CHAPTER 5: Monster's Obssession

Her plan, whatever it was, seemed to work. I heard footsteps, slow and deliberate, approaching my room. The chilling sound of polished steel glinting against the air reached my ears—they were armed men, their weapons capable of ending a life in an instant. The steps grew closer, closer, until it was clear they were right outside my door. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. This is it, I thought, bracing myself.

Suddenly, a loud, heavy thud echoed through the silence, as if someone had been knocked down hard. A low groan, unmistakably a woman's, tore through the air, forcing my eyes wide open. My breath hitched. There she was, lying helpless on the floor just outside my room. Cristine.

The two men who had come to kill me immediately turned their attention to her, as if she was nothing more than an inconvenient obstacle in their path. Rage surged through me, swift and hot. How foolish she was—to risk her life like this for someone like me, for someone who had only ever given her pain and contempt.

They raised their weapons, two sharp daggers gleaming under the faint light, ready to plunge them into her. I moved without thinking, a primal instinct taking over. I kicked one of them hard in the side, a blow fueled by a fury I didn't know I possessed, making him stumble back with a grunt. I was about to follow up, to strike the man I had kicked again, when a sharp knife flew through the air, aimed directly at me. My heart leaped into my throat. The other attacker lunged forward, holding another dagger that glinted dangerously, but before he could reach me, a figure moved with lightning speed.

My assistant, Johnny, appeared as if from nowhere, catching the attacker mid-movement. He disarmed him in a flash, his movements fluid and deadly. "Sir, I am so sorry," Johnny said, bowing his head in apology, his face grim. "We arrived late."

I didn’t spare them a single glance. My eyes were fixed on Cristine, who lay motionless on the floor, her body crumpled and still. A wave of unexpected panic washed over me.

"Have the doctor check on her immediately," I ordered, my voice cold and firm, betraying none of the turmoil raging inside me. I hated her with every fiber of my being. There were so many times I had wanted her dead, so many moments when I could have ended her life without anyone knowing, without consequence. Yet here she was, risking everything just to protect me. Was I being too cruel to her? Too harsh? Was my hatred misplaced?

I shook my head, pushing those inconvenient thoughts away. I was Nicholas, the Devil’s King. Emotions were for the weak.

Just then, my parents burst into the room, their faces pale with fear and panic. My father rushed toward me first, his eyes scanning me for injuries. "My son, are you alright?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

But my mother’s eyes didn’t stay on me for long. They immediately shifted to Cristine, lying so still on the ground. A gasp escaped her lips, and she rushed over to Cristine's side, kneeling beside her.

“Oh my goodness… Cristine,” she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. She placed her fingers gently on Cristine’s nose, checking for a breath. A sigh of profound relief escaped her lips when she found it. "Thank God… thank God you’re still alive, my dear."

Then she turned to me, her expression hardening into a frown, her face dark with anger. "What in the world happened to her, Nicholas? Why is she unconscious? Did you do something to her?!"

I stared at her, completely shocked. Wait a minute? I was the one who was supposed to be in danger! I was the one whose life was threatened!

"I am your son," I said, my voice cold and sharp, though a pang of hurt pierced my chest. "And yet you look at her first? You ask about her before you even check if I am safe?"

"Answer me, Nicholas!" she shouted, her voice echoing through the silent room, a stark contrast to her usual calm demeanor. I looked over at my father, hoping he would step in and defend me, but when our eyes met, he just raised his hands in surrender, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. Damn it. Even my own father is on her side.

"I didn’t do anything to her," I said, letting out a heavy sigh, trying to control the frustration building within me. It felt strange—like Cristine was her own child, and I was just some stranger she had brought into her home.

"Make sure of it," she said firmly, her eyes still narrowed at me, before turning away to fuss over Cristine again. My father called after her, asking why she hadn’t even asked if I was okay, but my mind went completely blank when I heard her reply.

"He’s still breathing, so I know he’s fine. Besides… he’s the Devil’s King. Nothing can hurt him anyway."

My father just laughed softly and shook his head, following her out of the room. He left me alone with my thoughts, with the image of Cristine lying there, and my mother's surprising protectiveness over her. It was unsettling, to say the least.

