Maybe the reason he’d never got up from his chair to greet them was because he couldn’t stand up. Was his right leg bandaged under his pants? It looked oddly bumpy and swollen around his knee.
“That’s horrible… Can you walk?”
“I can’t run, but I can manage if I drag the thing,” Krister replied bitterly, hugging his shoulders to stop shaking. “But that’s only where this nightmare began. Those bastards were the ones who broke my damn leg, but the second I said I’d work for ’em here, they suddenly started pitying me. They treated my injuries like they’d forgotten they were the damn monsters who caused them!!!”
Krister angrily shook his head, his shaking growing out of control.
“The bloody bastards are the nicest people in the world if you work for the Brotherhood. Like, eerily nice. It’s like they’ve forgotten they ever kidnapped me. They seem to think I came here of my own will.”
Rock sucked in a quiet breath.
His situation sounded eerily like hers. It was the same as how the Alexises doted on her like their own daughter, after they’d smashed her carriage apart and kidnapped her.
That was probably the curse’s effect.
It made people’s desires irresistible.
And once they had their desires fulfilled, they regained their original personalities and treated others with an unnatural level of kindness.
The werewolf curse is becoming more terrifying the more I learn about it, Rock lamented.
“You came to save me, didn’t you?” Krister asked, his eyes begging her for help.
“I’d love to say that’s the case, but I’ve got my hands full taking care of myself.”
Rock estimated she’d passed over a dozen cultists since entering the underground cathedral. She didn’t know how many were werewolves. There was at least one—her uncle.
Meanwhile, Rock lacked physical strength, and Krister could barely stand. Ebel and the others would come to their aid if her dove made it to them, but she’d no way of knowing if it had.
“Please! Help me! Get me outta this hellhole!” Krister pitifully cried out.
It’s not like she didn’t want to help him, but Rock didn’t have the strength to escape while supporting him.
“Don’t whine, Krister,” she rushed to placate him before he drew attention. “If everything goes right, help will come. And if it does, I promise to break you out too.”
“Only if it goes right? What happens if it goes wrong?” Krister asked, his voice trembling with fear of the answer.
“I’m trying not to think about it.”
I’m not alone.
That thought kept Rock going.
Of course, it was unfair to ask Krister to think the same way when he’d been isolated and helpless for so long.
“I can trust ya, can’t I…Rock Floria?”
Apprehension darkened his features, so Rock brought up the one thing she thought might lift his spirits.
“You don’t want Nisha seeing you look so scared, right?”
Mentioning her name had an immediate effect. Life returned to Krister’s face, and his glassy eyes regained their former mirth.
“Nisha… You met her?”
“Yeah. She was looking for you. She coughed up a pretty penny to put up missing person posters all over the slums.”
Nisha must’ve invested a lot of money in those posters. It would be a real shame if Krister didn’t make it back to her alive.
“Don’t waste her money. You’d better make it back alive, Krister.”
Those were the most effective words for a fellow money-lover.
“Nothing worse than wastin’ money! Thank you, Rock.” Krister bowed his head and wiped under his eyes. “I thought she’d have moved on by now.”
“You know she’s not that shallow. I would’ve never cared about finding you if not for her,” Rock snorted.
Krister frowned with unease. “I ain’t givin’ you Nisha.”
“You’d better not even try. Nisha ain’t gonna let ya go,” Rock retorted, using her best slum accent.
Seeing him get his spunk back was a real relief.
Rock wanted nothing more than to help him escape his underground prison that very day, but when she turned around looking for something to help her make that happen, she saw someone who wasn’t there before.
Placido Alexis was looming directly behind her.
He stood in the small room’s doorway, less noticeable than invisible gases in the air. How long had he been there?
“U-Uncle…” Rock uttered in shock, and Krister let out a terrified yelp.
Placido was all smiles in the face of their sheer panic.
“Roxy, doesn’t the tailor have a lot of work to do? You mustn’t overstay your welcome,” he said, his gold eyes narrowed on them in such a way that Rock couldn’t discern the emotion behind them.
But his smile gave her the chills.
How much of their conversation had he overheard? She hoped it was none, but he was a werewolf. He might have heard everything—
“Th-Thank you for your time, Mr. Tailor,” Rock hastily said goodbye to Krister.
Krister said nothing in return, his eyes nailed on Placido, his expression frozen in fear.
Rock followed Placido out of the room.
Her uncle turned around to face her after they’d proceeded a little ways down the narrow hallway. “Are you…acquainted with that tailor?”
So he did overhear, Rock thought.
She glared at Placido to hide her terror.
“I see not even those of noble blood are above eavesdropping,” she quipped.
“Nothing is below me when it comes to my precious niece.”
Placido didn’t take the bait. Instead, he grabbed Rock’s wrist, as if to drive his point home.
“I want you to know this, Roxy: I treasure you like I treasure Lauretta.”
His large hand tightened painfully around her wrist, sending the message that he could easily break her in two if he had to.
“But I won’t allow even you to be the cause of Lauretta’s sorrow.”
“Uncle, y-you’re hurting me,” Rock moaned, but Placido didn’t let go.
“I can’t let you go free for Lauretta’s sake. Do we have an understanding?”
The golden eyes looking down the bridge of his nose at her flared with insanity.
Rock had seen eyes just like that once before.
Those were the same eyes she’d come face to face with when Guido Linus had lured her to his mansion and trapped her in its storage room, while he was under the statue’s influence.
Sensing the danger, Rock reluctantly played along.
“…I understand you perfectly.”
She uttered words she didn’t mean, but she had to if she wanted to survive.
If nothing else, Placido seemed satisfied. He released Rock’s wrist and then suddenly looked apologetic.
“I apologize for coming across so threatening. To me, both you and Lauretta are irreplaceable.”
“I’m sure…you feel that way.”
He probably wouldn’t listen even if she told him that he was being driven to insanity by those feelings.
Rock couldn’t help hoping there was some way to break the spell on him.
“Are you ready to go, Roxy?” Placido asked, urging her on with a fatherly smile, entirely unaware of her inner turmoil.
“Go where, Uncle?” she asked as she rubbed her aching wrist.
“To see the bishop,” he responded with the epitome of gentle calm. “He wants to meet you.”
Rock had thrown herself into the heart of her enemy’s camp, hoping for this chance. And yet, she found herself trembling with fear, now that she’d gotten what she wanted.