Chapter 3
The Deadly Poison That Drips from My Lips
(Part 1)
The mechanical jililili of the alarm clock rang in my ear, and I opened my eyes.
Wrapped in soft, fluffy white blankets, I stared blankly at the ceiling through sleepy eyes.
Out of the corner of my vision, the lace curtains swayed.
When I moved my right foot slightly, I heard the faint clink of metal. That hateful sensation on my ankle was still there.
I sat up, turned off the alarm that had been ringing by my ear, and looked around.
The room was about six tatami mats in size, with a soft carpet on the floor, a mirrored vanity, and a small table.
By my pillow sat a stuffed rabbit—my favorite animal—and beside the bed stood a beautiful white chest and a nightlight with elegant antique details.
There was a glass of water on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before I went to bed. My throat was dry from sleep, so I decided to drink it.
When I’d first been brought here, I would’ve suspected poison and never touched it. But now, I almost wished it were poisoned—so I could fall into an eternal sleep.
When I’d emptied the glass, I set it back on the chest and pushed aside the blanket.
As I already knew, the metal shackle around my ankle still bound me.
A thick chain extended from the cuff and wrapped tightly around the bedpost.
It was long enough for me to move about the room, but not to leave it.
No matter how hard I pulled, my powerless human strength couldn’t make it budge.
And even if I could take it off—could I really escape?
Outside the window was a cliff, and below it, the sea.
The room was locked from the outside as well.
I was imprisoned here.
I’d stopped counting the sunsets long ago, so I didn’t know exactly how many days had passed—probably about a month.
Were my parents still worried about me?
Was my childhood friend, who used to visit often, doing all right?
I just wanted to be free—from the loneliness and the fear of a future I couldn’t see.
At that moment, knock knock—someone rapped on the door.
Even though I hadn’t said to come in, I heard the sound of the lock turning, and the door opened.
As expected, it was the demon—the man who had kidnapped me—who entered the room.
“Good morning, Noel-chan. Did you sleep well? I brought breakfast.”
Whether he didn’t notice my glare or had simply grown used to it, he greeted me in his usual cheerful tone.
The demon who called my name was about my height—a small figure for a man.
He had large golden, catlike eyes, and his youthful face still held a trace of boyishness.
His short, spiky black hair stuck up like animal ears, and together with those round yellow eyes, he really did resemble a cat.
When I first met him, he’d had two small horns on his head and a tail like a cow’s, but he could apparently transform at will and now looked entirely human.
He looked about my age, but his strength was immense.
I once thought he looked like a cat, but he could lift me effortlessly—hands under my arms like picking up a kitten.
Even if men were naturally stronger than women, the difference between humans and demons was despair itself.
“Today’s breakfast is croque-monsieur! Eat it while it’s still warm.”
Smiling, he set the tray he was carrying onto the chest beside the bed.
The scent of toasted bread and fragrant tea filled the air.
The sandwich was perfectly browned, sliced in half to reveal melted cheese and ham. It was fresh and hot, and I had to swallow my saliva at the smell.
The tea smelled just as good—sweet and caramel-like—with two sugar sticks and milk on the side.
It irritated me how well he knew my preferences.
“…”
Without saying itadakimasu, I took a bite.
Crunch. A light, crisp sound. No strange burnt spots—just as delicious as it looked.
The cheese and ham were seasoned perfectly, and the sauce complemented them beautifully.
The aroma of the tea softened my mood for a moment as I lifted the cup to my lips. Even the steeping time was perfect. It was infuriatingly flawless.
The demon stared at me the entire time I ate.
Why did he always have to stare like that? It made my skin crawl.
“I’m glad… I was worried you wouldn’t eat.”
He sighed in relief, hand to his chest.
In the beginning, I’d resisted.
Even when I was starving and drooling from the smell, I refused to eat—and grew visibly weaker.
Perhaps he couldn’t stand to watch, because he started forcing me.
His eyes would glow faintly, and no matter how tightly I clenched my teeth, my mouth would open.
He’d spoon warm, delicious soup into my mouth—one sip at a time—and my body, starving and sluggish, would swallow it down.
Even solid food—I’d chew it without meaning to.
He said it was a spell that let him control a person’s movements.
How cowardly. If resistance was pointless, it was better to eat by my own will.
Otherwise, I’d just be force-fed endlessly like a pet. The very thought was humiliating enough to make my chest ache.
“Is it tasty?”
He tilted his head, peering into my face as I looked down.
“It’s not seasoned how I like it.”
It was the same answer I always gave.
I knew it was pointless—but I couldn’t stand to let everything go his way.
Even while I suffered in humiliation, he just smiled.
It was childish spite, but if I couldn’t make him frown, I couldn’t bear it. Maybe he’d get bored and throw me away.
He frowned slightly, looking troubled.
