Matthias burst out laughing, loud, sharp, and echoing like thunder through every corner of the room. It went on too long, too loud, until even the air seemed to shiver with it. Greta felt the hairs on her arms stand up. Her throat dried out instantly. Swallowing was out of the question; fear had her chest locked tight.
"Well now… you're full of surprises, Lady von Meier," Matthias finally said, his voice still laced with that cold, lingering amusement. He grinned wide, eyes locked on Greta like a predator sizing up prey that had just volunteered to crawl into its mouth.
"You signed a contract with me. I figured you were after something a little more savage. Something darker. Not just some half-baked nightmare walking around. I could tear them apart right in front of you, slowly, piece by piece. Let them scream, bleed, beg for death, and then keep them alive just long enough to regret every second of it. The kind of suffering you humans can barely wrap your heads around."
Greta didn't answer. His words hit like a spike to the brain. Humans, he'd said?
She knew exactly what she was looking at. From the crown of his head, jagged black horns jutted out like obsidian blades, gleaming in the candlelight. There was nothing angelic about him. Nothing divine. He was too far gone from anything holy. And yet, it felt twisted, wrong somehow, that a creature like him could look at her, at her pain, and call it unworthy of being called suffering.
"Slowly," Greta said, her voice flat, but burning underneath. "Pain that doesn't end. Living like you're already dead. Haunted by guilt that never lets go." She didn't flinch. Didn't look away. "Isn't that the cruelest kind of torture, Duke Matthias von Ignaz?"
Her gaze locked onto his, unwavering. Matthias leaned back, relaxed, his expression barely shifting. That thin smile still played on his lips, and the faint chuckle hanging in the air made it feel like he was mocking every word she said. Maybe to him, it was all just noise. But to Greta, it was a vow, born from the deepest wound she carried.
"I want it slow," she continued, her voice colder now. "Everything I've seen, everything I've dragged with me to this day, I'll make them pay for it. I want them to understand that whatever future they're hoping for, it'll never be better than the past they left behind."
She drew a quiet breath, fists clenched tight in her lap. "They'll learn. Every step they take will leave a mark. And every mark will bleed."
Matthias dropped a smile. His hand came up to cover his mouth, but it didn't hide the grin that curled beneath, one that showed off a row of perfect teeth, somehow more terrifying now than before.
Greta knew he was laughing at her. But she didn't care. She wasn't stopping.
"I remember everything from my last life," she said, her voice steady. "And I'm not wasting it. I want them to regret every damn thing they did to me." Her words sharpened, slicing through the silence like a blade. "So, Duke Matthias… marry me. Before Emperor Maximillian shows up in Ehrenwald to drag me off as his concubine."
Matthias lowered his hand, reached for the gold-plated knife he'd set aside earlier, and calmly resumed slicing into the meat on his plate. He didn't say a word. Just chewed, swallowed, and took another bite. Over and over, like she hadn't spoken at all.
Greta swallowed hard. She'd been waiting for minutes now, and still, nothing. No reaction. Just the sound of him eating, slow and deliberate. Like her words had vanished into thin air.
She wanted to repeat herself. Just to be sure. Just to make sure she hadn't misspoken. Her tongue was already moving, breath drawn to speak again, when Matthias finally responded.
"If that's really what you want…" His voice was low, calm, but heavy with something else. He reached for his wine glass, swirling the deep red liquid slowly, watching it spin against the glass. "Then tell me, you really think marrying me won't be a problem?"
Greta didn't answer. She stared down at her clenched hands, knuckles white against her lap.
Matthias leaned back in his chair, setting the glass down in the center of the table. Candlelight flickered across the surface of the wine, casting a faint reflection. From behind that shimmer, his dark eyes locked onto hers.
"I," he said, pausing like he was choosing his words carefully, "am not something you can compare to anything else in this world, Lady von Meier." His smile was thin. Cold. Like a joke only he understood. "Are you really okay with marrying something like me?"
That smile didn't warm. It chilled. A quiet, cruel truth sat behind it, one that made his words feel more like a threat than a promise.
Greta knew: once she answered, there'd be no turning back. Her gaze stayed firm, her resolve unshaken, even as the surrounding air pressed in like a weight on her chest. But she was sure. She knew what she wanted.
"If that's the path to my goal," she said softly, but with steel in her voice, "then I don't mind. Not one bit."
