Chapter 57: Villainess Princess × Slave (20)

Cassian took a single step forward into the dim bedchamber, his tall frame blocking the doorway. The moment his pitch-black eyes landed on Lyra, he saw her small body sway precariously. Her knees gave out beneath her riding outfit, and she began to collapse toward the hard floor.

In a blur of motion, Cassian caught her before her body hit the wood.

The moment his bare hand brushed against her forearm, he froze. Heat radiated off her skin like an open furnace. Her forehead was slick with a cold sweat, her cheeks flushed a deep, feverish red, and her breathing came in tight hitches.

"You’re burning hot," Cassian muttered raspy and low, his eyebrows furrowing in concern.

Her eyes were half-lids, unfocused and glazed over with pure pain. She weakly tried to push his broad chest away, her tiny fist lacking any real strength. "L-Let go... slave..." she whimpered, her voice barely a thread.

Without a word, Cassian slid his arm under her knees and lifted her small, feverish body effortlessly into his arms. He carried her over to the grand bed and laid her down on the soft silk mattress. Her body curled inward immediately, shivering despite the boiling fever consuming her from within.

Cassian stepped back into the shadows of the room and spoke in a quiet tone. "Shadow."

A dark figure materialized from the ceiling crossbeams, dropping silently onto one knee.

"Prepare a medicinal herbal bath in the inner chamber immediately," Cassian ordered coldly. "Use cold water, crushed mint, and soothing roots to bring down a severe fever."

The shadow guard hesitated for a split second, raising his masked face slightly. He looked at the trembling Princess on the bed, then back at his master.

Master is personally caring for her...? the shadow guard thought silently. Ah... he must be paying back the gratitude for Her Highness taking his side at the hunt today. She did defy the Crown Prince and risk her own standing to protect Master, after all.

Without voicing his thoughts, the shadow guard bowed deeply. "Understood, Master. It will be ready shortly."

Within minutes, the shadow guard returned, kneeling near the bathroom archway. "The herbal pool is prepared, Master."

Cassian nodded once. "Stand guard outside."

The shadow guard vanished, leaving the room in quiet solitude once again.

Cassian walked back to the bedside. He stood over Lyra, watching her chest heave in desperate, breaths. Her teeth were chattering, her soul trapped in the excruciating grip of the System’s neural penalty.

"Forgive me, Princess," Cassian whispered softly, his deep voice carrying a strange weight.

He reached down and carefully unbuttoned the outer layers of her riding jacket and thick cloak, stripping away the hot fabrics until she was left in her light, thin inner chemise. As the heavy clothes were removed, her jade-like, fair skin glistened under the soft lamplight, covered in a delicate cold sweat.

Cassian carefully lifted her bare frame into his arms once more and carried her through the archway into the grand bathroom.

The steam from the cool, herb-infused pool filled the air with the refreshing scent of wild mint, lavender, and cold river roots. Cassian stepped up to the edge of the sunken bath and slowly lowered Lyra into the cold water.

The moment the chilled, herb-infused water soaked through her thin silk chemise and touched her burning skin, a long breath escaped Lyra’s lips.

"Nnn..."

The unbearable, burning torture of the neural penalty finally began to ease. The cooling herbs counteracted the intense internal heat, washing away the migraine that had been splitting her mind apart. Her chaotic pulse gradually slowed down, her body relaxing into the soothing water.

Within minutes, her heavy eyelids closed completely, her tense muscles uncoiling as she drifted off into a deep sleep, her head resting gently against the lip of the pool where Cassian supported her.

Ding!

A soft, luminous blue screen flickered silently above the surface of the ripples.

[ CASSIAN DRAVEN’S HATRED METRIC UPDATED! ]

Hatred toward Host: 59% ➔ 58%

Cassian knelt beside the pool, his large hand holding her small shoulder so she wouldn’t slip beneath the surface. He stayed there in absolute silence, watching the calm, serene expression on her sleeping face.

Ding!

[ CASSIAN DRAVEN’S HATRED METRIC UPDATED! ]

Hatred toward Host: 58% ➔ 56%

Up close, without her fierce, arrogant posture or her cruel sneers, she looked so remarkably fragile. Her long, dark lashes rested softly against her pale cheeks, her damp hair floating like black silk in the clear water.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Suddenly, Cassian felt a strange, sudden tightness in his chest. His own pulse began to race, his heart beating faster and faster against as he stared at her wet, delicate collarbone and soft, parted lips.

Cassian paused. His pitch-black eyes darkened instantly, a self-directed irritation washing over him.

Ding!

[ CASSIAN DRAVEN’S HATRED METRIC UPDATED! ]

Hatred toward Host: 56% ➔ 54%

He immediately pulled his hand back, standing up from the damp marble floor. Instead of changing her wet clothes himself, he turned around and walked out of the inner chamber into the main hallway.

