Chapter 40
Chapter 40
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: uly
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: Doll
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Calista slapping Daphne for her “positive” delusions didn’t mean she held back from harming her. Calista kept pondering ways to get rid of Daphne, but nothing clever came to mind.
Still, her anger built up slowly, and when Asherad was away, she struck Daphne across the cheek.
Daphne’s cheek stung from the sudden blow. She clutched it with trembling hands and dropped to her knees on the spot.
Truth be told, not even a “Why?” crossed her mind. Sadly, she’d endured so much that the sight of Calista triggered an automatic reflex.
“You filthy trash! There’s a limit to being disgusting—fucking on the dining table?”
“……”
“And your bloodline’s no better!”
Daphne said nothing in response. My bloodline. Yeah, right.
She used to get angry at insults to her mother, but now she just let it slide. Her mother was kind and gentle to her, but to others, she could be a seductress.
Since Daphne didn’t snap back defiantly, Calista seemed satisfied. She tapped the kneeling Daphne’s head with her index finger.
“Hey, hey.”
“……”
“You’re not as stupid as I thought. You know your place.”
Calista was used to lording over others. She had a knack for distinguishing rebellious silence from submissive silence.
She sneered down at the woman kneeling obediently before her with her head bowed. This girl wasn’t even worth threatening her position.
“Do you know what your role is?”
“……”
“To take my place. His Majesty loves me, after all.”
Calista smiled slyly as she lifted Daphne’s chin. The bright golden hair and powdered skin were beautiful, but they couldn’t compare to Calista’s naturally pampered quality. Gleefully, she addressed the wide-eyed Daphne.
“A lowborn seductress like you is just for relieving his urges. He can’t have me, so he settles for that.”
Daphne’s expression hardened. Every time she saw Calista, she felt a strange mix of emotions. She’d once thought Asherad and Calista made a perfect pair.
And just recently, hadn’t they kissed?
Calista smiled as she spoke.
“A man’s got to vent his rising lust somehow. But Asherad’s no beast to treat someone like me carelessly.”
“……”
“Just offer your body. Then our love will be perfect.”
“……”
“Know this: you’re not a person—you’re a dog.”
Calista flashed a victorious smile at Daphne’s crumbling face before turning away. Daphne clutched her slapped cheek and leaned her face against the bed.
When you receive too much punishment, even hell stops feeling like hell.
Tears fell from Daphne’s eyes.
* * *
“Starting tomorrow, someone will come to teach you.”
Asherad said, looking down at the prone Daphne. She lifted her head. But her face held no energy.
“Daphne.”
He called her name as if urging her on. Daphne nodded. Asherad sensed something was off.
She should have tearfully accepted him in desperation, wracked with agony. Her trembling in pain always pleased him.
Lately, though, Daphne acted like she felt nothing. So Asherad decided to poke at her sore spot again.
“Say ‘Big Brother.’”
“Big Brother.”
“Say ‘Big Brother, hold me.’”
“Big Brother, hold me.”
Daphne repeated it like a doll. Even if it carried sexual intent, she wouldn’t have batted an eye.
He’d provoked a reaction from her only once, and after that single time, she seemed immune—no longer responding to the negative stimuli he inflicted.
He took her hand and pressed it to his lips.
Her plump, healthy-colored face looked better than before, yet somehow more lifeless than ever.
“Learn to paint at least one picture.”
“……”
“Got it?”
Asherad forced her head to nod. He climbed atop the recumbent Daphne and kissed her cheek.
Trapped in his arms, her upturned face showed no emotion.
“Daphne, what are you thinking?”
Pinned beneath Asherad, Daphne recalled the day Calista had visited. Calista had called her a mere outlet for his desires.
Daphne believed every word. It was the truth. He couldn’t possibly not love a beauty like Calista.
All this time, Asherad had tormented Daphne like a plaything. To him, she was a dog. The only addition was that she was a doll for his lust.
The man gazing down at her loved Calista fervently.
Though not related by blood, bound as stepmother and adopted son, they could never truly have each other—doomed to yearn eternally.
Asherad craved Calista so intensely that he took Daphne instead.
Even after returning from the battlefield, he’d caught her fleeing—perhaps to punish the runaway dog first.
Or maybe Daphne’s body was simply “useful” for sating his lust.
After all these thoughts, Daphne let go of her life.
“Daphne, answer me. What are you thinking?”
At his words, Daphne parted her lips. They cracked audibly, peeling skin from disuse.
“Nothing.”
“……”
“I’m not thinking anything.”
