Chapter 232: A deal with the devil
The sprawling gardens were utterly devoid of sound, swallowed by a dead, heavy silence broken only by the synchronized, sharp clicks of their boots against the stone path. Minutes had bled away since she stepped down from her carriage, yet neither of them had spoken. The quiet between them was not peaceful; it was a taut, vibrating wire ready to snap and draw blood.
Waiting for her beneath the cold bleeding of the moonlight was Cedric. When his pitch-black eyes caught sight of her figure, he extended his hand—a silent, heavy command wrapped in a plea.
Olivia did not hesitate. She placed her cold, bare hand firmly in his, noting how his fingers instantly tightened, crushing her knuckles just enough to feel the bone; a muted reminder of who held the physical power here.
"You truly came," Cedric whispered, his voice vibrating with a dangerous mixture of disbelief and pure, starved reverence.
Olivia tilted her chin up, the frost in her features unshakeable. "And why did you doubt it in the first place?"
"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight," he murmured, his gaze tracing the column of her throat with an obsessive hunger.
Olivia remained silent, offering no polite currency in return. His flirtations were always like this—brutally direct, heavy, and suffocating... like a velvet noose.
Sensing the chill in the air, Cedric slipped his heavy coat off his broad shoulders and draped it around her. It was too large for her, smelling of expensive tobacco and a strange cologne, weighing her down like a set of soft chains.
"What is the meaning of this sudden, strange display of initiative, Cedric?" she questioned softly, her eyes staring straight into the dark void ahead.
"I have always been this way with you, Olivia," he replied, a low, gravelly chuckle escaping his lips. "It is simply that you always preferred to shut your eyes and look away from the monster standing right in front of you."
"Ha..." A hollow, dry sound escaped her throat. She didn’t deny it. Instead, she shot him a sideways glance, her eyes narrowing. "Your eyes are bleeding suspicion, Cedric. Can you please spare me those looks?"
He stopped dead in his tracks to look down at her profile, conceding, "Well, I certainly cannot deny that. For you—the coldest, most detached creature in this entire Empire—to suddenly send me a private letter expressing a desire to see me? It lacks logic entirely. My men tell me you’ve been moving like a ghost lately... this invitation reeks of a trap."
Not a single eyelash of Olivia’s flickered. Instead, she let out a soft, dark chuckle that sounded like breaking ice. She turned her body fully toward him, her gaze dripping with a wicked, mocking amusement that cut through his defenses.
"A trap?" she whispered, stepping closer until her breath rose as mist between them. Then she raised her pale hand, her slender fingers reaching up to deliberately, slowly stroke through the dark strands of his hair. Her touch was almost mockingly tender, utilizing his weakness and obsessed mind against him. "Do you truly think I came to you in your own manor, stripped of everything, just to make you fall into a trap I set?"
Cedric didn’t smile. His dark eyes locked onto hers, analyzing the micro-movements of her face, desperately searching for the hidden play, yet his pulse quickened under the gentle friction of her fingers against his face. "A man in my position doesn’t survive by walking blindly into foolish jaws, Olivia. You want something. And you want it bad enough to use your own presence as bait."
"I want many things," she whispered, her fingers remaining caught near his ear, distracting his brilliant mind with her terrifying proximity. "But tell me, Cedric... if this is a trap, why are you still standing here? Why haven’t you turned your back on me yet?"
Suddenly, Cedric caught her by the wrist, his grip like an iron vice pressing into her pulse point. His face went entirely blank, his eyes turning cold, flat, and predatory. "Because I want to know if this pathetic little game of yours is meant to distract me from the fact that Matthias’s corpse has vanished from that clearing in the valley."
He stared at her, waiting for the crack in her armor. He expected fear, or a desperate lie.
Instead, Olivia stared back at him with absolute, chilling detachment. Not a single hair on her body stirred with fear, and her pulse remained dead-calm against his fingers. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a sharp, terrifying smirk. "Vanished? Ha... let us not be naive, Cedric, and do not let your fears blind you. Yes, Matthias is still alive. There is no use in denying the obvious."
Cedric folded his hands behind his back, his eyes burning with a cold triumph. "Oh?! Have you just exposed your cards and revealed Matthias’s status to me so easily?"
