"It seems the castle's herbs... are indeed remarkably effective?"
Duke Reinhardt's voice was low and steady, betraying no emotion, yet it struck like an ice-coated dagger, accurately piercing through all of Elara's pretenses.
Elara went rigid, snapping her head up, looking at him in disbelief.
He knew! He really knew! He didn't even bother phrasing it as a question, but stated it with faint mockery, directly exposing her lie!
All her hopes, all her struggles, were rendered laughable, foolish tricks before him!
Overwhelming fear and humiliation instantly engulfed Elara! She opened her mouth, wanting to explain, to deny, but under the Duke's gaze—cold, sharp, seemingly all-seeing—any words felt pale and powerless.
She could only lower her head again, her body trembling violently with fear and despair, unable to utter a complete sentence.
The Duke seemed pleased by her reaction—the terror and helplessness of prey cornered by the hunter, with no escape. He didn't stand at the door like Frau Helga but strode slowly to Elara's bedside.
He looked down at Elara curled up on the bed, his eyes cold and amused, as if admiring an interesting collectible.
"Tell me, Object Seven," his voice remained steady, yet carried an irresistible pressure, "how many days were you 'ill'?"
Elara's heart nearly stopped! Not only did he know she was faking, but he even knew exactly how many days?! What didn't he know within this castle?!
Her mind went blank, fear paralyzing her thoughts. Confess? Or continue lying? Admitting she faked it might invite even more terrible punishment. Continuing the lie might infuriate him, provoking him to expose her more cruelly.
"An... answering Your Grace..." Her voice trembled so much it was barely a coherent sound. "This servant... this servant was merely... merely feeling somewhat... unwell..." She tried to bluff her way through with the vaguest possible words, hoping he might... let her off this time.
"Oh? Unwell?" A cold, almost cruel curve touched the Duke's lips. "How 'unwell'? Dizzy? Nauseous? Or... so weak all over that you require me to personally... 'attend' to you?"
He deliberately emphasized the word "attend," his tone filled with dangerous implication and... a chilling "interest"!
Elara was terrified! She had no doubt that if she dared argue further, this man would absolutely do something far worse than choking her or biting her lip!
"No! That's not it! Your Grace!" She finally broke down, shaking her head desperately, her voice choked with sobs. "This servant... this servant was wrong! I shouldn't have feigned illness! I beg you... I beg you to spare this servant this once!"
She finally chose confession, or rather, was forced into it by absolute terror. She hoped her "admission" and plea might earn her a minuscule shred of mercy.
However, upon hearing her "confession," the Duke's expression didn't change at all. There wasn't even a flicker of surprise in his cold eyes. As if... he had anticipated this all along.
He didn't immediately respond to her plea. Instead, he reached out his hand—long-fingered, calloused—and slowly, with a scrutinizing air, touched Elara's pale cheek.
His fingertips were cool, yet the contact felt like a viper's tongue, making Elara freeze, unable to move.
"My property," his voice was low, like a lover's whisper, yet carried suffocating possessiveness and warning, "is best behaved... when docile."
His fingers slowly slid down, stopping on Elara's lips, pressed tightly from fear, still bearing the faint scar.
"Do not attempt... to test my patience with these foolish little tricks." His thumb rubbed against her injured lip with almost rough force, his eyes darkening. "Otherwise, you will discover... that 'illness' might be the... kindest suffering you ever experience."
Elara stared at him in horror. In his cold eyes, she saw a... near-maniacal obsession! As if any attempt to escape his control would trigger his deepest, most destructive fury!
This wasn't just possessiveness; it felt more like... a pathological need for control, stemming from some deep-seated insecurity? Was it because... he had lost something important once? Was that why he clung so desperately to everything before him now?
The thought flashed through Elara's mind like lightning, but she immediately extinguished it! No! I cannot feel any sympathy for him! This man is a demon! Whatever his past, it doesn't justify his cruelty towards me!
She could only look at him with greater fear, awaiting his final "judgment."