CHAPTER 130: CHAPTER 130- DARITHI IS TRUE YANDERE

The hallway stretched on endlessly, its floor lined with a crimson carpet that muffled the sound of their footsteps.

Tall windows on one side let in pale, cold light, casting long shadows of the two women as they walked side by side—though in truth, it felt more like a march, with Darithi leading and Seleyena reluctantly following.

Seleyena’s brows remained furrowed the whole time. Her black eyes had an amber hint in them as they kept darting around—from the walls to the corners, to the closed doors they passed by.

Her long, dark hair was still a bit messy, a few strands clinging to her face, damp from sweat or perhaps the leftover exhaustion of last night.

She had woken up barely an hour ago, on a soft, unfamiliar bed in a room in this strange place which, as per Darithi, was her personal home.

The last thing she remembered was fire—burning bright around her, wild and all-consuming—and the heaviness of her juggling boobs, heavy and swollen with the remnants of pain, as the sensation of her erratically jolting on his shaft as it plunged again and again in her little hole not meant for sex yet wanting to clamp on that thing as if her only anchor in that night.

’Hm... Did he like something else too?’ While moving, as her thighs twitched just by the memory of him lying under her, she felt a flutter as the twitched muscle of her butt protested the absence of that thing which filled her to the brim and even painted her insides in a way that might have left a lingering smell she would want to bathe again and again.

Might even replace his body’s scent with her perfume.

But sadly, she was here without his presence or even an idea where this place was located.

Darithi hadn’t answered her initial questions. She’d simply walked in, touched Seleyena’s cheek with a strange smile, and said, "Come with me. Master said I should teach you."

Seleyena hadn’t even asked what she would be taught. She just heard "Master," and her heart fluttered again, confused and hungry.

All she cared about was seeing him. She followed Darithi instantly, even though she didn’t trust her.

"Where is Cruxius?" she asked again now, glancing sideways at the younger woman as they turned another corner.

Her voice was calm, but there was a clear tremble under the words.

Darithi didn’t stop walking. Her long black hair flowed behind her like a blade, her pale skin flawless, and her golden eyes sharp and unreadable.

She held a small notebook in one hand, not writing anything, just fiddling with it like she was trying to distract herself.

"Master is busy right now," Darithi said quietly, her tone polite but flat.

Seleyena’s jaw clenched. She looked over her shoulder, half-expecting Cruxius to appear at the end of the hallway and laugh like he always did when teasing her. But no one was there.

Her fingers curled slightly. "Busy with what?"

Darithi said nothing. Just kept walking.

It had already been nearly thirty minutes since they started walking. They had taken so many turns that Seleyena couldn’t even remember the way back.

The palace or facility or wherever this place was—it was huge and silent, like a maze designed to test patience.

Seleyena slowed down slightly, her heels tapping with more weight now. "Why aren’t we there yet?"

"Because I’m showing you the path," Darithi replied without looking at her.

"Path to what?"

Darithi finally stopped. She turned around slowly, and there was something different in her expression now—a faint annoyance under the mask of calm.

"In the last half hour," she said in a soft voice, "you have asked the same question... seven times."

Seleyena blinked, her expression tightening.

Darithi’s eyes narrowed. "If you ask again, I will not let you meet him."

For a second, the air turned heavy.

Seleyena’s lips parted slightly. She blinked once, then slowly tilted her head to the side. Her voice dropped into a lower tone, more serious now.

"What did you just say?"

Her jaw twitched as she stared at the younger girl, the edge of her mature beauty suddenly turning sharp—no longer the elegant, composed woman of before, but someone ready to snap.

Her fingers curled into fists, knuckles whitening.

Darithi didn’t repeat herself.

She only turned and opened the old door with a slow twist of the knob. A thick, dusty air burst out immediately, making Seleyena cough as she instinctively raised her hand to her face.

She stepped back slightly, blinking fast. "What... is this?"

