Chapter 8: Irene nailed to the cross.

“You see, it’s much quieter now, isn’t it? Now, only you and I remain… We can have a proper chat. About Ilena, and about you.”

Rose’s smile, set against the backdrop of the blood-soaked floor and the thickening scent of carnage, was breathtakingly beautiful—and terrifying enough to suffocate.

Sylvia was frozen in terror, unable to utter a single sound. She could only stare wide-eyed with her gray irises as Rose repeatedly examined her perfectly manicured nails coated in red lacquer.

Rose did not kill Sylvia immediately, yet every passing second carried the possibility that she might. Time ticked by, and Sylvia felt herself drawing closer and closer to death.

“What a boring silence.”

Rose finally lost the last shred of patience. The sweet smile faded, replaced by a cold displeasure.

She reached out. Her movement was so fast that Sylvia couldn’t even see it clearly. Rose precisely seized Sylvia’s slender neck and lifted her off the cold, blood-soaked floor as easily as picking up a helpless kitten.

“Perhaps letting you see Ilena’s injured state with your own eyes will help you… loosen your tongue?”

Rose’s voice returned to its lazy tone. Still holding Sylvia by the neck, she strode forward on her long legs wrapped in black stockings. The high heels clicked against the mirror-smooth marble floor as she headed deeper into the hall.

They passed through a corridor lined with eerie portraits. The smell of blood in the air grew thicker. Sylvia, gripped by the throat, could barely breathe. Her vision blurred and swayed from oxygen deprivation and fear.

Finally, they stopped before a dark door carved with twisted, agonized human figures.

Rose didn’t even use her hands. With a mere flicker of her will, the heavy door swung open silently inward, revealing an almost absolute darkness beyond.

A thick, overwhelming stench of blood rushed out.

Sylvia was thrown inside without mercy. She stumbled and fell onto the cold, smooth floor. Her palms scraped across the surface, sending sharp stinging pain through the broken skin.

After a brief moment of blindness, Sylvia’s eyes gradually adjusted to the extremely dim light inside the room.

Then she saw it.

In the center of the room stood a massive inverted cross, and someone was nailed upon it.

Sylvia rubbed her eyes.

Pierced through all four limbs by several long, dark-red glowing nails that pinned her firmly in place was none other than Ilena.

The once arrogant countess who had wantonly drained Sylvia’s life was now in an utterly wretched state.

Her luxurious dress was torn and tattered, stained with both dried and fresh blood. Her usually immaculate hair hung in disheveled strands, partially covering her face.

The most shocking sight was the large, bowl-sized gaping wound in her abdomen. The edges of the flesh were curled outward, charred black and rotting, as if pierced by some immensely powerful force or vicious magic.

Although the wound had been crudely sealed by dark energy to stop the bleeding, the lingering aura of destruction remained terrifyingly clear. Ilena’s head hung low, her breathing faint, as if she had lost consciousness.

This scene brought back Ilena’s words to her.

“If she ever finds out I have other little snacks outside… she’ll be very angry. She’ll probably nail me to a cross.”

“As for the one I cheated with, she’ll probably be skinned, have her bones crushed, and be ground into paste bit by bit.”

Ilena’s past words replayed in Sylvia’s mind.

There had been no attack.

There was no culprit that needed to be investigated.

From beginning to end… this had all been a setup.

A trap laid by Rose to punish Ilena for her infidelity.

And she herself—the blood slave that Ilena had secretly kept—was the perfect tool to torment Ilena’s will.

No wonder Rose hadn’t killed her despite her long silence earlier.

The moment she realized the truth, bone-deep despair flooded Sylvia instantly. She understood everything, but what good did understanding do now?

“Wake up, my dear.”

Rose’s melodious voice echoed in the dark room. She walked gracefully to the cross, reached out, and lightly—insultingly—tapped Ilena’s pale, cold cheek with her fingertip.

Ilena’s body twitched. Her long eyelashes trembled, and she slowly opened her eyes.

The once arrogant eyes were now dull and dim, filled with pain and weakness.

Her gaze first focused hazily on Rose’s sweetly smiling face. Then, as if sensing something, it moved with difficulty and landed on Sylvia, who sat paralyzed on the ground in utter terror.

In that instant, Ilena’s pupils contracted almost imperceptibly. But the emotion vanished so quickly that Sylvia thought she had imagined it.

Ilena swiftly lowered her eyelashes, concealing all fluctuations and returning to a deathly stillness.

Yet this subtle change did not escape Rose, who had been watching her closely.

“Heh…”

Rose let out a soft, knowing chuckle. She turned, walked lightly back to Sylvia, seized her neck once more, and lifted her up like an object on display, forcing her to face Ilena on the cross.

“Look who this is, my dear Ilena?”

With her other hand, Rose roughly yanked open Sylvia’s torn collar, exposing the clear overlapping old and new bite marks on her pale neck.

“These… adorable little marks on this lowly human. They’re your handiwork, aren’t they? This is how you’ve been enjoying your little snack?”

Ilena’s gaze remained fixed rigidly on some point in the void. Her lips pressed into a pale, straight line.

After a long pause, she finally denied it.

“No… I don’t know her. How could a lowly human possibly have anything to do with me? Rose, you’ve got the wrong person.”

Sylvia’s heart sank into an ice cave with those words. Even the last faint glimmer of light was extinguished.

She should have known long ago. To Ilena, she had only ever been a tool to be used and drained.

Lately, Ilena had been sucking her blood with less and less restraint, while offering less and less payment. Her attitude had grown increasingly impatient and rough. What affection or mercy could possibly exist between them?

Now, to protect herself and avoid being nailed to this cross for even longer or facing even more terrible punishment, Ilena would naturally sever all ties with her without hesitation.

“You don’t know her?” Rose raised an eyebrow, seemingly unsurprised by the answer—in fact, almost pleased by it.

The hand gripping Sylvia’s neck tightened slightly, causing Sylvia to struggle weakly from suffocation, her face turning red.

“Really don’t know her? Then if I kill her, you… wouldn’t mind, right?”

As Rose spoke, a dangerous glimmer of magic began to swirl around the fingertip of her other hand. She slowly pointed it toward the center of Sylvia’s brow.

Sylvia closed her eyes. Icy despair washed over her like a tidal wave, even overpowering her fear of death.

She knew she was finished. She had had enough of surviving in this cruel Demon Realm.

It was fine. At least she wouldn’t have to endure this endless pain and humiliation anymore.

Only… Aelia and Sophia.

Her daughters were still waiting for her to come home. Sylvia began to struggle futilely.

Rose felt a slight surprise. With such a vast difference in strength, most people wouldn’t even have the courage to resist.

But surprise was just surprise. Rose had no intention of stopping because of it.