Chapter 110: The Circus of Death
The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the clock. Its relentless rhythm made Andrew, David, and Lulu increasingly restless.
David broke the silence once again, frustration etched across his face.
"You guys still don’t know a way to break the seal?"
Andrew knew. That kind of barrier could only be undone by its creator or by someone even more powerful.
He might have the knowledge to dismantle it, but if he did, he wouldn’t have the strength left to face the matriarch of Coravane or Elle herself. His body was already near its limit, while Lulu hadn’t even fully evolved yet.
They were trapped, and the uncertainty of what might happen to their loved ones was driving them insane.
Their enemies might not be able to harm them directly, but those they cared about were different.
The tense silence shattered when the door swung open. A line of maids entered, pushing gleaming trolleys laden with food and drinks. Moving in synchronization, they began setting the table.
This time, the dishes were unmistakably real: platters of gourmet delicacies, their aromas rich and mouthwatering, filling the room with a deceptive warmth.
The sight felt almost ceremonial, like lambs being fed one last feast before slaughter.
’What’s the meaning of this...?’
David’s patience finally snapped. "I don’t need food!"
He lunged forward and grabbed the wrist of one maid who was setting down a whole roast chicken. She stared at him blankly, her eyes void of life.
"Tell us how to get out of this room!" he barked.
She didn’t respond. She didn’t even blink. It was like shouting at a porcelain doll.
"Let her go, David," Andrew said evenly, lifting a glass of wine and taking a sip.
"Let’s enjoy this little ’welcoming party’."
David released her reluctantly, watching as she fell back into line with the others. The maids positioned themselves behind the table, standing in eerie silence like attendants awaiting their cue.
Lulu eyed the spread uneasily. "Are you sure it’s safe to eat or drink any of this? What if it’s a trap?"
Andrew picked up a knife and carved a clean slice from the rotisserie chicken. David followed suit, though his expression was equal parts wary and disbelieving.
"They can’t hurt us," Andrew replied without hesitation. "So eat while you can. Who knows if we’ll get another chance?"
His tone was calm, but there was a quiet heaviness in his gaze, like a man who suspected this might be his last meal.
Yet a part of him still held onto hope: to make things right with Seamus, even if just for a moment, to pay for his sins before the end.
"Bravo! You really are clever, Damien."
A sharp, deliberate clap rang out through the room, echoing against the walls. All three heads turned toward the source.
A woman sat at the head of the table, legs elegantly crossed. Her hair was as black as midnight, her eyes a deep, blood-red that seemed to drink in the light.
None of them had noticed her arrival; it was as if she had always been there.
David immediately shot to his feet, drawing his blade and pointing it at her. "Who are you?! Don’t mess with us and let us go!"
She tilted her head with a smirk. "So you can run off and search for Elle? Don’t worry, she’s fine. Just exhausted and taking a little nap like a good girl."
Her voice was smooth, almost playful, but Andrew could tell she was telling the truth. Because even if he wanted to explain what had happened in the house, he couldn’t. So what was the point of lying?
"I’m not Damien," Andrew said coolly.
"And I’m guessing you’re the matriarch of Corvane. Interesting, I’ve never seen or heard of you before, and yet you seem to know quite a bit about me."
His composure only fueled David’s anger. His frown deepened, his jaw tightening as hatred welled up. There she was, the woman responsible for tearing his daughter away from him.
The one who had twisted Elle’s life into something unrecognizable. The one who had brainwashed that little girl and made her life miserable.
"How dare you sit there with that shameless smile!" he roared.
"You’ve ruined the lives of countless children, treating them like lab animals for your twisted experiments!" His teeth ground together as his voice rose.
"I can’t believe you live without an ounce of remorse!"
He took a step forward, his blade unwavering.
"Give me back my daughter!"
David charged toward the woman, but she didn’t even flinch. She sat there as if his attack wasn’t worth acknowledging.
Andrew shot to his feet with a groan. "Dumbass! Don’t do it, David!"
But before he could get close, something tightened around his ankles. Thick vines shot up from the floor, coiling around his legs and arms in an instant.
