another man.

Cyrene twisted desperately. She tried to escape the Count’s hand, which was pulling on her arm so hard that it hurt.

“I’ll do better, Your Highness. I’ll make sure I don’t irritate you. I won’t bore you anymore. Please, don’t abandon me. Please…”

Tears dripped down, her words trembling as she edged closer to Areos on her knees. Pressing her cheek against his leg, she begged and begged again.

“Your Highness. Your Highness…”

Her breath hitched painfully in her chest, leaving her gasping as she pleaded desperately. She repeated the same words over and over—she was sorry, she begged for forgiveness, she promised to do anything he wanted.

The thought of leaving Areos, her god, her master, her world, filled her with terror. Whether her life under him had been good or bad, she didn’t know. The memories of living a life that didn’t belong to the Crown Prince were too distant and brief to grasp.

Whatever life Areos had given her, Cyrene had already grown accustomed to it. Following Count Katara might turn out to be better, but she didn’t want to. The man’s gleaming eyes held too much of something sinister, making the idea of taking that risk unbearable.

“Your Highness… please…”

“You should listen well to your new master.”

Areos spoke coldly, shaking her off with a motion that felt as brutal as a kick. Cyrene stumbled backward, collapsing onto the ground. Almost as if anticipating this, Count Katara stepped forward and seized her without hesitation.

“Let me go! Your Highness, please save me! I was wrong! Your Highness!”

“You speak as if Count Katara is going to kill you.”

Areos said with a dry chuckle.

“She’s far too valuable to kill, wouldn’t you agree?”

Count Katara replied, smirking as he tightened his grip around Cyrene’s waist.

“Your Highness… Your Highness…”

Her voice, hoarse from crying, barely escaped her lips. Whether it was from sheer exhaustion or the realization that no words could change Areos’s decision, her mind felt hazy. Cyrene gasped for breath, using the last of her strength to struggle against the Count’s grip.

“Let me go… please…”

Her chest heaved as though she could no longer breathe. She stared at Areos with tear-filled eyes until the very end, but he didn’t so much as flick an eyebrow in response.

“Your Highness, no… I don’t want this…”

She gasped out protests, her voice weak and faltering as her strength drained away, her struggles gradually ceasing. Just as her body was about to give out completely, her feet barely grazed the ground before her head was jerked sharply to the side.

The sharp sound of a slap echoed in her ears a moment later.

“You need to understand who your master is now.”

Count Katara said coldly.

Cyrene stared blankly at the floor, her head still turned from the force of the blow. Her lips quivered as an uneasy silence filled the room. She couldn’t even muster the will to lift her head or move her trembling body.

“Y-Your Highness… Your Highness.”

Her entire body screamed that she couldn’t go with him. Cyrene collapsed to the floor at Areos’s feet, clutching desperately at the hem of his pants.

“Your Highness, I was wrong. Please… please…”

The faintest trace of irritation flickered in his gaze as he looked down at her. His dark brows twitched slightly.

“Take her away.”

With those brief words, his foot ruthlessly pushed her aside. Cyrene tumbled backward again, but as she tried to crawl toward him once more, the Count clicked his tongue in annoyance and picked her up as if she were nothing more than a piece of luggage.

“Your Highness, let me go… please… Your Highness…”

No matter how fiercely she fought, nothing changed. Areos had cast her aside, and now Count Katara stood before her—the man who had become her new god and master.

A sob escaped her lips, raw and trembling.

“Hh-hhk…”

She felt herself thrown somewhere and lifted her head to find herself inside a carriage. Dark curtains were drawn, enveloping the space in almost complete darkness, save for the flickering glow of a single, unsteady lamp.

Cyrene glanced quickly at the Count sitting across from her and instinctively reached out. As soon as her hand touched the carriage door handle, a harsh smack echoed.

“…It seems His Highness has become rather soft.”