Chapter-45 A Lesson In Consumption

Frederique stood before the tall, darkened double doors of Lysandro's salon. The elegant carvings of roses intertwined with thorny vines seemed to pulse faintly under the dim lantern light. She had been summoned... or rather, expected. Eirlys had made it clear this was necessary, yet the knot in her stomach twisted tighter with each second.

She knocked once.

The doors swung open without a sound.

The salon was extravagant beyond words. Velvet drapes of deep crimson hung from the tall windows, only partially drawn to let in shafts of pale moonlight. Gold-trimmed mirrors stretched across the walls, casting reflections of crystal chandeliers that glittered like a sky full of stars.

And there, lounging in a gilded chair as if he were the centerpiece of this entire display, was Lysandro.

He was magnificent.

Draped in a black suit so perfectly tailored it seemed more like armor than clothing, the Redcap hairdresser radiated confidence. A blood-red silk cravat rested against his pale throat, fastened with a single black gemstone. His red curls framed his face, sharp and symmetrical... cheekbones sculpted like marble, lips curved in an indulgent smile. His eyes, a shimmering gold, locked onto hers with the intensity of a predator.

"So," he purred, voice as smooth as fine wine.

"You've come to be... refined."

Frederique felt painfully aware of her own state... messy hair barely tamed, clothes simple and practical, a hunter, not a creature of beauty like him.

She shifted uncomfortably.

Lysandro's smile widened.

"Unacceptable," he murmured, standing fluidly.

"If you are to learn the art of consumption, you must first understand your own allure. Come."

Without waiting, he swept behind her and guided her gently into a tall, throne-like chair before a massive mirror.

"You are already... remarkable," he whispered, fingers brushing her hair.

"A Redcap is a predator. Powerful. Dangerous. And beauty, my dear, is a weapon."

The next few minutes passed in a blur. Lysandro worked with an almost inhuman grace, his fingers parting and weaving through her hair as if conducting a symphony. Dark waves cascaded down her shoulders, glossy and smooth. Her skin seemed to glow as he dusted faint iridescent powder across her collarbone. A touch of dark red on her lips, a subtle enhancement to her already sharp cheekbones.

When he finished, Frederique barely recognized herself.

The reflection staring back at her was stunning. Dangerous. The softness of her features was still there, but sculpted now... her eyes, wide and deep, seemed to draw the light. Her body remained strong, powerful, but no longer merely practical. She felt... lethal.

Lysandro's reflection leaned close over her shoulder.

"Remember this feeling," he whispered.

"This is not vanity. It is power."

Frederique swallowed hard, nodding.

"Now."

Lysandro clapped his hands once, and from a side door, a silver tray was carried in. A perfectly cooked steak, seared on the outside, the scent intoxicatingly rich and savory.

Frederique blinked.

"Is this part of the lesson?"

Lysandro smiled.

"You must learn to devour. To consume with elegance. Taste it."

She hesitated only a moment before cutting into the steak. The first bite melted in her mouth... juicy, tender, seasoned with perfection. It was delicious, primal in its richness.

She finished it quickly, wiping her lips with a napkin, suddenly feeling more confident.

Lysandro waited for her to swallow before he leaned in close.

"That was human."

Frederique choked, her stomach twisting as the taste lingered on her tongue.

Lysandro smiled, not unkindly.

"You knew what this was. Deep down. Do not recoil. This is what you are. Now, again. Control your mind. Do not let your instincts rule you. This time... cold."

Another plate was placed before her. The same steak... uncooked, pale, and raw.

Frederique hesitated longer this time, the blood pooling on the plate making her stomach churn.

"Eat," Lysandro ordered gently.

She forced herself to cut a piece. It was slimy, the texture unbearable at first, but she kept chewing. Swallowing.

When she finished, Lysandro did not praise her. He merely signaled for the next dish.

A block of wood.

Frederique blinked, confused.

"Eat," Lysandro repeated.

She hesitated but sank her teeth into it. Splinters crunched between her teeth, but as she chewed, the wood dissolved... fading into nothing as her Redcap nature consumed it effortlessly.

"Good," Lysandro murmured.

"Now metal."

A thin rod of iron, slightly rusted, was set before her.

The taste was bitter, harsh, but her teeth shredded it as easily as the wood.

The plates continued.

A severed hand, pale and stiff.

A foot.

A leg.

Each bite was harder, the scent stronger, the flesh colder. Frederique's stomach churned with every swallow, but she kept going, feeling the strange pulse of power behind it.

Frideria whispered at the back of her mind, 'This is good. This is right. We are a predator.'

Lysandro remained silent, only observing. He would not explain until it was done.

Finally, the last plate was presented.

A severed head.

The face was intact. A young man. Glassy, lifeless eyes stared blankly back at her. Blood clung to his lips and hair.

Frederique froze, bile rising.

"I can't... "

"You will," Lysandro said, voice sharper now.

"You are Redcap. This is the price of power. You must be ready to consume anything. No trace. No shame. Or is your humanity still holding you back?"

Frederique trembled, the taste of every meal before this lingering on her tongue.

She felt Frideria stir.

'Let me help.'

Frederique exhaled slowly.

And then, without another word, she bit into the flesh.

The taste was foul, metallic, thick... but she kept going, tearing through the skin and muscle, feeling Frideria's hunger surge within her.

The last bite was the eye.

She finished.

Lysandro finally stepped forward, pressing a silk napkin into her bloodstained hands.

"You are beginning to understand."

Frederique felt... different.

Not broken.

Just colder.

Stronger.

And Frideria, silent but satisfied.