His blade slipped from his grasp and clattered against the cold tiles, the sharp echo ringing through the room like cruel laughter.
"We might not be able to hurt you," a voice came from behind him, calm and firm, "but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you lay a finger on my lady."
It was Sarah. She stepped into view with a faint smile on her wrinkled face.
"It’s better if you simply enjoy our warm welcome, instead of splattering blood around like some wild animal. Don’t you agree, Sir Andrew?"
Andrew exhaled heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "She’s right. Killing them won’t solve anything."
David’s head snapped toward him, eyes blazing with fury and disbelief. "What the fuck are you saying?" he shouted.
"Elle was kidnapped! She’s been in pain for God knows how long—screaming for her father’s name while they tortured her with those experiments—and you’re telling me it won’t solve anything?!"
His voice cracked under the weight of his rage. "It will solve everything if I send all of them straight to hell!"
He thrashed against the vines, but they only tightened their grip. His wound tore open again, warm blood soaking through his shirt.
"David," Andrew said, his voice steady though a storm brewed beneath it, "you wouldn’t stand a chance against them, and you know it. Don’t you want to see your daughter again?"
The words struck him like a blow. David’s eyes widened, and the fight drained from his body. Reality crashed down on him, brutal and undeniable. Even if he somehow won, it would cost him his life. He’d never see Elle again.
He bit down hard on his lip, tasting blood, as the vines slackened. His body slumped to the floor in quiet defeat.
At the head of the table, Roanna clapped her hands together with a satisfied smile. "Now that was a good performance."
Sarah and the other maids joined in, their applause eerily synchronized, as if mocking the entire scene. The sound stopped just as abruptly as it began. Roanna leaned forward, eyes gleaming.
"This time," she purred, "allow us to give you our greatest performance."
The lights in the room dimmed suddenly, plunging everything into darkness. A faint music box tune started playing: soft at first, then slowly joined by the creak of gears and the chiming of bells.
Roanna snapped her fingers. A spotlight blinked to life in the center of the hall, illuminating a small circular stage that hadn’t been there before.
From the shadows, a group of children shuffled forward, each dressed in tattered circus costumes: striped leotards, faded tutus, miniature ringmaster coats.
Their faces were pale as wax, their eyes hollow and unblinking. They moved like wind-up dolls, joints stiff, heads tilting at unnatural angles with every step.
David’s stomach twisted. "What the hell is this..." he muttered.
Roanna’s smile widened, eyes glinting with childlike glee. "Our entertainment, of course. You should feel honored, we rarely let outsiders watch this show."
A little boy climbed up a rickety ladder, reaching a thin rope strung high across the room. He stepped onto it without hesitation, wobbling like a marionette whose strings were tugged by unseen hands. The eerie music swelled as he made his way across.
Halfway through, his foot slipped. He didn’t scream. He didn’t reach out. He simply plummeted. The crack of his skull against the floor echoed like a gunshot.
A maid in the corner clapped politely as two others dragged the limp body away without pause.
Next came a pair of twin girls in frilly dresses, pushing a lion cage onto the stage. The animal inside was unnaturally still, its eyes glowing faintly in the dim light.
One of the girls stepped inside the cage, holding a hoop of fire. She raised her hand as if to give a command, but the lion lunged.
Its massive jaws closed around her tiny torso, blood spraying in a neat arc across the floor. Her twin didn’t react, only tilted her head, then resumed the performance as if nothing had happened.
Andrew clenched his fists. "They’re children," he hissed under his breath.
Sarah chuckled, fanning herself with delight. "Oh, don’t be so dramatic. They were chosen for this. Look how dedicated they are."
Another spotlight lit up a group of children juggling knives. One missed a catch. A blade buried itself in his throat.
He collapsed mid-act, blood pooling beneath him as the others kept juggling around the body without breaking rhythm.
Roanna rose from her seat, slow and theatrical, as if conducting an orchestra. "Isn’t it beautiful?" she sighed. "Such pure devotion to the performance."
Andrew turned away, bile burning his throat, but the sound of bells and bones breaking refused to let him escape.