CHAPTER 478: VILE THINGS TO UNSEE

Morpheus stared at the flower that had slipped from Arabella’s hand, watching as its once-lustrous petals deepened into a sickly shade of purple. The transformation was rapid, unnatural — as though the bloom itself recoiled from being sullied by the cold stone floor. Its stem curled, its essence fading before their eyes.

He did not move. His gaze lingered on the flower longer than necessary, and in that silence, the air between them thickened. The faint hum of magic around him darkened like an approaching storm.

Arabella could see it, how he had tightened his jaw, the way his expression did not falter though irritation flickered behind those calm, otherworldly eyes. He was displeased. She knew it well. He had taken great care, too much than he intended at first perhaps, in seeking out that rare flower, and for her to simply let it fall was to trample on the effort he had deemed precious.

But that was precisely her intention.

He needed to learn disappointment. To taste it, to feel it, to remember that control was not his alone.

She turned away without a word, her steps light, the soft rustle of her gown echoing faintly through the marble hall. But before she could walk far, his command broke through the quiet.

"The second test," Morpheus called out, his tone clipped. "Are you not going to tell me what comes next?"

Arabella paused mid-step, the corner of her lips curling faintly as she glanced over her shoulder.

"What comes next?" she echoed, her voice lilting in mock curiosity. "Hmm..." She let the silence hang for a heartbeat before her gaze shifted beyond him — to the figure rapidly approaching down the corridor. "I can’t say yet. I’ll have to think about it first." Then, her expression softened as she noticed his approach. "Oh, Cassandra. What’s wrong?"

Cassius, disguised as the maid Cassandra, came into view, his face a perfect study of worry and unease. He clutched his apron with trembling fingers, his posture slightly hunched as though weighed down by bad news.

"Milady," he said breathlessly, "there’s... there’s been chaos."

"Chaos?" Arabella’s brows furrowed, the faint amusement that had lingered on her lips now gone. "Where?"

"In the storage hall, near the gallery," Cassius answered quickly, his eyes flicking once toward Morpheus. "It seems... something happened. You should see it for yourself."

Arabella didn’t hesitate. "Take me there."

Behind her, Morpheus exhaled as he approached her, following with reluctant steps. She turned her head just enough to catch the faint shadow of a grimace on his face. He despised interruptions. Matters of the court, of servants, of noise, all were beneath him. But even he, proud as he was, followed when she moved as he didn’t want to put her into a even more upset mood than she already was.

Almost like a trained dog.

How interesting, she thought as her lips curved ever so slightly. For a man who fancied himself the master of all snares, he didn’t even notice when he’d walked straight into one.

It must be because he so often dealt the trap, that he had forgotten what it felt like to be ensnared.

Good. That, too, was a lesson he needed to learn.

Cassius led them swiftly through the corridor, their steps echoing faintly against the high-arched ceilings. As they neared the gallery, the murmurs reached them first, filled with scattered whispers, fragments of panic, shame, and disbelief.

By the time they reached the storage room, the air itself seemed charged. A cluster of servants had gathered by the doorway, their faces pale, their voices hushed and trembling. From inside, a sharp, feminine cry snapped through the air.

"Stop looking! What are you all doing here? I said go!"

"B-but, Milady—" one of the servants stammered, her voice shaking not from insolence but concern. "Milady, please, he must take responsibility for—"

"Shut your mouth!" came the retort, shrill and biting.

The sound echoed through the corridor like a blade being drawn.

Morpheus’s brows drew together, his frown deepening as he stepped forward. "What is going on here?"

The crowd parted instantly, heads bowed as he entered, Arabella gliding in behind him with quiet, curious grace.

And then, Arabella froze.

The moment her gaze fell upon the woman inside the room, her pulse faltered.

The cloaked woman stood rigid in the center of the chaos, her hood thrown back now, revealing the face beneath, a face that struck Arabella like a memory she wished she had never recovered.

