Chapter 2: Touching the Viper's Forbidden Spot

Morning light cut obliquely through the narrow, high-set iron window at the top of the stone wall, slicing into the dead quiet of the dungeon and casting a stark, dust-speckled streak of illumination across the damp floorboards.

Gareth was already awake.

Bare-chested, he sat on the edge of the hard stone slab with his back to the heavy iron door. The broad, powerful contours of his spine were pulled taut as a drawn bow, his defined back muscles rising and falling with every heavy, labored breath.

Though the violent, feral heat of the previous night had receded, his body still radiated a suffocating, feverish warmth.

The titanium collar around his throat remained brutally embedded in his flesh. Dried, dark-red crusts of blood caked his pale, muscular shoulders, while his long, silver-grey hair spilled messily over his back, half-concealing his drooping wolf ears.

Clang.

The heavy iron door swung open with a dull, echoing groaning sound that shattered the morning silence.

Evelyn stepped inside, holding a polished black metal tray. Her boots tapped rhythmically against the stone floor. Resting on the tray was a glass of warm water and a glass syringe filled with a faint, fluorescent-blue liquid.

Gareth didn't turn around.

Yet the silver-grey wolf ears atop his head twitched violently, pivoting backward—he had locked onto her presence the moment she stepped inside, pinpointing her through the shifting air currents and her distinct footfalls.

Evelyn stopped two paces from the stone bed, placing the tray down on the rickety wooden table beside him.

"A fever reducer, a painkiller, and a gene-repair supplement for muscle fiber tears," Evelyn said flatly, her eyes lowered and her tone devoid of emotion. "There's nothing else in it."

Gareth remained completely still, his back to her, not moving so much as a finger.

The only sound in the cell was his raspy, freezing breath.

"Your fever hit forty-one point five degrees last night," Evelyn continued in a tone of cool, clinical rationality when he failed to respond. "The aphrodisiac was suppressed, but your super-kin genes suffered extreme metabolic overload. Without medical intervention, your nerve endings will burn continuously for the next seventy-two hours, and you'll suffer widespread muscle tissue necrosis."

Gareth finally moved.

He turned his head slowly. The sharp, chiseled contours of his profile were half-swallowed by the shadow of the morning light, his lips pressed into a tight, thin line that curled into an expression of raw, icy mockery.

"What new game are you playing now, Celine?"

His voice was as rough as crushed gravel, dripping with lingering lethal intent and paranoid vigilance.

Evelyn didn't answer.

Instead, she picked up the pale-blue syringe, flicked off the transparent needle cap, and pushed it alongside the glass of water to the edge of the table nearest to him.

Then, she did something Gareth hadn't anticipated in his wildest nightmares.

Evelyn reached deep into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a sleek, miniature particle key. It was the master override key for the slave collars—a high-security device held exclusively by her in the entire empire.

The moment Gareth saw the key, his golden slit pupils contracted into razor-thin slivers!

Every muscle in his body coiled tight in an instant. His wolf ears pinned flat against his head, his back arching as he transformed into a cornered, feral predator ready to leap up and rip her throat out.

"Don't move," Evelyn murmured.

Without a second's hesitation, she aimed the particle key directly at the heavy alloy lock on the back of his neck and pressed the unlock sequence.

Click.

A faint, metallic release echoed through the dead-silent cell like a crack of thunder.

Gareth's entire body went rigid.

The suffocating, crushing tightness that had constantly throttled his throat—the relentless electric currents and sharp spikes tearing into his skin—suddenly... loosened.

Instinctively, he raised a massive, scar-covered hand to touch the back of his neck.

The titanium collar was still there. It hadn't been removed completely. But it had been opened by one notch.

Just a single notch.

The blunt metal spikes that had been driven deep into his flesh retracted just enough to stop the bleeding.

That tiny bit of space meant he no longer had to keep his head bowed in agonizing pain, waiting for spikes to grind against his spine. It meant he could turn his neck freely. It meant he could lift his chin and look anyone dead in the eye.

Gareth turned his head completely, his face fully exposed to the morning light.