Olivia replied with absolute coldness, entirely unfazed by his provoking tone. "What of it? In any case, let us focus on you and me tonight, and leave him out of this story completely."
He blinked, incredulous at her audacity and sheer confidence, and asked with a ravenous curiosity, "If you aren’t here to protect him... then what exactly is your price tonight?"
"An ally," she stated plainly, her voice devoid of any human warmth. "I require a powerful, merciless ally for my vengeance. That bastard Roland tried to kill me again, and I have had more than enough of my father. I want him ruined... completely."
"And you want me to be your weapon to butcher your own father?" Cedric took a heavy step forward, completely closing the distance until he was looming directly over her like a dark cloud, trying to reassert his dominance. "Why come to me? Why not ask your husband for aid, if the House of LECERON is so eager for blood?"
Olivia looked up at him, her gaze completely unyielding, her voice dropping into a smooth, terrifyingly assured purr that made the hairs on his arms stand up.
"If I wanted his help, Cedric, I wouldn’t have personally arranged for Matthias to be thrown into the Imperial dungeons tonight."
"You... you are jesting, correct?" Cedric replied, his voice uncharacteristically strained as suspicion flared violently behind his eyes. How could a woman imprison the very husband she was supposedly protecting?
Olivia looked back at him, her expression an impenetrable wall of frost. "You can verify it yourself. Aren’t you exceptionally skilled at gathering intelligence? Go ahead, send your crows to the Imperial dungeons right now, and see who occupies the iron cells. I have removed him from my path and yours, and now... Roland is completely exposed."
A slow, mad smile gradually carved its way across Cedric’s face, entirely driven by a sudden, intoxicating rush of pure victory. Her manipulation had worked perfectly; by offering him her husband’s head on a silver platter to open the gates of vengeance against her father, she had completely blinded his suspicions.
He reached out, his long fingers wrapping around her jaw, squeezing with a terrifying blend of fragile tenderness and brutal possessiveness. "Oh... this sounds like a truly irresistible contract."
"Remove your hand," Olivia whispered, her tone dropping into a lethal, dead-calm register that cut through the night air like a razor. "Before I sever it at the wrist."
Cedric’s grin only widened, though he slowly released his grip, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Very well, very well, my dear. We are partners now, after all. We must keep our manners."
Catching her hand before she could pull back, he lifted it to his lips, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her knuckles with the twisted grace of a perfect executioner. "I accept this alliance, entirely. Let us continue the celebration of our union inside. The garden is beginning to grow a bit dull."
"Fine," she replied, her face a chilling canvas of absolute composure. "Let us go."
Together, they stepped through the grand arched glass doors into the interior of his private manor. Olivia’s eyes swept across the room, instantly locking onto a lavishly adorned table set in the center. It was a romantic dinner, meticulously prepared beforehand, bathed in the flickering, warm glow of candlelight. It looked like a shrine built for a missing idol.
Before she could take another step, Cedric closed the distance behind her. He didn’t use his maids to present his threat; instead, he took her firm and unyielding by the arm and guided her toward the heavy mahogany wardrobe at the far end of the room.
With a swift, dramatic motion, he flung the carved doors wide open. Hanging in the very center, bathed in the dim candlelight, was a gown of striking, blood-red silk. It was a masterpiece of tailoring, designed to captivate, to possess, and to enslave.
Cedric leaned in from behind, his breath uncomfortably hot as he whispered against the shell of her ear, while his hand rested heavily on the frame of the wardrobe, trapping her.
He murmured, his eyes reflecting the deep crimson fabric with a feral, hollow intensity. "You told me you wished to utilize me, Olivia. But exploiting a person like me comes with a heavy price, my sweet. I am not a cheap blade you can wield and discard."
Olivia didn’t flinch. She simply cut her sharp eyes toward him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Cedric reached out, his fingertips tracing the smooth, costly fabric with a slow, obsessive hunger. "Let us call it a down payment for our new partnership. I want you to wear this tonight, for me. Let our contract begin with the color that truly suits the blood we are about to spill. If you want my loyalty, Olivia... you must first wear my colors."