Duke Reinhardt's warning, like a magic spell, echoed in the small cell, each word a cold needle piercing Elara's marrow.
She knew this clumsy attempt had failed utterly. Not only had it failed to buy her respite, but it might have attracted the man's deeper, pathological "interest" and even tighter control.
The Duke seemed satisfied with the expression on Elara's face now—that mix of fear, despair, and utter resignation. A fleeting, indescribable emotion flickered in his cold eyes—it didn't seem like simple amusement or cruelty, more like... a complex, hard-to-read... weariness? Or... emptiness, upon seeing an anticipated outcome?
The emotion vanished instantly, so fast Elara thought she might have imagined it. The next second, the Duke's gaze returned to its usual cold indifference.
He released Elara's chin, straightened up, looking down at her as if at a finally subdued plaything that had stopped struggling.
"It seems I gave you too much 'freedom' before," he stated flatly, as if declaring an established fact. "Allowing you to develop... inappropriate fantasies."
Elara's heart sank to the bottom. She knew a harsher reality awaited her.
As expected, the Duke didn't utter any more threats, nor did he order any direct physical punishment. He simply spoke to Knight Kaelen, who stood like a shadow outside the door (Elara didn't even know when he'd appeared), in an extremely nonchalant tone, yet carrying absolute authority:
"From today, cancel her afternoon activity time in the courtyard."
Kaelen bowed slightly, his voice low. "Yes, Your Grace."
The Duke paused, his gaze falling on Elara again, cold enough to freeze her. "Additionally, Helga will rearrange her 'work'. Ensure... she has no excess time or energy to think about... unrealistic things."
"As you command, Your Grace," Kaelen's voice remained level.
The Duke seemed to feel this "punishment" was sufficient. Without another glance at Elara, he turned and walked with steady steps out of the cell. His tall, imposing figure was like a moving iceberg, radiating a hopeless chill and... an inexplicable loneliness?
Elara collapsed onto the bed, limp, only gasping for air after the Duke's footsteps had completely faded down the corridor.
She felt no relief at escaping direct punishment, only deeper fear and helplessness.
She finally understood completely.
She faced a terrifyingly powerful being! He possessed not only crushing authority but also a frightening ability to see into people's hearts! Her slightest thought, her smallest action, couldn't escape his eyes!
He was like a hunter high above, and she was the prey trapped, unable to escape no matter how she struggled! He didn't even need to act himself; a few words, a few glances, were enough to easily shatter all her hopes and defiance!
The gap between them was like an insurmountable chasm!
This failed attempt was like a bucket of ice water, completely extinguishing the faint spark of resistance that had just rekindled in Elara's heart. She profoundly recognized the disparity in power and the laughable naivety of her previous fantasies about a "white knight"!
Yet, strangely, after enduring this mental blow akin to death by a thousand cuts, within Elara's heart, besides boundless fear and despair, there remained... a minuscule trace of resilience, like a tenacious sprout pushing through cracks in stone, that surprised even herself?
Yes, resilience.
Perhaps because she had died once, perhaps because of the unforgettable betrayal in her past life, or perhaps... simply out of life's most basic instinct to survive.
She hadn't been completely broken.
Her body trembled, her soul shuddered, but her mind, amidst the extreme fear and pain, became exceptionally clear.
She began to replay the Duke's every gaze, every action, every word...
He saw through her feigned illness but only reprimanded her verbally, without resorting to torture... Why? Was it merely because he found it "interesting"?
The manic excitement in his eyes when he choked her... and that fleeting, complex weariness at the end... What did that signify?
And his departing figure, lonely as an iceberg...
Was this man truly a pure demon who delighted in torturing others? Or... beneath his cold, hard shell, did he also hide... unknown wounds and vulnerabilities?
The thought sent a shiver down Elara's spine. She immediately suppressed it! No! I cannot feel any inappropriate curiosity or sympathy for him! Whatever his past, it doesn't justify his cruelty towards me!
But... the thought, like a seed, had been quietly planted in her heart.
She knew she had to become more careful, more cautious. She couldn't keep testing him, resisting him, in such clumsy ways. She needed... a smarter approach.
She needed more information about this castle, about this Duke. She needed to find his weakness, even if it lay hidden beneath the deepest layer of ice.
Elara slowly sat up on the bed. Her face was still pale, her lips cracked from tension, her eyes still holding residual fear. But if one looked closely, beneath the haze of fear, one could see a... minuscule, yet exceptionally firm light, like a star on a cold night.
The facade had cracked, but the thorn bird's wings were not completely broken.
She just... needed to find another way to keep singing.