The banquet was breathtaking.
Crystal chandeliers dripped gold light over polished obsidian floors. Tall windows were thrown open to the sea breeze. Every noble, every remnant of the Supreme Leader's regime, was dressed in opulence. Silk and satin shimmered. Gemstones glinted. Laughter rang through wine-stained air.
It felt like rot dressed up in luxury.
And at the center of it all—me.
I sat at the head of the table, crowned in black, spine straight, expression unreadable. Nine sat beside me, dressed in pale gray that clung to his frame like moonlight. He looked soft, gentle—utterly out of place here.
He hadn't said much all evening. He kept his hand in mine, fingers loosely tangled. But he wasn't watching the guests. He was watching me.
Waiting.
Dr. Emily arrived late.
Of course she did.
She swept in wearing deep navy, her silver hair pinned high, a knowing smirk on her lips. She bowed like she was owed the world. "Your Excellency," she purred. "You requested my presence?"
I smiled. "Indeed."
I gestured to the empty seat beside me, the one I'd purposefully left untouched all night. She took it without hesitation.
I poured her wine myself.
She didn't notice the silence that had fallen over the room. Or if she did, she mistook it for respect.
"Do you know why you're here?" I asked after a pause, placing the carafe down.
"To discuss the hybrid enrichment program, I assume." She smiled like it was a private joke. "Or perhaps a promotion? I've heard rumors—"
"I watched the footage," I said.
The color drained from her face.
"I know it was you."
Her jaw tightened. "You misunderstand. It was merely for educational—"
"You played a video of my mate being tortured in our room," I said softly. "And you did it under the guise of education?"
"I didn't mean to—"
"I don't care." I stood, slowly, and the room followed with stifled gasps and tense glances.
Dr. Emily shifted, suddenly uncertain.
I reached into the tray the servant beside me held, retrieved the rusted fork I'd requested specially, and laid it gently in front of her.
"Your hand," I said. "The right one."
Her lips parted. "Excuse me?"
"I said," I leaned in, voice a blade, "cut it off."
She stared at me, horror dawning.
"I could do it for you," I added with a gentle smile. "But I think it would be more poetic if you did it yourself."
The entire room held its breath.
Even the sea seemed to pause.
Nine didn't move. I could feel him beside me, perfectly still. But not calm.
He was tense.
"I—please," Emily tried to laugh. "You're joking."
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
She looked at the fork.
Then at me.
Then at the fork again.
And then—hands trembling—she picked it up.
It took her three tries to brace her wrist against the edge of her plate.
I didn't look away. I wanted her to see my face while she tore herself apart.
She made the first puncture. A short scream escaped her, and the room flinched.
Nine flinched too.
When she hit bone, she passed out.
I didn't let her fall. I gestured for the guards to take her away and leaned back in my chair, like I hadn't just ordered a woman to mutilate herself in front of the empire.
The music resumed, awkwardly. The nobles whispered behind silk-gloved hands.
Nine's hand slipped from mine.
I turned to him, heart still pounding with righteous fury—and froze.
He wasn't proud.
He wasn't soothed.
He was afraid.
Not of her.
Of me.
His violet eyes were wide, lips parted slightly. Not in awe. Not in fear for me.
But of the thing I was becoming.
The thing I already was.
"Rhea…" Nyx whispered, voice tight. "He's scared."
And somehow, that cut deeper than anything tonight.
Author's note:
So, well, the thing is I kind of made two endings for this, there is a sad ending(the original psychological twist I wanted to go for with a possible sequel (no spoilers now tho)) on tapas and obviously there will be a happy ending which I will be posting here (because Nine is my baby and I kinda want him to be happy) so yeah.., it's up to you what you wan to read...
The tapas link for chapter 141: https://tapas.io/episode/3767493