The feral crimson was gone from his eyes, leaving behind pure, striking golden wolf pupils. There was no gratitude in them—only a deep, glacial paranoia, shock, and an overwhelming, unadulterated confusion.

He stared at the woman looking back at him with dark, unreadable eyes, his voice dripping with ice. "What the fuck is this supposed to mean?"

Evelyn met his knife-sharp gaze without flinching, her eyes steady and calm. "It means starting today, you don't have to keep your head bowed to me anymore."

Gareth's fists clenched so hard at his sides that his knuckles popped loudly. "Why?"

Evelyn paused for a brief second.

Looking at the proud wolf king whom the original Celine had broken and tortured, yet who still retained an unbroken, feral pride, she said softly, "Because it isn't fair."

"Fair?!"

Gareth let out a low, bitter laugh, as if he had just heard the most absurd joke in the world. His eyes flashed with a dark, bloodthirsty madness.

"Celine Esergard is talking to me about fairness?!"

He surged to his feet!

Standing over six feet four inches tall, his towering, massive frame cast a terrifying, suffocating shadow over her. He took a heavy step forward, looming over her as a wave of primal predator energy threatened to drown her whole.

Though the collar was looser, the sudden movement tugged violently at the torn flesh on his neck, sending fresh blood streaming down his collarbones.

"Have you fucking lost your mind?!" he roared, his eyes flashing red again as his voice thundered off the damp stone walls.

"Did you forget how you chained me and my kin outside the palace like dogs?! Did you forget making me kneel in tattered armor in front of your fat pig nobles for three days and three nights?! Did you forget branding me—"

"I haven't forgotten," Evelyn cut him off gently.

Her voice was soft and quiet, completely devoid of the sharp, arrogant malice Celine used to spit at him.

Gareth's thunderous rant cut off mid-sentence, like a sharp blade plunging unexpectedly into a soft, yielding cloud. He glared at her, a dangerous, low snarl rumbling in the depths of his throat.

"I'm sorry," Evelyn said, bowing her head slightly to look at his broad, blood-stained chest. "For everything that happened in the past, I am truly sorry. I will do everything in my power to make it up to you, and to your people."

The look in Gareth's eyes shifted entirely.

It was no longer mere murderous intent, but an overwhelming, bizarre sense of shock. He looked at the woman before him as if she were a lunatic who had suddenly gone mad—or a complete stranger wearing a dead woman's skin.

He instinctively took a step back, putting distance between them, his guard raised to absolute maximum.

"You better put away your sick fucking tricks, Celine."

Gareth glared at her, then suddenly reached out with his claw-like hand and snatched the blue serum off the tray. Without even glancing at it, he threw his head back and downed the entire tube in a single gulp.

Slam!

He slammed the empty glass tube back onto the tray, the veins on his temples bulging as he pointed a claw at the iron door and roared, "Take your shit and get the fuck out!!"

Evelyn watched him swallow the medicine, completely unbothered by his outburst.

She calmly picked up the tray and turned toward the door. As her boots crossed the threshold, she paused, turning her head slightly to leave one last quiet remark:

"You need one dose of that supplement daily. I'll have the medic deliver it on time."

The heavy metal door slammed shut with a deafening clang, sealing them into two separate worlds once more.

Gareth stood alone in the dim morning light.

Silence settled over the dungeon cell once again.

Slowly, he raised his rough, calloused palm to touch the slightly loosened metal collar at the back of his neck. His fingertips brushed the edges of his wounds—the sharp spikes that used to grind ruthlessly into his bone were no longer tearing at him.

His fingers trembled violently for a split second.

The next moment, Gareth slammed his fist into the stone wall beside him!

BOOM!

The sheer force spider-webbed fractures across the solid stone, splitting his knuckles wide open and leaving them dripping with blood.

"Stop playing fucking pretend..."

Gareth gritted his teeth, staring at the fresh blood pooling in his palm, a low growl tearing from his throat:

"You hypocritical, selfish, vile human bitch... You think a little breadcrumb like this wipes off the stench of blood on your hands?! Let's see what trap you're digging for me this time!!"

