Raphael did not lie; no matter how hard Rosalie tried, he refused to let go of her, forcing her to pleasure him over and over, until there was nothing left for both of them. His touch was rough and heavy on her weak body, leaving painful marks of red and blue on her tender skin; his burning lips made sure to leave no part of her body untouched, and his wet tongue slid across her scented skin like a snake, leaving long, repulsive trails of its venom.
When he was finally satisfied, or perhaps simply conveniently tired, Raphael gave his sister a light kiss on the forehead and left the room, leaving nothing but deafening silence behind.
Rosalie was lying on her messy, damp bed, unable to move a single muscle. Her red, puffy eyes were staring at the emptiness in front of her, sucking in the darkness, exchanging it for what was left of her shattered soul. And when she thought that there was nothing left inside of her, the girl felt a new stream of hot tears flowing down her cheeks so rapidly and strongly, as if trying to help her empty her broken body of the pain and humiliation her brother filled it with earlier.
It was all too much. She thought it would be easier. She thought she would be able to endure it for the sake of her future in this world. But she failed.
'Whenever I read those transmigration stories, I envied the girls for being strong and determined to change their fates in order to survive against the plot... And I thought I could be one of them too. But I had no idea it could be this arduous.'
Truthfully, when Meiling first opened her eyes in this room and realized she was transported into the world of one of her favorite novels, she could not help but feel excited. Her boring and uneventful life as an overworked office dweller had finally taken a drastic turn, giving her a chance to embark on a rare adventure. However, even in her wildest dreams, she never expected it to be so miserable and draining.
'As if it is not enough to be entirely oblivious as to what happened to my real body, it has only been a little bit more than a week since I got here, and I have been already dehumanized by everyone around me, and to top it off – I have been sexually abused by my own brother. I feel so devastated and sick... It's all just too much.'
Rosalie felt something sticky covering her right palm and finally realized that she was clenching her fists too hard, breaking the newly grown skin over the long and rather deep wound that cut her palm like a dark river. The girl wiped her hand on the crumpled bed sheets and raised it above her face to take a better look at it.
'Oh... I keep forgetting about you.'
The wound was painfully fresh when Meiling woke up in Rosalie's body, but it was not caused by an accident or intended self-harm. According to the plot, the original Rosalie was the first one, apart from the Temple, to find out about the true nature of Damien's curse and, presumingly desperate to be with him, or, as some of the readers suggested, simply to find her way out of her brother's ruthless clutches and the hellish Ashter household itself, Rosalie Ashter made a deal with Asmodeus, the Prince of the Underworld and the Devil of Lust, and exchanged a part of her soul for a fragment of his power - the Acme Flow.
Rosalie was quite diligent in her research of Demonic contracts – as her brother was busy preparing for the Hunting Trip, she used that opportunity to spend her days cooped up in the Imperial Library, looking into the origins of Acme and the cult that kidnapped Damien Dio when he was a child, until she finally found an ancient scroll describing the long-forgotten and forbidden Demonic rituals used by pagans who wanted to overthrow the growing strength of the Empire-powered Temple.
The author did not really care about the specifics, so in order to summon Asmodeus, Rosalie had to use her own blood to draw the summoning circle, hence the deep cut on her palm. Her deal with Asmodeus seemed rather simple as well: Rosalie wanted the ability to refill the level of Acme in a person cursed with Acme Fever, while the cunning and greedy Demon only asked for a part of her soul in return. It was almost suspiciously easy.
The girl touched the sticky, blood-smeared surface of her right palm and let out a long sigh.
'Asmodeus promised Rosalie that her Acme Flow would make Damien addicted to her and she was excited to hear that. But was their deal really that simple? And what does it mean to sell only a part of your soul? Does it even work like that?'
If the original Rosalie did not bother to care about the details, the current Rosalie had no choice but to feel anxious. After all, what was even the point of trying to save herself if she would still end up dead due to her own impulsive and reckless choice?
'Nevertheless... What's done is done. For now, I have to make sure to succeed in approaching Damien Dio and not make the same mistake Rosalie made in the original plot. I will think about the contract when I'm out of this house.'
Her train of thought was interrupted by a light knock on the wooden door, followed by a familiar female voice asking for permission to come in. As Rosalie returned to reality and focused her eyes, she realized that it was already dawn, and the wakening sky was beginning to spread a bright pink glow across her quiet bedroom.
"Aurora, you may come in."
The maid opened the door and walked in holding a small silver tray with a white, ornamented teapot and a matching cup next to it. She rushed toward the bed, nearly dropped the tray onto the bedside table, and embraced her lady in a tight, affectionate hug, burying her crying face in Rosalie's messy hair.
"I'm so sorry, My Lady! I... I cannot even imagine what it feels like... I am so sorry!"
She kept stroking Rosalie's hair and apologizing as if she was the sole reason for the girl's pain and misfortune and Lady Ashter finally gave in – she started weeping like a child, choking on her tears and gasping for air, as if having a vigorous fit.
Rosalie did not know how many minutes or hours she spent crying in Aurora's arms, time became irrelevant, and all she wanted was to finally empty her soul until there was no more pain; until there were no trays of that horrible emotional torture.
Until there was absolutely nothing.