Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 61

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

Yet the rapture did not last. The bliss that had seemed endless vanished as abruptly as it had come.

When Fiona disappeared, only emptiness remained. Beyond emptiness, only one thing remained: Caligo, his new name, which she herself had bestowed.

As he recalled that name, his consciousness shed another layer, like the sea surface after mist had passed.

At the same time, reality—which he had never perceived before—suddenly overwhelmed him.

The cold stone floor, his naked body, his uncomfortably bound limbs. In that moment, Caligo became newly aware of his imperfect state, like the primordial human after consuming the fruit of knowledge.

Yet above all, Caligo longed for his mate, who had suddenly vanished before his eyes. He missed her, grieved for her, burned for her. He could not bear it—he wanted to feel again the warmth that had so abruptly disappeared.

Nevertheless, his mind, not yet fully returned to reason, could not reach the conclusion that he should go in search of her.

Instead, Caligo waited. He waited for Fiona to appear before him again, like the miracle that had just occurred. And that she might again grant him her warm embrace.

That night, for the first time, Caligo felt the cold and hardness of the floor seeping beneath him, and passed the night unable to sleep.

* * *

After Fiona appeared, a new compass rose within Caligo.

His world was now divided into only two states: when Fiona was by his side, and when she was not.

At the same time, Caligo’s time began to flow very slowly. Unlike before, when he had not even perceived the concept of time, the reason and intelligence that had returned by a fingernail’s breadth brought him the sensation of boredom.

Yet still there was nothing he could accomplish on his own. Without even dreaming of escape or departure, his mind—still small in capacity—circled only around Fiona’s presence and the name Caligo she had given him.

Thus far, Caligo’s time has been like this. Except when dragged out to face monsters, he simply stagnated here like standing water.

His body required neither food nor sleep, so once imprisoned underground, he merely existed there like an object.

But after his lifeless consciousness revived, a clear image bloomed in that fragile gap: anxiety.

A foreboding had suddenly arisen within him that the being who first gave him a name, the sweet and warm being who had pulled him from the deep, dark abyss, might never appear again.

What if they never met again? What if he sank back into the depths of the abyss?

His mind, still dull as stone, was seized by distant anxiety.

It was not mere emotional disturbance. It was the realm of imagination and inference—possible only for beings with intellect—sprouting in consciousness that had just begun to breathe.

With this anxiety as impetus, his consciousness expanded very slowly, but in a definite direction.

Thus, as he endured change with bated breath, someone other than Fiona appeared before him.

The one who occasionally troubled Caligo or thrust him into pain. The man Fiona called “the blond bastard.”

The man’s agitated voice and angry aura intruding upon his clarified consciousness felt strange.

“Ha… so she actually did it.”

Arriving as always with a torch brightly lit, he shone the fire close enough to scorch Caligo’s body and muttered with displeasure.

Though Caligo could not know it, his naked body was covered with dried traces of fluid. Evidence of last night’s heated rapture, proof that Fiona had been there.

“Take him and throw him in the lake. It is disgusting to look at.”

More irritable than usual for some reason, Jayden commanded his underlings.

Whenever Caligo returned from battle dirtied with monster blood, they would always immerse him in the cold lake waters thus.

As always, Caligo followed the pull of someone leading him by the leash, offering no resistance.

The humans’ presence was utterly insignificant to his senses. They were foolish beings not worth resisting. He could easily fight back or break free if he wished, but he had never done so because he lacked not only consciousness but also will.

Without free will, dragged along by inertia with submerged consciousness, perhaps the term “beast” suited him.

“That Fiona, that headstrong girl—to think she actually endured this.”