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Chapter 198 Corrupting soul
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Raylen observed Emily staring blankly back
at him as if she hadn't registered what he
had just said, yet it was clear she was
merely taking a moment to process it. He
noticed the subtle stiffness in the
princess's posture, almost as if she were
unwilling and rejecting the idea. However,
her thoughts never reached her lips
because she knew that she didn't have the
luxury to express them.
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"Is that the only way to slow it down?"
Emily inquired with a furrowed brow.
"If I knew of any other method, I would
have told you by now," Raylen replied in a
nonchalant tone as he leaned back on the
couch. He glanced down at the glass in his
hand, which still held a sip or two of liquor,
and continued, "We don't know how fast
your soul will corrupt. It might progress
slowly due to the Blackthorn blood you
possess, or it could accelerate and rapidly
close in on your death."
Emily continued to stand there, rooted to
the spot, as she watched him play with the
liquor in his glass. She wasn't willing to
consent to having her blood extracted by
Raylen. The only archdemons she was
familiar with were Dante, Raylen, and
Nathaniel.
"Are there only four archdemons?" Emily
asked him, and Raylen shook his head in
response.
"There are five. Me. Dante. Magnus.
Nathaniel. Lastly, Celeste. Out of those
five, only four now exist," Raylen answered.
As if reading what was on her mind, Raylen
voiced it out loud, saying, "It would have
been easiest to ask Dante for help, but he's
in Versailles. Even if you intend to travel
back, using a ship now is unsafe due to the
intensifying storms. The unpredictable risk
makes it a perilous choice. I doubt
Nathaniel will be willing to help. Celeste is
in Hell, and she won't respond. You are
stuck with me, Princess."
Emily said, "You said I still have some time.
Let us hope it doesn't come to that point
then."
"It is always good to remain optimistic,
Princess." Raylen raised his gaze to meet
hers, and he offered her a kind smile.
A part of Emily questioned if Raylen was
merely saying it to get a rise out of her, but
another part of her was keenly aware of his
true nature as an archdemon. And as he
had said earlier that day, he could have
already sunk his teeth into her to drink her
blood if he had wanted to do so.
"Why don't we go and have supper?"
Raylen suggested. He finished his drink,
placed the glass aside, and then rose from
the couch. "I am sure that once you've
finished eating, you will feel much better."
"You are going to have supper?" Emily
recalled interrupting his meal earlier.
"I might have finished the main course, but
that doesn't mean I will miss dessert time,"
Raylen replied as he walked over to where
she stood. She noticed his clear blue eyes
sweep down to take in her attire.
"I should get dressed before supper," Emily
said, remembering that she was dressed
only in her night robe over her inner
petticoat.
"Are you planning to tire my sweet
servants, Princess? The food is hot and will
be brought to the dining room shortly.
Making them wait will only result in more
work for them," Raylen remarked as he
stepped into the corridor. "There's no one
here but the two of us, and if you were to
ask my opinion, I think you look quite
lovely as you are now," he added before
beginning to walk.
Emily approached the door and observed Raylen continue down the corridor. Even
though she had taken a nap, she still felt
tired. After some contemplation, she
tightened the belt of her robe before
deciding to follow him. She attempted to
shove away the recollection of him having
just seen her bare shoulders and the upper
swell of her breasts, and she squinted at
the thought.
She remembered the time when she was
no more than fifteen years old—a memory
where she had forgotten to tidy up her
hair before a meal.
'Emily, what do you think you are doing
here with such a dishevelled appearance?!'
her mother questioned her with a horrified
expression on her face. 'You are a princess.
People look up to you to set an exemplary
image, and you intend to present yourself
in such a state? Go now; the meal can wait.'
Then, there was another incident when
the tailor arrived with a selection of
fabrics.
'This one? We need to have you wear only
the most sublime colours. You can take
these away,' her mother said, dismissing
the fabrics Emily had selected. 'You will
soon become a woman, and it is important
for you to learn how to dress modestly. I
don't want us to be lumped in with those
disgraceful concubines and courtesans.'