 

Two days had passed since that chaotic incident. Cristine had been taken to a separate suite in the mansion under my mother’s strict orders, guarded as if she were a precious treasure. I hadn’t seen her, and truthfully, I hadn’t wanted to. But now, an inexplicable irritation gnawed at me. I didn't know why, but there was something in me that just wanted to see her. To confirm she was truly well. To scold her for her foolishness. Or perhaps, just to feel the familiar anger she always invoked in me.

"Johnny," I called out, my voice colder than usual. "How is that foolish woman doing?"

He giggled softly, a sound that always managed to annoy me. "She’s already fine now, Sir."

I frowned, my voice rising sharply, demanding immediate obedience. "Then why isn’t she here to serve me? Send her to me right now!"

Johnny fidgeted slightly. "Your mother asked for Cristine’s presence first, Sir. She said Cristine needs to recover properly before resuming her duties." He said it so casually, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, as if my mother had more authority over my personal assistant than I did.

Anger surged through me, hot and overwhelming. My patience, already thin from two days of restless irritation, snapped. I shouted at him again, louder this time. "Tell her to come here! Now! Or I'll come get her myself!"

He scurried out of the room, and after a few minutes, there was a soft knock on my door. "Come in," I called out, expecting Cristine, ready to unleash my pent-up frustration on her.

Johnny stepped inside, but his expression was different—a mix of fear and something else, something akin to amusement. "She… she said she doesn’t want to come."

Everything inside me snapped. How dare she defy me? How dare she refuse my direct order? I grabbed the heavy porcelain vase sitting on the table beside me, its weight considerable, and threw it straight at him with all my might. Luckily, Johnny was quick enough to dodge it, and the vase crashed against the wall instead, shattering into a million pieces.

I was about to shout again, ready to let out all my fury, when something hard suddenly hit me directly on the nose. Damn it! A searing pain shot through my head, and I instinctively clamped my hand over my bleeding nose. Who the hell is doing this?!

I looked toward the door, my vision blurring slightly from the impact, and there she was. Cristine. She was standing there, her face red with anger, her eyes blazing like fire, a small, innocent-looking paperweight clutched in her hand.

"You little monster!" she shouted at me, her voice echoing my own fury. "If you want to hurt someone, hurt someone who deserves it—not Johnny! He’s just doing his job!"

Johnny, seeing his chance, quickly left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving us alone together in the simmering tension.

"You stupid, foolish woman!" I yelled, stepping closer to her, ignoring the throbbing pain in my nose. "Why do you always have to aim for my nose? Can’t you hit somewhere else for once?!"

But she just looked at me, and a mischievous, almost devilish smile slowly appeared on her face, making my blood boil even hotter.

"Then next time," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper, yet it cut through the air with a chilling threat. "I’ll aim lower. Right at that head of yours, so you can’t have any heirs in the future."

My patience was completely gone. Every last shred of control I possessed vanished. I forced myself to stand up, every movement sharp and tense, and walked straight toward her, closing the distance between us. I grabbed her neck tightly, my fingers pressing hard against her soft skin, holding her in place. Her defiance, her insolence, ignited a fire within me that demanded to be put out.

"You devil," she gasped, her eyes widening, trying to pull away from my grip. "Let go of me!"

I leaned closer to her, my voice low and dangerously teasing, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Why would I let you go, Cristine… unless you give yourself to me completely?"

I pressed my body against hers, feeling every curve, every trembling movement, relishing the power I held over her. Until suddenly—her knee came up hard, hitting me right where it hurt the most, a devastating blow that stole my breath and sent a wave of excruciating pain through my entire body.

God damn this woman! The pain was unbearable, like fire burning through my core. I stumbled back, releasing her as I clutched myself, doubled over.

She laughed loudly, her voice ringing with amusement, her face flushed with victory. But just then—another knock sounded on the door. In an instant, her expression changed completely. All the anger, the playfulness, the defiance disappeared, replaced by a look of perfect innocence and sweetness. What a great actress she is—how easily she can pretend to be someone she’s not, how quickly she can switch from a fiery demon to a demure angel.

"Come in," she said, her voice soft and utterly submissive, as if she hadn't just assaulted me. I glared at her, clutching my aching body, knowing that this woman, this infuriating, unpredictable woman, was going to be the death of me. And I couldn't wait to make her pay.