Chapter 223: Between mother and son
The silence that followed Matthias’s death wish was heavy, suffocating, and dripping with the weight of his despair.
Leon, however, didn’t recoil. Instead, he let out a dry, exasperated breath that sounded dangerously close to a laugh. He stepped closer, his face hardening into a mask of pragmatic annoyance.
"Honestly, man," Leon muttered, shaking his head. "You and your wife... you are both genuinely psychopathic. Every single thought that passes through your heads revolves around death and destruction. Can’t you two think positively for even a fleeting moment?"
Matthias’s eyes flashed with a cold, dangerous warning. "Don’t you dare drag Olivia into this."
Leon rolled his eyes, unfazed by the Duke’s lethal glare. "Oh, yes, yes—as if I haven’t suffered enough from her own brand of madness while you were ’dead.’ Spare me the theatrics, Matthias. Just tell me, why don’t you start looking for a real solution instead of romanticizing your own pathetic end?"
Matthias turned away, his jaw clenched so hard it looked like the bone might snap. "And where, pray tell, is the solution? What is left for a monster like me?"
Leon leaned back against the stone wall, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze sharp and piercing. "How about you start with that lunatic you call a mother?"
Matthias stiffened, his entire posture freezing.
"Yes, her," Leon continued, his voice dropping into a cutting, cynical tone. "The woman who spun that elaborate web of lies, the one who manipulated you so expertly that you marched straight into the mouth of death with your own two feet. She’s the architect of your ruin, Matthias. Not a curse. Not your nature. Her."
Matthias felt a shiver run down his spine, a sudden, cold clarity washing over his fevered mind. The obsession with his own ’monstrous nature’ began to waver, replaced by a sharp, burning spark of resentment.
"She used you," Leon pressed, sensing the crack in Matthias’s resolve. "She played you like a puppet to satisfy her own twisted games. You want a way out? You want a purpose that isn’t pulling a trigger on yourself? Then stop acting like a victim of your own soul and start acting like a Duke who has been played for a fool."
Matthias stood motionless, the shadows of the room deepening around him. The suicidal haze that had clouded his vision began to clear, stripped away by the raw, bitter truth of Leon’s words. He had been looking for a monster in his mirror, while his mother had been sharpening the blade in the dark all along.
Matthias let out a long, heavy sigh, the exhaustion of carrying his damaged mind flattening his voice. "It seems I have no other choice but to look that woman in the eye once again."
"If you won’t make her talk, I will find a way to drag the words out of her throat myself," Leon fired back, his hand instinctively twitching toward the hilt of his blade.
"Leon, stay out of this," Matthias commanded, turning a cold, warning glare at his ally. "This is exactly why I kept Olivia completely in the dark. I knew the catastrophic nature of both of your minds. I know damn well that you and Olivia would ruthlessly hurt Amelia just to get to Talia. So do not interfere."
Leon held his gaze for a tense second before slowly dropping his hands, a bitter compliance settling in his chest. "Fine. I won’t interfere. But you need to find a definitive solution, my brother."
"I will," Matthias muttered coldly. "I am leaving."
With the heavy weight of Leon’s words anchoring his resolve, Matthias walked out of the isolated room. He strode down the dimly lit, labyrinthine corridors of the estate, heading straight toward the secluded wing where his mother, Talia, was kept.
The moment he turned the final corner, a sharp, elegant silhouette stepped into his path, blocking the heavy mahogany doors. Emelia. She didn’t look at him as if he were a ghost—she knew he was alive, having been the one who saved him from the brink after the war—but seeing the lethal, dark energy rolling off him, her defensive instincts immediately flared.
She pressed her back against the wood, spreading her arms. "What do you think you are doing here, Matthias? If you truly consider me your sister, and if you want to return even a fraction of the favor for me saving your wretched life... then stop tormenting my mother! Leave her alone!"
Matthias stopped just inches away from her, his presence looming over her like a shadow. "Step aside, Amelia. I am only here to talk to her."
"Talk?" Emelia sneered, her voice laced with distrust.
Through his bloodshot eyes, there was only a profound, desperate determination. Matthias stood entirely still, his gaze pleading with her silently to trust him just this once.
Sensing the agonizing weight behind his stare, Emelia’s defiance slowly cracked. She swallowed hard, lowered her arms, and reluctantly stepped aside, allowing him passage.
