Chapter 3

"What do you mean, 'I’m yours'?" Leon’s chest heaved with anger, his fingers gripping the bed sheets tightly, his fingertips turning pale. Suddenly, a thought struck him, and his voice was filled with accusation. "You... you’re the one who 'bought' me?"

"Yes," Jasper answered without hesitation, his voice sharp and clear.

Leon froze for a moment, then gritted his teeth and growled, "Even if you 'bought' me, that doesn’t mean anything! I was forced into this! I shouldn’t have even been at that underground auction!"

"Leon, calm down," Jasper's voice remained steady, but a faint furrow appeared on his brow.

"Calm down?!" Leon’s voice nearly reached a breaking point, his emotions fully unraveling. "How am I supposed to calm down? Do you have any idea what I've been through? I was kidnapped, auctioned off, and now I’m locked in here, hearing this ridiculous talk about ‘marriage’! How can you expect me to calm down?!"

Just as Leon teetered on the edge of losing control, a sharp, piercing voice cut through the air from outside the room. "Even if you can’t calm down, you will calm down!"

Leon froze, his body stiffening. He recognized that voice all too well. Sure enough, the door swung open, and the woman who had caused him nothing but dread—the witch—stepped into the room.

She still wore that chilling expression, her face lined with deep wrinkles and a cold, detached smile. In her hand was a long, twisted cane.

The witch's voice broke the tense silence in the room. "Prince Jasper, Lady Lisa wishes to see you. Perhaps you should go attend to her, and leave the rest to me." There was a glint of concealed amusement in her eyes.

Jasper's brow furrowed slightly as he glanced at the witch. His voice was low but carried an undeniable authority. "Fine. But remember, do not harm him."

The witch gave a slight bow, her cold smile never wavering. "Understood."

Jasper turned and walked over to Leon’s side. He bent down, his gaze locking onto Leon with an intensity that felt both gentle and resolute. His deep, steady eyes seemed to carry an unspoken weight.

"Leon, don't be afraid," he murmured, his voice laced with an irresistible force. "I promise you, if you marry me, I won’t let you suffer." With that, he straightened up and turned to leave the room.

Leon stood frozen, unable to process what he had just heard. "Not let him suffer?" The words sounded like some grand promise, but the problem was, who cared? He didn’t know anything! He didn’t know where he was, what had happened to him, or who that person even was, and yet he was supposed to marry him. What good was such a promise?

As soon as Jasper stepped out of the door, the witch's calm façade crumbled instantly. The restraint vanished, replaced by an open, scornful sneer. She walked toward Leon, her lips curling into a mocking smile.

"You’d better understand the situation," she said coldly, her voice dripping with an icy menace. "Marriage is not a choice here; it’s an order."

Leon lifted his head, meeting the witch's chilling gaze with unyielding defiance. The fury that had been simmering beneath the surface finally erupted. "Understand the situation?" he retorted, his voice sharp with anger. "I wish I could understand! Why don't you tell me instead? Who is that man? Who are you? Where am I right now?"

The witch’s smile grew even colder, her eyes cutting through Leon like a blade. "Those are things you don't need to know," she said, her voice low and laced with a subtle threat. "You only need to do what I tell you to do."

Leon let out a bitter laugh, his chin raised in stubborn defiance. "What if I refuse?"

The witch's eyes darkened at his defiance, and then she showed a smile that was anything but reassuring. From the folds of her robe, she drew out a small vial. The liquid inside was a strange, unsettling deep green, and it emitted a nauseating stench.

"Not willing to cooperate, huh? That’s easy enough," she said with a sly grin. "Drink this, and you’ll understand—resisting is futile."

Leon immediately tensed, every instinct screaming at him to stay on guard. "What do you want to do? What is that?!"

The witch didn't answer but her movements were suddenly and unexpectedly swift, almost impossible to defend against. Within a second, she reached out, her hand like an iron vice, gripping Leon's chin and forcing his mouth open. With the other hand, she swiftly poured the foul liquid from the vial into his mouth.

