Where's My Ear?

Isabelle's face turned red, and her hands fluttered nervously as she tried to find the right words. "W-Well, I mean..." She stammered, glancing anywhere but at him. "It's just that...It was so-so prominent, young master! I wasn't expecting something so l-large to be so obvious, even through your clothes." She gestured vaguely toward his lap, her embarrassment mounting with every word.

"And the shape..." She continued, her voice rising slightly in her flustered state. "I mean, it's just so defined! I couldn't help but notice, and it really surprised me because I didn't think..." Her words faltered, and she covered her face with her hands, groaning softly. "I-I didn't think that those things men have in their pants would be so big!"

Cassius's smirk widened as he leaned back, thoroughly enjoying her spiralling explanation.

"Prominent? Defined? My, Isabelle, I had no idea you were so observant...It's almost as if you're trying to write a poem about my manhood." He teased, his tone light but brimming with mischief.

Isabelle let out a mortified squeak, shaking her head furiously.

"N-No, young master! I'm just trying to explain why I reacted like I did!" She protested, her voice tinged with desperation. "It's not like I was trying to look or anything!" She said even though she kept on glancing at his crotch as she said so.

Meanwhile, Edmund sat in stunned, seething silence, his rage bubbling over as he watched his fiancée describe another man's physique in such agonising detail. His jaw tightened, and his fists clenched as he struggled to contain himself.

'How is this happening right in front of me?' He thought, his fury barely held in check.

Cassius tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more calculated but still teasing.

"Well..." He began, his voice smooth and deliberate. "...whether you were interested in the sight you saw or not isn't really important, Isabelle." He paused, watching her squirm under his gaze, before leaning in just enough to make her heartbeat quicken. "But whether you're willing to take responsibility for what you caused...now that is important, if you know what I mean."

Isabelle blinked, her mind struggling to process Cassius's words. Her cheeks flushed even deeper as she shifted nervously, her gaze darting to the now-dried grape juice stain on his trousers before flicking back up to his smirking face.

"W-What exactly do you mean by that, young master?" She stammered, her voice hesitant but curious.

"What else, Isabelle? I can explain the stain on my pants as an accident...But how do you expect me to walk back to my mansion with a full hard-on?" Cassius asked as he pointed at his log, sticking out like he were asking who was going to take responsibility. He then looked at her trembling figure with a keen look in his eyes and said, "Don't you think that someone has to help me settle my little brother down there...Someone who caused it in the first place."

"...Or is it that you're going to refuse and let the servants in the mansion see me in such a disgraceful state?" Cassius asked, throwing all the responsibility on the poor little maid before him.

"No, young master, not all! This humble servant won't let that happen as long as she lives!" Isabelle let out a shout despite how shy she felt because of the meaning behind the words she said. She then coyly looked towards the direction Edmund was sitting and said, "I-It's just that Edmund is sitting here, and I don't know if it would be appropriate to do such a d-dirty favour in front of him...I think it would be better if we went somewhere else private or-"

"Isabelle, you bitch!" Edmund's composure finally snapped, his face contorted with a mix of fury and disbelief. His hands trembled as they clenched into fists on the table, and his voice, previously restrained, erupted in anger. "Have you completely lost your mind?..What in the world are you saying?"

He shot to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor as he stood. His glare was venomous, aimed directly at Isabelle below, though it briefly flickered toward Cassius with unmasked hostility.

"You call yourself my fiancée, yet here you are, spouting such shameless nonsense as if I don't even exist!" He spat, his voice rising with each word. His fingers curled around the edge of the table as though he was mere moments away from overturning it entirely. "And you, Cassius!" He snarled, his anger now directed at the young master. "How dare you sit there and encourage this disgraceful behavior? Have you no shame-"

Shing~

Before Edmund could finish his tirade, a sudden, sharp whistle sliced through the air. The sound was so swift, so precise, that he barely registered it before something blurred past his head.

