"........,"

ִ࣪𖤐 ESTEEMED READER...

Oh, darling, your insights are more than invaluable.

Your participation, dear, is essential.

Your comments and votes shall enrich the narrative, ensuring that our history is preserved for posterity.

Let your voice guide the course of our Empire.

Engage with the story, and together, we shall shape the future.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 👑 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

LEWELL TREMBLED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF THE TEAPOT IN HER HANDS, each motion shaky, as if her body struggled against invisible chains.

My eyes narrowed beneath the mask, watching the grotesque display unfold.

'This is a fucking mess,' I thought bitterly, sinking further into my chair.

My usual carefree attitude had long crumbled under the weight of the horrifying spectacle in front of me.

As Lewell - no, Eleanor - moved, her steps were uneven, clumsy, like a puppet pulled on frayed strings.

Her eyepatch fell silently to the floor, and with it, the last remnants of who she had been.

The beautiful shade of blue that once adorned her eye was now nothing more than a memory.

What remained was a mushed, mangled, gruesome sight, almost too distorted for words.

I let out a sigh, dragging my hand down my face. 'Why am I here?'

Lewell closed in on Sierra, the blonde beauty who trembled visibly, fear radiating from her in waves as she held her cup up.

She was terrified, and I couldn't blame her.

Lewell was a living dead in motion, struggling to pour tea with hands that shook as if she were trying to hold back a tsunami.

A few drops spilled from the pot, landing on Sierra's hand.

She flinched, gasping audibly as her hand burned from the scalding liquid.

"AH!" Sierra recoiled, clutching her hand to her chest as if it could somehow ease the pain.

Her sudden flinch only made things worse, causing the cup to slip from her grip, rolling across the table.

My eyes darted to the brown-haired woman across from me - our gracious host.

Her face twisted into something that resembled concern, though I knew better than to believe that act.

"Oh my, Sierra!" The woman's voice feigned worry as she leaned forward, her words laced with sudden, false sweetness. "Sierra, are you alright? The tea must have been too hot! Did you burn yourself?"

I rolled my eyes. 'She couldn't care less,' I thought, my gaze drifting to the woman's gloved hand resting elegantly on the table.

It was obvious she had her reasons for giving a damn.

Then, in an instant, her expression changed - eyes narrowing, lips pulling tight into a thin line.

The sudden shift was terrifying, and Lewell flinched under the woman's hardened gaze.

"Lewell," She said, her tone firm and dangerous, banging the table so hard the dishes rattled. "How was this servant educated, to spill tea on Sierra?" She didn't even need to raise her voice to send a cold shiver down my spine.

Lewell stood frozen, eyes vacant, her one good eye staring off into nothing.

The brown-haired woman sneered, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "You're spacing out mindlessly again. It seems your punishment wasn't enough-"

"LEWELL DID NOTHING WRONG!" Sierra's voice rang out, trembling, desperate.

Everyone at the table froze, and my eyebrows shot up in surprise. 'Well, shit. Didn't see that coming.'

Sierra's hands shook as she cradled her burned fingers, trying to reason with the beast before her. "It's my fault... I flinched. So the reason to call for a punishment is... "

Her voice trembled like a leaf in the wind, trying to calm the storm.

But she was a fool if she thought that would work.

I glanced at the brown-haired woman, seeing the subtle twitch in her eye.

Oh, this was going to end badly.

The woman's demeanor shifted again, this time softening as she gave Sierra a patronizing smile. "Sierra is too kind, but that can't be."

Her smile was sweet, but her eyes were as cold as ever. "We wouldn't want those precious hands of yours to be scarred." She glanced at Sierra's reddened fingers, her smile lingering just a little too long.

Then, her attention snapped back to Lewell, her expression morphing into a mask of fury once again. "Sara, fetch Lewell-"

- CRACK .ᐟ

The sharp sound of glass shattering echoed through the place.

Roxana.

She had done it on purpose, throwing her teacup to the floor with precision.

"Oh my," Roxana said, her voice apologetic, but the look in her eyes was far from sorry. "My mistake..." She added, her tone light and airy, but I saw the game she was playing.

She turned to her mother, her voice taking on a matter-of-fact tone. "Mother, it looks like your hands are getting redder and puffier. Shouldn't you get some cold water on that before the burn gets worse?"

Sierra glanced at her hand, wincing as the pain caught up to her.

She nodded quickly, seizing the opportunity to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

Smart move, I had to give her credit for that.

The brown-haired woman put on a dramatic show of concern, a hand flying to her lips. "Oh my, of course, Sierra! You must get that burn looked at. Go quickly."

Roxana gestured for a nearby servant. "Escort my mother out."

The servant moved swiftly, bowing to her. "Yes, miss."

As Sierra prepared to leave, the entity within me made his move.

