You’re My Flame

Chapter 8

“How’s the progress?”

In a vast room the size of a training hall, the low voice rumbled sternly. It was deep enough to be felt through the floor.

Archen bowed to his master apologetically. “I’m sorry. We’re doing our best to gather information.”

“You can’t even handle a simple task?” Criticism poured from the master’s mouth.

Archen bowed lower. “I’m sorry.”

“Didn’t I say time is of the essence?” Seated in a wide armchair, the master glared at the man with piercing eyes. His dark purple irises held no trace of sympathy.

“I’ll find them as quickly as possible.”

Another may have been too frightened to speak and chosen to grovel, but Archen had grown used to his master’s moods. Even so, a chill ran down his spine. Even after a decade, facing his master still weakened his knees due to the man’s unrelenting and merciless nature.

For him, people fell into two categories: useful or useless. Even his children were no exception.

“Useless wretch.” The master clicked his tongue and looked over at the man lying in the wide bed. His face crumpled with displeasure, deepening into lines of disapproval.

Archen cautiously followed his eyes to the bed, where a man lay on the king-sized mattress. His eyes were closed as if he were dead.

This vast room belonged to that man. He was wrapped up to his neck in pristine, fluffy white bed covers. His lips had lost their rosy color and turned blue, and his gaunt cheeks revealed the contours of his skull. It seemed he had not eaten for a long time. Still, his pale lips and skin glistened, and seemed well cared for despite his starvation. His black hair, as lifeless as autumn leaves fallen to the ground, spilled around him on the pillow.

The faint sound of his breathing seemed likely to fade to nothing at any moment. It would not be a surprise if he died sometime in the night.

Archen turned away. Although he’d witnessed this scene countless times, he couldn’t stop a solemn feeling from coming over him. His heart was not strong enough to comfortably have a staring contest with death.

As the bright sunlight transformed into twilight, the master rose from the sofa and called for the butler. “Verdic.”

“Yes, sir. You called?” Quick to tend his master, Verdic hurriedly opened the door and stepped inside.

Glancing at the bed, the master asked, “How much time is left?”

“The doctor said yesterday that he has one or two years at the most, sir.”

Archen wanted to cover his ears. Even if the man was unconscious and his eyes were closed, it felt cruel to discuss his death so openly. The master’s cruelty, forever unchanging, sent chills down his spine.

“Archen.”

“Yes, sir.” He quickly bowed to his master.

“Bring him to me, no matter what it takes.”

“Understood.”

“If he refuses, you may break his limbs, but don’t cripple him entirely. That would render him useless.”

“As you wish,” Archen answered, swallowing nervously at the ruthless order. He bowed and swiftly made his exit, his pale face still creased with tension and stiff from his master’s attention.

He left the mansion and resumed his search. As he was bound to the household, he had no right to refuse an order. He had to find the man quickly and present him to his master—and at all costs, even if it meant damaging him in the process. This was what the family and his master demanded.

***

Chersinia opened the kitchen cupboard, readying to bake a simple loaf of bread for lunch. She pushed aside the plates and reached for the large container of flour. It should have been heavy, but it was as light as a feather. Something was off.

Ah, damn it… Indeed, it was empty. The flour was completely gone.

Not expecting that she would be out so suddenly, anxiety brewed within her. If she were by herself, the food she had on hand would have lasted over a week, but with another mouth to feed, she was running short. Having wagered all her money at the casino, she didn’t have a cent left for even a single loaf of bread.

If only they’d given me my prize money… If they’d paid her fairly for the bags filled with chips, things would be different. Or would they? If she had received the money, she wouldn’t have needed to take Ben, so her supplies might not have run out after all.

She shoved the container back on the shelf and slammed the cupboard shut with a thunk, trying to stop her runaway thoughts.

“What’s wrong, Chersinia?” Ben asked, watching her aggressively close the cupboard.

Realizing she had let her frustration show, she quickly turned to him, putting on a calm facade. She couldn’t admit the food had run out. He’d definitely blame himself and feel guilty.

“I feel like having some meat for a change. I need to do some shopping.”

“I’ll go with you!” His hand eagerly shot into the air, like he was a student desperate to answer a question.

“Stay here. I can go by myself,” she said gently, shaking her head. She planned to sell some jewelry for fast cash, and there was no need for him to see that. For the week she had him as collateral, she wanted him to be relaxed and worry-free.

“I just wanted to help you carry things…” Ben’s arm slowly lowered as he longingly stared at her.

“No, no.” Chersinia quickly averted her eyes to avoid being swayed by his earnest look. There was just something about his eyes that always broke her will. If she didn’t look away, she’d end up bringing him.

“Chersinia…”

“No. I’m going alone.”

This time, it was his desperate voice calling her name almost made her change her mind, but she remained firm.

Quickly, Chersinia headed for her dressing table. The last thing she wanted was for Ben to see her selling her jewelry because she was out of money.

Entering her room, she eyed the vanity tucked into a corner. It was impressively luxurious, its golden patterns a stark contrast to the old cabin’s shabby interior.

Chersinia loved fashion, so despite her home’s poor state, she spared no expense on clothes, cosmetics, and jewelry. While she didn’t fix up the house often, her luxury items were always new and sparkling. She hadn’t squandered her inheritance over nothing.

She pulled the vanity’s ornate drawer open by its elaborate handle. Inside, only a few pieces of jewelry remained in what had once been a drawer full of sparkling gems. Even before she took over this body, the original Chersinia had been forced to reluctantly sell most of her jewelry to afford food.

At least I still have this. Otherwise, I’d be starving. She picked up a silver ring that lay lonely in the empty drawer. It would probably cover food for two weeks.

She slid the ring onto her long, pale index finger. Even just one ring made her hand look as dazzling as a noblewoman’s. Everything seemed to suit her.

She shut the drawer and grabbed a black hooded cloak hanging on the wall. The memory of the stares she’d received at the gambling den pushed her to be more cautious going out.

In the original novel, Chersinia always wore a hooded cloak to avoid attention, as her striking beauty often drew unwanted admirers. Even at the gambling den a few days ago, she’d caught the eye of a fair number of people. Those covert, leering looks annoyed her, and since she was only heading out for some quick shopping, she didn’t want to deal with such nuisances.

She donned the cloak and pulled the hood low.

“Isn’t it too dangerous to go by yourself?” Ben asked, shuffling into the room wearing a dejected face.

“I’m more worried about leaving you alone. Stay put and don’t break any more plates.”

He couldn’t argue and clenched his jaw shut.

“I’ll be back soon,” Chersinia reassured him with a smile.

Knowing he couldn’t convince her to take him along, Ben seemed resigned. She hoped the plates would remain intact in her absence.

“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” he finally said, smiling gently.

He held the front door for Chersinia as she stepped out of the cabin. A refreshing breeze brushed across her skin.

With light steps, she made her way down the hill. It took some time to reach the village from her cabin deep in the forest. Walking briskly, the trip took about twenty minutes.

Halfway down the hill, she wondered if she had locked up properly. She glanced back. As if waiting for her to look, Ben beamed and waved energetically. His innocent smile made her chuckle, and she quickened her pace.

A warm feeling blossomed in her chest at knowing someone was waiting for her to return. At her previous homecomings, she was greeted only with a cold cabin, so to have someone waiting there for her filled her with hopeful anticipation.

Maybe beef stew instead of chicken, she thought, trying to convince herself that the upgrade to red meat had nothing to do with Ben’s cheerful wave.