It wasn’t horror born of ugliness. No, the woman was striking, her beauty disorienting in its ambiguity. A short crop of spiky, orangish brown hair framed her angular face, the androgynous features sharp enough to cut: the firm jaw, the small straight nose, the oval-shaped green eyes that mirrored something uncomfortably familiar.

Too familiar. Too familiar with who?

Arabella’s blood turned cold as she took an involuntary step back.

That face... that face she had seen before.

Was this one of the memories that Morpheus had erased?

Sure enough when Morpheus saw how the cloaked woman’s face had been unveiled, he turned to look toward her face and she strengthened herself to appear unbothered, as though she couldn’t see a single problem with the cloaked woman’s face. Thankfully the absurd situation helped her, the very slight frown that had appeared between her eyebrows were only seen as her disbelief upon seeing how the situation had unfolded in front of her.

The cloaked woman clutched the rug against her chest, her breath shallow, face drained of all color. Behind her lay the stable boy, Northam, still unconscious, his arm half bent under him as if mid reach.

When her eyes found Morpheus, her lips trembled. "Master, this isn’t what it looks like— I can explain, I—"

"Quiet, Esme."

Morpheus didn’t raise his voice, yet the stillness that followed was heavier than a shout. The disgust in his eyes did not burn, it froze, and the air itself seemed to turn brittle. Both Esme and Arabella stiffened under that quiet contempt.

It truly felt as if she was standing in front of a demon, a demon who controls everything and would be greatly unhappy to find out if he were disrupted.

"I’ve warned you enough," he went on, his tone full of contempt as second goes on. "You should know what happens when you forget your place."

Esme’s throat worked before she managed to speak, her words stumbling out between fear and outrage. "I didn’t do anything! When I woke up, this man— he tried to force himself on me!"

Her mind raced; something wasn’t right. And then realization struck. Her wide, wet eyes darted toward Arabella. "You—" she spat, raising a trembling finger, "you did this! You’re the reason he followed me! I know because—"

"Because what?" Arabella asked, calm as stone.

Esme faltered. How could she say it aloud? That the trap meant for Arabella had turned on her instead? The words curdled on her tongue.

Arabella sighed, her tone almost gentle as she turned toward the servants. "You can leave us."

No one hesitated. The shuffle of feet and skirts retreated quickly down the corridor until the heavy doors closed behind them. Though she had demanded everyone to stay away, of course, Cassius still stood behind her, his face covered but the smile dance in the light over his eyes.

He enjoyed as Esme tried to explain himself in a futile manner, "I was here because I wanted to investigate!"

"Investigate you say," Arabella hummed before turning to Morpheus, "Do you now understand why I request for female servants to stay away from you? It’s a lesson I have always remembered that people who stay too close to brightness would eventually try to touch that brightness. Like a moth to a flame."

"Esme wasn’t always this..." But Morpheus didn’t bother to continue, disgust creeping deeper into him the more he thought about it which made Arabella to smile.

"So you defends her action?"

"No! You liar," Esme snapped before she pulled out a yellowish letter from inside her pocket, flapping it toward Morpheus’s side, "I was here to see that stableboy because I had received this letter from the maid behind her! That maid said that the stableboy and Morpheus had been exchanging letters and I wanted to make sure of it with my own eyes!"

Esme smiled inwardly. Sure she cannot proof that her plan to trap Arabella had instead return to her like a deflected curse but it seems Arabella had forgotten of this key evidence.

Morpheus was unhappy but he pulled the envelope to his hand, opening it while Esme spoke, "While I was about to see that stableboy and defend your honor, master, she appeared behind me near that door. I’m afraid that she had actually-"

"Actually?" Arabella frowned, looking as if she was so curious she could die and Morpheus sent a glare down to Esme, ordering her to stop her words as she had made things worse than it was already was. "What’s on the letter?" Arabella then urged.

Morpheus opened only to read it with a frown, "Northam I have heard of your actions towards my maid. If this continues on, I have no other choice but to report your name to Morpheus."

It was truly Arabella’s writing but the content?

It had changed!

Esme’s face turned as pale as a sheet as Arabella eyed her back with confusion.