CHAPTER 66: LIKE A BOSS

The woman’s lips trembled. Though her eyes were pure white, the lines of her face carried a pride on the verge of breaking. It was as if she were forcing not only her body but her very soul down with the chains. For a moment, she lifted her head and looked straight at me.

"We had an agreement... I risked my life... Magnus’s life... to bring you information."

Her words didn’t even echo inside the tent. After a brief silence, I smiled, pulled out a chair, and sat across from her.

"Did I ever ask you to do that, Willabelle?"

Willabelle clenched her teeth, the links of her chains rattling faintly. The fury within her seemed sharp enough to slice through the stifling air of the tent.

"No..." she said, her voice now deeper, trembling from a place she could barely contain. "But I trusted you. And yet I gave you Magnus’s location. I thought you would believe me... I was wrong."

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest, and studied her face for a long while. Though her eyes were nothing but white, they carried a clarity that defied me. Her pride seemed to outweigh even the chains pressing her down.

"What you did, Willabelle, wasn’t charity. It was a trade. With or without you, I would have won this war, you know that. And because you knew it, you clung to me to save yourself and your child. In return, I chose not to kill you. That is what we call a trade."

Silence fell again. Outside the tent, I could hear the footsteps of guards and the distant echo of horns. The woman lowered her head. It was as if she were making a calculation. Her trembling lips grew still, leaving only a cold determination.

"Are those truly your honest thoughts? Do you really think I couldn’t have taken Magnus and escaped if I wished?"

The defiance in her voice was sharp enough to shatter her chains. When she lifted her head to meet my gaze, behind that silver void in her eyes lay a threat and an unbreakable pride.

I leaned forward, fingertips pressing against the table’s edge. A faint, icy smile curved my lips.

"You could have escaped... perhaps. But you didn’t." My voice lowered, each word pressing the air heavier. "Because you know there are things outside far stronger than the chains I’ve placed on you. That’s why you’re here, Willabelle. Because you can only live with me, not despite me."

Her chains tightened again, the sound of metal grinding into her thin wrists. At the corner of her mouth, a bitter smile appeared.

"Perhaps," she whispered, "perhaps you’re right. I betrayed you... twice. And I do not regret it. Everything I’ve done has been for Magnus."

When her words faded, only the sound of our mingled breathing remained in the tent. In her face burned not surrender, but the defiance of a woman who had sealed her fate with her own hands.

Willabelle’s lips moved again, though no words escaped. She had silenced her chains; now she spoke only with her eyes. Within that blank whiteness lay the silence of a thousand unspoken sentences.

"But you are mistaken about one thing. When I told you my true name and revealed where Magnus was, it wasn’t only to keep my family alive. I did it because I trusted you. And I still do. I still believe you won’t harm me or Magnus." Her voice now struck like stone."All I have done is keep my promise..."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Each word was like molten iron poured against her own shackles.

I leaned back in my chair again, resting my fingers against my chin as I studied her.

"If people see that I do not punish a woman who betrayed me, it will not look good. In fact, if I don’t kill you, some people I know will be angry. So if you wish to live, you will accept being my slave. Besides... I no longer trust you. You’re clever, cunning. Every word from your mouth either hides a trap or serves your own survival. I’m sorry, but you are not sincere."

A moment of silence. Outside, a helmet fell and scraped against the ground, then nothing. As if the entire world were listening.

Willabelle tightened her chains again, her thin wrists paling as the blood withdrew. Still, she did not avert her gaze.

"You want sincerity? Very well... Then I’ll share a secret I have never told anyone. One from which I gain nothing."

The air inside the tent grew heavy. The wavering light of the fire cast her shackled hands like pale statues. She parted her lips, her breath short but her words sharp:

"Magnus is not my son..."

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Willabelle’s POV

The night was drowned in a suffocating fog. Even the moonlight seemed smothered, leaving no shadow on the ground. I moved through the darkness without breath, the stench of mud, filth, and rotting straw filling my nose. My heart beat like a caged bird against my ribs.

A small dagger in my hand, a sack on my back. To anyone watching, I would have looked like a common thief. But no... that night, I was not there to steal gold. I was there to steal motherhood itself, to change my sister’s fate.

When I first saw her collapsed on the stones of the slave market, my heart lodged in my throat. I barely recognized her. Her hair was matted, her face swallowed in shadow. Around her neck hung a cursed trinket, likely sealing away her mana. Not that she could have cast a spell in that state.

