Chapter 2

"Have no fear. Even without the Soul Ember Stone, I'll keep you safe for as long as I live. Nothing will ever harm you—I promise!"

How bitterly ironic. The very person who swore to protect me is now the source of my deepest pain.

My eyes welled up, and as the tears fell, they transformed into sparkling gemstones upon touching the ground.

"Elysia, please don't weep. It pains me to see you this way! If you're upset, shout at me, strike me—do anything—but don't cause yourself harm!"

I gazed at the man in front of me, his face etched with worry. He professed his love, yet faint traces of another woman's caress lingered on his neck, contradicting his words.

As he tried to console me, my nightwear slipped, revealing the scars crisscrossing my back. For a split second, a look of revulsion crossed his face—so brief it might have been imagined, but my heart caught it clearly.

His fingertips grazed the marks, his voice gentle but empty: "Elysia, I know how much you value your appearance. I'll search for a magical cure to restore you—just as you were before."

I gestured to him, signing: How will you deal with the culprit if you find them?

He paused momentarily, then patted my shoulder with feigned assurance. "It's been such a long time since it occurred. Whoever did it must have fled the underworld by now! Elysia, let's look ahead—don't dwell on the past. I promise, no one will ever hurt you again!"

His assurances did nothing to alleviate the crushing despair in my heart. "What would you do if I vanished one day?" I asked, my voice quivering with emotion.

His embrace tightened, alarm flashing across his features. "Elysia, has someone told you something?"

"What could I have heard?" I retorted, my eyes narrowing. "What are you keeping from me?"

Victor's earlier self-assurance melted away, replaced by discomfort. He gripped my hands firmly, releasing a long, tired sigh. "Elysia, I love you—only you. If you ever become lost, even in the depths of the underworld, I'll search for you and bring you back."

But his declaration felt like dust in the wind, a vow made from a place beyond my reach.

On our contract day, we promised never to deceive each other. If either of us grew weary or fell for another, we swore to be truthful. Yet here he was, breaking the bond we'd forged over ten millennia, shattering it with his unfaithfulness.

The following morning, he enthusiastically pulled me towards the dining area. "It's your birthday today! I've planned a special celebration just for you..."

For a moment, his excitement kindled a spark of hope. I had been counting down the days, anticipating his gift, his sincerity.

But as I reached for the door handle, hushed voices stopped me in my tracks.

"Is Victor insane? Holding a mute girl in his heart for ten thousand years?"

"Precisely! Making love without a sound—how is that different from a lifeless doll? Only Victor could endure something like that!"

Victor burst through the door with a force that reverberated through the hall. His voice was stern and authoritative, cutting through the shocked whispers. "If I hear anyone slandering Elysia like this again, there won't be room for both of us in the underworld!"

The room fell quiet.

The dancers, sensing the tension, hesitated briefly before stepping forward to lighten the mood. They moved in graceful harmony, their veils fluttering, filling the air with a sensual rhythm.

At the forefront was a woman in revealing attire, her waist swaying like a serpent. Her smoldering gaze fixed on us as we approached. Her movements were calculated, her eyes challenging, and she slithered between Victor and me, her body brushing against his as if I were invisible.

I stumbled backward, hitting the ground hard. Pain shot through my hand as I tried to break my fall.

Victor reacted instantly. He pushed the woman aside and rushed to me, lifting me into his arms as his eyes searched for injuries. When he saw the burn on my hand, his face contorted with anguish.

"What happened? How could you fall like that?" His voice trembled with both worry and irritation.

With an angry wave of his hand, he lashed out at the dancer. The force was enough to send her reeling, and the veil covering her face slipped, revealing a familiar countenance.

Seraphina.

Victor halted mid-attack, his hand dropping to his side.

"Sir, please calm yourself. I wouldn't dare..." Seraphina's voice quavered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She sank to her knees, her body arching in a deliberate curve, the swell of her chest provocatively exposed.

I noticed it then—the subtle gesture Victor made, his thumb and forefinger twisting together. It was a tell—a sign of his affection, one I recognized all too well.

They were flirting. Right before my eyes.

His tone softened. "Just concentrate on your dance. Don't disturb my wife again."

The words were empty, his voice betraying the tenderness he couldn't conceal.

Seraphina rose, a flicker of disappointment in her gaze, and discarded the red veil that had draped her. Her movements were smooth, calculated, as she pivoted and fell effortlessly into the arms of one of Victor's companions.

This man, known for his fleeting romances and endless parade of beauties, welcomed her eagerly. His arms encircled her as though she were a trophy, and he leaned in, his lips seeking hers without hesitation.