Emily knew that if her mother were to
witness her in her current state, she would
likely faint at the mere sight of her. But
that is alright, Mother, she reassured
herself silently in her mind, as if those
were the very words she would tell her
mother if she were here now.
"I am going to die; this is the last thing we
should be concerned about," Emily
muttered.
She wasn't sure if she was anxious and her
footsteps were hurried or if Raylen had
intentionally slowed down for her to catch
up, so they walked side by side. She asked
him,
"Have you ever done it before? Sucked out
corrupted blood from someone."
"Once," Raylen replied, his hands slipping
into his trousers' pockets as he walked.
"Did the person survive?" Emily continued
to question, her curiosity getting the
better of her.
"He died. It was too late, and the
corruption couldn't be halted, not when
death stood ready to collect his soul,"
Raylen responded with an indifferent tone.
"It is an individual's choice, and truthfully, I
have no interest in sucking out random
people's blood. Not unless it tastes like
elixir."
"Why did you offer to help me, then?"
Emily inquired.
Raylen's footsteps didn't falter, and neither
did Emily's as they reached the dining
room. He said,
"I have a big heart."
"I thought you had a hollow chest," Emily
stated, and her words amused him.
Raylen let out a soft sigh, a mischievous
smile playing on his lips. He said, "You
remember. Let me think. It could be that I
enjoy pulling strings, or perhaps I am
helping Dante by keeping you alive. Or
maybe it's because it was the first time you
came to me to ask for help. So many
reasons; feel free to pick your favourite
one."
Emily watched Raylen as he entered the dining room. After pausing at the door for
a brief moment, she joined him and took a
seat at the opposite end of the table. She
couldn't help but notice how the maids
diligently went about their work without
glancing in her direction even once. One of
them brought in a large cake that bore a
resemblance to snow.
"Do you enjoy cakes, Princess?" Raylen
inquired before giving an order to the
maid near him. "Serve it to the lady."
"I think I will pass," Emily replied, shaking
her head.
Raylen insisted, "One slice."
"I appreciate the offer, and I am sure it
tastes lovely, but I don't have a sweet
tooth," Emily answered.
"It is probably the lack of appeal of the
cake," Raylen murmured, tilting his head to
the side. He then snapped his fingers,
prompting Westley to step forward with a
bow. "Summon the person who made this,"
he ordered.
Emily asked, "What for?"
"It is a shame that the cook couldn't
produce a satisfactory cake. We don't
tolerate incompetence," Raylen replied
calmly, seemingly serious about the matter.
All for a cake?!
"You are crazy," Emily blurted out, which
caused Raylen's eyes to narrow. She swiftly
amended her statement, saying, "I will try
one slice."
"Serve the cake to the princess, Westley."
Raylen smiled enthusiastically.
This manipulative… Emily seethed in her
mind.
"You know, you should consider eating a
slice of cake with every meal to keep your
blood sweet. Imagine you subjecting me to
a bitter taste when the time comes to help you," Raylen said in a matter-of-fact tone,
as if he anticipated her failing to find
herself a husband.
Ignoring his remark, Emily took a bite of
the cake, savouring its smooth texture in
her mouth. After swallowing, she stated,
"You seem to have quite the fondness for
cake." Even during their last meal together,
he had eaten nothing but cake, relishing it
as if it brought him pure bliss.
"It's fluffy, buttery, and melts right in my
mouth. What's there not to like?" Raylen
inquired. He took a bite from the slice of
cake next to him while he observed her
taking another. He continued, "I have
always thought that cake has the power to
make everything feel better."
Was this his way of making her feel better?
It was an unconventional method, Emily
pondered to herself. She continued to
enjoy the cake until the slice next to her
disappeared. She then heard him say,
"My mother used to bake cakes herself,
despite being the queen of this castle. I
have my fondest memories associated with
it."
"It sounds sweet," Emily responded, and
she saw a genuine smile on his face for a
fleeting second before it vanished.
"It was," he replied, and he took another
spoonful of cake, as if he could eat it for
the rest of his life. In a way, it seemed like
that's exactly what he had been doing.
