In a dimly lit room adorned with opulent furnishings - a king-sized bed, ornate mirrors, luxurious chairs, and exquisite paintings adorning the walls - an eerie silence gripped the space. At the center of this lavish yet somber setting lay a woman, her eyes tightly shut, her body trembling at regular intervals.
She appeared to be around nineteen years old, with average-length black hair that fell loosely down her back. Her face had a plain attractiveness, with features that did not particularly stand out in a crowd. Her figure was ordinary, lacking the exceptional beauty or grace often associated with most women. Despite her ordinary appearance, the paleness of her skin, the scars that dotted her body, and the slight chill that seemed to linger around her suggested that she had experienced significant hardships and struggles.
With a sudden twitch of her brows, her eyes flew open, revealing a mix of shock and confusion etched across her face. Slowly rising from the bed, she surveyed the room, her expression a canvas of turmoil as memories flooded her mind with vivid intensity.
In the haunting depths of her memories, the vivid scene of her harrowing ordeal played out in excruciating detail. The trauma unfolded before her like a nightmarish film reel, each moment etched with pain and betrayal.
Yvonne's mind echoed with the chilling memory of the unwelcome advances, the firm rejection she had voiced, and the heart-wrenching betrayal by those she once called companions. The scene darkened further as she relived the brutal assault that followed, tears streaming down her cheeks as the cruelty inflicted upon her body resurfaced with unbearable clarity.
She traced her trembling hand over the cruel wounds that marred her body, each mark a painful reminder of the horrors she had endured. The memories of losing consciousness repeatedly, only to awaken to a relentless tormentor, seared her soul with anguish.
Despite her weakened state, a glimmer of disbelief flickered in her eyes as she recalled the callousness of her assailant. His empathy was a twisted facade, swiftly shattered by his relentless savagery. Yvonne's breath caught in her throat as she remembered the final, savage act of violence—a sword driven mercilessly into her chest, the searing pain and the sensation of life slipping away.
As she relived the moment of her supposed demise, a tremor ran through her body. With trembling hands, she reached towards her chest, her brow furrowed in confusion and disbelief.
"How... how am I still alive?" Her voice quivered with bewilderment, the question hanging heavy in the air.
A voice, cold and detached, cut through the heavy silence. "Because I still find you to be of value."
In an instant, Yvonne's eyes widened, the whites showing stark against the backdrop of her fear-stricken face. She surveyed the room with a sense of growing unease until her gaze settled on a shadowed corner. There, amidst the dimness, a solitary chair came into focus, and perched upon it was a figure, slender and enigmatic, legs elegantly crossed.
"Who's there?" Yvonne's voice quivered slightly, a blend of bravado and trepidation coloring her words. Swallowing hard, she maintained her gaze on the mysterious presence, her heart pounding in her chest as her thoughts spiraled into a chaotic whirl.
Silence hung heavy in the air, thickening the tension and causing beads of sweat to form on Yvonne's brow. The figure remained still, a silent sentinel in the dusky corner, adding to the palpable sense of foreboding that enveloped the room.
Then, like a sudden revelation, a surge of realization coursed through Yvonne. With a jolt, she sprang from the bed, her body quivering with adrenaline, her legs unsteady beneath her. Clenching her fists tightly, she steeled herself, determination flashing in her eyes.
Memories of a sword piercing her chest flooded her mind, the specter of death looming large. Yet, here she stood, alive and breathing. A conviction took hold of her—if she still drew breath then the figure before her must have pulled her back from the brink of demise and also from that vile man.
Taking measured steps toward the shadowy corner of the dimly lit room, Yvonne closed the distance between herself and the enigmatic figure seated in the chair. Just as she neared him, her foot caught on something unseen, sending her sprawling to the ground in a sudden, graceless tumble. Her lips quivered with a mix of fear and gratitude as she found her voice.
"Thank you for saving my life," she managed to utter, her words thick with emotion.
"I, Yvonne Sylvester, am forever indebted to you for the kindness you have shown me." she said, her tone resolute and her expression unwavering.
A moment passed in silence before a low chuckle emanated from the figure seated before her. The sound carried a hint of amusement, as if her words had struck a chord with him. "Kindness?" he scoffed, his voice cutting through the stillness of the room like a blade. "How can such a barbaric word still hold meaning in this world?"
He shook his head in apparent disbelief, a look of disdain clouding his features. "If you believe for a moment that I saved you out of kindness, you are sorely mistaken. Had there been nothing in it for me, I would have stood idly by as death came for you."
As the words reverberated through Yvonne's mind, the voice that spoke was not particularly boisterous, yet it carried a weight that seemed to send tremors through her entire body. It felt as though the ground beneath her feet might crack open and swallow her whole.
Struggling to find her voice, Yvonne opened her mouth, but no sound emerged. The figure seated before her rose slowly, and in a moment of overwhelming fear, she collapsed to the ground. Just as she fell, a strong hand reached out, catching her and holding her softly.
Crouching down to meet her gaze, the man possessed a visage so striking that it could rival that of a paragon spirit. A sly smirk crept across his features, adding an enigmatic allure to his already commanding presence. "Easy now, my dear. You still have a debt to repay," he murmured, his voice laced with a hint of amusement.