——————————————————————————

Not far from the underground cells lay the Sun Palace.

There was no darkness or dampness here—only a suffocating, blinding, violent light that filled every inch of the hall.

The entire ceiling of this wing had been stripped away by the original princess and replaced with pure, flawless crystal, transforming the space into a massive, glaring solar greenhouse. Embedded across every wall, floor panel, and thick stone pillar were thousands of high-precision, polished gold and silver mirrors.

Brilliant sunlight poured unfiltered through the crystal dome, bouncing off the thousands of mirrors to turn the interior into an unbearable optical furnace.

No matter where you stood, you were blasted by hundreds of searing, concentrated rays of light simultaneously.

For a serpent-kin who relied on cool, dark, and humid environments to survive, this was no palace—it was a sunlit hell engineered specifically to torture him. The original Celine had used this room to forcibly bake the moisture out of his body, stripping him of his natural ability to shed his skin.

When Evelyn pushed open the heavy, gilded doors, the blast of heat and blinding glare made her instinctively shield her eyes with her hand.

The air reeked of dry, scorched skin.

Next up... Silas, she thought to herself.

Evelyn squinted, stepping onto the polished mirror floor that reflected her silhouette perfectly, and walked inside.

The palace was dead quiet. Light refracted wildly off the mirrors, making her eyes ache.

"Silas?" she called out tentatively.

No answer.

Just as Evelyn frowned and prepared to walk deeper into the hall—

A cool, slick sensation wrapped around her ankle.

An emerald-green tail, thick as a man's arm and covered in exquisite, smooth scales, had slithered out silently from behind a mirrored pillar. Like a cold, living whip, it locked tightly around her ankle.

The scales were icy and smooth as polished jade, but the edges of each scale bore tiny, sharp barbs that scraped softly against her thin trousers.

Evelyn went rigid.

It was a primal human fear—an instinctual terror coded deep into human DNA when faced with a cold-blooded apex predator.

Yet she didn't scream, she didn't look down, and she didn't struggle.

She knew exactly who it was.

"Well, well... look who decided to drop by," a playful, lazy voice drawled from a shadowed corner behind her. His tone was light as a feather, yet it sent a chilling shiver straight down her spine.

"If it isn't our high and mighty Princess? What brings you to my humble little greenhouse today? I assumed... Your Highness had a bit too much fun on that brute of a Wolf King last night to even get out of bed."

The emerald tail didn't stop moving.

Instead, like a creature with a mind of its own, it began to slide slowly, suggestively, up her pant leg—

Passing her calf, gliding over the back of her knee, and coming to a stop just three centimeters below the crease of her inner thigh.

The grip wasn't violent, but it carried absolute dominance and threat. The freezing cold of his skin seeped through her trousers, clashing violently with the scorching heat of the room.

Evelyn could feel the tiny barbs at the tip of his tail lightly prodding the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. With just a fraction of his strength, he could snap her leg bones like twigs.

Evelyn turned around slowly.

Silas was leaning casually against a mirrored pillar.

He had both hands slung lazily into the pockets of his black silk trousers, his head tilted slightly, wearing an innocent, harmless smile.

He had short, deep-green hair and skin so pale it looked almost sick and translucent, revealing the faint blue veins beneath. His eyes were a pair of pure, flawless, yet lethal amber slit pupils.

If you looked only at his youthful, handsome face, he could easily pass for an angelic beauty.

But Evelyn knew better than anyone that this seemingly submissive, playful serpent lord was the most paranoid, neurotic, and deceitful snake among the five beast-kin under her control.

[FLASHBACK] 

Inside the sunlit hall, scorching heat warped the air.

The original Celine wore an ornate, heavy gown, holding a pair of heavy steel tweezers in her hand as she stepped on the dehydrated, gasping form of Silas.

"I heard the most sacred and sensitive part of a serpent's body is the reverse scale on his chest?" Celine giggled, her eyes gleefully wicked. "Will you die if I pull it out, Silas?"

