Dinnertime upon them, Kyzar pointed Elliot towards the dining room. Tonight, he would call for her in place of his butler. 

Chrys was quick to open the door, and up close, he realised how small she was, being completely enveloped in the shadow of his looming figure. Her head was completely tipped up to his for her to see his face, and if she had to extend the angle any further, he feared her neck might snap. 

She was staring at him. He cringed at the reflection of himself in her icy blue eyes – the slimy tongue that was too big to fit in his mouth and hung over the edge of his jaw, the two red orbs that glowed eerily from expansive black holes, the plethora of sharp finger-like horns that branched from his head, the two hollow holes in his face where his nose should have been.

Goddamn, I really am ugly.

He had never been so close to another person before, not in his monster form, and not with someone who was not Elliot. Looking at himself through her eyes, wide with disbelief, it was even more damning than the reflection he faced in the mirror. 

Thwack!

His face hurt. He had been hit with something hard. A garbled mess of sounds escaped her throat. The door slammed shut.

Kyzar stood there in shock. She had sounded like a pig-bird mutant getting slaughtered, but that was not the point. Other than on the battlefield, he had never been assaulted, and never without his instincts tipping him off before impact. Thousands of women, even men who lived their whole lives out on an active warzone, had reacted in similar outbursts of panic when confronted with his ghastly appearance, but none of them had flung a book in his face; they only either cowered and begged to be spared, or ran for their lives. 

Was he supposed to laugh? Cry? This little girl, this child, had been so afraid of him that she had to use a book, an item that could not be farther from a weapon, to defend herself. He had hit a new low in life, and he was going to wring Elliot’s neck for daring to get his hopes up.

Still, her reaction reassured him. She had recoiled back into the room and barricaded herself in, shock and terror alit in her eyes, so she could not be a spy. Kyzar sighed deeply, but as usual, what reverberated through the corridors was grunts and roars. On the other side of the door, he heard the girl whimper pitifully. She was terrified of him, and he quickly reined his disappointment in. There was no need to scare her further. He motioned for Elliot, waving his hand. They would give her time to collect herself and send her on her way before she decided there was no other choice but to take her own life.

To both of their surprise, Chrys did not leave.

She refused to come out of her room for a few days, but with plenty of gentle coaxing from the unrelenting Elliot, she begun to take her meals at the dining room again. Kyzar spared her by making himself scarce, but he continued to watch her from the shadows. She was a beautiful young lady, still wet behind the ears in the game of life, but her impeccable etiquette was very telling of her roots. She likely came from a noble family, yet, she had not revealed her family name to Elliot. There were many red flags surrounding her identity, but they were at a point where Kyzar did not think it possible to let go. Miniscule as it was, the fact that she was still sticking around, still granting him some form of human interaction, after the monstrosity she had been threatened with, gave him hope that he had a shot at breaking the curse. He could not pass it up.

“Elliot.”

“Yes, Lady Chrys.”

“Do you need saving?”

Kyzar nearly blew his cover when he heard her question. She thought that his head butler needed saving when it was him who was in dire need of it. He wanted to lie down and cry.

Elliot was quiet for a short moment, as if she had startled him. “No, my lady.”

“You’re not a hostage of...”

He chuckled. “Definitely not, my lady. It is every butler’s pride to serve their master, and I’m perfectly at home under the wings of His Gra—”

Hell was instantaneous. Kyzar’s body contorted, and his brain began to melt. His insides were twisting, burning, and he let out a tortured roar. The intensity sent tremors rattling through the stone walls.

“I’m deeply sorry, my lady, I need to go.”

Elliot was running towards him, and Kyzar could barely make out the man’s figure through blurry vision. He was sprawled on the floor, propped against the wall as he dug his nails into his face through the agonising pain. He wanted to grit his teeth, but he did not yet wish to sever his tongue completely. Butler and monster were both out of breath, but Kyzar’s fractured pants were much deeper and more primal, like the bellows and growls that only animals made. 

As he struggled to regain his senses, he noticed Chrys hiding at a corner, watching them timidly. He was worn out, every part of him throbbing from the inevitable hell of going against the curse, but when he looked at her, he could not be sure if it was only wishful thinking of his weakened mind that made her pale face seem awash with concern. Perhaps, that concern was not for Elliot or herself, but for him. 

When did I begin believing?

The red light of his eyes dimmed as his consciousness drifted away.