CHAPTER 61: CHAPTER 61:THEIR LUST, HIS NAME

Same Night

In the mansion.

"YOOOOOUUU DIIIIIID WHAAATTT!?" Catherine’s voice cracked like a whip across the dining hall, bouncing off marble walls and rattling crystal chandeliers.

Her rage was not the quiet kind, not the restrained noblewoman’s anger Augustus was used to navigating. This was raw, primal, and unchained.

Augustus, the Viscount of the house, unconsciously pressed himself lower into his carved oak chair, his body shrinking as though sheer weight might protect him from the storm.

His hand twitched toward his goblet, not out of thirst but habit—something to anchor him in the face of her eyes. Blue eyes. Not calm ocean blue but glacial, sharp, wide open, cutting him down with each second.

Never had he seen his wife like this. Not during their arranged marriage. Not even during wartime briefings when other nobles turned pale at losses. No, this was different. And perhaps worse—because this was personal. This was about him.

Across the table, their daughter Flora trembled with the same storm, her delicate hand squeezing a silver spoon so tightly the once perfect metal bent like softened wax.

A quiet, eerie sound accompanied it—metal straining, warping under unnatural pressure. Augustus swallowed. That spoon might as well have been his throat.

"D... dear, it’s ju... just temporary. What’s the fu... fuss here?" He forced the words, trying to sound calm, authoritative even, but his voice betrayed him with its cracks. His chest felt tight, his neck clammy, and every nerve screamed that he was treading on dangerous ground. He was in trouble. Big trouble.

’Are they in their period or something... ’ Augustus thought darkly, though even in the private corners of his mind it was a poor shield. The knife Catherine now held looked far too steady in her hand for that excuse to hold weight.

Catherine inhaled, long and deliberate, like a dragon forcing fire down its throat. Her voice came smoother but more dangerous. "...What... what grand idea, my husband, did you imagine when you thought placing Aiden of all people into the garrison—Aiden, who doesn’t even have the semblance of a knight’s skill—was wise?"

Her tone was poison wrapped in velvet. Her control worse than her outburst. She had plans. Carefully woven threads, countless nights designing her tapestry of control around that man.

But Augustus, her foolish, clueless husband, had taken scissors to it. He had cut him away, forced him into the garrison, far from the mansion, far from her chambers.

She could still see it—how easily she had been able to call him when he was just a servant. When Augustus slept, she could whisper Aiden’s name into the darkness, summon him to balconies scented with night roses.

She had imagined more nights, countless more. Now—ruined.

Flora’s voice cut through the crackling silence. "Dad! ...Why? Do you hate him?!" Her voice broke. "Do you hate him so much you’d strip him away just because you can’t stand seeing his talent serve us?"

Augustus blinked at her, confused. Talent? Fondness? She likes him too? His throat tightened. Gods above, when did this happen? He had thought himself clever for holding the boy high. He hadn’t realized his own daughter had been ensnared as well.

"...Actually, it was not my idea..." He hesitated, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. To lie? To survive? No, he was Augustus. He told truths, even when they doomed him. "...Lady Sabrina suggested it. She thought it best to knight him, under her bann—"

BAM!

Catherine’s hands slammed the table with such force that plates jumped and cutlery clattered. The sound echoed through the cavernous room. Flora flinched, dropping her mangled spoon.

"Oh, so it was her idea..." Catherine’s voice sank low, deceptively calm, like the stillness before lightning strikes. "And... she already knighted him?"

Augustus’s gut twisted. His instincts screamed at him to say no, to stall, to bend truth. But he was Augustus. He spoke true, even as it damned him.

"...Yes."

The silence that followed suffocated him more than her shouting. Flora’s lips trembled, her teeth gnawed furiously at her nails. "...This... this must be Luna... She told Aunt Sabrina..." she whispered, a broken mantra of rage under her breath.

Catherine was quiet—too quiet. She dabbed her lips with a towel, each movement precise, refined, yet her draconic eyes betrayed her composure, glowing faintly, reptilian slits narrowing. She stood, smoothing her gown.

"Dear..." she said softly.

"...Y-yes?" Augustus stammered, already regretting breathing.

"Give me a moment."

