The Ring of Bondage - Chapter 2.13

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“I truly am one lucky bastard, aren’t I?”

Damian said, sitting on the edge of the bed. His voice blurred as it mixed into the air of the dark basement. Only the souls of those Damian had killed would hear his words while grinding their teeth.

Damian tapped the lamp with his fingertips as he waited for Serabella. On the day the family head died, she couldn’t have left her place either, but a fair amount of time had passed since then.

Once the funeral was over, Serabella, now completely alone, had no choice but to return to Damian.

Beyond the door came a loud, creaking sound. A sound as pitiful as the death cry of a dying mouse, and as thrilling as a moan during lovemaking.

At the long-awaited sign of Serabella, Damian smiled and approached the door. As if he knew nothing, brightly and a little sorrowfully. At last, when the door opened, Damian immediately took her into his arms.

“Bella, my love. I waited so long. You didn’t forget me, did you?”

“…Damian.”

Her voice was weak, unlike her. Though Damian already knew very well why Serabella was grieving, he kissed her cheek as if he knew nothing.

Pretending not to know—that was something very easy for Damian. Because it was what he had always done since Serabella imprisoned him. As if he remembered nothing of the complicated matters outside, like a diamond quietly kept inside a jewel box Serabella herself had prepared.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t come for a while because I was busy preparing for the funeral. My father passed away.”

Without answering, Damian kissed various places on her cheek. He enjoyed the feeling of soft skin touching his lips. Meanwhile, Serabella continued speaking calmly.

“It’s strange. When my brother died, I wasn’t that sad. When my mother passed away, I was a little sad, but I was alright. But now…”

The reason Serabella hadn’t been very sad about her older brother’s death was probably because that death had allowed her to obtain Damian. Damian could be certain. Because if he had been in Serabella’s position, he would have thought the same.

Damian waited pleasantly for her words to continue.

“Of course Father’s death is very sad, but I don’t think it’s simply sad. It feels more, empty and…”

“Lonely? Because you’re left alone?”

Damian whispered, nibbling at the rim of Serabella’s ear. Serabella flinched at his words, then soon burrowed into Damian’s arms.

“I… Yes. I’m lonely. I’m so afraid of the fact that I’m the only Tocelli now.”

Damian carefully examined her face. Her rosy cheeks had turned pale, and the tears wetting her eyelashes didn’t flow down.

Like a flower that hadn’t withered in time and had met winter, now about to freeze, Serabella stood there precariously and perilously.

Damian already knew very well how to preserve a flower that would soon break. He would give Serabella only the faintest warmth, just enough for her to barely endure.

Never enough. So that she could never feel at ease forever.

“Bella, it’s alright. There’s no way you’re alone. I’m here.”

Damian whispered very softly. In a voice so precarious that it seemed it would fly away if she didn’t hold on tight. Just as Damian wanted, Serabella trembled while clutching his clothes. It was a thin tremor, like a dying bird. Infinitely pitiful and endlessly lovely Serabella.

“I’ll stay by your side forever, Bella. But…”

“But?”

The voice asking back was desperate. Looking at her golden eyes, which seemed about to drop tears at any moment, Damian firmly pressed down his smile. Now wasn’t the time to smile.

“While I was alone, unpleasant scenes kept coming to mind.”

So that the precarious imagination could shake Serabella enough, Damian continued speaking slowly.

“The sight of a man lying dead in front of me. The blood that flowed from the corpse pooled beneath my feet, and when I took one step back, a bloody footprint was stamped clearly. Strange, isn’t it?”

Damian calmly recited the sight he had seen when he killed Serabella’s older brother. Softly, as if speaking of a nightmare that was now growing faint.