Chapter 3
A tone so languid it made her ears itch. Thud. But what fell right after was a finger. A plump finger adorned with a thick ring.
It must have been freshly cut from the king’s hand— Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Having lived her whole life walking on eggshells, she knew from experience.
The usurper was in an exceptionally good mood right now. As long as she didn’t defy him, he might spare her. Even if it was as a slave.
“Siren Wilkeron, the last surviving member of the Wilkeron dynasty. Put your seal on this. If you become my wife, I’ll let you live.”
A marriage contract. The moment she read the words on the document, her mind spun. If she stamped it, her chances of survival would surely increase. After all, a bride had to be alive for a marriage to be valid. The reason he needs my father’s ring… is because I am now the sole representative of the Wilkeron dynasty.
Suppressing her trembling, Siren forced her hand to move and pulled the signet ring from her father’s severed finger. It wasn’t easy, but she managed. With no ink pad in sight, she dipped the ring in the pooling blood. She wished, more than anything, that the man wasn’t watching her so intently. But he had no intention of looking away.
It wasn’t because he was suddenly enamored with the woman he had only just seen today. His tastes were as peculiar as his twisted personality, and a slightly pretty face wasn’t enough to stir him. Of course, being beautiful was preferable, but in any case, most of her face was obscured by her disheveled hair. Even so, he kept watching—
Mostly because of his mean-spirited nature. A pampered little thing. And she’s trembling over something as trivial as this. His gaze might as well have been a prison; the woman couldn’t move an inch. Not a single sound escaped her lips, which, in a way, pleased him.
“Knows how to read the room, too. How admirable.”
He tossed the rolled-up marriage contract to an attendant who had just entered. Then, without hesitation, he scooped her up into his arms.
She was too stunned to even resist, holding her breath as she was lifted. The weight of her was just right—he never liked women who felt as light as feathers.
“I’m going to sleep. Clean this up.”
He deliberately chose words that could be easily misconstrued, then gazed down at her palling face. She looked like a helpless pup before a beast, lips sealed shut, not knowing what to do. What was amusing, though, was that she seemed somewhat relieved.
“Do you really think I’ll let you live?”
Earlier, he had asked if she thought he would kill her. Now, he was saying the complete opposite. Because, once again, he was just that kind of bastard. Ever since he was young, he had always enjoyed playing with small, fragile things.
Me?
It’s cute, watching someone roll over at just a single word—especially when he hadn’t even made a real threat. If they put on a good enough show, he might even feel like showing them a bit of affection. Which meant, conversely, that if they resisted and barked back at him, he’d feel the urge to crush them and silence them forever.
“P-please… spare me.”
“I don’t really have a reason to kill you. As long as you keep acting this cute.”
“……”
A flicker of despair passed through the woman’s pitch-black eyes. And at that moment, for the first time, their gazes met.
“……!”
Siren unconsciously inhaled a shallow breath. Until now, she had been so overwhelmed with fear that even breathing properly had been a struggle. This reaction came purely from instinct. Beneath soft-looking platinum hair, ruthless green eyes gleamed.
A cold, composed expression. A strong jawline. A mouth set with stubborn resolve. A pronounced Adam’s apple and a subtly rugged lower face.
Yet all of it contrasted with his strikingly refined features, blending together in a way that made him appear nothing short of remarkable.
A man who had just butchered countless people, yet he looked as if he should be holding a brush or an instrument instead. It threw Siren’s mind into disarray once again.
Did he really kill them all?
“Your eyes are blue.”
The man studied her intently. His stare was unbearable, yet somehow, she knew. If she avoided his gaze, she would die. If she wanted to live, she had to endure it.
“Then, shall we have our wedding night?”
But at the next offhand remark, the resolve she had painstakingly built crumbled in an instant. She couldn’t stop the violent trembling that overtook her fingertips.
Still… still, at the very least… I’ve lived longer than my family did. Carried in the man’s arms, Siren silently prayed for forgiveness. Ah, she was grateful.
Grateful to have felt joy at the sight of her family’s heads flying from their bodies. If there was punishment for the freedom she now felt, she would accept it without resistance.
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