The Night of the Monsters - Chapter 2

Over the next few days, little changed in their routine. Giselle continued to take her apprentices to her bed each night, while the brothers diligently prepared to leave the forest.

The dense foliage of the woods kept the sunlight at bay, casting shadows even at midday. A chair placed in one of the rare sunlit clearings was meant for Giselle. She sat there now, staring vacantly at Hugo and Ian as they moved busily about.

Her mind felt clouded, as if shrouded in fog. Leaving. Soon, she would leave the forest where she had hidden for her entire life. This was the right choice. It was the right choice, and yet… she felt an odd, unsettling sensation, as if forcing misaligned gears to turn.

Giselle looked like a young woman on the outside, but she had lived in the forest for decades. There was a time when she had longed to live among people. But her ability to see what others could not, to hear what others could not, and her agelessness—these traits filled others with fear.

In the end, she fled to the forest, where the spirits became her family and friends. But the loneliness was profound, and it filled her small, solitary world until it became an unbearable void.

When that loneliness grew so tangible it almost had a form, Hugo and Ian appeared. Late one night, when the spirits were asleep, the boys wandered into the forest—abandoned by their parents, with nowhere to go.

Giselle had dared to be selfish. Even if not forever, she wanted to feel warmth again, at least until the children were able to fend for themselves. To her, the brothers were a gift from the heavens.

…They were so small.

When she first met them, they barely came up to her waist. Now, they had grown so much that she had to look up to meet their eyes. The realization darkened her expression. Those once-small, precious boys—she had done something irreversible to them.

“Master.”

Hugo, who had been keeping an eye on Giselle even as he worked, quickly approached. He had noticed her slipping into a mild panic. Her confused, trembling gaze glistened with unshed tears.

No jewel in the world could outshine such a sight. Suppressing the desire to lick the tears directly from her eyes, Hugo spoke again.

“Your face is pale. Are you feeling unwell again?”

“N-No. I was just… thinking about something,” she said, her voice trailing off as she averted her eyes. She failed to notice how Hugo was looking at her.

Before he could say more, Ian appeared behind him, interjecting smoothly.

“Shouldn’t you say goodbye to the spirits?”

His narrow, yellow eyes gleamed menacingly, ignoring Hugo’s sharp glare. With a calm smile, Ian’s voice drew Giselle’s attention. Her dazed eyes flitted around, as if searching for the spirits she could no longer sense. Soon, her expression darkened further, and she shook her head.

“It’s fine. They… don’t like me anymore.”

“Don’t worry about them, Master,” Hugo said, his voice low and reassuring. “Those insignificant forest spirits won’t follow us anyway. But I will. I’ll always stay by your side.”

“Yes, Giselle,” Ian added softly. “I’ll always be with you, too.”

Their hands found hers simultaneously, clasping her cold fingers. The warmth spreading from their touch made Giselle smile faintly, but sorrow lingered in her gaze. She had once dreamed of human life for herself, but she didn’t want the same for her apprentices.

Once, she might have sternly warned them against it. But now…

“…I’m sorry.”

Her lips quivered as if to say more, but Giselle only bowed her head, tears spilling down her face. Gentle hands moved to comfort her, stroking her hair softly.

If she had looked up at that moment, even with her dulled senses, she might have realized something was amiss. The expressions on the brothers’ faces were devoid of affection—only dark, clinging desire, possessiveness, and obsession remained.

It was much later when Giselle finally stopped crying. Her red, swollen eyes and nose prompted Hugo to wipe her face with his cool hand. In the meantime, Ian returned from the house, carrying a cup of tea Giselle often enjoyed. The familiar scent soothed her nerves, and she offered Ian a bright smile.

“Thank you, Ian.”

“You’re very welcome,” he replied, his tone gentle and reverent.

Giselle cautiously tilted the teacup, her delicate movements drawing Ian’s intense gaze. His eyes curved in satisfaction as he watched her. Though it would take only a few hours for the effects of the drug to fully manifest, Giselle never sought them out immediately when the heat overtook her. Ironically, her restraint only deepened her entrapment, though she remained oblivious.

Setting down her cup, Giselle absently licked her lips, a small act of vulnerability that stirred Ian’s desires. Her expression, now serene, was graced with a gentle smile.

“It’s delicious as always. Ian, I think you’re better at making tea than I am now.”

“I still love the tea you make, Master, even if it’s a bit bitter,” he replied, teasing.

“…”

The brothers were far too grown for her to excuse the bitterness with claims about its health benefits. Embarrassed, Giselle’s cheeks flushed pink.

