CHAPTER 179: THE DEVIL IN DISGUISE

Primrose flipped through the pages slowly, her fingers trembling as her eyes scanned one sketch after another, faces of children, both boys and girls, staring back at her from the paper.

Next to their drawings were things that looked like trophies—locks of hair, dried drops of blood, even tiny baby teeth.

Oh, it was horrifying.

The descriptions scrawled beside them weren’t overly graphic, but they were disturbing enough to make Primrose’s stomach turn.

She had to press her hand over her mouth, fighting the urge to throw up.

Any adult reading those words would immediately understand that those children had seen and experienced things no child ever should.

"Where ... where is the dormitory they’re staying in now?" she asked with a trembling voice.

Edmund closed the book without a word and gently took it from her hands. "He built the orphanage on the city border. I’ve already sent a soldier to go there and check the situation first."

"We should take them away from that place as soon as possible," Primrose said firmly, though her voice trembled. "We ... we need to find people who can take care of them properly from today onward."

Edmund gave a faint nod, but stayed silent.

He stared down at the closed book in his hands, and Primrose could tell from the way his jaw tightened, he was blaming himself.

"This place... it wasn’t just the Marquess’ personal playground," he muttered.

His blue eyes had turned cold, so cold they looked like they could freeze anything in an instant. "According to Mr. Ramond’s report, the Marquess regularly invited other men to join him here too."

He gritted his teeth. "This is my fault." He repeated again, "This ... this is truly my fault. I should’ve seen the signs, but I didn’t. And now I’ve let someone turn a place in my kingdom into a living hell."

Primrose gently laid her hand over his. "Edmund," she said softly, "some people can hide the darkness inside them so well, it’s nearly impossible to see."

"And sometimes," she added, "the ones who look like monsters at first glance ... they turn out to have the kindest hearts."

That was the hard truth. Unless someone could read minds like Primrose, there was no way to truly know what lived in a person’s heart.

"But I was the one who gave him permission to build the dormitory," Edmund said. "He brought the proposal to me a few years ago, saying he wanted to give children born into poverty a chance at a better life."

The beast tribe always tried to ensure none of their people starved, and Edmund had made sure that no one in his kingdom suffered from poverty.

However, the kingdom could only provide food, shelter, and basic education. If they wanted higher education, they had to pay for it or earn a scholarship.

Sadly, not all children from poor families could study well enough to win a scholarship, especially in a culture where strength was valued more than knowledge.

Because of that culture, the beast offspring rarely pursued higher education.

Over time, more and more academies in Noctvaris had to close their doors, no matter how hard Edmund tried to teach his people that education was also important to broaden their minds.

But when an idea has been rooted deep in people’s hearts for generations, it’s not easy to uproot.

So, like it or not, Edmund chose to prioritize their basic needs and offer scholarships to gifted children so they could pursue higher education outside the kingdom.

"I thought the dormitory the Marquess built could be a stepping stone," Edmund said quietly. "A place to prepare the next generation, to help them aim higher, dream bigger, build a future beyond these walls."

He paused, his voice a little lower this time. "I even gave that place a large sum of money every month," he said, jaw tightening. "But ... it turns out I was just throwing it into the wrong hands."

Primrose hadn’t realized until now how tangled Edmund’s connection to the Marquess truly was.

Before this visit, he must’ve trusted the man deeply, but sadly, that trust gradually crumbled until there was nothing left to hold on to.

The Marquess didn’t just embezzle public funds; he also stole Edmund’s personal money and shattered his trust.

And honestly, at this point, Primrose couldn’t blame Edmund if he wanted the man dead immediately.

"I can’t promise that everything will be alright." Primrose held his hands tightly and looked deeply into Edmund’s blue eyes. "But I know ... there’s nothing in this world that can’t be fixed."

In her first life, Primrose used to believe that when something terrible happened, her life was over. She would give up, convinced there was no point in trying to fix something so broken.

She had even felt the same way when she first married Edmund.

But life had taught her something different. If you kept fighting, if you didn’t give up, no matter how painful the path, there was still hope.

Even when the road was filled with thorns, if you kept walking, you might just reach a place worth everything you went through.