Our hand extended, offering a small, elegant handkerchief to her.

❝ THIS MAY HELP SOOTHE YOUR PAIN, MADAME. YOU CAN RETURN IT NEXT TIME. ❞

The entity's voice, smooth and coaxing, slipped from my lips as a healing spell danced across the fabric.

Sierra's eyes widened, relief and gratitude filling them as she glanced back at us. "Thank you, Your Grace... Ana..."

And then, she was gone.

Out of sight, out of danger - for now.

Good for her.

I leaned back, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the unease. 'Too much drama for one day,' I thought, rubbing my temples again.

This was why I hated this world's parties.

Always some horror show lurking around the corner.

I closed my eyes for a second, mentally escaping into more pleasurable thoughts - like banging that hot professor from last time.

Because if this shitshow kept going, I was definitely going to need a release after this.

"........,"

NOT SO LONG AFTER, the space exploded into chaos with the sound of metal clashing against flesh and the guttural grunts of the "toys" fighting each other for their masters' entertainment.

The crack of bone, the spray of blood that smeared the ground, and the screams that followed were punctuated by the crowd's eager whispers, as bets were placed with gleeful anticipation.

Some people watched with wild eyes, calling out opinions on who would last longer, who would break first, who was worthy of owning a toy of such caliber.

The air was thick with tension, the scent of iron and sweat mixing with the sweet aroma of freshly poured tea.

"EUGH!" One of the "toys" let out a gut-wrenching cry, collapsing onto the floor, and the crowd erupted in cheers and jeers, opinions flying about who was stronger, faster - who was more entertaining.

I leaned back, drowning in the discomfort of it all, my eyes flickering around the place as I tried to mentally check out.

Fuck.

This show wasn't just disturbing - it was downright horrifying.

I could hear the snapping of bones, the shrieks of agony.

The entity, though... He was having his own fun.

Allowed to take control, he was humming to himself, eyes flitting about the room as though he was the only sane person in the middle of this madness.

Humming.

Like some old tune he couldn't quite remember, while idly twirling a small white flower between our fingers.

My gloved hand - no, his - slowly and casually turned the flower from white to black with a subtle flick of his finger, the petals darkening like ink seeping through paper.

He tucked the transformed blossom neatly into our pocket with a satisfied hum, seemingly satisfied with himself as if we hadn't just witnessed a massacre dressed up as entertainment.

Only then, did the brown-haired woman turn her attention to me with a bright, unsettling smile, that sickly-sweet cheerfulness taking over her as she began her invasive questioning.

"Haven't you ever thought about getting a toy yourself, dear? Roxana has one, after all," She said, her voice practically oozing with false warmth. "I can recommend a few, I'd say you could benefit from one. I'll make sure you're well taken care of. Aunty Maria always looks out for family."

Family.

Right.

Yet... A name at last.

Maria - or rather, Aunty Maria, as she called herself.

Noted.

My eyes widened a bit in alarm, and I felt the entity freeze for a moment, too, mid-bite into a croissant.

He stopped, the flakiness of the pastry crumbling between our fingers as the gears in his mind seemed to turn rapidly.

He wasn't usually caught off guard, but I guess even an ancient being of unspeakable hunger had his limits.

His demeanor shifted in an instant as he placed the patty down, wiped his mouth with a deliberate grace, and cleard his throat.

Before I could even process what was happening, he moved swiftly, taking Roxana's hand - our fiancée's hand - and brought it to our lips with a flourish.

He kissed the back of her hand, soft lips brushing against black fabric, all charm and smoothness, like some well-rehearsed prince from a fairy tale.

It was a show of affection so grand, it could almost be believed.

- Almost.

❝ AH, AUNTY MARY, ❞

He began, his voice like velvet, tinged with a majestic touch.

❝ I WOULD NEVER DREAM OF ACQUIRING A TOY WHEN I HAVE MY DARLING DOVE BY MY SIDE. WHY, IT WOULD FEEL LIKE... CHEATING, AND I AM NOTHING IF NOT A MAN OF LOYALTY. ❞

He smiled warmly, eyes gleaming with all the charm in the world, practically dripping with romantic nonsense and teasing adoration.

He made it sound perfect, so damn poetic, even.

His words seemed to wash over the place like a wave of sugary sweetness, casting a spell over everyone, especially Maria, whose lips curled ever so slightly into a wide-eyes, small smile.

Internally, though, I almost chocked on his bullshit.

'Seriously?'

He practically begged me the other day to let him have a taste of the marquis.

'How the hell is he saying this with a straight face?'

The entity didn't miss a beat.

❛ SHUT UP, ❜

He hissed back in my head.

