Chapter 4 Illusion
\[Lilia\]
Everything stopped.
I wasn’t even sure if I’d heard him right.
Did he mean… he wasn’t going to kill me?
The cold barrel of the gun was still pressed to the side of my head. His finger rested on the trigger, unmoving. My throat tightened, lungs refusing to pull in air. Sweat trickled down my neck, and the hollow of my throat throbbed with the rhythm of panic. My knees screamed with pain, but my body wouldn’t move.
No one spoke.
Kael Aslanov’s mossy green eyes held mine, sharp and cold enough to pierce through bone. He finally withdrew the gun, stepping back as he tucked it into the holster at his belt. Only then did I remember how to breathe.
The strength left my body in an instant. My knee gave out, and I hit the floor. I didn’t even feel the impact—just the heavy silence that followed. Somewhere in the distance, I heard Valentin call my name as he rushed forward, but his arms caught me too late.
“Take her out of my sight,” Kael’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding. “And clean this mess.”
That was the last thing I heard before the world tilted.
Does this mean I’m alive? That he wasn’t going to kill me?
“Looks like you’re going to see another day, sweet cake,” Valentin murmured as he lifted me into his arms.
The room spun around me. My head rested against his chest, and I could hear the heavy, steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the fabric of his shirt. I forced my eyes to open just long enough to see the closed door Kael had disappeared through.
“What was his name?” I whispered, my voice weak, barely audible.
“That man?” Valentin replied quietly as he walked. “His name is Kael.”
Kael.
The sound of it alone made my stomach twist with fear. His face—his beautiful, terrifying face—was burned into my mind. I wanted to close my eyes, but I was scared that if I did, I might never wake up again.
The last time I lost consciousness, I’d woken in a truck surrounded by bound women. I was terrified it would happen again—or worse.
“He didn’t kill me,” I breathed shakily, almost in disbelief.
Valentin’s steps slowed. I felt him glance down at me, his voice quieter now. “Something you should be thankful for.”
He carried me through the hall, the faint scent of cedar and old books mixing with the faint metallic tang of my blood. My gaze drifted to the portraits hanging on the walls—stern faces painted in oil, watching from their gilded frames.
After a series of turns, he stopped before a white door. It was eerily quiet. For a mansion this large, there were no maids, no staff in sight. Only that butler from earlier.
The realization sank in: I had simply been moved from one hell to another.
My father’s death still haunted me, the way those men shot him without hesitation. He wasn’t a good man. He drank, gambled, and destroyed everything he touched. But he was still my father. He was still blood. And even after everything, I hadn’t been ready to watch him die.
Valentin shifted me easily, holding me with one arm as he opened the door with the other, using his foot to push it wider.
My eyes adjusted to the golden glow of the room.
It was breathtaking.
The ceiling glittered with a crystalline chandelier, its lights scattering rainbows across the white and gold walls. A large glass window opened to a veranda that overlooked the dark forest beyond. The furniture was modern, elegant, and cold.
He set me down gently on a black sofa near the window. The red carpet beneath my feet was soft as fur. I dug my toes into it, dazed, almost forgetting the pain in my knee until Valentin reappeared with a small medical kit in his hand.
He knelt in front of me. His hands were steady, practiced. He lifted my leg onto his knee and began to clean the wound. The warmth of his touch sent an odd shiver up my spine.
“Stay still,” he said quietly when I flinched.
“Ouch,” I hissed through gritted teeth. “Be gentle.”
He frowned slightly but didn’t respond. His calloused hands moved carefully, spreading ointment and securing fresh bandages. When he finished, he packed away the supplies and stood, his shadow long against the floor.
That’s when the door opened.
A young woman stepped inside carrying folded clothes. She was around my age, maybe younger. Her black hair was tied neatly with a red ribbon, her amber eyes soft but cautious. She wore a blue dress with a white apron, her posture straight and polite.
She smiled when she saw me, setting the clothes on the bed before walking closer.
“Hi,” she said warmly, extending her hand. “I’m Aya. I’ll be your handmaid from now on.”
My mouth parted in disbelief. “Handmaid?”
Before I could say more, Valentin emerged from the bathroom with a towel in hand. His gaze landed on Aya, and to my surprise, he smiled—a small, genuine smile that softened his entire face.
My heart stumbled in my chest. I wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else.
“Hey, Aya,” he greeted, nodding to her. “I see you’ve already met.” Then he looked at me and scratched the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier.”
“Lilia,” I said softly. “Lilia Varga.”
He nodded once. “Aya, this is Lilia. The boss wants you to look after his newest possession.”
The words stung more than the wound on my knee. His gentleness meant nothing. I wasn’t a guest here. I was property.
Aya bowed lightly. “Yes, sir. I’ll be here whenever she needs me.”
Valentin gave her a brief nod, then turned to me. “It’s been a long day. Try to rest.”
He clapped his hands lightly and left.
The door closed behind him, and silence followed.
Aya sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing her apron, while I stared down at my hands, fidgeting with the sleeves of Valentin’s coat. The silence between us felt heavy until I finally spoke.
“How old are you?”
“Twenty,” she said, smiling faintly.
“So am I,” I murmured. “Where are you from?”
“Japan.” Her expression fell. “I was taken five years ago.”
I hesitated. “How did you end up here?”
“I was recruited for work,” she said quietly. “But it was a lie. I was trafficked. Master Kael and Sir Valentin raided the van that was transporting us. Most escaped. I didn’t. Sir Valentin brought me here instead.”
I swallowed. “You chose to stay?”
“I didn’t have anywhere else to go,” she said softly. “And they treated me well.”
I didn’t know what to say. My mind still reeled from everything that had happened.
Aya tilted her head. “What about you?”
“My father owed money to the wrong people,” I said hollowly. “They killed him. Then they sold me to pay his debt.”
Aya’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Your master pointed a gun at my head the first time we met. He called me ‘damaged’ goods.”
Aya sighed. “He’s cold, but he doesn’t hurt people without reason. He’s not kind, but he’s not cruel the way others are. You’ll see.”
I doubted that.
Silence settled again.
“Are you hungry?” she asked finally.
My stomach growled in answer, and despite everything, Aya giggled softly. “Why don’t you take a bath first? I’ll bring food.”
“I’ll try,” I said, attempting to stand. Pain flared through my knee. “My leg…”
Aya rushed to my side. “Easy. Let me help.” She looped my arm over her shoulder and guided me to the bathroom. She helped me into the tub and turned on the water, setting it to warm.
“I’ll be back soon,” she said, smiling kindly.
I nodded, leaning back as the water filled around me. Warmth wrapped my body, soothing the tremors that hadn’t stopped since the moment Kael’s gun touched my skin.
My eyes drifted shut.
For the first time that day, I felt still.
And for a fleeting moment, I wished never to wake again, to stay lost in this fragile illusion of peace before the horrors of reality returned.