Ian had taken over kitchen duties six years ago, replacing Giselle, who was notoriously poor at cooking. It was also then that everything Giselle consumed began to be laced with drugs.

Initially, the purpose was simple: to weaken her magical abilities and ensure she could never leave them. To make her forever dependent on them. To bind her to them for life.

But over time, the concoctions served a darker purpose—not only disrupting her magic but muddling her memories, arousing her body, and binding her tighter to their will.

As Giselle continued to sip her tea, her eyelids fluttered languidly.

“Are you sleepy?” Ian asked.

“Mm, a little…”

“You must be tired. You were up late last night,” Ian said gently.

The tea she had just consumed contained her usual dose of the drug. However, as Ian suggested, she attributed her fatigue to the night spent entwined with her apprentices. She didn’t suspect a thing.

The brothers left her to rest. Setting her cup on the table, Giselle leaned back into the faint sunlight and closed her eyes.

The moment her sight was obscured, Hugo’s face lost its earlier warmth, becoming cold and impassive. Ian’s ever-present smile also twisted into something sinister.

“Tonight’s the night. Get ready,” Hugo declared abruptly.

Ian frowned, a crack appearing in his carefully maintained composure.

“You’re saying we’re leaving tonight?”

“Yes. She keeps having second thoughts because of this cursed forest. We need to act quickly.”

“I know you’re impulsive, but surely you haven’t forgotten that tonight’s my night with Giselle. I won’t give that up so easily.”

“Then give her a stronger dose. If she’s burning with desire all day, we can share her morning, noon, or night,” Hugo retorted coolly.

Hugo preferred things quick and efficient—no fuss, no prolonged effort. But Ian was different. Ian wanted to savor it.

More than anything, Ian wanted to see Giselle crumble. He wanted to watch her morality and values, painstakingly built over a lifetime, shatter into pieces. To see her consumed by guilt, her chains to them reinforced by her own self-loathing.

For the sake of this desire, Ian had systematically destroyed her life. She thought the spirits had abandoned her, leaving her powerless. But the truth was different—the spirits still called out to her, but her magic, now weakened, could no longer hear them.

Ian wanted complete control over Giselle. He wanted her every emotion, every thought, to be his. It was inevitable that his meticulous nature would clash with Hugo’s brashness. Still, they shared a common goal: total possession of Giselle. Over time, they had learned to compromise, finding ways to divide her between them.

Ian sighed, smoothing the deep furrow in his brow. When he looked up, his expression was composed once more.

“Fine. There’s another drug I’ve been testing. I’ll try it out tonight.”

“What does it do?”

“It’s similar to what we’re using now. The main difference is that it makes the user believe everything that happens while under its effects is just a dream. I tested it on the ones you brought in recently—no noticeable side effects so far.”

Giselle had taught the brothers everything she knew. They were prodigies, as boundless as an unending spring. She had hoped they would one day blend seamlessly into the world of ordinary humans.

But the knowledge she had imparted was being used entirely against her, to claim her as their own.

Ian gazed at Giselle, who had already drifted off to sleep, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“If I give it to her now, it’ll take effect quickly. Giselle’s body responds exceptionally well to drugs. I made sure of that.”

“And then?”

“Then we take her. Make it as intense as possible. More than usual.”

“Intense? What, you’re suggesting we… open her back door?” Hugo scoffed.

Ian’s smile didn’t waver. “Why not? It might make things more… memorable for her.”

“That was your plan all along, wasn’t it? Whether we put two in down there or make her take it in her mouth, it doesn’t matter. Giselle will never believe it was real. But oh, she’ll grieve—thinking she indulged in such depravity with her apprentices, even in a dream.”

“The fact that you answered so quickly proves you’d already thought about it. Trash.”

“And if I’m trash, then what does that make you? You talk a big game, but you’re just as bad. If you hadn’t been so intent on monopolizing Giselle for yourself, I would’ve taken my time with her.”

The exchange was sharp, their words cutting, but there was no disguising the excitement laced beneath their banter. Ever since they had first begun to lust after Giselle, both had seen the ugliest depths of the other.

Drugged and delirious, Giselle was irresistibly sweet, but her dulled shame made her reactions less satisfying. To force her, to make her beg while she writhed beneath them, overwhelmed with humiliation and pleasure—that thought alone made their blood run hot.

Just imagining it caused a tight ache in their lower stomachs. Hugo exhaled a heated breath, motioning with his chin toward Ian.

“Take your time, do whatever you want. In the end, you’re just as unsatisfied as I am. You want Giselle as much as I do.”

No matter how much they indulged in her, it was never enough. The nights felt too short, the wait unbearable. Sharing her had always been an inevitability; tonight was merely accelerating the timeline.

