"I’ll take the first dose now," Alistair interrupted firmly. "How much do I have to take?"
"So troubleso." Eugene rolled his eyes and took out one bottle with the number one written on it. "This ti, you take one bottle a day, no more than that."
Alistair nodded and uncorked it easily, jabbing the contents of the bottle straight into his veins with the syringe in a swift, practiced motion. The bottle was bigger and the liquid more viscous, making it a slower task than usual, but the feeling of relief that flooded his body was identical.
Alistair relaxed minutely. The chances of Eugene double-crossing him were slim― after all, it wasn’t as though Eugene knew that Alistair would lie to him. And even if he found out ’Daphne’ was a fake, he wouldn’t have had fake dication prepared beforehand.
And since there were only three doses of dication, Alistair only needed three days’ grace. It would be easy for Drusilla to distract him for such a short ti; she rely needed to spread her legs for Eugene Attonson, and she didn’t even need to be awake for it.
By the ti Eugene Attonson found out the truth, Alistair would be back to full strength.
He looked down at his partial growth as the dication slowly but surely flowed into his body.
Soon, he would be whole, and he would take back his position as crown prince once he got rid of the real Daphne. He had to make sure that she was taken care of, so that Eugene Attonson wouldn’t know any better.
"You’ve gotten very good at this," Eugene praised, clapping his hands as he focused on the reddish fluid flowing into Alistair’s veins, dying them scarlet.
"Where did you get that bag? You weren’t a participant," Alistair asked instead of acknowledging Eugene’s words. What nonsense.
Of course he had gotten good at it. He had so much practice stabbing himself with needles, that he felt more like a pincushion than a prince.
"Perhaps you would have to fix your mory in addition to your hand, Your Highness. I was there at the event, as per your request, rember? It isn’t hard to steal a common bag or two. Besides, these are commonly available for sale in the black market." Eugene quipped. "And I’ll give it to you for free as an expression of goodwill, in return for delivering your precious sister mostly unhard to . I had expected her to be in chains."
Drusilla’s eyes widened as she caught the hidden aning in his words.
Their sche had been discovered. Drusilla bit her tongue, trying to think of a way to let Alistair know. But then again, it was too late, wasn’t it?
Her brother had already injected whatever strange substance Eugene Attonson gave him without a hint of suspicion. Drusilla doubted Eugene Attonson would give Alistair the real cure he wanted after all of this. It must be so cheap replacent instead.
In addition, the conflict between Alistair and Daphne was common knowledge, and Daphne would sooner push Alistair onto an upturned sword than to warn him of Eugene’s trickery.
Drusilla was on her own.
"Are you complaining? Chain her up yourself, if that’s what you’re into!" Alistair retorted hotly, and Eugene raised his hands in a conciliatory manner.
"I’m just kidding. I’m happy to see her alive and well. After all, I have many plans with her." Eugene turned his eyes to Drusilla.
"Isn’t that right, sunshine?"
"You―" Drusilla gasped as she caught the familiar nickna. This was a test. "Don’t call that! You’re not my husband!"
Eugene smirked; oh look, the whorish princess had so intelligence rattling around in her after all. It seed like she did at least understand so things about her older sister after all.
But not enough.
"Your sister is still so disobedient," Eugene mused.
"Break her in then," was Alistair’s callous reply. "Do whatever you want to her to make her yours. If she burns off your face, that’s not my problem."
"Even if I were to burn her face in return?"
"Like I said, do whatever you want," Alistair said, insistent.
Drusilla’s face paled, and she bit her bottom lip so hard she tasted the first traces of blood. It took every bit of her acting skills to not plead with Alistair for help. He was her precious brother, but now he was trading her away as though she was a young filly, giving her to a known criminal!
"Exactly what I wanted to hear," Eugene bead brightly, and he pulled out a collar with a long chain on it. In a blink, Drusilla found her neck encased in steel, with Eugene Attonson idly tugging onto the other end of the chain, causing her to stumble forward.
Her face purpled in indignation. Was she so sort of dog? She cast a teary glance in Alistair’s direction, only to find that he wasn’t even looking at her.
"Release this instance! I’m not a pet!" Drusilla raised a hand, trying to heat up the chains to escape, only to realize it wasn’t working. Her breath grew rapid as she tried to claw the collar away from her neck.
"Pleasure doing business with you," Eugene said cheerily to Alistair as he pulled Drusilla to her knees. "If you need anything else, feel free to contact ."
"I hope our paths never et again," Alistair retorted simply, and he whirled around, leaving without any hesitation, not even giving his once favorite sister a second glance. Instead, he only had eyes for the bag, where Eugene Attonson’s cure was tucked safely inside. His hand was gripping the bag of bottles so tightly that his knuckles were white.
Drusilla could only watch his retreating back as despair overwheld her. The cold tal around her throat felt final, and it made it impossible for her to treat her new circumstances like a bad dream.
"Now that he’s gone, let’s get down to business shall we?"
Drusilla opened her mouth to speak, but Eugene held a finger to her mouth, shushing her.
"You don’t need to speak. After all, it’s not your voice I want to hear." Eugene smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes as he lood over Drusilla. "So you can just rest easy, Drusilla Molinero."
Drusilla trembled, yet she knew she had to deny it. Once she admitted that she wasn’t Daphne, she would be dead!
"How dare you mistake for Drusilla! I’m Daphne! I thought you loved !" she yelled, but her voice cracked at the end.
"But I do love Daphne," Eugene said, blinking innocently at her as he gently touched her face. Drusilla shuddered at the sensation of his fingertips on her skin.
Then the softness in his eyes faded, leaving behind the mad darkness of a raving lunatic. His touch felt like ice― sure enough when Drusilla looked, there was frost coating the tips of his fingers. It matched the blizzard that stord across his expression, a cold wintry landscape that left her shivering in fear.
This man was a lunatic. He wasn’t just a viscount from Vramid but also the leader of the underground world for good reason. Drusilla cursed herself. She should’ve run faster. She should’ve never trusted Alistair.
She wanted Daphne dead.
However, even she knew that she might not live long enough to see that day.
The look in Eugene Attonson’s eyes could freeze over the oceans. His voice was frigid, piercingly chilly, and enough to cause Drusilla to break out in cold sweat.
"Which is why I’m going to punish you for not being her."
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