Citadel of Desire - Chapter 5

The next day, Claudan spent nearly the entire time toying with Ray’s hair, much like a cat playing with a ball of yarn. Gradually, Ray stopped worrying about the eyes of others. She casually rested her feet on Claudan’s thigh, or the two of them pored over a storybook together for hours.

Ray lived as if she were a carefree child with endless privileges to inherit. The reality was the opposite, but Claudan’s lavish attention made her believe otherwise. Dropping formal speech had long since ceased to be noteworthy. Having desserts brought out at every hour was routine. Even when Ray wandered aimlessly around the estate, Claudan never once scolded her.

The first to notice the change was Lady Mary. As the one responsible for preparing the pair’s meals daily, she was more attuned to shifts in the household dynamic than anyone else. Next was Philip, who was close to Claudan, followed by the stable master Jack, and then the gardener.

“What?”

By the time the situation had become old gossip, Haysh finally caught wind of it. He arrived late after a long trip, bearing gifts for his still-resentful younger sister.

“Dinner is already over. If you’d like, there are ingredients in the pantry—you can prepare something yourself,” Philip informed him curtly.

Haysh, who had endured a cold hour-long walk from the nearest town without a carriage to bring him, had clung to the hope of at least a warm meal. Philip’s frosty demeanor shattered that expectation entirely.

“Ha! Are you speaking to me this way?”

“Is there anyone else here?”

“What insolence! Is this how this estate treats guests? Prepare my dinner immediately! I trudged through that wretched, muddy village for an hour, freezing all the while!”

Philip ignored Haysh’s flared temper and walked away. His treatment of Haysh was colder than that afforded to passing beggars.

“Stop right there! I said prepare my meal!”

Already furious, Haysh felt his patience boil over. His trusted friend had broken promises, the goods he struggled to deliver were subpar, and his mother’s worsening illness added to his stress. His entire life seemed to be spiraling downward.

And now even a lowly servant dared treat him like a beggar. With his anger at its peak, Haysh hurled an empty bowl at Philip.

“Behave like the servant you are!”

Philip stopped in his tracks, standing still like an ancient tree with deep roots. He simply stared down at the shattered bowl on the ground.

“Is that bowl so precious to you? Huh?”

“Hey.”

Philip’s hunched figure shuddered slightly, his head tilting side to side in an unnatural motion, reminiscent of a snake shedding its skin.

“H-Hey?”

Creak.

Philip turned around, and his eyes—slitted like a reptile’s—met Haysh’s frozen gaze. His tongue forked at the tip, and green scales adorned his neck. The wrinkled, sagging skin around his face had shifted, his lips now split at the corners. He was no longer entirely human.

“Behave while I’m still in the mood to show mercy. Consider this pity.”

Philip’s elongated tongue flicked across his chin before he turned and left, as if sparing a pitiful mouse. Haysh remained paralyzed in place, humiliation washing over him as he realized his trousers were damp.

“What… what the hell was that?”

The memory of a farmer he had encountered earlier that morning suddenly came to mind. The man had been hauling a cart of potatoes and had approached him with questions about his destination.

Irritated, Haysh had snapped at him dismissively while haggling with a proud coachman.

“Are you headed in that direction?”

“Why? Expecting a handout because I’m a noble?”

“A handout?”

“You won’t get a single coin, you shameless fool. Get lost.”

“Oh, no misunderstanding, my lord. I was merely concerned.”

“Concerned?”

Haysh had dusted off his jacket with a smirk.

“And what makes a potato farmer think I need his concern?”

But the man, even after hearing Haysh’s scorn, remained somber and serious.

“The way you’re headed is dangerous. None of us go that way.”

“Ridiculous.”

“There’s something there…”

“Enough. Are you testing my patience?”

Haysh waved the man off dismissively, turning his gaze back to the pompous coachman he had been haggling with. He didn’t even notice when the farmer had left; the conversation had been that unimportant to him.

“Could it be…”

A cold sweat ran down his back. Where am I? A monster’s lair? A place that lures in people only to devour them? Yet leaving was not an option. He had nowhere else to go. The stark reality tightened around his neck like a noose. Worse yet, his younger sister was here. She had already been wandering due to their family’s circumstances, and leaving her here risked her being dismissed as an insignificant, unmarriageable maiden.

Haysh didn’t believe the mountain of debt was entirely his fault, but as her older brother, he couldn’t ignore the guilt. Seeing her live humbly as a dependent, or comparing her to girls her age who could smile carefreely, left a bitter taste in his mouth. The hairpin he’d picked up on his way back—one that was popular among Southern maidens—was meant as a small atonement.

“Ray!”

No matter how much he scolded her, she was still his flesh and blood. Haysh resolved that they couldn’t stay here any longer. Their cousin Frank, though calculating and cold, would never cast Ray into ruin. Haysh planned to send her there temporarily while he tied up the loose ends of his failing business here.

“Ray! Come out this instant…”

The words died in his throat.

He had reached the drawing room, and there she was, smiling sweetly as she sat leaning over the long table. Opposite her sat the lord, Claudan. Haysh felt a rotting sensation deep in his stomach the moment he saw them.

Ray!

He tried to yell, but his tongue curled in his mouth, rendering him mute.

“This is wrong,” Ray murmured.

“I thought it was correct,” Claudan replied.