He tried a weak chuckle. "...What about the foo—"

Her gaze stopped him cold. One look, and he shut his mouth. She left, each step deliberate, heels clicking sharp against the marble until the heavy door shut with a final thud.

Only then did Augustus release a breath, shoulders sagging. "...Did I make a mistake? Somewhere? ...No. She must just be in her period." He scoffed nervously to himself, then glanced down at his plate as though it might save him.

"That’s what you get, marrying the daughter of an Archduke..." He muttered, forcing down the half-cooked beef with desperate chewing.

---

Catherine walked swiftly through the hallways, her fury simmering into a deeper heat. Servants bowed, trembling at the weight of her aura, but she barely saw them.

Her mind throbbed with the sting of betrayal. The last time she had been this furious was during the First Tragedy—when the skies themselves opened and enemies rained down, when kingdoms united to crush the hellish nightmare of the dungeons. She had sworn then she would never feel powerless again. Yet here she was, raging, trembling—because of him.

"...I let him in too deep." She hissed under her breath, startling a passing maid. She had not realized until now how entwined Aiden had become with her heart.

His absence felt like a wound. And Sabrina—oh, Sabrina—had stolen him in plain daylight.

"Fuck... I should’ve seen it coming. That bitch always gets what she wants." Catherine’s nails dug crescents into her palms. "But he was a servant. Just a servant. I thought She wouldn’t target my man..."

Yet she had.

The rage grew unbearable. Her draconic eyes flared faintly golden. She stormed toward the guest wing, servants scattering like leaves before a storm.

Akidna, the maid, lingered, curiosity stronger than fear. She had seen whispers of what Aiden did to her mistress. She followed, unseen, like a moth chasing fire.

Knock. Knock.

"Lady Sabrina."

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"Sabrina!"

Knock! Knock ! Knock!

"..."

No answer. Catherine’s patience snapped. Mana flared at her fingertips, a flick of wind magic blasting the ornate door from its hinges. The room’s maid shrieked, ducking beneath her apron.

"Where is she?!" Catherine’s voice thundered.

"...Lady Sabrina... said not to disturb," Tanya whispered, quivering.

Catherine ignored her, storming toward the bathroom. Her hand froze on the gilded handle. A sound filtered through—

"Ahhh... ohhh... yes... yes!" The moans were unmistakable. Feminine. Sabrina’s voice, unrestrained, dripping with ecstasy.

Catherine’s chest burned. Is he in there with her? Her blood roared. The thought of Aiden buried inside that vixen churned her stomach with equal parts rage and despair. He was hers. Hers.

"Yess...yess...yess...deeper..oh my god...I want you I want you now!" She moaned louder.

Clutch!

She ripped the door open.

"Yesss! I’m cumming!" Sabrina screamed, her body arching in the steaming bath, fingers working feverishly between her thighs. Water splashed as she shuddered, squirting violently, the scent of musk and rose oil filling the humid air.

Catherine froze, relief and disgust crashing together. Aiden was not there. Thank the gods, he was not there. Her heart unclenched even as fury remained.

Sabrina’s crimson eyes found hers without shame, wet hair clinging to flushed cheeks. Her grin curled wicked. "...Enjoyed watching me cum?" she purred, fingers already circling herself again. "Want to see more?"

Catherine turned sharply, jaw tight, exiting before she strangled the woman.

But her nose betrayed her. Even through walls of candles, she smelled it—Aiden’s scent. Lingering. Haunting. She realized then Sabrina had pleasured herself everywhere, soaking the chamber in his ghost. The thought sickened and terrified her.

"Ahhhh...ahhh...yess...Aiden...Aiden ..pound me!"

The echo still lingered, and though she tried to ignore it, she couldn’t.

After 10 minutes.

Sabrina emerged from the bath, towel barely covering curves, her expression calm as if nothing had happened. She raised a brow at Catherine sitting rigid on the sofa. And the blasted door in her room. As she stared back at her.

"...You didn’t answer." Catherine’s voice was cold.

Sabrina sighed, flicked her wrist, and the blasted door rose back into place, hinges reforming with a whisper of magic. She sat opposite Catherine, crossing long legs deliberately, water glistening along her thighs.

"What in the five kingdoms happened?" Sabrina asked coolly.

"...you happened. I should be asking the same fucking question—what exactly are you trying to do?" she hissed, slamming the stack of papers on the table between them.

