Chapter 3

"That slap was to remind you who's the real master here," I said, my voice cold as ice.

I fixed my gaze on her. "Pick it up, or I'll have you dragged out and beaten within an inch of your life."

My tone was as casual as if I were commenting on the weather, but the icy look in my eyes made Caterina shudder without even realizing it.

Caterina could see I meant every word.

She gritted her teeth, humiliation written all over her face as she crouched down. Her hands, which were so much more pampered than mine, reached out to pick up the muddy shards.

The boy lifted his head, staring at me in stunned disbelief.

'Is she really... helping me? No one's ever helped me before... Is she a fairy? Her hand must hurt from that slap. I wish I could help her feel better,' he thought.

The red letters on the Book of Fate spun wildly, moving so fast I could barely make them out.

[Warning! Warning! The story's gone way off track! Your actions are totally out of line! If you don't fix this right now, disaster could strike at any moment!]

[He may look pitiful now, but deep down he's already scheming to tear you apart! You've fallen for his act!]

I tuned out the wild alarms blaring in my mind, bent down, and reached out my hand to the boy.

"Get up. Come with me to my room," I said.

The boy stared at my pale hand, hesitating to touch it. He wiped his hands roughly on his clothes, then carefully pinched my sleeve, using it to help himself stand.

At that moment, I heard the deepest voice in his heart, with a hint of a sob. 'From this moment on, my life is yours.'

I took the boy back to my courtyard, the Tranquil Garden.

It was tucked away in a quiet corner, and except for Caterina and a handful of servant women, hardly anyone ever came by.

Ever since Matilda took over the household, she'd been smothering me with fake kindness, the legitimate daughter left by the first wife.

On the surface, I had everything I needed. But in reality, I was under her thumb at every turn, surrounded by her spies.

I had someone heat up some water, grabbed a few old men's clothes I used to wear, and tossed them to the boy.

"Clean yourself up," I told him.

He clutched the clothes to his chest and nodded meekly. With a limp, he made his way into the bathhouse.

Caterina stood in the doorway, her face swollen and puffy, shooting daggers at me as she glared inside.

"Miss, you're letting a wolf into the house. That boy's trouble. What if he swipes something, or does something even worse..." she said.

"Shut up," I replied.

I lounged on the soft couch, flipping through a book without even glancing her way. "Keep talking, and maybe I'll mess up the other side of your face too."

Caterina bit back her retort, glared at me, and stomped out.

I knew she was off to tattle to Matilda. But that was exactly what I wanted.

The Book of Fate kept flooding my thoughts with frantic warnings.

[He's poisoned the bathwater! That kid's a child from the southern witchcraft clans. His whole body is toxic! If you even get close to the bathhouse, you'll start bleeding from your eyes, nose, and mouth!]

[Seal the bathhouse and burn him alive inside!]

I closed the book, got up, and headed for the bathhouse.

As I pushed the door open, a wave of steam hit me.

The boy was curled up in the tub. Startled by the sound, he shrank back, ducking under the water so fast that only his wide, wet eyes were left peeking out.

The water was crystal clear, with no sign of any poison or creepy bugs.

But his bony shoulders were layered with scars, old and new. There were whip marks, burns, knife wounds... not a single spot untouched.

My chest tightened suddenly.

Was this really the so-called demon the Book of Fate keeps talking about? The demon who was born with supernatural strength and immune to blades?

He was nothing but a pitiful child, scarred by years of abuse and hardship.

I walked over to the tub and grabbed the towel hanging nearby.

The boy instinctively shrank back, water splashing out of the tub.

'Is she going to hit me? It's fine, I don't mind the pain. Just... please don't hit my face. If my face gets messed up, she won't like me anymore,' he thought.

I hesitated for a moment, then dipped the towel in water and gently dabbed at the wounds on his back.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I said.

As gently as I could, I asked, "How did you get hurt like this?"

The boy's stiff body gradually relaxed. He kept his head down, too afraid to meet my eyes, and let out a few soft, raspy noises from his throat.

He couldn't speak.

In the past two timelines, I always thought he was mute. It wasn't until right before he died that he finally spoke, and I realized he'd been pretending the whole time. Or maybe someone poisoned him to make him mute, and he got better later?

He thought, 'My old masters did this to me. They said I was a bad omen, and beating me would help them earn virtue. Some of these scars came from fighting stray dogs for scraps.'

He looked at my hands. 'Her hands are so soft, like a mother's. Although I've never seen my mother.'

My hand trembled slightly as I wiped his wounds.