Her body was skin and bone, yet I still searched for the warmth of my sister in it... and could not find it. Her eyes, clouded with hunger, teetered between life and death. And in her arms... a baby, unaware of anything. Tiny hands clawed at the chains, crying until sleep silenced him.

In that moment, I understood. Magnus’s breath was not like hers, rotting away. I realized at once that she had been giving her meager daily rations to him instead.

I slipped between the cages, kneeling at her side in the shadow of chains. I reached out, though my hands trembled. My sister turned her head toward me with the last of her strength. Her lips were parched, her voice a whisper.

"Willabelle..."

Her breath flickered like a candle flame. No tears ran from her eyes, only something darker, almost like blood.

"Why... why are you here? Run..."

I tried to pull her up, but felt only bone beneath my grip. She was not weight, she was absence.

Her skeletal hands still clung to the child. Magnus’s tiny palms bled where the iron had cut into them.

"I won’t leave you," I said. My fingers shook as I worked at the lock. I wedged in the blade; the screech of rusted metal tore into my lungs. At last the lock fell. I pushed the door open.

She staggered out, pressing Magnus into my arms. His tiny heart beat in my palm like a frantic bird. "We need to run," I said.

The fog was our cover but also our deadline. Guards lurked everywhere. We crept forward, silent. But fate never stays silent.

A slave stumbled, dragging his chain with him. The noise tore through the night. A dog barked, guards shouted. "I heard a noise! There’s someone there."

In desperation, madness sparked within me. I set dry straw alight. Flames spread in an instant. Screams, shouts, clattering chains. Slaves found themselves in fire, but that fire also broke their bonds.

Amid the chaos, I dragged my sister forward. But her strength was gone. She stumbled, collapsed. Magnus cried in my arms. My sister looked up at me, a dying light flickering in her eyes.

"Willabelle..." Her voice cracked like burning wood. "I won’t make it. "

"Don’t be ridiculous! Get up!" Tears burned down my cheeks. I pulled at her arm, but felt only bones. She could not rise.

She placed her trembling hand on Magnus’s head, caressing his brow. Then she looked straight at me.

"Swear..." Her bloodied lips quivered and although her eyes were dry, tears streamed down her face. "Swear you will raise him as your own. Swear that he will be your son, not mine. Please... I have no one else to trust."

My heart crashed to the ground, torn from my chest. I wanted to scream, but no voice came. Magnus’s cries tore my ears apart as tears flooded my eyes. "I swear..." I sobbed. "I swear I will raise him as my own child. No matter what..."

A faint smile touched her lips. Her eyes closed, never to open again. I held her hand, but it was already cold.

Behind me, the fire raged, chains shattered, swords gleamed. I clutched Magnus to my chest. I had to leave her body there—in the flames.

That night, the slave market burned. Chains broke. Blood was spilled. But I carried only one thing into the darkness: a single fragile breath, crying in my arms.

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Leonardo’s POV

Only our breaths filled the silence of the tent. Willabelle’s white eyes seemed to gleam beneath the weight of memory. Her lips were cracked, her chains unable to silence the defiance in her heart.

"I have no intention of breaking that vow. Even if you freed me this very moment... my only priority would still be keeping my nephew alive."

Her words were not defiance, but the declaration of a woman who had sealed her fate. Chains gripped her wrists, but not her soul.

I narrowed my eyes at her. In the flickering light, the sweat on her brow glimmered like fire, as if a thousand unspoken words turned within her gaze.

This story did not surprise me. The novel had mentioned this part, though never in such detail. The only suprise was that Magnus was truly her nephew. Yet even in the book, the hints were there: Magnus appearing with her sister in the slave market, and the boy looking nothing like Willabelle, who bore the mark of a half-elf. Her tale fit perfectly.

"Then still I will keep you as my slave..." The moment the words left my lips, Willabelle lowered her head as if conceding. But before I could continue, I grasped her chained hands. "But I promise... I will keep you and your nephew Magnus safe."

Willabelle shifted her arms beneath the weight of the chains, her gaze unwavering. "Why? Why go to such trouble instead of killing me or setting me free?"

I didn’t answer at once. My eyes lingered on her shackled wrists. The iron had carved red letters into her skin. Seeing her that way unsettled something within me, but I could never show it.

Slowly, I withdrew my hand. I leaned back in my chair, hardening my voice.

"Because I like you."