Matthias went still, his gaze locked on the fire blazing behind Greta's eyes. For a girl who'd already handed over her soul, she was anything but predictable. Her mind didn't work like most humans, wild, erratic, impossible to read. And that? That only made her more fascinating.
For the first time in years, after a lifetime buried in the frozen lands of Eishtal—he felt something stir. Something he thought he'd lost. His soul, sparked back to life.
Behind the rim of his wine glass, a faint smile tugged at his lips. He set the glass down slowly, then rose to his feet. His movements were calm, deliberate, but carried the weight of authority, like every word he spoke was law carved in stone.
"If that's truly what you want," he said at last, his voice low and heavy, laced with finality, "then we'll go to Ehrenwald. That's where we'll seal this marriage."
He looked at Greta one last time before turning away. "Prepare yourself. It's a long road west, Lady von Meier."
Greta shot to her feet, her body tense, disbelief flickering across her face. "So… you're accepting my request, Duke Matthias?"
He didn't look back. His steps were steady, his voice flat but firm.
"What else would you have me do?" he said. Then, with a flicker of a grin, barely there, he added, "Besides, I wouldn't waste a chance at something this entertaining."
Greta didn't speak. Her eyes gleamed, holding back the rush of triumph pounding in her chest. A smile bloomed on her lips, but no thank you came. Gratitude had no place in front of someone like Matthias.
What she felt was something else entirely, relief, sharp and pulsing. One step. She'd taken one step closer to vengeance. To payback for a past soaked in cruelty. For the people who'd shattered her life and left her dangling at the edge of a noose.
But far to the south, in the land she once called home, the air told a different story.
Inside the grand hall of Ehrenwald Mansion, the fire roared in the hearth, but the heat never reached the room. Wilhelm Conrad Albrecht von Meier stood at the tall window, staring out over the courtyard. His hands were clenched behind his back, jaw locked tight, eyes burning through the frost-covered glass.
"She really left," he muttered, voice low and trembling with fury. "Greta… that girl actually had the nerve to walk out of Ehrenwald chasing some delusion in Eishtal."
The room tensed. The usual bustle of servants had vanished into silence. Heads bowed. No one dared move under the weight of their master's rage.
Herr Adler, the family advisor, stepped forward, trying to soften the blow. "Your Grace… perhaps Lady Greta's simply lost in her ideals. Young women often get swept up in promises that—"
"Ideals?" Hellene snapped, her voice slicing through the room. "She's out of her mind! Running off to some godforsaken place that'll never give her anything? This is insane! I knew she was unstable, but I didn't think she'd actually follow through on her madness!"
Arms crossed, face twisted in anger, Hellene glared at the floor. But inside, she was smiling. Hoping Greta would never return alive.
Because everyone knew, traveling to Eishtal was like offering your life to the void. That land didn't welcome visitors. And Hellene was certain: Greta was either dead by now, or soon would be, killed by the Duke who ruled that frozen hell.
Wilhelm turned, his eyes sharp as blades. "Eishtal is nothing but a frozen wasteland in the north. It holds no political value. What could Ehrenwald possibly gain from that place?"
His voice rang out, slapping against the marble walls of the mansion.
He strode to the massive table in the center of the room, leaned forward, and slammed both palms onto the aged wood. Glasses rattled. One toppled over.
"Ehrenwald is crumbling," he growled, urgency bleeding into every word. "Our lands are shrinking, our income's in the red, and the neighboring nobles are circling like wolves. And in the middle of all this, that girl thinks it's wise to stake our future on Duke Matthias von Ignaz?"
"You're right, Father. Greta's completely lost it," Hellene chimed in, her words throwing fuel on the fire.
"Becoming Emperor Dietrich Maximillian's concubine is the only way out for Ehrenwald! He has power. Land. Troops. Influence. He could restore our name. And Greta, Greta was a fool to turn that down."
Silence fell. Only Wilhelm's heavy breathing filled the room, mingling with the crackle of burning wood.
He walked to the high-backed chair at the end of the table, dropped into it, and leaned back hard. But his eyes still burned.
Then his voice dropped, low, cold, and final. "If she's truly given herself to Duke Matthias, then she's no longer my daughter. She's just a disgrace. A shadow that stains the Von Meier name."
The air thickened. Everyone in the room felt it, except Hellene, who smiled. And in her heart, she laughed. Laughed at Greta's sudden departure.
Wilhelm Conrad Albrecht von Meier, the iron-fisted head of the family, had made his decision. His fury was a storm, and that storm now turned on his own flesh and blood.