Chapter 52
Soon, the sharp light faded one by one from Kater’s three pairs of eyes.
And then, Kater knelt before me.
From each of his three open mouths came puffs of breath.
The eyes that looked at me no longer held hostility.
“Haa… haa…”
I finally let out a shaky breath.
Kater’s pointed, razor-sharp teeth were still terrifying, but I had been acknowledged.
As a member of the Winchester family—one he must never attack, but serve as master.
And then—
“Give me your Soul Ball.”
I held out my hand to Kater.
This was the very reason I had gone to the trouble of seeking him out and forcing him into submission.
Keurgh— keck—
The middle head coughed up a small orb and spat it into my hand.
I stared at the small golden orb in my palm.
It was Kater’s Soul Ball.
A device that would allow me to summon Kater in an emergency.
Of course, it would only work within the mansion.
If someone were to intrude into my room again or I were in danger, I could press the Soul Ball and Kater would come charging in to tear the enemy apart.
“Well done.”
There were guards and even Robin waiting outside my room, but in urgent situations, this would be far more useful.
I reached out and stroked Kater’s middle head.
Immediately, the heads on either side leaned toward my hand, demanding affection.
“Fine, I’ll pet you too.”
Just a moment ago, they had been like wild beasts, but now they were practically fighting for my attention. The dramatic shift in attitude was almost amusing.
I stroked each of Kater’s heads in turn.
“You don’t need to go to such trouble.”
A voice came from behind me—Jin’s.
“You’d be safer if you just became part of my collection.”
A chill ran down my spine, and I turned toward him.
“Brother, stop pretending.”
At my words, Jin shrugged, his lips twisting.
“Pretending, is it? That’s how you see it. Then I suppose I’ll stop.”
Something in his tone felt off.
“Thank you for cooperating.”
“All this effort—is it because of that brat Evan who threatened you?”
Jin muttered irritably.
“Seems better to just kill him while he’s still in prison.”
Behind him, black flames tinged with murderous intent flickered and oozed out.
The Winchesters really did speak of killing as casually as eating a meal.
I shook my head.
“It’s not only because of Evan.”
Jin frowned at my words, then after a pause asked,
“In this mansion… besides Evan Taylors… is there something else that threatens you?”
I suddenly remembered Evan’s words.
We didn’t know whose body held Persetos.
Should I tell Ricardo, or even my brothers, about the truths of this world one day?
I thought of the moment when Persetos had erupted from Jin’s own body, and my heart grew unsettled.
Someone rattled open the prison door.
“…”
That height—certainly not a jailer.
When Evan lifted his gaze, he saw a boy with deep green eyes standing before him.
The boy wore a robe as if to conceal his identity, his shoes worn out from long travel.
Evan frowned the moment he recognized him.
Othello Taylors had no reason to be here.
Step by step, Othello approached, pushing Evan down by the shoulder.
Thunk.
The sound of a dagger burying into the stone floor rang by Evan’s ear.
Othello loomed over him, eyes blazing cold fire.
They had once crossed swords in Merco.
In every cycle, Othello’s talent in swordsmanship had been extraordinary.
Even Jin Winchester, the heir, couldn’t match him in pure swordplay.
Was Othello’s black flame always this strong?
The oppressive density of black fire surging around Othello was so intense that Evan’s brow twitched.
It was a change he had never witnessed in the previous cycles.
“I didn’t like you the first time.”
Othello’s lips spilled a threatening tone.
“Now that I see you again, I want to kill you even more, brat.”
The killing intent he exuded was overwhelming.
“You shouldn’t even be here.”
Evan’s flat, emotionless words only made Othello glare more fiercely.
The dagger buried beside Evan’s face could, at any moment, pierce his throat.
But Evan Taylors dying here in the Winchester dungeon would cause complications.
Grinding down his urge to kill, Othello pressed his hand against Evan’s throat, threatening him.
“You touched what you should never have touched.”
A growl slipped into Evan’s ear.
“I came to warn you—don’t rush headlong toward death.”
After a moment, Othello released his grip.
As though shaking dirt from his hand, he stood. Evan, expressionless, looked up at him and asked,
“You ran all the way here because of Sasha Winchester?”
It was a journey of four sleepless days.
“Because I attacked your little sister?”
Breaking through Taylors’ strict surveillance couldn’t have been easy.
And going back, he would have to face the consequences himself.
“…”
Looking down at Evan with an icy gaze, Othello’s lips parted.
“When I first heard what you did, I came here to kill you.”
Evan knew well of Othello’s hot-blooded nature.
No doubt he had left the Taylors estate with that very resolve.
“Even now, I want nothing more than to rip you apart.”
But in all the previous cycles, Othello had never shown any interest in Sasha Winchester.
Now, at the center of everything twisting out of order—stood Sasha.
“Sasha… that girl…”
The light in Othello’s eyes burned stronger than when he spoke of Permetis, the one thing he had once obsessed over.
“If not for the things she said about you, I wouldn’t have spared your life.”
“…”
His feelings were plain.
He wanted desperately to kill Evan—barely restraining himself.
And the cause of that restraint… was Sasha Winchester.
“…Do you treasure her?”
Evan asked. Othello didn’t answer.
But the murderous green eyes glaring down were more than enough of a reply.
He’s changed. He, who once held no human emotions for anyone but himself… Even his obsession with Permetis was just a warped fixation. Yet now…
Evan thought for a moment, then pulled something from his pocket and tossed it at Othello’s feet.
“Take it.”
He had caught a faintly familiar scent emanating from Othello.
Othello’s brow twitched.
“What is this ragged thing?”
“An antidote.”
“…Did you poison Sasha?”
The moment thicker black fire surged behind Othello’s back, Evan calmly clarified,
“It’s not for Sasha. It’s for you.”
Othello furrowed his brows in disbelief.
Evan continued nonchalantly.
“It neutralizes most poisons the Taylors handle. Even the venom coiled in your body. It’s strong.”
He had long harbored doubts about his family.
He also suspected that Chenoa had been using poison on the Winchester hostage.
For twenty-seven cycles, the Duke of Winchester had been his enemy—yet now, everything was shifting.
And the beginning of that change was likely that girl.
Othello picked up the antidote from the ground.
“How am I supposed to believe you? You, heir of Taylors, giving me something to protect me from the Taylors?”
He could easily let a drop of black flame burn it to ash.
“If you don’t want to believe it, then don’t.”
Evan’s calm words made Othello study him for a long time.
Arrogant brat. One he couldn’t leave alone.
If not for Sasha’s voice he had heard through Rune, his self-control would’ve snapped by now.
“I’m not even sure why I’m giving this to you.”
Evan’s blue eyes were detached, distant.
Sasha’s innocent words that once stirred ripples in his mind drifted by again.
“…”
Othello glared fiercely at Evan, then tucked the vial into his robe.
Slowly, he turned to leave.
“Remember my warning well. Threaten her again, and I’ll kill you.”
His low voice seeped into Evan’s ears.
Then came the sound of the iron door slamming shut.
Leaning back against the cold wall, Evan stared up at the ceiling.
I dreamt of someone stroking my forehead.
The hand was cold, rough even—but somehow comforting.
When I woke in the morning, Othello’s teddy bear was lying beside me.
I petted the bear once before getting up.
Maya came in with my meal, smiling brightly.
“My lady, His Grace has returned after the Verus—the monthly council.”