Emily couldn't forget what she had
witnessed on the floor below, with the
burnt faces on the portraits, including the
woman's, prompting her to quietly
question: did he do it? She didn't pry; after
all, those were his private matters, and she
was here only until she found a man to
bond with.
The following day, Emily was awakened
and dressed in preparation for the
gentlemen coming to meet her at the
castle. Her hair was neatly braided at the
sides and pinned at the back of her head,
with the rest allowed to flow freely. Once
ready, she descended the stairs and
entered the parlour, where the head
servant awaited her.
"Good morning, Princess Emily. I hope you
had a pleasant sleep."
"I did, thank you," Emily replied. "I seem to
have slept better than usual," she added,
finding it strange considering the pain in
her chest. She had slept soundly through
the storm with no trouble. Was there
something in the cake? she asked herself
suspiciously. No, probably not. Her mind
was just being paranoid, she reasoned
inwardly.
With men scheduled to visit and meet her,
Emily had Lauren as her chaperone in the
room. Soon, they heard the sound of a
carriage coming to a stop at the entrance,
and she turned slightly anxious.
"It appears you have your first visitor,
milady," Lauren announced softly to her.
Emily straightened her back while relaxing
her shoulders and softening her expression
to appear pleasant. She put on a smile on
her lips that held a hint of nervousness
when the door to the parlour swung open.
When Emily's gaze landed on the first man
who stood before the room, her eyes
widened, and she felt her heart
momentarily seize upon seeing Nathaniel
at the door. The smile on her face faded.
"How dare you?!" Nathaniel demanded in a
low, threatening tone, causing Lauren to
become guarded. "Just because I rejected
you, you've been spouting nonsense and
lies! Who do you think you are?"
Emily's eyebrows furrowed as she
responded, "I don't know what you are
talking about."
"You let everyone know that we were
soulmates and went on to claim that I
chose Layla because she was dying out of
pity?! If you believe you can come between
me and Layla, you are mistaken. It will
never happen," Nathaniel declared
vehemently, his voice growing louder and
nearly shaking the ceiling above Emily's
head. "I married her because of love. I love
her! Not you, but her!"
"Whoever you heard it from must have
been inventing absurd tales because I
never said anything of that sort. And you
have no right to talk to me in that tone,"
Emily firmly asserted, standing her ground.
Even though her heart had involuntarily
skipped beats and reacted to him, he was
the cause of her pain. He was the reason
she was going to die.
Nathaniel appeared visibly angry because
Layla had found out about the situation
earlier that morning, which had left her
feeling upset.
"I never uttered a word about it. I have no
interest in talking about you with anyone.
So then, who else went on to blabber about
it, if not you?" He stepped menacingly
closer to her. "I swear I will fucking kill you
if you try anything—"
"Distance, please."
Raylen stood at the door, chewing on
something as he entered the room. He
remarked, "The last I remember, you were
a married man. Engaging in extramarital
affairs this early in a marriage is not a good
look, Nate."
Nathaniel shot a glare at Raylen before his
gaze returned to Emily, and he threatened,
"Consider yourself warned."
"I haven't done anything to warrant you
threatening me. If you want to warn
anyone, find the person who embellished
the story that has been circulated," Emily
replied to him, feeling the ache in her
chest return. This was not the time, she
said to herself. "I have no interest in you,
Layla, or this supposed soulmate
connection."
"Let us hope so," Nathaniel replied tersely,
not bothering to linger any longer, and he
headed towards the door as if he couldn't
bear to spend another second in her
presence.
"Nate," Raylen called out to the fellow
archdemon when he reached the door.
"The next time you contemplate barging
into my castle, consider your pretty wife,"
he said with a smile.
Emily listened as the sound of the receding
angry footsteps faded away, leaving her
standing there staring into space. Her nails
dug into her hands as she took a deep
breath. They then heard the distant sound
of the carriage departing.
"I am okay," Emily said before Raylen or
Lauren could ask her. She was determined
not to crumble; not now, she resolved within herself...
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