Chapter 63
Kant’s gaze, which had been fixed on Rupian, shifted back to me. When my violet eyes narrowed, he suddenly furrowed his brow as if he’d lost focus. It was a subtle change that only appeared once our eyes locked precisely.
All sounds and sensations around me dulled, blurred, and slipped away as if cut off. I roughly tore free from whatever was binding me. After ripping away the thing coiled around my waist, I all but lunged straight up to Kant.
It wasn’t until a moment later that I realized it had been Rupian’s hand—but any regret only came after the moment had already passed. Kant’s rough breathing, his quickening heartbeat, his stiff shoulders, even the slow blink of his narrowed eyes—every detail took hold of my nerves.
There was something I absolutely had to tell him.
About the monster heiress—born a monster, raised a monster, treated as a monster, and thus doomed to become nothing but a monster in the end. I had been waiting for the right time, and it felt as though this was it.
I seized Kant’s chin as he tried to lower his head to avoid my gaze, and I forced it upward.
“Want me to tell you something amusing? I was a monster from the moment I was born.”
“Urgh—!”
“The monster you know. The one you tormented to death. The monster you killed.”
The monster heiress. Ailey White.
I enunciated each syllable as though engraving it into his eardrums. His pupils shook violently under my grip. Hearing the name he’d believed he would never hear again—no, had banished to the farthest reaches of memory—brought a new and conflicted look to his face.
“Ailey White. Ailey Cabre. I’m brazenly using the same name now, aren’t I? Ah, well, I could hardly believe it myself—so how could you have known?”
Despite the rising pitch of my emotions, my expression and movements remained calm. The more my body grew weary, the more fevered my head became—the sharper my mind burned. By the time I had Kant by the collar, my whole body thrummed with strength. My reason blurred, but my awareness was sharper than ever. Perhaps it was like when I’d been haunted by visions or fragments of the past.
Slowly, I released my grip on his jaw. For what felt like an eternity compressed into a heartbeat, our gazes locked—his sunset-hued eyes into mine. Time stopped. Kant stopped. Dust that had been floating in the air hung suspended, only to drift again when I blinked.
“Do you think that’s reason enough to torment you?”
“……”
“If not, then go ahead. Say more.”
How would you react, I wondered. Would you sneer that it had all been for fun? Claim you bore no blame? Or scoff that no reason was needed to torment a monster? Based on the Kant I had seen until now, I could predict exactly what he might say. He was that kind of man. I had known long ago that even if I revealed myself as Ailey White, he would never sincerely apologize.
Thinking on that, I felt foolish for having held onto him for so long. Instead of killing him instantly, I had enslaved him, wanting him to feel the same pain I had felt. And yet, it wasn’t enough.
A terrible thirst. Every time I looked at Kant, the burning in my throat wasn’t merely from the scent of his blood. Even after trampling and beating him, this feeling would not vanish—it only flared brighter. Was it sadism? Or grief, trapped with no outlet?
“I curse you.”
I wanted revenge because I knew they would never truly repent. I inflicted violence so they would taste what I had felt. And I didn’t kill them, because I wanted them to carry the same torment for the rest of their lives.
I hoped they would always be unhappy. Always be in pain. Always suffer in guilt and anguish.
As my emotions grew intoxicated and my desires blurred, I let go of Kant’s collar—or rather, my hand simply lost strength. He fell back onto the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His crimson eyes gradually turned hazy. Only once my senses returned and I noticed my surroundings again did I realize something was wrong with him. He had begun muttering to empty air.
“Wh-where is this? Where…? Huh? Wh-what?”
I watched him curiously. Kant groped the ground, waving his hands through empty space. His eyes were glazed, pupils dull, staring at nothing. Furrowing his brow, he mumbled in disbelief:
“Me…?”
Suddenly, his body stiffened. His eyes rolled wide as he clawed at one shoulder, choking back broken sounds. A scream burst from his gaping mouth. He fumbled at his shoulder, then stared at his palm, trembling violently as though something vile had clung to it.
“What… what is this?”
He lifted his head again, glancing wildly around. His face brightened with relief—then twisted in agony. His shrill screams and groans filled the sealed basement. Instinctively, I covered my ears—not because it hurt, but because of lingering human reflexes.
“Aaaaaghhh!!!”
“……”
“Y-you bastards! All of you! Are you drugged?! Can’t you see?!! Aaaaghh!!”
“……”
“Ahh… Aaaaaghhhhhh!!!”
Then, silence. His head dropped as he clutched it, as if to shield himself from something only he could see.
“I-I’m sorry, Grandfather, I’m sorry, Grandfather, I’m sorry, Grandfather…”
Over and over.
So—it happened. He’d finally gone mad. Kant had completely lost his mind. Should I slap him to bring him back? I was about to reach for him, but a cold grip clamped firmly around my wrist.
“Don’t approach.”
It was Rupian. He shook his head, stopping me.
“He’s caught in an illusion. Nothing you say will reach him now.”
“…An illusion?”
“I can’t say for certain, since abilities differ from person to person. But it seems your power really is of the mind.”
“An ability…?”
I had thought, since his blood ran in me, perhaps I’d gain a power like teleportation. But an illusion? When had such an ability awakened? And when had I used it? All I had done was grab Kant by the collar and unleash my words—and suddenly he had begun acting strangely.
Could this illusion be related to the visions and lingering echoes of the past that I so often saw? I stared down at Kant, trembling and chanting apologies to his grandfather. His desperate, childish tone was almost pitiful.
“Endless nightmares. A dangerous power.”
Rupian spoke flatly, looking down at Kant just as I was. I echoed his words, lips moving emptily, my own voice sounding hollow.
“So he does know how to apologize, at least—to his grandfather. Not incapable of the words, after all.”
Endless nightmares. His phrasing lingered with me. I had never expected any gift of dreams or hope. But nightmares? Grim though it was, it suited me. And without doubt, it would serve me well for my revenge. With training, perhaps I wouldn’t even need Rupian or Bel’s help—I could handle it all myself. Perhaps even within mere days.
I only needed to plant illusions. To make them relive what they had done to the monster heiress—betrayed by Lydia, tormented as I had been. For as long as they had tormented me. Then I could return to House Cabre, cut away the rot, and live happily with Rupian. They would suffer forever, and I would wring apologies from them—even if insincere ones.
Endless nightmares. It was the perfect ability for revenge.
(…The scene continues with Rupian and the protagonist discussing vengeance, illusions, and what kind of person she is. Their conversation softens, revealing her conflict—she both enjoys revenge and feels hollow. Rupian reminds her she isn’t a monster but someone far too kind, and insists she doesn’t have to shoulder everything alone. The chapter closes with her torn between her thirst for vengeance and his steady presence, realizing how fragile yet strangely soothed she is in his arms.)
Author’s Note
Internet cut off… poor Sori-su, slave to Wi-Fi, had to painstakingly type it all out on mobile to upload. Gyaaah “ㅁ”
Thank you so much for the support coupons, I’ll mention them all in the next part 8ㅂ8ㅂ8
P.S. The part where the ability awakens turned out longer than expected, so I’ll be changing the chapter title!