Behind them, Haysh stood like a scarecrow, stupefied, while Ray was casually learning to read, her tone warm and familiar. They looked like a budding couple, utterly at ease. Claudan had even tucked her hair behind her ear at some point. Their conversations, though sparse, flowed without hierarchy or reservation.

When did this start?

“By the way, Ray,” Claudan said.

“Yeah?”

“Your brother’s late.”

“He must’ve been delayed…”

The droop in Ray’s yellow-blonde head made Haysh’s nerves scream. He wanted to act, but his body was paralyzed, as if tied to invisible strings.

“My poor Ray,” Claudan murmured, running his fingers gently through her hair.

“Claudan.”

“Yes?”

“If my brother loses your money… or gets scammed… you won’t be nice to me anymore, right?”

Claudan’s eyes widened slightly, more so than Haysh’s.

“No, Ray,” he said firmly.

“Why not?”

“Because I always get what’s mine.”

Claudan’s gaze shifted coldly, locking onto Haysh. His eyes raked over him from head to toe with a cutting detachment, as if dissecting him piece by piece. Haysh shuddered like a deer caught in a predator’s jaws, already bitten at the neck.

Haysh had sensed it from the very first meeting. Claudan had no interest in him—not in the slightest. His aloofness about the investments or their details had seemed like indifference, but now Haysh realized Claudan’s focus had always been elsewhere.

“Claudan, it’s already late. Let’s finish the rest tomorrow,” Ray suggested.

Claudan, ever the gentleman, picked up her book and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Tomorrow won’t work.”

Disappointment flickered across Ray’s face, but Claudan skillfully redirected her attention.

“Sir Haysh,” Claudan called suddenly.

“Haysh?” Ray turned toward the door in surprise, and as she did, Haysh’s frozen body suddenly thawed. His limbs, previously locked in place, now moved freely. His voice, however, was still stuck. Not a single word would come out.

“When did you get here? You disappear for days without saying a word, and of course, I worry,” Ray said.

“…”

“Haysh.”

Claudan, standing behind Ray, casually wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

“Are you tired? Your sister is asking you something, yet you’re not answering.”

“Um, Claudan,” Ray murmured, glancing nervously at her brother. She squirmed slightly, trying to push Claudan’s arms away, but Haysh’s tightly sealed lips made her want to sink into the floor.

“Haysh, this is… I mean…” Ray stammered, her cheeks flushing deeper as Claudan held her tighter. She was flustered, unused to such overt affection in front of her brother, even though it was becoming routine.

“I… I should go. I’ll just… tomorrow, or maybe later…”

Snatching up the book like it was a lifeline, Ray darted past Haysh and into the shadowy hallway without so much as a backward glance. Haysh’s face burned with anger, and his chest ached with the bitter sting of betrayal.

Now it was just the two of them. As Claudan’s voice fell silent, a suffocating stillness settled over the room, starkly contrasting with the warmth and affection that had filled it moments earlier. The oppressive quiet was broken only by the sound of Haysh’s ragged breathing, but no words came from him.

“How’s the business going?”

Claudan’s casual question shattered the tension. Haysh’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, unable to form a proper response.

“You… you, right now…”

Claudan merely shrugged, his expression one of unaffected amusement. Haysh wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t see the truth. There were people Claudan toyed with and others who he crushed without a second thought. Unfortunately, Haysh had no illusions about where he stood. He was little more than a penniless noble clinging to his family crest, while Claudan was an unfathomable force.

Haysh swallowed dryly.

“Please… release my sister.”

Claudan, who had been idly fiddling with his hands, paused and fixed his gaze on Haysh, calm yet unyielding.

“It’s about business anyway,” Haysh continued, his voice trembling. “Women shouldn’t be involved in matters between men.”

“And where would you take her? Leave her on the street?”

“Of course not! There’s… there’s a place. A relative, actually. And, well, she’s of age. I can’t leave her like this much longer. By spring, I…”

Haysh had been planning to send Ray to their cousin Frank, where he hoped she could at least meet a suitable match. With their father long gone and their mother’s health deteriorating, there were fewer and fewer people left to protect Ray. He couldn’t expect her to remain safe here, in the lion’s den.

“I was going to mention it to you…”

Claudan’s expression shifted. It was unreadable—his eyes like lifeless glass, void of humanity. Haysh’s growing unease caused him to stutter worse than ever.

“I’ll… never forget your generosity until now. But… if you could…”

“With whom?”

A chill ran down Haysh’s spine, soaking his back with cold sweat.

“Uh, well… I mean… that is…”

“With whom?”

“I thought… maybe you could…”

“Who?” Claudan repeated, his voice sharper now, his teeth bared in a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of grin that made Haysh feel like a mouse cornered by a cat.

“Who is it, Haysh?”

That was the breaking point. Desperation surged in Haysh, and like a hyena fleeing an unstoppable predator, he turned and bolted. It was the first time in his life he’d ever run in such disgrace. A man who had always lived like a peacock—proud, lavish, and untouchable—was now reduced to sprinting like a petty thief.

Swallowed by the black corridors of Claudan’s mansion, Haysh couldn’t stop glancing over his shoulder, haunted by the image of the furious lord chasing after him.

But he’d overlooked one crucial fact. He was on Claudan’s turf, and prey too distracted by its own panic never escaped the hunt alive.