"Princess... please..." Silas whimpered weakly on the floor, his body spasming from extreme heat and dehydration.

"Let me find out!"

With a cruel twist, Celine drove the steel tweezers deep into his left chest and ripped backward with all her strength!

"AAAHHHHHHH—!"

A blood-curdling scream echoed through the hall. An emerald reverse scale, shimmering with iridescent light, was torn out by its roots, bringing away a large chunk of raw flesh! Blood spattered across the mirrors, staining the reflected sunlight red.

[END FLASHBACK] 

Evelyn forced down the wave of nausea rising in her throat.

"Physical rank still sitting at a B?" Silas's voice cut through her thoughts. His amber slit pupils scanned her sharply, a fleeting trace of surprise flashing across his eyes. "Looks like... that useless brute Gareth didn't even lay a finger on you last night."

Evelyn met his gaze, speaking calmly. "I came to check on you."

"Check on me?"

Silas raised a thin eyebrow. The green tail coiled around her thigh suddenly tightened, yanking her forward!

The force caught Evelyn off guard, pulling her into him.

Silas reached out with pale, cold fingers, pinching Evelyn's chin firmly to force her to look up at him.

Those amber slit pupils were inches away—dead inside, completely devoid of human warmth.

"To check if I'm dead yet, right?"

Silas's smile widened, the tiny beauty mark at the corner of his eye quivering with dark amusement.

"Be honest, my dear Princess. What do you need your pathetic prisoner to do this time? Hack the Council's military mainframe? Or use my venom to poison your darling emperor father so you can take the throne early?"

"I came to check on your wound," Evelyn interrupted him.

Silas's smile froze instantly.

It was only for a millisecond—so fast it seemed like an illusion—but the tail crawling up her leg noticeably hitched.

The next second, his laughter turned even more manic.

The tail around her leg uncoiled, slithering around her waist like a strike-ready viper, hooking her sharply—

"Ah!"

Evelyn gasped as the sudden leverage pulled her off balance, tumbling her onto the red velvet daybed nearby.

Before she could sit up, a tall, cold shadow loomed over her!

Silas knelt on the daybed, hands planted on either side of her, trapping her completely between his chest and the soft cushions. The distance between them was suffocatingly close—close enough that Evelyn could smell the scorched scent of hot air mixed with his unique, cool fragrance of earth after rain.

"My wound?"

Silas leaned down until his thin lips almost touched her earlobe, his cold breath brushing against her neck:

"Does the Princess mean... right here?"

He raised one hand and brutally ripped open his own black silk shirt!

Buttons popped and skittered across the mirror floor with crisp clicks.

Exposed on the left side of his broad, pale chest, directly over his heart—was a horrific, deep-red jagged scar the size of a fist!

The skin looked as though a chunk of meat had been gouged out with a dull blade. The surrounding emerald scales were broken and warped, exposing tender, cratered pink flesh without any surface protection.

Under the relentless glare of the mirrors, the raw wound looked sickly, dry, and inflamed.

That was where his reverse scale had been ripped away.

"Your Highness picked at this with steel tweezers, gouging it out millimeter by millimeter," Silas murmured in a light, casual tone, as if talking about the weather.

"What? Did our high and mighty Princess forget her own masterpiece?"

Evelyn's eyes settled on the horrific scar.

As a top biologist, she understood what a reverse scale meant to a serpent-kin—it was the central hub where their most concentrated, sensitive neural pathways converged. Losing it was the equivalent of exposing a human's raw, unshielded nerves to constant torture.

Her stomach churned again.

But this time, Evelyn didn't look away.

She slowly reached out her right hand.

The hand of a twenty-first-century scientist—slender, clean, radiating warm human heat. Her fingertips hovered less than a centimeter above the raw, scarred tissue, not quite touching it, yet feeling the intense heat radiating from the wound.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked softly.

The smile on Silas's face vanished instantly.

His amber slit pupils snapped shut into razor-thin lines. The playful facade dropped, replaced by the lethal, explosive rage of a beast whose most sacred vulnerability had been threatened!

"Bind!"

