"Huh?" Thalia blinked, now standing outside the airport in what was once mainland Northeast Europe—once called France.
A line of black Rolls-Royces and Range Rovers stood waiting, surrounded by stern-looking bodyguards.
The scene was impossible to ignore, drawing stares from everyone nearby. People had already started recording with their phones.
But that wasn't what left Thalia speechless.
"W-we were in Spain all this time?" she muttered, her eyes shifting to the young man stepping into one of the Rolls-Royces. Her father followed close behind him. She stared in confusion. The flight here had taken more than an hour in a private jet—clearly not a short trip. Now, the airport signs confirmed her location.
She had unknowingly been in a foreign country all along.
"Isn't it obvious?" Cruxius said, settling into the car beside Darithi. He glanced at Thalia, who still stood frozen, eyeing the layers of security around her.
He added casually, "Don't even think about running. You really don't want me to put a collar on you next time, do you?"
"Y-you'll put a collar on me?" Thalia whispered, repeating his words as if trying to process them.
Her feet slowly moved toward the car. She reached out, hand trembling, eyes flicking back to the airport behind her—only to see more guards and even local authorities standing idly by.
Even if she screamed, she doubted they'd help.
"Why not? We already did the doggy—" Cruxius smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort. He could tell she was still scanning for any escape route.
She didn't realize yet—he had already tipped off the local authorities about his arrival.
Their presence wasn't for security. It was to send her a message: she wasn't escaping.
"Sh-shut up! I get it. I won't run!" Thalia snapped, cheeks burning as she climbed into the car, sitting stiffly beside him. Cruxius was now seated between her and Darithi.
"Drive to Saint Regalia Hospital," Cruxius ordered calmly. He remembered the place well. It was the same hospital where the famed healer—nicknamed the Saintess—once awakened.
Her healing powers had rewritten the standards of medical miracles.
She wasn't just able to heal instantly; her ability could regenerate her body, store healing energy, and even boost her strength by compressing and releasing it.
He was even surprised that she could "reset" her physical state entirely to peak state.
He didn't know every detail—but he had faced her once. She was nearly untouchable. Flames, blasts—nothing harmed her.
He never fought directly, of course. Cruxius preferred being the mind behind the operation because he didn't have the strength to be at the front.
Eventually, he'd managed to kill her. But it had taken a cruel trick: forcing her to heal hundreds of hostages he kept shooting until her powers ran dry.
It had drained her far more than he expected, but in the end, she fell.
He hadn't forgotten a single detail—her missions, her allies, her history.
He'd studied it all, planned it all.
"A hospital?" Thalia murmured, staring out the window, her fingers resting lightly against the glass. Her eyes drifted shut, as if holding on to a sliver of hope.
Cruxius leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. "You might escape the hospital," he whispered, voice low and rough, "but where will you go? I want you. So naturally... you'll always be with me."
"…You just want my body," Thalia murmured with her eyes closed. She heard his words and felt her entire body itch, the pain crawling under her skin. It was unbearable—so strong that she wanted to cry.
But crying wouldn't help. So she held it in, feeling completely trapped with a psychopath who refused to let her go.
"I… I won't deny it," Cruxius replied calmly. "But tell me—do you think anyone could resist after having it once?"
He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. Despite it being messy and unwashed, her natural fragrance lingered beneath the perfume he had drenched her in.
Swish
Thud
"Y-you animal!" Thalia snapped, her fist just inches from Cruxius's face—blocked mid-air by Darithi. Thalia was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as her anger exploded. His disgusting, perverted words made her feel like a thing—something to be owned and used.
"…I wanted to be gentle. Sweet talk you, pretend to care, even act like a man you could trust," Cruxius said softly, his eyes not flinching from hers. "But I thought—maybe it's better to be honest. If you hate me for this, then fine… I'll fake being kind."
His gaze met her furious emerald eyes. There was a flicker of something red within them—rage. Her anger was loud, loud enough to shake the air between them. And still, he stared back, calm.
"What? You want to impress me now? After actually raping me?! You sick bastard!" Thalia shouted, her voice trembling. Her heart burned.
Her future was supposed to start—university, scholarship, freedom from that cursed house where she was nothing but a maid.
And now? All of it was shattered. Stolen. Because of him.
"…I'm sorry," Cruxius said plainly.
Thalia blinked. "What?"
"I won't give excuses. But I've had an inferiority complex ever since my first time—with Darithi."
He spoke without hiding anything. Calmly, truthfully. Even Darithi turned to him in surprise.
"It was childish," he continued. "But I thought… I had to prove something. That I was man enough. So I started sleeping with women—those I thought were just as beautiful as her. Just to prove it to myself."
His words didn't sound like the usual him.
Not like the cold, calculative man who once murdered Lira at twenty-nine.
This voice… came from someone younger. Someone broken. The version of him that existed ten years ago—hurt and insecure.
"M-Master…" Darithi whispered, her hands slightly trembling. She'd never heard this from him. She always thought she was the only one who carried guilt, the only one hollow inside—burdened by the feeling of being disabled to ever love.
But now… it was clear. He, too, had scars. Guilt he buried. Feelings he hid even from himself.