I’d said his cooking didn’t suit my taste even though he’d made it to my preferences. That look made my chest ache for a moment—but I wanted to say serves you right.
Then suddenly, he seemed to think of something. His expression brightened.
A bad feeling ran through me.
The barely-touched meal was cleared away, and fresh water was poured into the morning’s glass.
“I just thought of a great idea to make you happy,” he said. “I’ll be going out for a bit. Sorry—I know you wanted to go outside today, but if you drowned while I was gone, that would be awful. You can’t leave the mansion, but you’re free to roam inside.”
With a clink, the shackle on my ankle came loose and dropped to the floor.
Another spell, no doubt.
“For lunch, grab a maid and have her make something. I’ll be back for dinner, so look forward to it.”
Without waiting for my reply, his body faded like smoke until nothing remained.
I reached out to the spot he’d stood—but caught only air. Magic again. Someone ordinary like me could never win against that.
Now unchained, I tried to open the window—pushing and pulling—but it wouldn’t move an inch.
He could open it easily, yet I couldn’t.
I left the room anyway, tired of being trapped inside.
The hallway was vast—this whole mansion was enormous.
The first time I came here, I’d thought it must belong to a rich young lady. The beauty of it had taken my breath away, making me forget my situation for a moment. The spotless carpet stretched across the corridor, and ornate decorations covered every wall and door.
To someone ordinary like me, it felt alien and suffocating.
Several maids were cleaning—sweeping, wiping windows, working in silence.
Their faces were expressionless, their eyes empty—like robots. Yet when I touched one, her skin was warm. That frightened me.
When I looked closer, their eyes glimmered faintly, with a glowing heart-shaped magic circle in the pupils.
I’d never been told what that meant, but it was clearly more than decoration—it was magic.
When I touched them, they said nothing, just stood still.
When I walked past, they paused their work and bowed deeply—every one of them, in perfect unison, like they’d been programmed that way.
I hated these maids.
Eventually, I reached the mansion’s main doors.
They were large, elaborately carved, and beautiful enough to make me hesitate to touch them.
Still, I grabbed the handles roughly and tried to pull—but they didn’t move. They might as well have been part of the wall.
I knew it. There was no way out.
In the beginning, I’d tried to escape many times.
But it was hopeless. Even when I could walk freely, no door would open.
I’d tried smashing walls with brooms or pokers, but nothing ever broke—not even the glass cracked.
A few times I’d been allowed to “go out” under his supervision.
I’d tried to run then too, but it was useless.
No matter where I hid, he always found me—as if he knew exactly where I was.
When I’d tried calling for help, there was no one outside. In fact, there was nothing beyond this mansion.
He’d told me he could use magic to stop my body if I ran—and I believed him.
After a while, I realized this was a small island surrounded by the sea.
There was nowhere to run. No passing ships, no sign of life.
Even when I’d tried to flee into the water, ready to die, he’d always found me and brought me back.
It was like this world existed only for the two of us—me and that demon.
It didn’t take long for me to give up trying to escape.
And yet, even in this suffocating captivity, he never once hurt me.
When we went out together, he was polite—escorting me like a gentleman.
The room that once held only a bed was gradually transformed—clean, cute, filled with things I liked.
Even when I’d ask for something outrageous, it always appeared the next day.
The food kept getting better, rivaling that of a professional chef.
When he first put the shackle on my leg, he’d lowered his brows apologetically and said, “I’m sorry.”
Sorry? For what? He treated me with an almost absurd tenderness.
Every word from him was full of affection.
Even when I spoke harshly, he never got angry.
He always greeted me kindly, spoke gently, and—just often enough to wear me down—whispered his love.
When I almost drowned trying to escape through the sea, he cried as he pulled me out.
He hadn’t yelled—just said softly, “Are you okay? I promise I’ll never let that happen again.”
His hands had been trembling.
I still couldn’t understand—why someone so considerate would kidnap and confine me.
And yet… despite myself, my heart began to race around him.
I didn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.
If only he were pure evil, I could hate him forever.
He was my captor—my thief of freedom—someone I should despise.
But little by little, I could feel myself breaking.
His contradictory sincerity—so false, yet so genuine—was drawing me in.
I wanted to escape, to never see him again. To hurt him, to make him suffer.
No—there’s no one else who could love me like he does.
I wanted him to take my hand, to hold me gently…
What was happening to me?
Why was I feeling this way?
Why was my heart so torn?
Why was I forgetting the hatred I once felt for him?
He’s a demon—he could just be playing with me, only to throw me away in the end.
Pulled between these two opposite feelings, my heart felt like it was shattering.
I collapsed in front of the door, tears pouring down in great sobs.
I couldn’t hold back the sobbing or the tears that soaked my knees.
And in that moment, I realized—
my mind was on the verge of breaking.
