Just as the Duskwood couple and their son exited the dining hall, the heavy door clicked shut behind them—
Smack!
Ferick slamd his fist onto the table, dishes rattling from the impact. His face twisted in rage as he turned toward Selene.
"Who the fuck told you to dress this filthy slave in servant's uniform?!" he bellowed.
Selene clenched her jaw, but kept her voice was calm and asured.
"We were short on staff," she said, standing her ground. "He was the only one who looked decent enough to serve without bringing sha."
That only set him off more.
Ferick's eyes flared. "Don't get smart with , woman! You just cost the best fucking offer this house had in years!"
He grabbed a heavy decanter from the table—still half full of wine—and hurled it.
It spun through the air.
Alaric, standing stiff near the wall, gritted his teeth, but didn't move an inch.
Crash!
The decanter shattered beside him, shards of glass and red wine splattering across the floor, the wall, and the hem of his robe.
Ferick pointed a trembling, accusing finger at him.
"You worthless fuck. You can't even pour wine properly without trembling like a damn rat!"
Alaric's lips tightened, but he said nothing.
Ferick spun back to Selene, he snarled.
"And you—you conniving bitch—you'd better make it up to them next ti. Serve them yourself, in whatever way they want! Like a proper little housewife should've been doing all along."
He spat at the floor, then stord out, cursing under his breath.
Selene's chair scraped loudly against the floor as she stood and stord out, her heels clicking on the floor.
Leaving the shattered ss—and the stunned servants.
Silence.
Alaric slowly exhaled.
His eyes lowered to the glass-streaked wine at his feet.
Then, with deliberate steps, he walked out of the dining hall, ignoring the murmurs of servants cleaning up the shattered glass and the stench of spilled wine.
He took a few turns through the corridors of the estate, the halls were dimly lit by flickering wall sconces.
The deeper he went, the quieter it beca—until finally, he erged into an open hallway that overlooked the garden courtyard.
And then he saw her.
A girl stood by the marble railing, bathed in soft moonlight.
Her smooth and cool bare shoulders glead under the silvery glow
A soft nightgown—thin, pale—clung to her form.
It fluttered gently in the breeze, hinting at the curves beneath without revealing too much.
Her long, jet-black hair cascaded in loose waves down her back, catching silver highlights under the glow of the full moon.
She stood like a figure etched from dreams, one hand resting lightly on the railing, the other toying absently with the hem of her sleeve.
Alaric stepped back into the shadows, clenching his fists tight at his sides.
He exhaled sharply—then threw a punch.
His knuckles grazed his cheek.
A shallow sting blood.
One more hit.
And another.
Then he tousled his hair roughly, ssing it up just enough to make himself look like what he needed to be—worn down, pitiful... harmless.
He exhaled again.
This ti slower. Steadier.
Then, he turned and approached the girl by the railing.
The soft echo of his footsteps reached her ears, and she turned slightly.
As the moonlight illuminated her face, her silver-grey eyes eting his.
She startled.
A soft gasp escaped her lips.
She quickly back and lowered her gaze that landed on his cheek, slightly reddened, a faint bruise already forming under his skin.
Then her eyes flicked upward, catching the disheveled hair, the stiffness in his shoulders, the subtle wince he couldn't quite hide.
Her brows drew together, and a twist of sothing—Concern?—flickered in her eyes.
But before she could speak, Alaric bowed, voice low and slightly unsteady, "Forgive my lady. I... I didn't an to disturb you."
"I... apologize for earlier, my carelessness caused you discomfort. I... didn't an to."
His words were humble, the tone was just the right amount of strained—as if he was in pain but trying to hide it.
She stared at him, unsure of what to say.
Then sothing twisted in her stomach.
Does this... happen to him because of ? she thought, her throat tightening with guilt.
"I... it's alright... I'm fine," she stamred, her voice softer.
Hands fidgeting in front of her, fingers brushing over one another nervously. She hesitated, then took a small step forward.
"Please... raise your head," she added.
Alaric slowly lifted his gaze.
His eyes—dull.
There was no accusation in them, only pain and a kind of genuine, unguarded guilt that made her heart thud louder in her chest.
She quickly looked away, unable to hold that gaze.
"You... you don't need to apologize," she said hurriedly, her words tumbling out in a quiet rush. "If anything... I should be the one apologizing. I'm the reason you... you got hit. I—I couldn't even drink properly and caused that whole ss..."
Her fingers curled tighter around each other, as her voice trailed off, fragile and unsure, like she was trying to piece together an apology while battling her own embarrassnt.
He didn't speak right away.
The wind rustled—tugging at her nightdress, carrying the scent of jasmine through the hall.
And the moonlight kept painting him in its pale glow.
Alaric lowered his head again. "I... I'll make it up to you. Sohow," he murmured, his voice low, hoarse.
Before Livia could reply, a sharp voice rang out like a whip crack through the quiet hall.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
Caleb stord forward, a black cane in his hand, anger etched deep into his face.
His boots thudded against the floor as he advanced, eyes blazing.
Without warning, he shoved Alaric back, the tal tip of his cane pressing against the boy's chest.
"How dare you co near my sister?" he growled.
Livia rushed forward, stepping between them. "Brother, stop—he just ca to apologize. That's all. You don't need to be so—"
"Be quiet, Livia," Caleb snapped. "Go back to your room."
She flinched and lowered her gaze.
Her voice caught in her throat as she gave Alaric one last glance, then turned and walked away.
Her bare feet tapped softly against the marble floor, fading with every step.
Alaric's gaze lingered on her retreating figure until she disappeared around the corner.
Then—
Crack!
The cane struck the side of Alaric's head.
A thin trickle of blood slid down from his temple, tracing the curve of his cheekbone.
"Filthy dog," Caleb hissed, raising the cane again.
[Ding!]
[Bonus Quest: Entangle the Duskwood Flower Completed!]
[Rewards: 50 Domination Points | 10 EXP | 5 CHA]
[Efficiency Bonus: (Quest completed in under 1 hour.)]
2 All Stats
1x Adrenaline Pill (One-ti use. Temporarily boosts all stats by 3x for 10 seconds.)
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