❛ I'M SAVING YOUR ASS, YOU UNGRATEFUL BRAT. ❜

As Roxana's cherry lips quirked into a small, knowing smile, Aunty Mary's eyes sparkled with interest.

"Oh my," She cooed, clapping her hands together. "What a loyal man you are. Roxana, darling, you're so very lucky."

The lady in question, ever the calculating beauty, simply gave a nod, her eyes lingering on mine.

There was something in her gaze - amusement, maybe? Or suspicion?

I couldn't tell.

"THERE'S BEEN AN ACCIDENT!"

The place shifted from controlled elegance to an undercurrent of chaos as two men, dressed in crisp guard uniforms, burst into the space, their boots slamming against the polished floor as they approached.

Both were disheveled, gasping for air, eyes wide with alarm.

"MISS ROXANA'S TOY ESCAPED!" One guard blurted out, his voice sharp with panic as he stumbled after the other.

Roxana, poised as ever, brought her teacup to her full lips but froze just short of drinking.

Her calm demeanor was unnerving in contrast to the panic radiating from the guards.

She lowered the cup delicately, her expression betraying nothing but faint curiosity.

"What are you saying?" She asked slowly, her voice like silk dipped in ice. "He released himself from his chains and escaped the room?"

The first guard, struggling to catch his breath, stopped just before us, his face red with exertion.

His partner, equally exhausted, stood behind him, lungs heaving as though they'd run across half the manor.

"N-No... no," The first stammered, clearly fearing for his life. "We were... we were bringing that scum to the tea party, but... he shook us off and ran away..."

The second guard said nothing, merely swallowing hard as he tried to compose himself.

The air was thick with unspoken fear.

Roxana's gaze darkened, her delicate grip tightening around the fragile teacup in her hand.

Her eyes, calm just moments before, became something far more terrifying.

"On whose command?" She asked, her tone still sweet, yet carrying a weight that made my stomach twist.

She squeezed the cup, her slender fingers so tight around the porcelain that I could hear the faintest crack of it beginning to break.

The pressure was unbearable - not just for the teacup but for me, too.

Her other hand was still wrapped around mine, our fingers tangled together, but her strength made me wince internally.

I didn't dare show it, though.

The teacup, unable to withstand her fury, shattered in her hand, fragments falling onto the table like pieces of her calm exterior cracking.

That was the second one today.

"I have no recollection of permitting this," She continued, standing up with terrifying grace, her eyes boring into the guards with lethal precision.

She released my hand - now slightly bruised - and I resisted the urge to rub the sore spot as I watched her rise.

"However, at this moment," She said, voice dropping to a venomous whisper, "I'm being told you decided to bring my toy here on your own whims?"

The first guard, now fully aware of the grave situation he was in, tripped over his own words as he tried to defend himself. "W-We did this because young Master Dion ordered us to..."

- Dion.

Who was that?

The guard paled under her gaze, beads of sweat forming at his temple as he trembled.

His eyes flicked downward, a futile attempt to avoid the intensity of her scrutiny.

"We... all thought Miss Roxana had permitted this..." He added weakly.

Roxana didn't respond immediately. Instead, in the blink of an eye, a sharp blade flew across the room, embedding itself with a sickening...

- Thunk.ᐟ

... into the man's knee.

Blood spurted from the wound as he collapsed to the floor with a strangled cry, the knife still quivering from the force of the throw.

The blade had been lying next to my hand just moments ago - I barely had time to register her grabbing it.

"........,"

╔. ■ .═══════╗

╚═══════. ■ .╝

"........,"

"You all must see me as a joke," Roxana whispered coldly, her hand still raised from the throw.

Her voice was steady, but it was the kind of steady that chilled to the bone. "There's no other explanation for why you would dare stand before me, heads held high."

"Kneel," She commanded, the single word filled with a quiet fury that could make anyone's blood run cold. "Before I take off your head for not knowing your own place."

"........,"

╔. ■ .═══════╗

╚═══════. ■ .╝

"........,"

Her gaze was predatory, like a lioness surveying the scene, her eyes locked on the two guards who were now quaking in fear.

They obeyed, falling to their knees as if the weight of her words alone had crushed their resolve.

The room was silent, except for the ragged breathing of the injured man and the muted, delighted gasps from the crowd, who watched with morbid fascination.

"This is the last time I'll ask," Roxana said softly, her voice calm again, but the threat was clear. "Where is Cassis?"

At the mention of the name, my heart skipped a beat.

- Cassis.

A name for her toy.

The entity within me stirred, his breath hitching as well, though he remained eerily silent for once, his thoughts hidden from mine as they used to be.

The wounded guard, biting his lip to stifle a pained groan, managed to choke out an answer. "Th-The hallway... by the southwest side..."

His partner, shaking like a leaf, quickly added, "Young Master Jeremy is following close behind."

