Chương 4: Role Without A Self: Chapter 3 - continuation of ch 0 (book within a book)

"SAINTESS SERAPHINA AURELIA VALCREST!!!!" His voice echoed throughout the halls. The other prisoners, far from the commotion, only heard a faint but sharp squeal coming from deep within the dungeon. If this had happened on any other day, the men would have scoffed at the tragedy of the prisoner who had dared to impersonate as their Saintess despite being a disgusting man, finally facing his due punishment. But they were all just too excited by the thought of eating meat on top of their food.

The time was ticking ever so closely to mealtime, they did not bother caring about a dead man. Deeper within the dungeon, however, the guards and attendants were completely blindsided by the fact that this man dared to yell at their Saintess. Some of them had even taken out their poison covered weapons, ready to end him at any moment if he did anything rash in any way. But they completely forgot that the poor man could not do anything even if he wanted to.

Nearly every part of his body was bound by chains and even if he wanted to use his magical abilities, he couldn't due to the magic locking chain around his neck that suppressed his power. If he dared to use it, the more power he released, the heavier and tighter the chain would become around his neck. Seraphina, on the other hand, was also quite surprised, but her eyes held more of a frantic, almost blissful gaze. She watched the maddening hatred and despair swirling within the young man's eyes.

'But,' Seraphina thought,'this is not enough, maybe…. just one more push.'

'He still had a fighting spirit…'

'Too much backbone-not good' She signaled to her guards to prepare a few things from their spatial pouch, and the guards immediately went off to carry out her orders. They brought out two basin-sized iron cauldrons before filling them with charcoal and setting them ablaze. While they worked, they stirred the flames with strangely shaped iron rods. The chill within the prison slowly dissipated.

The young man's gaze shifted toward the guards with caution as he tried to analyze what Lady Valcrest could possibly be planning at this point.

"Don't mind them," Saintess Seraphina said.

"They're just insignificant ants. Unrelated to what we're doing. Wouldn't you agree, Jeanette Monet?" The young man felt a cold sweat run down his back as he pursed his lips.

"Oh!.." Seraphina smiled, "How silly of me." She tilted her head poking her own cheek, "That's your sister's name. Isn't that right, NATE MONET?"

"WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?" Nate looked at Saintess Seraphina as if he was discovering her true self for the first time.

"Why mock me this way?" Saintess Seraphina was about to answer but then she felt an assessing gaze on her, 'Tsk, how did I miss father's spy, I was sure that I did a thorough sweep… pity, guess I must do this the hard way.' This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"How did you deceive them, Nate?" Her cold sharp gaze landed on the heaving young man, who still refused to answer.

'Pity, truly'"I gave you a chance." Seraphina directed two of the guards to move. The guards took the rods that had been submerged in the iron basin, pulling them out with a light swish. One of the assistants quickly opened the prison gate for them, and they stepped inside one at a time, making their way toward the young man. The strangely shaped sides of the glowing red irons faced him as the two guards positioned themselves so they could press the heated metal against his chest at the same time.

The attendants expected Nate to scream, thrash, and react like any ordinary person would. But the man in question merely whimpered. He clenched his teeth, squeezed his eyes shut, and furrowed his brows into a deep frown, doing everything he could to deny that woman the satisfaction of seeing him break from the pain. After they were finished, the two guards withdrew the irons and returned them to the iron basin before storing everything away. They then made their way back to Saintess Seraphina.

One of them gave a slight nod, informing her that the task had been completed. Seraphina gave them a skeptical glance before directing her assistants to fully open the gate. She was planning to head over to the prisoner herself. Once the assistants heard the order, they swiftly opened the gate. With a bit of effort, they were able to find the right type of rug that could reach the prisoner without getting too close to him.

After some effort, though it was not the best placement, they managed to get something close enough. Unfortunately, it extended all the way to the back prison wall, meaning the rug itself ended up near the young man's feet. The assistants were about to panic, fearing they were about to lose their jobs because they had done the unthinkable while preparing the setup for Seraphina.

"It's fine," Seraphina said.

"This allows me to get a better look at the young man." Her gaze lingered on him briefly before she continued.

"Once this is finished, make sure you disintegrate it. I do not even want to see the ashes of this item in my presence ever again. Understood?" The assistants quickly nodded their heads before stepping aside, allowing Seraphina to make her way toward the prisoner. She slowly walked toward him, her feet hidden beneath the fluffy rug. Step by step, she approached Nate, who was held stiffly against the wall. The closer she got, the more clearly the burn on Nate's body came into view.

Soon, she was only a couple of steps away. Her eyes drifted over the injury, which now appeared to spell out his first and last name across his chest. Looking at the blisters forming on his skin, Seraphina tilted her head slightly and pressed her fingers against the left side of her face, lightly pricking her pinky in her mouth until blood surfaced causing a metallic taste to spread on her tongue. But she never registered the pain, her gaze instead carried an almost fanatic, obsessed intensity.

"Why… finish it in such a perfect way?" she murmured. She traced her hand over the damaged skin, drawing in the thick, burnt scent that lingered from the wound.

"Once this heals, it will be a perfect, steady reminder of what you are." She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look up at her as she leaned closer.

"And what your identity is." Her other hand moved behind his neck, brushing against the magical chain lock as she stroked it with manic fascination. After she finished caressing the back of his neck, a faint trace of blood from her earlier cut smeared lightly against the back of the chain. She leaned in close to his ear to whisper some words only he could hear.