Of course, she wasn’t trying to compare her struggles with what those children had endured.

What they went through was far worse.

But still, the message was the same: it’s better to try than to surrender before even making an effort.

"It’s not over, Edmund." Primrose reassured him, tightening her grip on his hands. "I know it’ll be hard for them to heal from something like this. But still, we have to stay strong and give them a chance to heal."

"Children aren’t supposed to carry wounds like this," Edmund whispered. "Because no matter how hard they try to heal, the scar will always remain."

[It’s not fair ... I thought I was giving them a chance to thrive, but in truth ... I helped a devil build hell.] Edmund thought to himself. [If anything, I truly deserve to be punished for my negligence.]

Negligence?

He wasn’t careless in doing his duty. Things like this happened because the devil was too good at hiding his true motives.

"You’re right, the scars will still be there, but ..." Primrose touched his face gently, "we can cover those scars with flowers."

She gave him a soft smile. "Maybe I sound naive, or maybe I’m just being unrealistic, but Edmund, what’s done is done. You can keep blaming yourself, but it won’t change anything. It won’t help those kids."

"You’re not naive, my wife," Edmund said, lowering his head, letting her cradle his face in her hands. "You’re right. This isn’t the time to fall into guilt. I should use this moment to find the best way to help them."

"But, husband ..." Primrose bit her inner lip, a little hesitant as she spoke, "Wouldn’t it be better to put the Marquess on trial legally? Maybe ... that would help them find some relief."

His expression suddenly turned furious. His eyes narrowed sharply, and whether he realized it or not, he was gripping Primrose’s hand too tightly.

"That was my original plan," he said, voice low and full of rage. "I thought a proper trial would bring the children some closure."

Then his lips curled into a sneer. "But someone like him doesn’t deserve to live another day."

Primrose froze when she saw Edmund’s gaze turn sharper, more terrifying, like a wild wolf ready to devour its prey.

Raven was right. He looked absolutely enraged, and his mind was filled with curses, one after another, every second.

Primrose tried to pull her hand away when his grip became too strong and started to hurt. "Did ... did he do something even more vile than this?" she asked.

Edmund was taken aback when he realized he had almost hurt his wife without meaning to. He immediately let go of Primrose’s hand, looking deeply apologetic.

"I’m so sorry," he whispered.

"I’m fine," Primrose reassured him. "You can heal me later. Right now, you need to answer my question first."

Instead of answering her question right away, Edmund said something that seemed completely off-topic. "I got word that the Marquess visited a painter’s house last night."

Primrose tilted her head slightly. It didn’t sound like something suspicious, at least, not yet. Still, she kept quiet and waited for him to go on.

"The painter ... he’s not just an ordinary artist." Edmund looked angrier than before. "He’s known for painting erotic illustrations, often commissioned by couples."

Primrose furrowed her brows. "Why would he want to commission an erotic painting with his wife after beating her so badly?" She sneered. "He really is a madman."

"No, no ... he didn’t ask the painter to paint him with his wife." Edmund clenched his fists tightly, then lowered his voice and said, "He wanted the painter to create an illustration of him having sex with another woman."

The corner of Edmund’s mouth lifted, but it wasn’t a smile.

It was the twisted grin of someone imagining revenge, a look so chilling, it barely seemed human.

"That woman," he added, "has red hair and golden eyes."

Primrose widened her eyes, her hands trembling as soon as she heard that information.

No matter how long she tried to reason it out, the description of the woman sounded far too similar to herself. Moreover, Primrose had already heard the Marquess’s thoughts more than once that he wanted to make her his sex slave.

However, she never expected he would dare to do something as diabolical as that.

"The painting hasn’t been made yet," Edmund said quickly, taking her hand and gently stroking it to calm her down. "But the painter has already drawn the sketch."

Primrose’s stomach turned. She didn’t want to know what was in that sketch. She didn’t want to see it, or even hear Edmund describe it.

"What did you do with it?" she asked quietly.

Edmund’s eyes burned with rage, the kind of rage that seemed impossible to extinguish.

"I burned them," he said through clenched teeth.

Then, he thought to himself, [I had stabbed the Marquess’s eyes with a pencil.]