The bitter, acrid taste filled his mouth immediately, accompanied by an indescribable stench that made him gag. Instinctively, he tried to spit it out, but the witch's other hand kept his jaw locked, forcing him to swallow the vile substance.

"What did you make me drink?" Leon croaked, the burning sensation in his throat leaving his voice hoarse. He glared at the witch, fury and fear both churning in his eyes.

The witch let out a cold, mocking laugh. "Don’t worry, it won’t harm you. You’ll know its effects soon enough."

True to her word, the drug took effect faster than Leon could have anticipated.

Dizziness struck him, some immense forces were siphoning the strength from his body. He tried to speak, to demand answers from the witch, but his throat felt as though it were clogged, no sound could escape. Worse still, his limbs began to stiffen, and despite all his efforts, he couldn’t move a single muscle.

Leon screamed inwardly, his mind raging with fury. “What have you done to me?” Yet, the world outside gave no response to his silent outcry.

The witch, on the other hand, looked on with a twisted sense of satisfaction, her eyes gleaming with the pleasure of having full control. "Now, turn around."

It was like a command carried an irresistible force, and without his will, Leon’s body obeyed, spinning around in defiance of his thoughts.

"Sit down." The witch's voice was cold, like the snap of a whip.

Once again, Leon’s body moved against his will, his limbs responding to her words and unable to break free.

Leon could only watch in helpless rage as his body obeyed the witch's commands, slowly sinking onto the bed. His mind was fully aware, but his body had been completely severed from his control, forced to move only by the witch’s cruel instructions.

Amidst the turmoil of his anger and despair, the door creaked open. A group of men, all dressed in strange, ceremonial uniforms, filed into the room. The dark, almost black fabric of their clothing was accented with deep red, reminiscent of ritualistic attire.

The man at the front stood out, his towering frame exuding a chilling, almost palpable aura of authority. His face was cold and expressionless, but there was an unmistakable air of menace that surrounded him, making it clear that his presence alone demanded obedience.

The witch cast one last mocking glance at Leon, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Caelum, prepare him. I want to see him in perfect condition for tonight’s wedding," she said, her voice laced with finality.

The man gave a slight nod, "Yes, Morgana," he replied with a restrained yet undeniable authority.

The witch nodded with satisfaction, turning to leave.

Once the door closed behind her, the oppressive atmosphere in the room seemed to lift just a little. Caelum approached slowly, his gaze focused on Leon with a mixture of curiosity and deference. He paused, seemingly contemplating how to phrase his words. After a moment of silence, he spoke in a low, gentle voice, "Mr. Leon, please don’t be afraid. We are here to serve you."

Caelum stood to the side, his gaze sharp, a subtle, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of his lips. His command was clear and firm: "Begin preparations. Start with cleaning him." His voice was deep and resonant, like thunder, causing the very air to vibrate with his authority.

Around him, a few subordinates who had been standing quietly, already prepared, moved toward Leon with silent precision. Their movements were swift and coordinated, as though every step had been rehearsed to perfection, and the atmosphere felt heavy with the meticulous execution of some well-rehearsed ritual.

Leon felt like a puppet, his body and mind unnaturally stiff as they moved him. Despite his efforts to brace himself mentally, the moment their hands touched his skin, a shiver ran through him. It was a sensation he couldn't describe, a mixture of helplessness and an overwhelming sense of shame that gripped him deep within. Even though he tried to suppress it, the feeling refused to dissipate, settling heavily on his chest like an unbearable weight.

Several hands gently caressed every inch of his skin, as warm water flowed over him and a soft fragrance filled the air. Leon's heart began to race. He had never experienced such an all-encompassing touch, as if every part of his body was being attended to with meticulous care. The whole experience made him feel an increasing sense of embarrassment, but this was just the beginning.