Roxana's eyes narrowed. "Emily," She called out, her voice commanding yet composed.

"Yes, Miss Roxana," Emily, the ever-efficient maid, responded promptly, placing a hand over her chest in a sign of obedience. "I'll take care of it."

"It seems the tea party will end here," Roxana announced coolly, her eyes flicking over to me and then to Aunty Maria, who had been unusually quiet throughout the exchange.

For the first time since I'd met her, Maria seemed... nervous.

Her voice, usually so full of false cheer, wavered slightly as she spoke, her hands trembling ever so faintly. "Do you... need help recovering your toy?"

Roxana offered her a polite smile, one that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thank you for the offer, Aunty Maria, but there's no need."

I rose from my seat, not wanting to be the only one left sitting.

The tension in the room was palpable.

Maria, visibly sweating now, gave a small, shaky laugh. "I see... well, it seems there may have been a misunderstanding between us, but what can we do..." Her voice trailed off, clearly trying to maintain her composure. "Since Dion's name came up, I couldn't stand idly by..."

Dion.

Again, that name.

A heavy feeling settled in my gut, the kind that told me this was someone important, someone dangerous.

'Could it be the guy that bumped into me earlier? I don't know, it does sound like him...'

And the entity confirmed it with a whisper, adjusting the glove on our hand with casual ease.

❛ INDEED, IT IS HIM. HE'S AUNTY MARY'S CHILD. ❜

Only then, the ground shook violently.

'S-Shit!'

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 👑 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

❝ AUTHOR'S NOTE .ᐟ ❞

AHEM.

clears throat dramatically

I HAD WAY TOO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS, NOT GONNA LIE.

The entity is just out here being all silly and cute like he's not sharing a body with someone in the middle of a BLOOD SPORT. 💀

I mean, who even hums while twirling flowers when there's literal carnage happening in the background?? ICONIC BEHAVIOR TBH. 😩

Also, ISJSJS - CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW I'M JUST TRYING TO FINISH THIS PARTY SO WE CAN GET BACK TO THE ACTUAL PLOT??? 😔

WE'RE SO CLOSE BUT THIS TEA PARTY'S DRAMA WON'T LET ME REST.

Roxana out here shattering teacups and throwing knives like it's a hobby, and I'm just sitting here like, "pls ma'am, can we go now???"

BUT HEY, WE'RE ALMOST FREE, PEOPLE.

NEXT STOP: THE PLOT EXPRESS. 🚂💨

Stay tuned for more chaos and (maybe) less tea cup violence! 👀💀

❝ SHORT BONUS + LITTLE SECRET .ᐟ ❞

Beneath the towering trees near the lake by Eckhart Manor, a pink-haired man sat with his back against the bark, eyes clouded with thoughts.

The lake shimmered with a soft glow, reflecting the sunlight in ripples.

In his hand, a single purple flower swayed in the breeze - its delicate petals reminded him of (Y/N)'s eyes.

Not just any eyes... his eyes.

Yet, even the purple of the flower paled in comparison to the shade that haunted him day and night.

Reynold sighed, turning the flower slowly between his fingers.

What was it that he felt when the Grand Duke looked at him?

His heart pounded every time, like a drum in his chest, and he could never understand why.

Fear?

Nervousness?

Admiration?

The latter made the most sense, right?

He admired the Grand Duke... at least that's what he told himself.

But deep down, a gnawing question lingered: was that truly all there was?

His mind wandered back to the years they spent together - him, Derrick, and (Y/N).

Always the third wheel, always on the outside looking in.

Even as children, the bond between Derrick and (Y/N) had been unbreakable, while Reynold?

He was just... there.

Did the Grand Duke even notice him at all?

He scoffed at his own foolish thoughts.

Of course not.

Why would he?

Reynold was certain that, if he were to disappear tomorrow, his Grace wouldn't bat an eye.

A rustle nearby snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Reynold!"

Speak of the devil.

Derrick's voice broke through the quiet, calling out for him.

Reynold's face hardened as he stared down at the flower, fingers tightening around the stem before he cast it into the lake.

The purple bloom floated delicately on the surface for only a moment before it was yanked down, as though the lake itself swallowed it whole.

Reynold blinked, leaning forward.

Did... did something just pull it under?

"Reynold, let's go!"

Derrick called again, his voice impatient.

Reynold stood up, brushing dirt off his trousers, but his gaze lingered on the water's surface for a moment longer.

He shook his head, as if to dismiss the strange sight, before following his brother.

ִ ࣪𖤐 S E C R E T :

The truth is, Reynold remains oblivious to his own feelings, mistaking his growing, small crush for nothing more than simple admiration.

❝ WORD COUNT .ᐟ

ִ ࣪𖤐 3, 500

Happy reading! >ᴗ<