The Boundaries of Possession - Chapter 22

Roxen Eperthier’s death wasn’t merely the death of a father—it marked a turning point that changed everything for Andreas. His loving mother, the familial bonds, and even his trust in people all crumbled like a castle swept away by a storm. The bitter memories, too, became buried deep in the mud of time.

Andreas wiped his face with his hands, recalling the final moments of his father.

***

It had been a peaceful evening. Two people sat at the dinner table, their companionship evident in their warm interaction. Andreas’s green eyes glimmered as he watched the two of them in turns.

Marcus, a close friend of his father’s, often visited their mansion. He was a noble in the ink business and a recessive alpha with a gentle demeanor.

The evening was peaceful as usual. Roxen’s hearty laughter filled the dining room, creating a warm, boisterous atmosphere. But as the evening went on, Andreas’s gaze became fixated on Marcus’s meaningful smile.

At the time, Andreas was entering the age of curiosity about relationships and the opposite s*x. What he had learned from his tutors didn’t fully satisfy him. It felt too superficial. Asking his father or other nobles about the intimate relationships between alphas and omegas felt awkward and inappropriate. So, Andreas planned to corner Marcus, who had recently married, and bombard him with questions.

Late that night, as Andreas quietly sneaked through the corridors to Marcus’s room, he noticed that his father’s room was still lit. Odd sounds drifted from within.

Something fell. A faint gasp. Laughter leaking out as though escaping from within. A strange sensation wrapped itself around his body, making his skin crawl.

It didn’t take long for him to realize something was wrong. His father and the servants were not the kind of people to leave doors ajar. Andreas instinctively slowed his steps, inching toward the room where the light spilled through the gap in the door. His green eyes carefully peered inside through the narrow opening.

His father, seated at the table, appeared drunk, his body slumped and lifeless. When Andreas stepped forward to get a better view, he saw Marcus standing in front of his father, holding a dagger.

The tip of the blade dripped with blood.

Andreas’s scream echoed throughout the room.

“AAAAHHHHH!”

He charged forward, grabbing Marcus by the waist and slamming him against the wall. The impact caused Marcus to collapse to the floor, groaning in pain and unable to move.

“FATHER…!”

Would his cry reach him? Roxen had already lost consciousness. His stomach was soaked in crimson, warm blood that hadn’t cooled yet, staining his clothes. Fear, something Andreas had never felt before, was etched deep into his eyes. His trembling hands touched his father’s pale, cold cheek. Roxen’s body was hardening as rigor mortis set in.

Marcus, who had momentarily regained his senses, tried to get up but was stopped by Andreas stomping on his wrist. He pressed down until Marcus screamed in pain.

“Why did you do this? What’s the reason for this, damn it?!”

Marcus cackled, his laughter echoing in the room like madness set free.

“Andreas! It’s all over! Don’t you see? Everything is finished!”

As Marcus reached for the fallen dagger, Andreas stomped on him again, his voice rising in desperation.

“Why my father? Why did you do this?!”

“Because of your father’s arrogance, everything I had crumbled!”

While Andreas was too shocked to even breathe, Marcus continued panting and sneering.

“Your father, the almighty Duke of the Empire, the one man who could never fall! But look at him now! Look at this disgrace! Ha!”

“Shut up!”

“Your father mocked me, saying my ink was only fit for commoners! And because of that single remark, every noble who supported me turned their backs on me!”

Marcus laughed bitterly, mocking his fate.

“I lost my funding, my reputation, and even my wife—all because of one word from Roxen. The great dominant alpha Duke, so noble and untouchable, destroyed everything.”

Andreas clenched his teeth. He couldn’t believe his father would have said something so cruel. Even if he had, it must have been meant as advice to help Marcus.

“There’s no way my father would—”

“Oh, he had plenty of chances to apologize, to beg for my forgiveness! But what did he do instead? He laughed it off like it was nothing! Nothing!”

Marcus’s laugh was unhinged, like the wicked villains described in religious scriptures. His voice, filled with scorn and despair, cut through the silence like a blade.

“You dominants—you’ll never understand what it’s like to be at the bottom. You… All you bastards, you just have to have everything…”