Chapter 3
In the dim dungeon.
I opened my eyes to find Arthur Miller gripping my arm, veins bulging on his forehead.
The wound that should’ve healed quickly now showed faint signs of festering.
Something felt off to him.
Yet when our eyes met, he instinctively sneered.
“The Witch Clan Priestess is this blind? Just ordinary werewolf bones scared you stiff.”
Still lying to me now?
How could I not recognize my own child?
I stared blankly at him as tears gushed out.
Agony, grief, humiliation-
They ravaged me like a raging storm.
Arthur froze, raising a trembling hand.
Before his fingers touched my cheek, I turned away, choking on sobs.
He’d always hated my tears-
Said they made his heart ache.
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Yet that ache became a slap across my face.
The blow left my cheek swollen, blood seeping from my lip.
He stood abruptly, fury flashing in his eyes.
His gaze lingered on my wounds before jerking away.
“Diana Walker, no tricks.”
“I considered getting a doctor. Seems unnecessary.”
The bones in my fingers snapped.
I winced in silence.
Then looked up at his broader frame.
And smiled through bloodied lips.
“Arthur… you’ve changed.”
He stiffened.
I glanced at my mangled fingers-
These hands had fed him medicine, stroked his hair, soothed him to sleep.
Even interlaced with his during intimacy.
Now reduced to this.
“Changed long ago.”
“Had I known you’d slaughter my clan…”
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Arthur coldly pressed down harder.
“…I’d rather have died.”
“…than be saved by you.”
I exhaled, done explaining.
He’d never believe me.
If he did, he wouldn’t have massacred my family.
Wouldn’t have strangled our newborn.
But Arthur…
If I met that bleeding boy again…
I’d still save him.
The weight vanished from my hand.
“Mary Jackson and I wed tomorrow.”
The words stabbed my tattered heart.
He smirked.
“They say the Witch Clan Priestess can bless marriages.”
“At noon’s Auspicious Hour, I’ll fetch you myself.”
“You’ll perform our Ritual Bowing Ceremony.”
The cell door clanged shut.
I blinked dry eyes and let out a bitter laugh.
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Tomorrow…
Doubt I’ll last till tomorrow.
The scorching sun stabbed inercilessly at my skin.
I was roughly pinned on the sacrificial altar draped with Ceremonial Ribbons.
My wounds had long festered beyond recognition.
Pus oozed out steadily, emitting a foul stench.
The werewolf beside me wore disgust on his face, kicking me viciously.
The kick landed with brutal force.
I grunted, feeling my internal organs shudder violently.
Suddenly, gongs and drums erupted like thunderclaps.
I resisted looking up, but someone wrenched my chin, forcing my head around.
There stood Arthur and Mary dressed in shamanic robes.
My gaze locked on Mary’s traditional embroidered skirt, pupils contracting sharply.
That bridal gown bore embroidered magnolia blooms in full glory.
Was… it coincidence?
My heart clenched painfully.
Then a bitter smile twisted my lips.
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Even if it were coincidence, what concern was it of mine?
Arthur and I had pledged ourselves simply under open sky at the temple.
He’d asked tenderly what I desired most.
Smiling, I nestled against his chest and looked up.
“I want magnolias on my gown when we wed properly before heaven.”
“Bow to heaven and earth!”
The pair knelt slowly, bending forward in reverence.
Simultaneously, a rough hand slammed my neck, smashing my forehead against stone.
A dull thud echoed as bone met cold ground.
Agony lanced through me, yet my face stayed blank.
“Bow to ancestors!”
They kowtowed solemnly before the ancestral tablet.
Metallic blood suddenly filled my mouth, trickling down my chin.
Everything blurred before my eyes.
Another muffled crack as my skull hit earth.
Crimson seeped slowly, staining the ground before me.
“Bow to each other!”
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A smile crept across my lips.
The once–blinding sunlight now felt strangely warm.
Just then, the wedding flower between Arthur and Mary swelled monstrously in my vision.
Glaringly red. Painfully bright.
Blood–color surged like tidal waves.
It flooded across my eyelids, swallowing my sight.
That final bow–my head never lifted again.