Darithi didn’t answer. She walked in, flicked on the light switch with a soft click, and said with eerie softness,

"Let’s see if you love him more than me."

The dim yellow light flickered to life. The room revealed itself in layers.

Seleyena stepped inside—only a few feet—and stopped cold. Her breath left her lungs without warning.

The room was suffocating.

Not just in dust or air, but in presence. Cruxius’s presence.

His face was everywhere. Hundreds of portraits, photos, blurry surveillance snapshots—some folded neatly, some crumpled with dried lipstick smudges, others torn as if kissed too many times.

A wall on the left had nothing but his sleeping face—captured from different angles, in different clothes, even shirtless under blankets.

Another wall had nothing but close-ups of his hands—writing, opening doors, holding a spoon.

Seleyena’s fingers tightened by her sides. Her throat suddenly felt dry. Her mind stuttered, trying to grasp the scale of what she was seeing.

Darithi walked ahead, graceful and silent, as if giving a private museum tour.

She stopped at a narrow shelf and picked up a small plastic item, sealed in a transparent cube.

"This," she said, holding it up with both hands, "is Master’s first razor. The one he used when he started growing facial hair. He threw it after it cut him. I kept it. It still has a trace of his blood in the corner."

’!’

Seleyena’s brows furrowed faintly. She didn’t speak.

Darithi continued.

"This was his sock. He wore it when he had a cold. The left one. I kept it unwashed. The right one disappeared—I suspect a maid threw it away, so I broke her wrist."

She smiled like she was sharing a fond childhood memory.

Seleyena took a step back. Her hand lightly touched her dress fabric as she felt overwhelmed. "You’re... joking, right?"

There was definitely something wrong here—especially how the walls were screaming the story of a psychopathic state of someone deeply influenced and in obsession with someone.

And the major problem was the woman who brought her here was too casual around this place.

Darithi didn’t even blink.

She turned to a small open drawer. Inside were several tissues. Crumpled. Yellowing.

"He used these," Darithi said, "to wipe his nose while working. But once," her voice dropped an octave, eyes gleaming, "I saw him use one while masturbating when he was 15 maybe. I don’t know which one it is, but I kept all. Just in case."

Seleyena’s lips parted. The air felt heavier now.

She wanted to look away. But her eyes kept being pulled by the horrifying details—vials with labeled dates, strands of hair sealed in ziplock bags, even a chewed pen nib stuck to a love letter written in a child-like scrawl.

And then—Darithi moved toward the large framed glass panel in the far corner.

She dragged off the red cloth covering it.

Seleyena flinched at the sight.

Dozens—no, more than fifty—used condoms were carefully sealed inside, each in its own slot, labeled with dates, times, and short handwritten notes in looping, elegant cursive.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her stomach turned.

"This," Darithi said softly, "is from the night Master claimed me. One after another for a whole week after we ate and drank in the same room, then again continued it. The entire bed smelled like him, like sweat, and my blood. I bled the first time. I kept that too."

She moved to another display beside it—an old red bedsheet, cut and stitched in a heart shape.

"The stain here," she pointed, "is not just blood. It’s the mix with Master’s seed. Mine and his. This is sacred."

’Wh-what the—!?’

Seleyena stood frozen.

Her chest rose and fell, slower and slower. Her pupils quivered.

She had just begun falling for Cruxius—driven by that intoxicating night, those few wild hours where something cracked open in her.

But seeing this...

This was devotion.

Insanity. Worship.

She felt puny and too small in front of this woman who seemed to be the pinnacle of obsession and love one could have... yet she seemed to allow him to sleep with another woman?

Darithi turned to her, golden eyes glowing in the dusty light.

She stepped close, lips curled in a quiet smirk, her chin tilted ever so slightly in pride.

"So, Seleyena..." she whispered, almost kindly.

"What do you have... that I haven’t already given to Master?"

Seleyena couldn’t answer.

Because for the first time in her life, she didn’t know if she was a rival—or already too late.

"I—I"