"Alright, alright, I misspoke. Sylas, please don't be angry..." Jade pleaded frantically.
Sylas didn't make a sound, just stared blankly at the braised goose.
After this month, he felt he was that goose. To be sliced however one wished, eaten however one pleased.
He finally understood Isolde's perspective. She never saw him as a person, just a somewhat cute pet.
Since he wasn't human yet acted so aloof, wasn't it natural to humiliate him a little?
If your dog is disobedient, you bring in another, more obedient dog to assert dominance. Was that really cuckoldry?
Seeing him zone out again, Jade thought he had calmed down. She felt deeply guilty towards him.
This was her colleague's child. He used to greet her so politely: "Auntie Jade."
Now, the very "Auntie Jade" he knew was, for her daughter's life, pinning him down daily and using the Memory Orb to record those filthy, sordid affairs.
At first, Jade was so ashamed she wanted to die.
She broke down several times, wanting to end it all and take her daughter with her.
But Crystal was a sheltered young lady; the mere mention of death terrified her, and she begged her mother to save her.
Swallowing her pain, Jade continued to come and oppress Sylas.
But after a few days, she developed a kind of ostrich-with-its-head-in-the-sand mentality.
Sylas is truly wonderful…
The young man had a faint, scholarly scent about him that was intoxicating. She had also heard how fiercely he resisted Isolde.
Yet with her, at worst, he was just cold. This differential treatment thrilled Jade.
A cold face is fine. Just wait a little while, and his expression turns into reluctant acceptance.
The aloof, cold son of her colleague, always, at the very last moment, grabbing her arms and pleading despairingly, "Kill me, please, Auntie Jade…"
The greater the contrast, the more justified Jade felt.
But today, suppressing the restlessness in her heart, she said softly, "Sylas, you're not angry anymore, are you? I want to tell you some news. You…"
"What news?" Sylas hadn't heard anything from the outside world in a month.
His eyes lit up, and he grabbed Jade's hand in his excitement.
Jade opened her mouth, not knowing where to start.
She weighed her words for a long time before finally saying with difficulty, "You know Aethelred's Victoria, right?
Victoria… she has… returned triumphant to the capital."
Thud.
Sylas fell straight from the stool onto the floor.
"Sylas…" Jade hurriedly tried to help him up.
"She's back? She won?"
"The whole city is cheering. The Empress is bestowing honors upon Victoria as we speak."
Gack— Sylas wretched painfully, vomiting.
Jade patted his back, her own tears flowing uncontrollably. "It's alright, Sylas, it's alright. Maybe General Alaric got away…"
"Wuuu… I want to see Isolde… Wuuu, I need to see her…" Sylas finally broke. He grabbed Jade's sleeve, wailing.
He felt a bitter numbness in his limbs, utterly drained of strength.
Jade could only comfort him for a long time.
Finally, she left helplessly.
The cell door closed, then opened again.
Sylas had never realized how dark this dungeon truly was.
A girl cloaked in black appeared quietly before him. The young woman wasn't very tall, appearing slender and slight.
The hood of the cloak almost completely obscured the upper half of her face. A sharp chin paired with pale pink lips gave her a somewhat cold, striking beauty.
Sensing someone, Sylas reacted as if stung by a scorpion.
He hurriedly knelt properly, frantically grabbing at the hem of the visitor's gown. "Your Majesty, please spare my mother, spare my sister! I yield, I admit defeat, I know I was wrong…"
His proactive apology, however, made the figure startle, taking an uncomfortable step back.
But then, she mustered her courage and stepped forward.
Thinking Isolde was still playing games, Sylas devoutly prostrated himself before her, feebly embracing the woman's legs, continuously kissing the tops of her shoes.
Aethelred had a strange custom: to express utmost loyalty, one must kiss the master's shoes, proving their devotion.
"Don't…" a tiny voice emerged from under the hood, but it vanished like a snowflake.
Celeste forced her trembling body to stand firm, accepting Sylas's homage.
"Your Majesty, will you spare them? Please spare them…" Sylas looked up, pleading.
Distraught with worry, he didn't register that the voice was different from usual.
Celeste's heart pounded with anxiety. She had come secretly, initially out of curiosity. She never expected such a significant harvest.
She remembered how her sister had inspected Sylas's teeth.
So white, so even, like a row of snowy jade.
But Sylas had bitten her sister's finger. So… would he bite hard this time?
Acting on a bizarre impulse, she extended her hand, her fingers still trembling.
Her white, delicate index finger pressed against Sylas's lips but went no further.
This was her limit. She still had some reserve left.
Sylas, however, hurriedly opened his mouth, taking the finger, and begged despairingly, "Your Majesty, spare my family, please? Your Majesty…"
Celeste instantly snatched her hand back. Her index finger felt like it didn't belong to her anymore.
Her thumb kept rubbing the fingertip, feeling it was somehow smooth.
What did it taste like? Was it fragrant?
Finally, she pushed back her hood, revealing a slightly pale, tired face. "I… I'm sorry. I'm not my sister."
Sylas froze completely.
The Duchess of Arbor? You're not Isolde? Why didn't you say so sooner?
He slumped to the floor in despair, muttering, "Greetings, Your Grace… Where is Her Majesty? I need to see her…"
At this moment, no matter how furious he was at Celeste's teasing, he had to suppress it.
Offending the Duchess was essentially offending Isolde. This woman's status was exceptional, the very foundation of the state.
Seeing he wasn't angry, Celeste's heart leapt with joy.
Could it be he accepts my teasing?
Thinking about it, it made sense. Her sister had a deep grudge against him.
Celeste just handled logistics; surely, she had no enmity with him.
Even though she had felt the same national outrage every time Aethelred suffered a loss… but that was state affairs! We can still be friends in private, right?
"Her Majesty is busy. Marshal Victoria has returned victorious. There is much for her to handle."
Celeste sat on the chair before him, her slender legs pressed neatly together, looking quite refined.
She was a scholar; she certainly wouldn't sit like her sister, crossing her legs and using her toes to tease Sylas's chin.
Even though she really wanted to!
"Marshal Victoria, returned victorious…" Sylas chewed on the words, covering his face with his hands, finally giving up all hope.
Celeste asked gently, "Lord Sylas, are you worried about your family?"
"What else…" he mumbled.
A thought sparked in Celeste's mind, conjuring a truly vicious scheme.
She blinked, a trace of an innocent smile appearing on her pretty, weary face. It made her look like a cup of clear tea sweetened with sugar.
She said lightly, "Actually, the reason I came was to discuss your family. Your mother and sister… are in my hands."