The room fell into a suffocating silence, broken only by the solid thunk of metal embedding itself into the wall behind him. Edmund froze, his body stiff with an inexplicable sense of dread. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned toward the source of the sound, his breath caught in his throat.

There, quivering in the wall, was a fork. Its prongs were buried deep, as though thrown with the force of a weapon.

But that wasn't what made his stomach churn and his blood run cold. Impaled upon the fork was a severed ear, the jagged edges still dripping crimson.

Drip~ Drip~

Edmund's mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the horrific sight before him. He raised a shaking hand to the side of his head, his fingers brushing against slick, warm blood. The absence of his left ear hit him like a thunderclap.

His legs threatened to buckle as a strangled gasp escaped him. "M-My ear..." He stammered, his voice trembling, his hand now pressing against the wound in disbelief.

Across the table, Cassius sat as though nothing unusual had occurred, his posture relaxed, his silver eyes gleaming with a chilling sharpness, akin to the weapon he had so effortlessly wielded. His fingers idly traced the edge of his wine glass as his gaze settled on Edmund with unnerving calm.

As Edmund's trembling lips parted, likely to spew more accusations or curses, Cassius's voice cut through the air like a blade.

"Not. A. Word."

The words were low and deliberate, yet carried an authority that froze Edmund in place. Cassius leaned forward, his hand moving to grasp another fork from the table, twirling it lazily between his fingers like a predator toying with its prey.

"Sit back down and listen as your fiancée sucks my cock off." He commanded, his tone ice-cold and devoid of humour. His silver eyes glinted with a lethal promise as he added, "Unless, of course, you'd prefer the next one to go straight through your neck."

The fork in his hand stilled, poised as though ready to fly, and the faint smirk tugging at his lips sent a shiver through Edmund's spine.

In that instant, Edmund felt as though he were staring into the eyes of the devil himself. Any thoughts of retaliation, of reclaiming his pride, vanished like smoke in the wind. His body trembled uncontrollably, and the defiance that had burnt so brightly within him moments ago was doused entirely.

Without another word, Edmund sank back into his chair, his hands trembling as they pressed against the still-bleeding wound where his ear had once been. Hot tears spilt from his eyes, and he sniffled pitifully, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as the reality of his situation set in.

Blood trickled from his wound, dripping onto the pristine white tablecloth and pooling on his plate. He tried to stifle his sobs, but the humiliation and fear overwhelmed him, and his quiet cries filled the otherwise silent room.

His pitiful sobs filled the air, but they barely registered to Isabelle, who remained seated on the ground, her expression a mixture of confusion and concern.

She adjusted her position, trying to crane her neck to see what had caused such a shift in the atmosphere. "W-What's happening?" She asked hesitantly, her hands pressing against the floor as she prepared to push herself up.

Before she could rise, Cassius's voice cut through the tension, firm yet tinged with the same calm authority he always wielded.

"It's nothing you should bother yourself about, Isabelle." His gaze didn't even flicker toward Edmund; it remained fixed on her, as if the chaos behind him didn't warrant any attention. He then grinned and said, "Rather, I think you should be working on the 'problem' you've created, as even your fiancée doesn't seem to mind what you're about to do."

"...Isn't that right, Edmund? You don't mind me borrowing your fiancée's mouth for a minute, right?" Cassius asked, to which he didn't get a reply, or more like Edmund didn't dare to reply, as his life wasn't even in his own hands anymore.

"See, Isabelle...Even Edmund isn't saying anything against what you're about to do, so there's really no need for any hesitation."

Even though Cassius said that Edmund had accepted the circumstances, she knew that he was most definitely silenced by Cassius's overbearing nature.

But she didn't know if it was because of her sincere desire to help her master out or if she was simply craving to see just how big her young master was; she completely ignored the fact that Edmund was right by her side, and she stared at the tent in Cassius's pants with trembling eyes...