The massive emerald tail struck like lightning, wrapping violently around Evelyn's delicate wrist!

Crunch!

The crushing pressure nearly snapped her wrist bone on the spot!

"What the fuck are you playing at?!" Silas's voice dropped into a dark, demonic whisper, his playful charm gone. "Celine, my patience has limits!"

Evelyn winced hard, cold sweat instantly beading on her forehead from the intense pain.

Yet she didn't scream, nor did a single tear fall.

Instead of pulling her hand back, she used the leverage of his grip on her wrist to slam her warm, soft palm directly against his raw, scarred chest!

"Nnn...?!"

Silas jolted as if struck by a high-voltage current!

It wasn't pain.

It was... her warm palm, resting fully and seamlessly against the dead, nerve-damaged patch of flesh over his heart!

Ever since his reverse scale had been ripped out three years ago, that area had become a numb, dead spot that offered nothing but agonizing, tearing pain when exposed to heat. It had no sensation, no warmth—just a rotting crater on his body.

But at this very moment—

The rich, living warmth of her palm, the steady, rhythmic pulse beneath her skin, the delicate texture of her hand...

All of it surged straight through his damaged neural pathways like a surge of pure electricity, slamming directly into his central nervous system!

An overwhelming, intense wave of electricity and shivering heat erupted from his chest, racing down his spine!

"Ah..."

A low, uncontrollable gasp escaped the back of his throat.

The massive emerald tail behind him began to twitch and spasm uncontrollably from the shock! The tip of his tail slapped frantically against the mirror floor, shattering several glass panels into shards!

"You—!!"

Silas scrambled backward as if touching something terrifyingly taboo, releasing her wrist as he slammed back against the mirrored pillar behind him!

A bright, feverish crimson flushed over the tips of his pale ears.

His chest heaved violently, his breathing ragged and chaotic, his amber eyes filled with shock, humiliation, and rage.

Yet within three short seconds, he forcibly dragged his mask back into place, forcing a smirk onto his face.

Only his trembling hands betrayed the storm raging inside him.

"Cough..." Silas cleared his throat, pulling his torn silk shirt over his chest as he looked down at her with forced mockery.

"Is the Princess... changing her strategy? Realized whips and torture don't work, so now you're trying seduction?"

Evelyn slowly withdrew her hand, feeling the residual heat of his body on her skin, and stood up from the velvet daybed.

Looking at the serpent lord hiding behind his playful mask, she smoothed down her lab coat and said quietly:

"I understand complex genetic sequencing and cellular synthesis. Your reverse scale... though forcibly removed, isn't genetically impossible to regenerate."

Silas's pupils shrank into pinpricks the moment he heard those words.

"Give me time," Evelyn said, adjusting her cuffs as she turned toward the heavy doors. "I'll formulate a targeted gene serum capable of inducing reverse scale regrowth."

The doors swung open.

A rush of cooler air filtered inside, cutting through the suffocating heat.

"Before that," Evelyn paused at the threshold, glancing back at the glaring mirrors lining the hall, "I'll have all these mirrors removed and replaced with a cool, shaded pool suited for a serpent."

Clang.

The gilded doors shut tight, locking the Sun Palace away from the world once more.

Silas stood alone in the blinding glare.

He stood frozen in place for a long, quiet moment.

Slowly, he raised a pale hand, placing his fingers over his left chest.

Where the dead, numb tissue had been... the warmth of her palm still lingered.

A strange, thrilling shiver continued to pulse lazily through his nerves.

His thick emerald tail curled slowly across the glass floor, the tip trembling gently in the air.

"Heh... heheh..."

A low, magnetic chuckle bubbled up from the depths of his throat.

Silas bowed his head slightly, letting his deep-green bangs shadow his eyes. His amber slit pupils gleamed with a dangerous, toxic light in the harsh glare, like a pair of venomous snakes poised to strike.

"Well... isn't this interesting..."

He ran his tongue over his dry lips, his voice dropping into a dark, wicked whisper:

"Let's see how long you can keep up this little act... you vile bitch."