Chapter191 – Reflect on it
Inside the infirmary, the room was quiet save for the soft rustling of gauze as the medic tended to Phoenix’s wound.
Clarissa stood in front of Atticus, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, face darkened with frustration.
He watched her, leaning against the wall casually, hands in his pockets, an indifferent smirk tugging at his lips.
“So,” he said with a slow drawl, “someone snitched already, huh?”
Clarissa’s eyes narrowed. “No one snitched. Maximilian explained it all on the way. I know Phoenix was the one who challenged you.”
Atticus raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Clarissa’s voice dropped, firm and steady. “But even so, you didn’t have to go that far. She’s your teacher, Atticus. Everything you have—your skills, your foundation—was given to you by her. She cared about you. A lot. You should be grateful.”
Her fingers clenched around her forearm. The memory of that moment—lightning flashing, Phoenix collapsing, and the blood—burned in her mind. But worse was the look on his face.
That eerie, serene smile as he’d stabbed her.
It made Clarissa’s stomach churn.
“You could’ve used the flat of your blade. You could’ve disarmed her. You didn’t need to draw blood like that.” Her voice shook slightly.
Atticus said nothing.
Clarissa stepped back and sighed. “Reflect on it, Atticus. Your hands—” she pointed at them, “—they’re meant to protect. Not hurt. Especially not the people who’ve stood by you.”
And then, without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away.
Atticus didn’t follow.
He stared at her retreating back, expression unreadable, eyes glinting with something darker.
After a moment, he looked down at his hands.
When they were slick with Phoenix’s blood… something inside him had stirred. The thrill.
That wild, reckless pleasure he could never find in anything else. Clarissa… she was the only reason he’d ever tried to keep it in check.
For her, he’d forced himself to behave. But the monster hadn’t gone away. It was just waiting. And someday—it would slip the leash.
His gaze darkened. Then a voice cut through his thoughts.
“Aww, poor puppy. Got scolded by big sis.” Everett strolled up with a cocky grin, his sunglasses still on despite the rain.
Atticus’s expression didn’t shift. “Wanna be next?”
The grin dropped from Everett’s face in half a second. “Hey, chill—it was a joke.”
Everett raised his hands. “Just give Phoenix a few days to cool off. You know how she is.”
Atticus didn’t reply.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Rain still poured outside, soaking his clothes, clinging to his skin like a second layer. His shirt plastered to his chest, leather boots squelching against wet tile.
He peeled the soaked clothes from his skin and stepped into the hot shower, steam hissing around him.
His hands pressed to the tile wall, head lowered. Clarissa’s voice echoed in his mind again. As the water ran down his back, Atticus closed his eyes and muttered to himself. “…How the hell am I supposed to coax her after that?”
.......
Inside the house, Clarissa asked anxiously, “Doctor, how is she?”
“Nothing serious,” the doctor replied with a calm nod. “Don’t worry—given Phoenix’s physique, she’ll make a full recovery with rest.”
Clarissa let out a long breath of relief.
Atticus had shown mercy. He hadn’t struck a vital spot.
She quietly exhaled again, then turned and walked into the house.
Phoenix sat upright on the edge of her bed. She wore only a plain white tank top now, the fabric clinging lightly to her skin. The wrappings around her shoulder were fresh, bandages stark against her bare skin. Her chest cloth had been removed for treatment, and the doctor had just left.
Now, it was just the two of them.
Clarissa stepped into the room and hesitated for a moment before crossing over to the bed. She sat down beside Phoenix and gently called out, “Phoenix…”
Phoenix blinked and slowly turned her head, eyes returning from some far-off place. “Clarissa?” she said, a little dazed. “Is that you?”
“It’s me,” Clarissa said softly. “Are you okay? Does it still hurt?”
Phoenix shook her head. “No… nothing I can’t handle.”
Clarissa frowned, her eyes full of concern. “Atticus didn’t mean to hurt you. Please don’t blame him—I already scolded him.”
Phoenix looked at her for a long moment, something unreadable behind her gaze. Then she gave a dry chuckle and said, “Oh, Clarissa. You’re such a fool. How could I possibly blame him over this?” Her tone softened. “Besides, I asked for it. I challenged him, and I lost. Do you think I’m the type to cry over a fair defeat?”
“Of course not,” Clarissa said quickly, shaking her head.
Phoenix smiled faintly, then her tone dipped into something quieter. “Clarissa… are you sure?”
Clarissa looked up at her. “I’ve thought about it. Yes.”
Phoenix’s eyes darkened slightly, her fingers clenched beside her, but she masked the shift with a small smile. “When did it start?”
“About three months ago,” Clarissa admitted quietly.
Three months… That was when they were all living under the same roof.
Phoenix’s eyes narrowed. “Then... did you two…?”
Clarissa’s cheeks turned bright red. “No! Not yet. Don’t get the wrong idea!”
Not the last step, at least. They had done everything but.
Phoenix relaxed. She reached out and took Clarissa’s hand, gripping it tight. “Good. Make that bastard wait. Until he’s grown the hell up and put a ring on your finger, don’t let him take advantage of you.”
To Phoenix, Atticus wasn’t someone you gave your life to easily.
Clarissa glanced at her, unsure, and finally asked, “So… do you approve?”
Phoenix gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m not your parent, Clarissa.”
“But you’re like family,” Clarissa said softly. Then after a beat, her voice dipped. “Do you think I’m awful? For falling in love with someone younger than me… someone like him?”
Before she could even finish the question, Phoenix cut her off. “Stop right there. That’s not your fault. If anyone’s wrong here, it’s that cocky little shit who seduced you. You are never the problem, Clarissa.”
She squeezed her hand again, voice filled with warmth. “As long as you’re happy, I’ll support you. No matter what.”
Clarissa looked stunned for a second, then smiled faintly—but in her eyes, there was a flicker of guilt. “Thank you, Phoenix… I thought you’d hate me. Or be furious.”
Phoenix let out a tired sigh. “Clarissa… I could never stay mad at you.”
She reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair from Clarissa’s face. “You’re still wet. Go take a hot shower. I’ll ask someone to bring ginger soup.”
Clarissa nodded, a little overwhelmed. “Okay…”
......
Meanwhile, in another part of the house, Atticus lay on his bed, one arm draped over his forehead, staring blankly at the ceiling.
A knock came at the door.
“Master Atticus, are you still awake?” It was one of the house servants.
Atticus didn’t move. “What is it?”
The servant replied respectfully, “Miss Clarissa asked us to bring you ginger soup. You were caught in the rain earlier.”
Atticus blinked, then sat up sharply and rushed to the door.
Outside stood the servant, holding a steaming bowl of ginger soup. The strong, spicy smell immediately hit Atticus in the face—the one thing he hated most in the world.
But he took the bowl. And without a word, he downed it in a few large gulps.
His stomach turned from the taste, and he had to fight the urge to gag. But he drank every drop.
Afterward, the servant handed him a small piece of lemon candy. “Miss Clarissa said you always hated ginger. This should help.”
Atticus took the candy and popped it into his mouth, the tartness instantly cutting the ginger burn. His mood shifted.
He glanced back at the servant. “How’s Clarissa?”
“She’s with Miss Phoenix.”
A beat.
“She said you should think about what you’ve done,” the servant added blandly, “before you speak to her again.”
Then they turned and walked away, leaving Atticus standing in the doorway, holding the candy in his mouth, and saying nothing.