The Old Affection

Flashback 4 years ago, 7 days before Elara and Reynand's wedding.

"You slut! Don't you realize this marriage is the only thing keeping our family name from ruin?" Elara's father roared, yanking her by the hair and hurling her off the bed. She crashed into a wooden chair, a sharp jolt of pain stabbing through her waist.

"F-Father… I… I…" The agony stole her breath, leaving her words broken.

She tried to rise, but his grip on her hair sent her head spinning. What sin had she committed to deserve this?

Ever since her father was caught in an illegal brothel scandal last year, their family had suffered. If not for an old nobleman's intervention, he would've faced the King's wrath. But that kindness came with a price—Elara had to become the man's fifth concubine.

Her father took another step forward. She could only crawl back, dragging her trembling body away in a useless attempt because she was weak. He crouched before her, close enough for his rancid breath to slither across her skin.

It wasn't being a concubine that had sent her fleeing from the wedding this morning. It was the rumors about the man himself—the whispers of his cruelty, the bruises his wives bore. A fate too familiar to the life she endured under her father.

"You should know… your young, untouched body is the only thing of value in this house." He cupped her chin, forcing her teary gaze into his merciless eyes. "I should be paid for raising you, shouldn't I? Ungrateful brat." His grip tightened before shoving her aside.

"F-Father… I… I don't want to marry him. I… I don't like him…" Her fists clenched around her dress, her last shred of bravery holding her upright. Somewhere deep inside, she clung to a fragile hope—that the man who once adored her as a child still existed beneath the monster.

Then came the sound of footsteps approaching her chamber.

"Father, Sir Okland is furious. He demands we pay him back in three days," Enzo said, hands on his hips, his brow furrowed.

"If we don't, he'll take it to the king. And you know what that means—this house will find a new lord," Eryk added, pouring oil onto the fire.

"And all of this because of this wretched bitch." Enzo stepped forward, hand raised to strike Elara, but Eryk caught his wrist, shaking his head in silent warning. Enzo scowled. Even now, despite his hatred, Eryk still had a weak spot for her—the sister he blamed for their mother's death.

The Baron suddenly laughed and turned to Elara. "See? And what did you say? You don't like him?" His voice curled into a snarl as he crushed Elara's tear-streaked cheeks in his grip. "Do you think we have the luxury to choose what we like or not, huh?"

"Ever since your luck ran dry eight years ago, YOU lost the right to choose anything." His nails dug into her cheeks, drawing a wince from her lips as she struggled against his grip—useless.

His words stabbed deep, twisting the old wound that had never healed. The memory of her mother's arms wrapped around her, shielding her from the crash. If she could turn back time, she would—she would trade places, die in her mother's stead. Perhaps then, her family wouldn't see her as a curse. Perhaps then, they wouldn't have lost everything.

The Baron sneered. "I kept you all these years because at the very least, your body could be of use—could bring fortune after our misfortunes. But what did you say? You don't like it?" He finally let go, his nails leaving raw, red marks on her skin.

"Father, we don't have time. We should just take her to Sir Okland and beg," Enzo suggested, sending a shudder down Elara's spine.

"You don't know Sir Okland?" The Baron's voice was laced with mockery. "He might still take her, but that won't erase his humiliation. He'll make us suffer for it. But…" His gaze turned sinister as it landed on Elara, who sat motionless on the floor, hollow-eyed. "We have to exhaust every option."

"Father…" Eryk interjected. "There's a way to save us."

The Baron's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"We can sell her. Outside Valloria, there's a brothel that pays well. If she… performs well, they'll even send us a monthly sum." Eryk spoke calmly, his composure a stark contrast to his father's and brother's rising panic.

Enzo hesitated. "That's—" His expression darkened. "That's illegal. If the king finds out we're involved again…"

The three men discussed her fate as if she weren't there, their words making Elara's stomach churn. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress, knuckles white. 

She shouldn't have been surprised—hadn't it always been this way? Since her mother's death, since her father's fortune crumbled, she had been nothing but a burden, a stain, a reminder of the day their lives collapsed. 

She had always known she would be sold off, forced into marriage to restore the family's standing. But with her father disgraced, the prospect of a respectable match had vanished.

Their decision was made. Enzo left the chamber to arrange the deal. But just as he reached the door, Eryk's voice stopped him.

"But Father… do you think my dear little sister will like this decision?"

He crouched before Elara, meeting her tearful gaze.

The Baron scoffed. "Why should we care?"

Eryk tilted his head. "I think we should give her a chance."

The Baron and Enzo exchanged glances, uncomprehending.

"I suppose she just wants to marry a man she likes. Let's see if she can actually find him."

Enzo's lip curled. "Eryk, we don't have time for games—"

"You have until tomorrow afternoon—before the brothel keepers come." Eryk didn't spare his brother a glance and turned his glare on Elara. "Find yourself a savior, little sister. A prince charming—one willing to pay the highest price for you."

Enzo cursed under his breath, but their father merely waved a hand, instructing him to do what needed to be done before leaving Elara's chamber. He caught the smirk on Eryk's lips and assumed it was just another cruel jest. Nothing would change. They would proceed as planned.

As Eryk turned to leave, Elara's voice trembled behind him. "Can I… use that chance?"

He stilled. "What?"

She swallowed hard. "I—I mean it. Let me try."

Eryk let out a bitter laugh. "Do you even understand what I meant?"

"I do." Her voice wavered, but her eyes, glassy with tears, held his. "And… I appreciate it."

His jaw tensed. A flicker of something—pity, perhaps—flashed in his eyes before he looked away.

"You should have died that day, along with Mother. Do whatever you want." 

He turned on his heel, his steps slow, heavy. Just before he disappeared through the door, he muttered, "Send her my greetings, little sister." 

Elara wiped her tears, but they kept falling, as relentless as the weight crushing her chest. Of her two brothers, Eryk had once been the kinder one—the brother who cared for her most before their mother died. 

Even after their mother's death, beneath the hatred he carried, beneath the blame he placed on her, remnants of that old affection remained, buried beneath his coldness. 

And this? Perhaps this, too, was his version of kindness—a way to free her from suffering. Had it always been this way? Had she always deserved this? 

She understood what he meant. This was the second time he had offered her an escape—once before the wedding, and now again. 

Not through salvation, but by ending her own life.