Locked in a gaze with the man before her, Yvonne's expression flickered with a mix of shock, confusion, and a lingering sense of uncertainty. It was then that she recognized the face that loomed over her – the face of none other than Vlad Folkenburg, the seventh prince of the palace.
Among the children of the emperor, the name Vlad Folkenburg was synonymous with shame and embarrassment for the royal family. Regarded as the weakest link among his siblings, he had single-handedly tarnished the reputation of a prince, bringing only chaos and disgrace to the palace on numerous occasions. Despite still carrying the prestigious surname of the king, it had lost all significance in the eyes of the people of the city, who knew that the king had long abandoned the seventh prince. Vlad's presence in the palace now served only as a measure to prevent further trouble and upheaval.
As Yvonne gazed at the face of the infamous prince, she found herself utterly taken aback. There was something about his demeanor, an aura of mystery and strength, that contradicted all the rumors and gossip that surrounded him.
She studied him intently, and with unwavering certainty, she realized that the man before her was nothing like the public perception of him.
As Vlad's eyes skimmed over Yvonne's face, a subtle smile crept onto his lips, lending a sense of intrigue to his expression. In stark contrast, Yvonne's apprehension was palpable as she swallowed hard, her voice quivering with fear. "What do you want from me?" she managed to ask, her words barely above a whisper.
With a slow, deliberate movement, Vlad raised his finger and lightly traced it along Yvonne's cheek. Startled, she flinched and hastily moved away, her gaze locked on Vlad with a mixture of dread and uncertainty. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest, threatening to break free, while a surge of memories flooded her mind, reminding her of past traumas.
Tears welled up in Yvonne's eyes, spilling down her cheeks as she pleaded with desperation, "Please... Don't. Anything but that. Please, I beg you." The raw emotion in her voice echoed the pain and anguish she had endured.
Meanwhile, Vlad maintained a stoic demeanor, his expression unreadable as he observed Yvonne's distress. "I'm not interested in causing you harm," he reassured her calmly, his words a contrast to the tension in the air.
Silence hung heavy between them as Yvonne kept her eyes shut, bracing herself for the worst. When moments passed without any further advances, she cautiously opened her eyes, locking gazes with Vlad once more.
A wave of relief washed over her, and she let out a shuddering breath. "What do you want from me?" she asked again, her voice steadier this time, tinged with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
Only a moment after those words escaped Yvonne's trembling lips, Vlad's sinister smile twisted further, revealing his true malevolence. With deliberate and chilling precision, he extended his finger towards her, disregarding the horror that clouded Yvonne's features. Despite her instinctual recoil, his index finger came to rest upon her forehead.
"You are too weak now; I need you much stronger. Only then would you be of any use to me," Vlad's voice dripped with a chilling menace.
"Hurry up and get stronger so you can repay the debt you owe me."
As Vlad slowly withdrew his finger and straightened up, he fixed his gaze on Yvonne, who was now in a trance. He then placed his hand on his chin, the smile on his face widening into a twisted grin.
Meanwhile, to Yvonne, as Vlad's cold touch left her forehead, the scene of her assault replayed in her mind once again. The recent events unfolded before her eyes in vivid detail, each moment etching itself into her memory with brutal transparency.
The fear and tears that had marked her previous recollection were now replaced by a seething rage that consumed her. She gritted her teeth, digging her nails deep into her palms until they drew blood. Her eyes blazed with a fiery intensity, the once-familiar terror now transformed into a fierce determination.
At the climax of her vision, the vivid image of a man in a grand court chamber unfolded in her mind with striking clarity. She found herself amidst the scene, observing the figures gathered around the man, their expressions tense and conversations hushed. The realization dawned on her - this was the present reality that he was entangled in.
"He's still alive ," she whispered softly, a mix of surprise and concern coloring her words.
Vlad's voice cut through the atmosphere, laced with a hint of mockery. "Of course. You didn't seriously believe I would do away with him for you, did you? What kind of son would I be if I were to commit such an act?" Vlad's words dripped with a hint of mockery, his tone laced with a sinister edge. "Nevertheless, he is now in your hands to deal with, should you possess the strength to do so."
A wave of profound sadness engulfed Yvonne as Vlad's words echoed in her mind. The weight of his challenge, "Possess the strength to do so," struck a chord deep within her. How could an ordinary farm girl possibly muster the power to confront one of the most formidable figures in the world?
As if sensing Yvonne's inner turmoil, Vlad spoke again, his tone cryptic yet resolute. "Not to worry, i might not be interested in discarding that man, but I will help you."
An enigmatic glint in Vlad's eyes hinted at a hidden agenda, leaving Yvonne to ponder the true extent of his intentions. Before she could voice her thoughts, a sudden voice echoed in her mind, shattering the silence with its cryptic message.
A crimson screen flooded Yvonne's mind with a deluge of information, intensifying the aura of power emanating from her. Still processing the influx of data from the system, Yvonne was caught off guard as Vlad nonchalantly flicked his finger, causing a dark, swirling portal to materialize behind her. In an instant, she was pulled into the vortex, whisked away to an unknown destination.
Meanwhile, Vlad settled back into a chair that had transformed into a magnificent black obsidian throne. With an air of authority, he crossed one leg over the other, his hands folded in front of him, and a subtle yet unwavering smile playing on his lips. "A gift tailored just for you. Do not disappoint me, Yvonne," he uttered, his lips widening.