Cecilia was taken to a room.
Calling it a room was an understatement—it was more like a miniature palace.
The towering ceiling was adorned with intricate religious frescoes. Yet, in this place, those holy angels seemed nothing short of mockery. A massive crystal chandelier hung from above, casting a cold, eerie glow that illuminated the space like daylight, only adding to its unsettling atmosphere.
The walls were lined with luxurious oil paintings and tapestries—not of biblical scenes, but of vampires in the midst of a hunt. The creatures in the paintings had grotesque features, fangs bared, tearing humans apart as they drank their blood.
At the center of the room stood an enormous bed, draped in plush velvet coverings, with ornate curtains hanging around it. A delicate vanity sat beside it, its surface cluttered with expensive jewelry and cosmetics.
In one corner, a small library stretched up to the ceiling, its shelves packed with books spanning literature, history, philosophy, and science—everything one could ever need.
Everything was extravagant beyond imagination. Yet, all Cecilia felt was an unshakable chill.
This was not her bedroom.
This was her cage.
A lavish, yet utterly lifeless cage.
"From now on, you will live here," Cassiel's voice sounded behind her, carrying an undeniable authority.
Cecilia did not turn around. She simply stood there in silence, taking in the sight before her.
"Everything here belongs to you," Cassiel stepped forward, wrapping an arm around her waist, guiding her toward the vanity. "You may use whatever you like."
Cecilia looked into the mirror. The girl staring back at her had a ghostly complexion, her eyes hollow and vacant, like a puppet drained of its soul.
The wounds on her neck had healed, leaving behind only two faint scars—an eternal mark of disgrace, branded upon her flesh.
"You don't like it here?" Cassiel asked, noticing her silence.
Cecilia shook her head without a word.
She did not like it.
She despised it.
Everything about this place made her feel suffocated and afraid.
"It's alright. You'll get used to it." Cassiel seemed unbothered by her reaction. He gently stroked her hair, his voice unusually soft. "This is the safest place in the entire Noxerian Palace. No one will harm you here."
A bitter sadness welled up in Cecilia's heart.
Safe?
To her, this was the most dangerous place of all.
Because Cassiel was here.
This cruel, ruthless vampire was the greatest threat to her existence.
"You need rest now." Cassiel led her to the bed. "I will have the maids bring you food and water."
He laid her down with care, tucking the blankets around her.
His touch was unnervingly gentle, as if he were handling a delicate piece of porcelain.
Cecilia lay stiffly beneath the covers, afraid to move.
She looked at Cassiel, her gaze filled with wariness and defiance.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," Cassiel murmured, leaning down to press a cold kiss upon her forehead. "At least, not yet."
His lips were ice-cold and impossibly soft, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.
Then, he left the room, leaving her alone.
Silence filled the air, broken only by the faint creaking of the crystal chandelier.
Cecilia lay in bed, staring at the ceiling frescoes.
Exhaustion and weakness weighed heavily on her, yet sleep refused to come.
Flashes of the night's horrors plagued her mind—the blood oath, Cassiel's fangs, the searing pain at her throat, the draining of her life…
Terror and despair clutched at her chest.
She did not know how long she could endure this, what her future held.
But one thing was certain—she had lost her freedom.
She was now this vampire's captive.
She had to find a way out.
Cecilia's expression hardened with resolve.
She would not sit idly by. She would fight.
Even if the chances were slim, she had to try.
Suddenly, the door creaked open. A young maid stepped inside.
"My lady, are you awake?" she asked softly.
Cecilia slowly sat up and nodded.
"His Highness ordered me to bring you food and water." The maid placed a tray on the bedside table. "Would you like me to assist you with your meal?"
Cecilia shook her head. "No, leave me."
"As you wish, my lady." The maid bowed politely before retreating from the room.
Cecilia glanced at the untouched food and water, yet she had no appetite.
Instead, she walked toward the window and pushed it open.
Beyond the glass lay the palace gardens.
Flowers of all kinds bloomed in unnatural shades—black and crimson—exuding an overwhelming scent of iron, thick and suffocating.
Cecilia gazed into the night sky, uncertainty clouding her heart.
She did not know where she could go or if escape was even possible.
But she knew she had to try.
For freedom.
For dignity.
For survival.
Slowly, she clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms, pain sharpening her focus.
She, Cecilia Lockwood, would not bow to fate.
She would find a way to escape.