Chapter 18
The torture chamber, without a lamp lit, was pitch-dark tonight—like someone had spilled black paint over everything. And yet, Kyle alone seemed to glow, standing out vividly.
With three buttons undone on his white shirt and clad in black leather trousers, Kyle approached with a languid gait. The whip dangling in his hand made me flinch.
“Don’t you think it’s nice, just the two of us here?”
There’s no way it could be nice for a guard and a prisoner to be alone in a torture chamber. Having already learned the terror of being whipped, I braced myself, body taut with fear, as I watched him.
My hands were bound together and secured to a ring fastened to the wall. Kyle caressed the whip, lost in thought.
Then, as if the tool displeased him, he tossed it away. Only then did I feel the slightest relief.
“Thinking of us as trapped together in a tiny solitary cell—it makes my heart race a little.”
I shook my head, thinking he’d truly gone mad in every possible way.
“When I heard the rumor that the two of you were plotting something, I’ll admit I was surprised. I knew you wouldn’t give up on escaping, but to boldly make an accomplice? Why choose Aberdeen instead of accepting my offer?”
Kyle’s eyes gleamed coldly, like starlight before dawn. They carried no warmth, though the lemon-yellow color should have been the warmest of all. To instill fear with eyes that looked like sunlight—that, too, was a talent.
“How did you win over that prisoner?”
Of course, Richard’s name had come up. With the circumstances looking utterly incriminating, I tried my best to hide my tangled emotions and appear calm. But my voice trembled, betraying me.
“He doesn’t know anything. He only helped me because I looked like I was in trouble.”
“No. In a situation like this, defending another man will only make me lose my temper. You should have blamed him. Said, ‘That traitor offered to help me escape first.’”
A gasp escaped me. Kind Richard had only agreed because he pitied me. I had to beg and coax him endlessly before he agreed to try escaping with me.
But Kyle’s glare only grew sharper, more oppressive. Strange as it was to think it at such a time, wasn’t he acting as though he were jealous of Richard?
Surely not—but Kyle’s twisted mind had shown itself often enough that it wouldn’t be surprising if he distorted our prison-break plan into something like a lovers’ elopement.
Truthfully, I did feel some affection for Richard. But I had no intention of staying with him after we escaped. It was never a runaway romance.
I recalled how the guards tortured Richard far more brutally than the others, and unease gripped me.
If he gets tortured because of me… what then?
“How exactly did you persuade that prisoner? He doesn’t seem the type to risk breaking a witch out of jail. Did you seduce him with your body?”
“What?”
I flinched at the accusation.
With the witch trial approaching, Kyle constantly tormenting me, and Richard so unyielding—I had been desperate. And seeing his fiancée during visiting hours had made me anxious that he’d never budge.
But Richard was too stiff, too guileless. My attempt at seduction had failed.
Kyle pressed his lips into a grim line, his severe gaze boring into me. Whenever he stared at me like that, I found it hard to breathe.
Even now, an inexplicable fear and unease made me tremble uncontrollably.
“I’ll have to confirm it myself.”
“W-what? Confirm what?”
Kyle, his thoughts leaping ahead to some dark conclusion, nodded calmly.
“If you seduced him with your body, there would be traces. I’ll just strip you and check for myself.”
“W-what are you saying! Stop it!”
I jumped in shock. I had been expecting a whipping—never this.
Wasn’t it normal in situations like this to demand confessions? To press me on how I recruited Richard, why I tried to escape, what plans I had?
But Kyle seemed uninterested in the prison break. His gaze lingered only on my body. Alarm surged through me as I writhed in vain. My limbs were bound too tightly to move.
“Why do you care what happens to my body?”
“Because I don’t want anyone else’s hands on it.”
“Whether I coax someone with my body or my words—what business is that of yours? Why would you need to check?”
“You’d better not make me angry. I’m restraining myself from stripping you bare and examining every inch. So behave.”
Kyle clenched his jaw, teeth grinding, as if he might devour me whole.
That raw, unguarded intent made my eyes dart nervously. For the first time, I felt as though I had glimpsed his true desire—and it left me shaken.
When his hand brushed my sleeve to expose my arm, then drifted toward the buttons of my prison uniform, panic surged. I instinctively kicked out, bound hands useless but legs still free.
Kyle caught me easily—one hand yanking me by the waist, the other sliding between us.
“Ugh…!”
His hand was as cool as the underground air. The foreign touch against my hypersensitive skin made me bite my lip, terrified a shameful sound might slip out.
I pressed my mouth shut with all my will. Even the smallest moan might tip this into something I could never pull back from.
Though his body was cool, his gaze—never leaving mine—burned with a hidden hunger.
“Tell me honestly. Did you let him touch you?”
Shame or rage—I couldn’t tell which—flushed my face as I glared back at him.
“Did his hands ever reach here?”
“…What answer are you looking for?”
His eyes suddenly chilled, and the air seemed to drop another degree. Silence pressed in.
“It’s better if I don’t hear it.”
So my attempt at cleverness had been the wrong choice. In his eyes, I saw shadows stir, dangerous and dark.
Though his words were calm, they frightened me more than threats. Regret clawed at me—I wanted desperately to take back what I’d said.
“W-wait…”
Kyle had no intention of listening further. His gaze left my face, trailing downwards, while his hand traced deliberately over my skin.
I swallowed hard, throat bobbing. Every nerve screamed warning. If his hand went any higher—or lower—I would cross a line from which there was no return.
It felt like teetering across a sheet of fragile glass, each step a breath from shattering. I finally gave up resisting, shut my eyes tight, and cried out:
“It’s my fault!”
I furrowed my brows, feigning pitiful desperation, begging. His hand stilled.
“Lord Aberdeen never touched me anywhere. I swear it, I could swear to God Himself. I won’t speak to that prisoner again. Just this once—please believe me.”
“….”
Kyle studied me in silence, gauging the truth. Slowly, the sharp line of his eyes softened, and he warned in a low tone:
“Veronica, you can do whatever you like in this prison—but only within the palm of my hand.”
The deadly smile that followed made his meaning clear: if I tangled with Richard again, he would not let it pass. Terrified, I nodded quickly to show I understood.
Kyle finally released me. My back, damp with cold sweat, felt icy.
“I’ll give you a chance to prove you’re nothing to him.”
Rubbing at my freed wrists, I frowned at the sly smile spreading across his lips as he produced an object.
In his hand was a small vial filled with a clear liquid. A chill of dread ran through me.
“…What is that?”
“A poison. Belladonna.”
Belladonna—the name I vaguely knew. Used once in cosmetics to make the eyes more beautiful, but after women began dying from it, it was branded the “devil’s herb,” accused of being a witch’s tool.
But why would he show me poison now? The realization struck, freezing me in place.
“No… it can’t be—!”
“That’s right. You’re going to feed this poison to Richard Aberdeen.”