Matthias pushed the heavy doors open and stepped into the suffocatingly quiet, lavender-scented chambers. Talia sat near the arched window, the moonlight illuminating her aristocratic, aging features.
Hearing the intrusion, Talia spoke without turning around, her voice dripping with aristocratic annoyance. "Emelia, I told you I did not want to be disturbed—"
"It isn’t Emelia."
The low, lethal rumble of that voice made Talia freeze completely.
Slowly, almost mechanically, she turned her head. The moment her gaze landed on Matthias—standing tall, covered in the shadows of the doorway—the ancient composure she pridefully maintained shattered into a thousand pieces. Her breath hitched painfully in her throat, her lips parting in absolute, stunned silence.
"You... you are alive?" she whispered.
Matthias let out a hollow, cynical chuckle, closing the distance with slow, heavy steps. "Ha... it appears your brilliant method of forcing me to throw myself into the abyss didn’t quite succeed."
Talia swallowed the stinging insult in absolute silence. For a fleeting, uncharacteristic moment, a faint wave of profound relief washed over her features, melting away her maternal detachment. She was genuinely glad he hadn’t died in the war. Forcing down her rising emotions, she grew remarkably calmer than usual. Stripping her voice of its typical venom, she leveled a quiet, measured gaze at him.
"What do you want from this visit, Matthias?" she asked softly.
"You lied to me," Matthias hissed, his voice a low, vibrating gravel as he stood right before her. "You lied to me before I marched into that war. The curse... it never left me. It hasn’t disappeared."
Talia let out a quiet, heavy sigh, her expression remaining flat. "I did not lie to you, Matthias. I truly believed it would work. But it seems... your curse is simply far stronger than anyone could have anticipated."
"You are lying!"
Losing the final remnants of his slipping control, Matthias lunged forward. His massive, scarred hands clamped down onto her shoulders with a brutal, crushing force, pinning her mercilessly to her chair. The sheer violence of his grip dragged a sharp hiss of pain from Talia’s lips, but he was entirely blind to it.
"Tell me the truth!" he roared, his voice cracking with a terrifying, raw desperation. "What is the real way to break it? What is the price to undo this madness?!"
Talia strained against his iron grip, fully expecting to see the twisted, sadistic pleasure of her late husband looking back at her. But she found no trace of his father in him tonight. Matthias’s chest heaved violently, his head bowing as he completely broke down before her.
"Please..." Matthias whispered, his voice fracturing into an agonizing, pathetic plea.
To Talia’s absolute bewilderment, large, heavy tears spilled over his lashes, tracking down his pale cheeks as he began to weep in pure, unadulterated pain.
"If there is even a single drop of mercy left in your wretched heart... I beg of you. Do not let me kill my wife. Do not let me destroy my child."
Talia completely froze. The air left her lungs, her mind reeling as his words echoed like a thunderclap through the quiet room.
Olivia is pregnant.
For the first time in her entire life, Talia wasn’t looking at the terrifying, oppressive ghost of her late husband. Her husband had never been the type of man to shed a single tear for his wife, let alone weep for the survival of an unborn child. Matthias was not his father. He was just a normal, broken, terrified human being sobbing in absolute agony to protect the family he loved.
A profound, shattering shift occurred within Talia’s heart. Looking at his trembling shoulders, an ancient maternal instinct she thought had died decades ago faintly stirred. Slowly, almost involuntarily, she raised her hand, her fingers trembling as she reached out to wipe the heavy tears from her son’s face.
But just before her fingertips could touch his wet cheek, her aristocratic pride locked back into place. She froze, hesitated, and slowly pulled her hand back, burying her emotions beneath a familiar wall of cold, unreadable calm.
She waited for his trembling to subside, her voice dropping into a barely audible whisper.
"There is a way," she murmured into the shadows. "A way to completely sever the binding... a way I never dared to breathe to you before."
Matthias snapped his head up, a sudden, frantic desperation flaring in his tear-stained eyes. He tightened his grip on her shoulders, his breathing ragged. "What? What is it?!"
Talia looked deeply into his weeping eyes, her expression settling into a dark, sacrificial peace.
"To completely erase the curse, you must slaughter the source," she delivered the final blow, her voice deadpan and chillingly certain. "You must murder the very person who passed the bloodline’s malice into your veins."
She paused, a grim, ghostly smile touching her lips.
"You must kill me, Matthias."