Pulling open the doors, Cassian looked down at the two anxious maids standing in the corridor.

"Her Highness requires your immediate attendance in the bath," Cassian stated, his raspy voice completely flat and emotionless. "She has cooled her fever. Change her into dry garments and put her to bed."

"A-Ah! Yes!" the maids squeaked, quickly bowing as Cassian brushed past them and walked out into the courtyard.

The two maids hurried into the warm bedchamber, carrying fresh nightgowns and soft towels. As they helped the sleeping, peaceful Princess out of the cool pool, they couldn’t help but exchange bewildered, whispering glances.

"Did... did the slave really carry Her Highness into the bath?" one maid whispered under her breath, her eyes wide with shock.

"He did! And Her Highness didn’t even yell at him or order his hands cut off!" the second maid replied nervously. "What is going on between Princess Lyra and that dirty slave?"

"I know! She even defended him at the hunting grounds today against Crown Prince Julian! Why is Her Highness protecting him all of a sudden? What is their relation...?"

"Shh! Quiet! If Her Highness wakes up and hears us gossiping, we’ll lose our heads!"

Meanwhile, in the quiet, isolated study room on the far side of Lyra’s estate, Cassian stood by the open window. The cold night wind blew his dark hair back, his jawline rigid as he stared out into the sky.

Ding!

[ CASSIAN DRAVEN’S HATRED METRIC UPDATED! ]

Hatred toward Host: 54% ➔ 53%

A silent shadow dropped from the ceiling behind him, kneeling on the carpet.

"Report," Cassian commanded without turning around.

"Yes, Master," the shadow guard reported low. "Our informants in the imperial palace have gathered new intelligence. Crown Prince Julian was utterly enraged by Her Highness’s actions at the hunt today. He was planning to eliminate her in the forest, but because she turned the public narrative against him, he has temporarily halted his internal plots."

"Halted?" Cassian raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Yes, Master. The northern border tribes have launched a sudden invasion. The Emperor has assigned Crown Prince Julian to lead the vanguard army to the frontlines tomorrow morning. His focus has shifted entirely toward the war effort for the time being."

Cassian hummed softly, a cold glint in his eyes. "Good. That buys us time. And... what about her childhood? What did you find out about Princess Lyra’s past?"

The shadow guard hesitated, a gloomy silence settling over the room before he spoke again.

"About that, Master... Her Highness’s past inside this palace is far darker than anyone in the capital knows."

Cassian turned his head slightly, his pitch-black eyes locking onto his guard. "Speak."

"Years ago," the shadow guard began, his voice grim, "the Emperor was obsessed with having a heir to inherit the throne. However, Empress Eleanor- Princess Lyra’s biological mother could only give birth to a daughter. Furious and impatient, the tyrant Emperor secretly poisoned Empress Eleanor right in front of the young Princess Lyra’s very eyes."

Cassian’s hand tightened on the wooden window sill, a faint crack echoing through the room.

"Princess Lyra witnessed her own mother’s death," the shadow guard continued quietly. "Afterward, the Emperor realized that as Lyra grew older, her face became the exact, spitting image of her late mother. Driven by a twisted sense of guilt and possessiveness, the Emperor doted on her obsessively..."

The shadow guard paused, taking a breath before revealing the most disturbing detail.

"...but his ’doting’ was a nightmare. He tried to force Lyra to become cruel, cold, and ruthless, just like him. Whenever the young Princess showed even a sliver of natural kindness, empathy, or warmth toward servants, her father would brutally lock her in dark ancestral dungeons for days, starving her and threatening to break her bones until she forced herself to act like a heartless tyrant."

Cassian’s eyes were turning gloomy

The dark rooms... the fear of broken legs... the shivering in her sleep... Everything he had witnessed over the past few days suddenly clicked together in his mind with clarity.

"Because no other noble consort could give the Emperor a son either," the shadow guard added softly, "he eventually adopted Prince Julian from a low-ranking concubine and raised him as the Crown Prince. Julian grew up learning the Emperor’s brutal methods, inheriting the same sick obsession with controlling Lyra."

The shadow guard fell silent.

Cassian stood motionless by the window. His face was swallowed by gloomy shadows, his dark eyes burning with an intense mix of emotions.

The arrogant, cruel Princess who had treated the world like dirt was never born a monster. She was a girl whose mother was murdered before her eyes, tortured by her own father, and forced to wear a bloodstained mask of cruelty just to survive in a palace of vipers.

Ding!

[ CASSIAN DRAVEN’S HATRED METRIC UPDATED! ]

Hatred toward Host: 53% ➔ 52%

Cassian slowly turned his gaze toward the direction of Lyra’s bedchamber. His jaw set firm, his pitch-black eyes glinting.