Why did it even matter what she thought? Staring into her vacant eyes, Asherad suddenly kissed her. Her closed lips parted, invaded by his hot tongue.
Daphne accepted the kiss with slightly open lips, showing no reaction.
If he told her to call him Big Brother, she would gladly do so. He seemed to want to embrace her shame as sport, but he was wrong.
The shame from that one act had vanished. More accurately, she’d abandoned the self that hated it.
She would simply fulfill her role.
Otherwise, she’d shatter completely.
Her heart so broken she no longer noticed the crumbling, Daphne gazed up at the man astride her.
Would he kiss her again? Pry her body open once more?
Demand she bear a child and fuck her pointlessly?
It didn’t matter.
But apparently dissatisfied with her resignation, Asherad dismounted.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“……”
“Get up.”
Daphne rose from her place. He smoothed her disheveled hair from lying down. His delicate touch gently combed the golden strands down to her waist.
“Pay attention in your painting lessons too.”
“……”
“Yeah.”
With a sigh-like murmur, Asherad left the room. Aides waiting outside immediately rushed up.
“Your Majesty, we’ve captured some remnants of the Children of Symer.”
Asherad frowned at the news. The Children of Symer were a suspicious movement within the Pheneios Empire.
The so-called anti-emperor faction usually prioritized noble-centered politics, but these truly opposed the “emperor.”
They wanted to wipe out the imperial line. The emperor’s seed was filthy. The late emperor was a hypocrite.
Asherad had inherited the mess his father left behind. Their activities—distributing leaflets, spreading rumors—hadn’t yet escalated, but it was clear some wealthy backers supported them.
Normally, Asherad would interrogate them himself. Interrogation meaning torture. Annoying cockroaches. His old self would handle it coldly.
“Keep them barely alive, then kill them. Cut off their heads and display them on poles in the square.”
“Your Majesty.”
“Do I have to do it myself?”
The aide shook his head at Asherad’s question.
“They say the new emperor has another face? Then let’s show them. What face he has.”
Corpses were usually buried after torture. Displaying them publicly showed the disloyal what the emperor’s response looked like.
“Keep them breathing as long as possible. Nice and leisurely.”
His voice was chillingly gentle. Yet his eyes gleamed with menace. Yohannis, standing beside him, sighed.
Once the aides left, Yohannis asked,
“That was pretty brutal, even for you.”
“Want me to throw you in with them?”
“Asherad, you seem upset.”
Asherad said nothing. Yohannis stuck close, peering at his face. The beautiful features and thick brows were slightly furrowed.
“I didn’t speak up to oppose you. If anything, it’s what I wanted to request.”
Perhaps because of that, Asherad’s expression softened a touch.
“But your method’s so extreme, I’m curious. Why are you upset?”
Asherad silently gazed down the corridor he’d come from. Daphne’s room lay at the far end. What was that infuriating woman doing now?
Obvious. Lying there again. Her neatly combed golden hair mussed once more. She’d eat if fed, dress if clothed.
Demanding nothing.
“Damn it.”
A curse Asherad would never utter. Yohannis’s gaze drifted toward the room’s end.
“Asherad, what I’m saying is—”
“Don’t.”
“You should give that girl what she wants.”
“Nosy bastard, want to die?”
Yohannis stared openly at Asherad’s face. He knew even curses didn’t mean execution.
That’s what battlefield comrades were like.
Threatening death but never drawing a blade, even in jest.
“I don’t know what you want. But if it’s love…”
“I told you it’s not that shit.”
Yohannis paused at Asherad’s vehement denial, then sighed softly.
“Fine. If it’s about winning her heart like before, then try.”
“……”
“You worked for those pig-noble hearts, so why not hers?”
Yohannis almost seemed to pity him.
“You don’t have to neglect what you love anymore. No one can stop you. You’re safe from what used to break you.”
“……”
“You’re free now.”
For some reason, those words shook Asherad’s heart. The cautious boy who’d quietly summoned and stroked Daphne on evenings no one cared about was gone.
The emperor who’d tried to kill him was dead.
So what should he do now…?
“Just a thought, but bringing Count Leski’s daughter for that girl’s—no, young lady’s—painting lessons was brilliant.”
Yohannis spoke as if reading Asherad’s mind.
“Give her varied experiences. If you want to make a prison for her, at least make it as luxurious as possible.”
It was bone-deep advice.
“Weird bastard.”
A curse slipped unbidden from Asherad’s lips—words that would never come from his refined mouth.
Yet Yohannis smiled upon hearing it.
It was a phrase the battlefield Asherad often used.