Tamed Monster - Chapter 112

There wasn’t just one strap—there were several. Gripping one of them, he first pulled Sylvia’s wrists together and tied them firmly.

“…Hhk.”

Blood burst again from his wound, and the monster let out a low sound, but stubbornly kept twisting the straps tight around her wrists.

Once he finished that, his gaze dropped to her ankles. The bed was already a sea of blood. He moved with efficiency, creating a scene that would never again be replicated. Sylvia came to her senses mid‑way and tried to kick him, but he avoided it effortlessly and bound her limbs tight.

“No choice. You’re staying here. For a long, long while.”

He couldn’t trust her anymore. He had now fully accepted that she might actually hurt him. Sylvia stared in a daze at the sharp monster fangs glinting inside the split of his lips. Fully transformed now, he looked like an unkempt beast with wild, ragged hair.

“Agh, hurts… I need to sleep.”

And just like that—after gagging her as well—he tied her up from head to toe like some kidnap victim, then collapsed beside her, blood pooling beneath him. Whenever she struggled to rise, his huge monster hand flattened over her stomach, pushing her back down. Before long, he was snoring deeply.

“……!”

She had no idea this was the beginning of her captivity.

She kept forcing her voice out, trying to call for someone while he slept, but no one heard. Or no one dared answer. Until the next morning when the monster finally woke, the entire castle remained dead silent.

A day passed. Then another. Time continued to slip by as the Grand Duke kept her hidden. For weeks, he managed to barely keep his secret from everyone.

* * *

The Grand Duke, too, had withdrawn from public life, and the two remained together in the master bedroom.

It counted as sleeping together only because she was bound to the bed while he lay sprawled across the rug beneath it, using it as a blanket.

Sylvia hadn’t eaten, washed, or even shifted properly in days. On the fifth day, he finally removed her gag. The moment she opened her mouth to scream, a lump of food was shoved in.

So much that her throat clogged instantly.

For a terrifying moment, she thought this was his chosen method of killing her—stuffing her until she suffocated.

But once she swallowed, he withdrew his hand, seemingly satisfied. Just as she was about to scream again, another spoonful of stew was shoved into her mouth.

By then Sylvia understood: this wasn’t his way of killing her.

And if she wanted any strength to escape, she needed to eat. So she opened her mouth like a helpless fledgling and swallowed everything he fed her.

She deliberately ignored the question of why she had only now realized how starved she was.

After the last bite, he asked, “You gonna scream again?”

If she said yes, he’d gag her again. Sylvia, now thinking more clearly after eating, calculated quickly. There was no point provoking him right now.

With a cautious, small voice, she answered, “No.”

“Good. Then I’ll let you wash.”

He had spent the past several days holed up with her, focusing entirely on healing. Through the door she overheard him telling the servants she’d been down with a vicious fever. He ate well, slept well, relieved himself freely, and regained color day by day.

Sylvia, by contrast, grew paler, thinner, and feebler.

Muttering a thank‑you she didn’t mean, she tried to sit up, but moving her own body after so long was nearly impossible.

Noticing instantly, Kuinan scooped her up like luggage before she could even set a foot on the floor.

Her belly pressed painfully against his hard shoulder, and she let out a cough. Their bedroom was connected to both the dressing room and the bath by corridors. Without encountering anyone, he carried her into the bathroom and set her carefully down.

She stared at him, confused that he remained inside.

…Of course he wouldn’t leave.

She recovered from her surprise quickly and began to wash—slowly, thoroughly, every part she could reach. All the while she could feel his sticky gaze crawling over her bare skin, and her gut tightened.

He’s going to touch her. Then take her. Rip her apart again. Keep going until she passes out, then keep going even after that.

Sylvia didn’t doubt it. But he didn’t touch her until she finished her bath.

He only leaned against the doorway, silently stroking himself with his left hand. Yet he didn’t close the distance between them.