The documents, crisp yet heavy with implication, bore Aiden’s name etched in neat script. They made one thing clear: Aiden was no longer a wandering servant.

By the terms written in black ink, he belonged to the House of Merlin. All it needed was a signature and a seal—one from the Viscount, and the other from the Viscountess.

Sabrina’s eyes dropped to the parchment, her lips curving faintly before she exhaled, tired yet sharp. "Augustus... you are useless," she muttered under her breath, not realizing her whisper had slipped past her lips.

She had overlooked one detail—the papers required the Lady Viscountess’s approval as well.

"We have a plan in motion," Sabrina said, raising her head again, her voice clipped, businesslike. "We’re to root out a corrupt knight from the garrison. Didn’t your husband tell you?"

Catherine’s chair screeched as she rose abruptly, her sudden motion scattering the papers to the side like fallen leaves. She leaned forward, planting her claw-like hands on the desk, closing the space between them.

Her yellow, slit-pupil eyes glowed like molten sea, inches from Sabrina’s face.

But Sabrina didn’t flinch. She didn’t even blink. Her gaze remained steady, sharp enough to draw blood on its own.

"Sabrina..." Catherine’s voice dropped, half a growl, half a snarl. "Don’t play coy with me. I know what you want. I know what you are. A whore—unsatisfied in your own bed, reaching for what belongs to me." Her words cracked like a whip, echoing against the chamber walls.

"...Yours?" Sabrina’s lip curled upward into a smirk. "Does your husband know that?"

Catherine’s nostrils flared. "And what about yours? Does that old man know his wife moans a servant’s name while she pleasures herself in the dark?"

The jab landed. Sabrina froze for half a second before letting out a bitter laugh. "...Haaa... to checkmate me with that. Clever. But..." her eyes gleamed, "...I still want him."

"Why?!" Catherine’s voice broke into a roar. She slammed the table, rattling the ink bottle and the loose sheets. "He’s nothing but a peasant—a commoner who just happens to have good looks and... and those damned eyes. That’s all! You cannot have him!"

Sabrina straightened, folding her arms. Her voice sharpened to a blade’s edge.

"He is no peasant anymore, Catherine. He is a knight of the Merlin House. He accepted the title willingly. Tell me—what can you do now when he himself has embraced the role and its burdens?"

"You twisted the board! You played your games, used your influence and your power to force his path. You bent the laws of the Empire itself!" Catherine spat, her claws denting the polished wood beneath her grip.

"Oh? So now we’re talking laws?" Sabrina’s tone was ice, her smile razor-thin. "Then let’s play with laws. According to Imperial decree, Augustus’s signature alone is enough for any household transfer—including a servant. Your interference in contracts, your desperate attempts to cling to control, are themselves illegal. By law, Catherine, Aiden is mine."

"You—!" Catherine’s voice trembled with fury. "I’ll tell my father! The Archduke will not stay silent while his daughter is harassed!"

Sabrina leaned in, lowering her tone into a venomous whisper. "...Harassed politically... or harassed sexually? Because I see it, Catherine. I see it in your eyes—the same hunger. We are high nobles. Ordinary men cannot satisfy us, not with mana-rich bodies like ours. They wither beneath us. But then he came..." Her words grew darker, almost taunting. "...and he touched you. Took you apart like an instrument. Made you cum with just his fingers."

Catherine’s body jolted back, shock flashing across her features. "Enough!" she barked, though her voice trembled. "I will not tolerate this any longer!"

"Then you want war?" Sabrina’s aura swelled, lifting dust and parchment into the air. "I don’t mind war, Catherine. But remember this—you are no longer the Archduke’s heir. You are a Viscountess. Nothing more. Som Know your place."

Catherine’s rage snapped. Her hands twisted into claws, her teeth sharpening into fangs, her mana boiling hot enough to warp the air. The chamber’s lanterns flickered.

And Sabrina only smiled. Her power rose in response, a cold vibration that made the very walls groan as the furniture levitated inches from the floor.

Thud!

The heavy door burst open.

"Ladies..."

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Both turned at once, their powers recoiling, crashing back into their bodies.

"Aiden...?"

"Aiden!" they cried together, their voices a mix of shock, relief, and fury.