The Cat Who Weeps in the Dark - Chapter 85

“It’s about time you made a choice. Will you spread your legs for everyone—or just for His Highness Damian?”

The greedy tone sent a shiver crawling down her spine. Katie clenched her jaw and glared at him.

She wanted to snap back, but no words came.

Neither. That was the truth. But if she said it, he’d threaten expulsion. And the thought of choosing either option made her sick.

Should I report him to the guards? Threatening someone like this would warrant disciplinary action.

No. Her time beside Helion had taught her one thing: the Imperial Guards were not to be trusted. They belonged to the Emperor—and the Emperor doted on Damian. As long as the Knight Commander was Damian’s man, he’d walk away unscathed.

Then what do I do?

Lost in thought, Katie didn’t notice the towering shadow that had crept up behind her—until it was too late.

“You had your hackles raised so fiercely for your master.”

A honeyed voice murmured right beside her ear. Startled, Katie whipped her head around.

The first thing she registered was the crisp scent of fresh grass. Then, the blinding gleam of golden eyes.

“But here you are, standing so meekly in front of the one you should be demanding answers from. Tsk.”

“…Your Highness?”

Katie stared at Helion in bewilderment.

Why is he here? No—that wasn’t the important question right now.

It was always like this. Every damn time. It was uncanny how this man appeared whenever she was in danger.

Helion straightened up from where he’d bent to her eye level. Standing behind her, the man loomed like an ancient tree. When she tilted her head back to look up at him, she had to crane her neck just to see his face.

His hand reached from behind to stroke her neck. When Katie instinctively tensed, his fingers trailed higher, brushing teasingly under her chin.

“Y-Your Highness! To what do we owe this unexpected visit?”

The Knight Commander hastily saluted, his face pale—whether from fear or guilt, it was hard to tell.

Helion said nothing, simply observing him in silence. The suffocating quiet stretched on, broken only by the idle movement of his fingers still tracing Katie’s jawline.

“Say it again.”

When he finally spoke, his words were clipped. The Knight Commander floundered.

“W-what would you like me to repeat, Your Highness?”

“That comment about her legs.”

“Th-that was—! My deepest apologies, Your Highness! A thoughtless remark spoken in the heat of the moment!”

“Heat?”

“Y-yes! Seeing my knights struck down, I let my anger get the better of me—”

“Ah. So you’re implying you were the one entitled to anger just now?”

Helion’s voice held no inflection. Yet the fingers curled around Katie’s throat were colder than usual.

Every instance of his rage she’d witnessed before had been scorching. But this—this glacial stillness was new.

He didn’t raise his voice. Didn’t snarl. And that very absence of sound made her spine prickle with dread.

“Katie.” His hand slid from her chin to cup her cheek, the chill of his skin soothing the heat of her bruised face. “Tell me. Who in this palace has tormented you?”

A pause. Then, softer.

“No—let’s start with an easier question. Who here has helped you?”

Katie didn’t answer. There was no point—no such person existed. Sure, there were people like Cheche or Edward who had shown her kindness. But Helion likely knew more about them than she did.

“How amusing that you can’t name a single one.”

Helion let out a hollow laugh.

“I was prepared to endure quite a bit, but it seems my patience ran out first. Truly maddening.”

He positioned Katie behind him, then swung his hand at the Knight Commander. The impact was too brutal to be called a mere slap.

It wasn’t his palm that struck—it was the back of his hand. The Commander crumpled, clutching his cheek where the knuckles had split skin. Helion immediately raised his foot.

“You’d better dodge. Unless you want to keep your reproductive organs intact.”

His polished boot aimed straight for the man’s g***n. The Commander scrambled backward, legs splayed like a snake fleeing a bird’s talons, frantically pushing himself away with his heels.

Helion stalked forward and stomped down. The Commander’s desperate dodges were useless. Aside from a few lucky near-misses, each kick landed with devastating precision.

“Agh—!”

The Commander’s face flushed crimson with agony.

“Ghk—!”

He wasn’t the only one screaming. With every hit, the knights flinched as if they’d been struck themselves, some doubling over to clutch their own groins in sympathetic horror.

Helion saved the final blow for last—grinding his heel into the Commander’s t*******s with deliberate slowness. His nose wrinkled in disgust as he added pressure.

The Commander trembled, his face a mask of near-death agony. Helion watched, visibly savoring the scene, alternating between increasing and easing the pressure to prolong the torment.

Eventually, the pain became too much. The Knight Commander passed out.

Helion clicked his tongue, unimpressed. One last vicious twist of his boot, and he finally stepped away.