Chapter 224: The Fractured Threads of Hope
Matthias stared down at her, his dark eyes widening in absolute, bewildered disbelief. The silence stretched between them, thin, brittle, and freezing.
"Do you even comprehend what you are saying, Lady Talia?" he demanded, his voice dropping into a harsh, stunned whisper that barely scraped past his throat.
Talia abruptly turned her face away, refusing to meet his fracturing gaze. She stared blankly at the moonlit wall, her jaw set into a cold, aristocratic line. "I am entirely aware of what I am saying."
"Listen to me," Matthias hissed, his knuckles tightening on her shoulders until the fabric of her costly gown crinkled beneath his iron grip. "Just because you have lost your ability to walk, just because you are forced to live in the shadows of my estate, it does not mean you can use me as your executioner! If you are weary of your existence, do not drag me into your pathetic desire for death."
Talia closed her eyes, letting out a sharp, weary breath that sounded like dry autumn leaves. "Matthias Locron... I have told you before that even my own father sacrificed his very life to save mine. I assume you have forgotten that detail." She slowly reopened her eyes, turning a deadly calm, chilling glance toward him. "Therefore, I know you will have no issue slaughtering me to ensure you can remain with your own family. You can do it here and now. I have no objections."
Before Matthias could formulate a response, the heavy mahogany doors burst open with a violent, echoing crash.
Amelia, who had been breathlessly listening behind the wood, charged into the room. Her pale face was streaked with fresh tears, her breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. She didn’t hesitate for a single second; she threw her entire body forward, wrapping her arms securely around Talia’s frail, static shoulders, shielding her mother with her own flesh as if facing a firing squad.
Amelia looked up at Matthias, her eyes wide with a terrifying, absolute realization. No matter how stubborn she was, no matter how much inner strength she possessed, she knew damn well that she was absolutely nothing against Matthias’s monstrous, latent power. She knew he was a man driven to the absolute edge—a man who would ruthlessly burn the entire world to ashes just to protect his wife.
"M-Matthias..." Amelia sobbed, her jaw trembling violently as she squeezed her eyes shut against the darkness radiating from him. "Brother... you promised me. You formally promised me you wouldn’t hurt my mother. Brother, please... I beg of you..."
Talia shifted slightly beneath her daughter’s suffocatingly tight embrace, her cold demeanor cracking for a brief moment as she looked down at the weeping girl. "Amelia, I..."
"I know, Mama!" Amelia interrupted, tightening her grip in pure, agonizing sorrow, refusing to let her speak. "I know you are not a bad person! Even when you heard the news of his death after the war, you were consumed by guilt... I saw it! You hated what you had done in the dark! I know that if the circumstances had been different, you would have loved my brother... Please, Mama, I don’t want to lose you. Please, you are everything I have left in this cursed house!"
Talia slowly raised her gaze, looking past Amelia’s trembling, golden form to meet Matthias’s bloodshot eyes.
Matthias stood completely frozen. His massive hands hovered in the dead air, a profound, agonizing confusion clouding his features. The dark fury that had fueled his steps into this room entirely evaporated, replaced by a paralyzing, sickening dilemma.
He was trapped in a living hell.
On one side stood the cold, detached woman who brought him into this world—a mother from whom he had never received a single drop of warmth or affection, yet she was the mother of his sister. She was a woman he had formally vowed never to harm. On the other side stood his sanctuary: Olivia and their unborn child, the only pure things in his wretched life, whom he desperately feared destroying with his own beastly hands.
The silence in the room became unbearable, heavy with the suffocating weight of a choice that had no right answer.
Matthias stumbled a step backward, his hands dropping limply to his sides as if the muscles had been severed. The suffocating weight of the room, of his sister’s desperate, high-pitched pleas, and his mother’s silent, sacrificial gaze pressed down on his chest until he could barely draw breath. Every remaining thread of hope he had desperately clung to didn’t just snap—it vanished into nothingness.
"Excuse me," Matthias muttered, his voice hollow, stripped of all life, malice, and authority. "I am leaving."
He didn’t wait for a response. He turned around and walked out of the chambers, his heavy footsteps sounding remarkably faint, like those of a man already dead. He moved through the labyrinth of the grand estate like a ghost, completely shattered from the inside out.
Stepping out into the biting, cold night air, he left the Duke’s residence behind. He paused on the gravel path, his body instinctively turning toward the wing of the castle where his world resided. He raised his eyes, his gaze locking onto the distant, dimly lit window of Olivia’s bedchambers.
A barrage of agonizing questions began to assault his fractured mind.
Should I truly end my own life to resolve this madness?
He stared at the window, a bitter, terrifying realization hitting him. No. Suicide wasn’t an option. Olivia would never forgive him. She would never grant him peace in death; instead, her own dangerous brand of madness would consume her entirely. She would ruthlessly destroy herself all over again, just as she had done in the past. If he pulled the trigger on himself, he would effectively be pulling it on her and their unborn child.
The shadows around him seemed to deepen as the absolute, inescapable truth settled into his bones.
There was no magical cure. There was no slaughtering the source without destroying his sister.
Matthias closed his eyes, a single, cold tear cutting through the dried tracks on his cheek. It was time. The clock had run out, and the illusions had faded. He had to stop running.
Is it truly time... to confess everything to her, and say my final goodbye?
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The days that followed didn’t just pass; they bled into one another with a merciless, suffocating routine. Matthias hadn’t knocked on Olivia’s door that night. The terrifying urge to protect her from his darkness had frozen his steps, tearing him away from the estate and plunging him headfirst into the only thing that could temporarily numb his fractured mind: blood.
Acting as a phantom executioner under the strict, covert orders of the Emperor, he spent the week ripping out the roots of treason in the capital. The grim work left his hands stained and his soul weary, yet the shadows were now closing in from another direction entirely.
In the quiet, heavy dimness of the Duke’s private office, Leon sat opposite Matthias. Cloaked in his usual low-profile, dark attire, Leon watched his brother with a sharp, critical eye that noted every fraying edge of his composure.
"You look more and more exhausted today, brother," Leon noted, shifting slightly in his seat as he poured a glass of dark liquor.
"It’s just the work," Matthias muttered, rubbing his temples where a dull ache had settled. "Operating as a serial executioner to rip off the heads of those plotting treason against the throne is draining. Working for that demanding Emperor is truly an annoying endeavor."
"You are the one who chose this path to begin with," Leon countered dryly, taking a slow sip.
"I had no other option to cleanse my family’s name," Matthias sighed, his voice dropping into a rough gravelly pitch. "But realistically, we have a major problem brewing. A problem that could blow our cover entirely."
"What kind of problem?"
"This." Matthias slid a sealed, heavy parchment across the polished desk. Written clearly upon the thick wax sealing it were the terrifyingly familiar names: From Duke Alister to the Royal Guard, Ambus Seraph.
Matthias slid a sealed, heavy parchment across the polished desk. Written clearly upon the thick wax sealing it were the terrifyingly familiar names: From Duke Alister to the Royal Guard, Ambus Seraph.
Leon frowned, his casual demeanor instantly vanishing as he stared at the seal. "What on earth is this?"
"It seems Cedric is no longer guessing," Matthias replied, his voice dropping into a dangerous, bone-chilling whisper. "He knows exactly who is hiding beneath the armor. And he is demanding a face-to-face meeting."