Even so, Ian’s irritation at the timing was clear. He ran a hand through his hair, his voice cutting as he snapped back, “Fine. I’ll let it slide this time, but there won’t be a next. You owe me for this, Hugo.”

Despite his words, the dark navy in Ian’s eyes betrayed the same searing hunger Hugo felt.

Feigning resistance while secretly reveling in the idea—it was laughable. Hugo smirked faintly, his expression lazy and relaxed.

After all, he wasn’t one to hold back. How often had he prowled the forest, driven mad by his unquenchable lust, leaving a trail of slaughter in his wake?

It didn’t matter that they were leaving the forest soon. At least on this final night, the trees wouldn’t quake in terror under the weight of their desires. Only Giselle would.

***

Giselle’s throat burned with thirst. She parted her lips instinctively, and a strange-tasting liquid slipped into her mouth. Desperate, she gulped it down without hesitation.

“Does it taste good?”

The amused voice rang in her ears. Giselle, still dazed, nodded slightly as she opened her eyes.

Her vision was blurry, refusing to focus. Her mind felt hazy, and her body as if it were floating. From the pit of her stomach, a searing heat began to spread, consuming her entirely.

“Ah…”

Her wet lips parted as a helpless moan escaped. Without thinking, her legs shifted apart, her flushed face radiating a feverish glow.

“…Hot.”

“If you’re hot, you should take off your clothes.”

At the suggestion, Giselle furrowed her brows. Take off her clothes? Here? Even if no one came to this place, it was still wide open, bathed in daylight. How could she do something so shameful? She shook her head in protest.

“It’s fine. There’s no one around to see,” coaxed the voice again, softer this time, as if comforting her.

The colors around her blurred and swirled together. She couldn’t clearly discern her surroundings, but she could sense people nearby. After all, the owner of the voice speaking to her had to be present.

When she hesitated, the voice continued, as though it already knew her thoughts.

“Don’t worry about us, Master.”

“Yes, we’re always watching anyway.”

The heat radiating from her body intensified.

Yes… that’s right. It’s fine if it’s people who are always watching. Her trembling hands brushed against her chest as she pulled her neckline downward.

Her pale skin was marked with countless reddish traces, blooming like flowers over her body. Faint and fading scars overlapped with fresh ones, a never-ending cycle of creation and erasure.

Even after shedding her clothes, the oppressive heat remained. The burning thirst continued, parching her throat. She swallowed dryly and murmured in despair.

“I’m… so thirsty…”

“You’re thirsty? Of course. Then we’ll have to give you something to drink.”

Giselle’s ears, dulled by her hazy state, registered the faint rustling of fabric. Then, something warm and firm pressed against her lips. Instinctively, she parted them, and before she could comprehend, something hot slipped inside. Her lips stretched wide as a veined shaft slid across her tongue.

“Mmgh!”

Her breath hitched as her eyes flew open in shock. Hugo, towering over her, gazed down with a calm yet intent expression as he pushed his hips forward, driving deeper into her mouth. Even in her confused state, she instinctively accepted him, just as she had in her sleep before.

“Mm! Ngh, ahn—”

“Ha…”

If anything, this was even better. The expressions on her face, the hesitant sounds escaping her throat, her ragged breaths—all of it was exquisite. Even the slight scrape of her teeth against his aroused flesh added to the sensation, igniting him further.

As he pulled his length back slowly, saliva coated his skin, glistening in the dim light.

“Ah, h-hu, Hugo… what… what are you…?”

Her voice was trembling, her disoriented eyes searching for an answer as her body remained obedient to his advances, betraying her confusion.

“You said you were thirsty. I thought I’d let you drink my seed. You like it, don’t you?”

Giselle’s eyes grew vacant once more, the weight of reality slipping away. It wasn’t just the drug coursing through her veins. Hugo’s words were harsher than usual, a jarring contrast to his typical tone, though not entirely out of character.

Smirking faintly, Hugo continued, his voice laced with dark amusement.

“So, just like when you squeeze me with your little hole, give me a nice, tight grip.”

The crude words made Giselle bite her lip in shame, her flushed face trembling with humiliation. But the feeling was fleeting. Her overheated body, already consumed by the drug’s effects, reacted instinctively to the sight of his arousal before her.

Her breathing quickened, and despite her conscious resistance, she felt her resolve slipping, her body betraying her mind.

Under normal circumstances, Giselle would have resisted until she could no longer bear it and ultimately given up. But Hugo’s uncharacteristically assertive behavior, combined with the haze clouding her mind from the drug, dulled her reasoning and clouded her judgment.

As if entranced, she parted her lips.