The sound of firm footsteps echoed as a figure walked down the hallway. He was none other than…
Varnel Von Sanguine.
Varnel was a slender man, always well dressed, with a handsome face that could make the hearts of many women melt.
He always carried with him a smile that many had come to learn was well rehearsed. Because of his jovial and charismatic personality, he was a people’s person.
In simple terms, the people loved him, and he was well received. Which was why many would be beyond shocked if they saw the current look on his face.
His eyes were cold.
The ever-present smile that had become his trademark was gone, replaced by a twisted expression.
There was no doubt about it.
Varnel was pissed.
Behind him, the sound of softer steps echoed—Khana’s. Her head was bowed low, her expression troubled.
She bit down on her lower lip so hard it had already drawn blood. Her fingers clutched her fan with a white-knuckled grip as she followed behind. It looked as though she tried to appear as invisible as possible.
Soon enough, they reached a large door and entered. The room they walked into was one clearly meant for the upper class.
A massive king-sized bed stood at the center, flanked by carved mahogany drawers, velvet curtains, and chandeliers that bathed the room in a soft golden glow.
As they stepped in, Khana quietly closed the door with a soft click but didn’t move a step further. She remained frozen by the door, head still bowed low.
Varnel walked to the center of the room, then stopped. He slowly turned around, his gaze like ice as it fell on Khana.
“Kneel.”
Khana flinched at his voice, clutching her fan tighter. Then, as though the command was law, her legs folded beneath her, and she sank to the ground.
“Crawl.”
The word came sharp. Khana trembled, lowering her head even more. Her lips bled freely now, and her teeth still pressed down as if she was trying to keep herself together. Then, she obeyed, crawling toward him inch by painful inch.
Varnel watched with a cold gaze as she approached. When she finally reached him, she knelt before him, head lowered.
“Look at me.”
She froze. Then slowly, hesitantly, she began to lift her head.
WHAM!
Before her eyes could even meet his, a hand engulfed her vision.
The slap struck her cheek with force, jerking her head violently to the side and sending her crashing to the floor.
“Stand up.”
Khana’s vision was blurred. Her ears rang nonstop.
A slap from a Bloom, vita-infused or not, was no small thing. Blood spilled from the corner of her mouth from just that one slap.
But despite the pain, Khana didn’t utter a single sound. She knew what would happen if she did.
She used her trembling hands to push herself up and knelt again before him.
“Look at me.”
Tears streamed down her face as she shakily lifted her head again…
SLAP!
Another strike. Another fall.
“Kneel.”
His voice was cold.
Khana’s entire body shook violently, her cheeks radiating nothing but pain. Tears flowed freely down her face. Still, she forced herself to kneel once more.
“Look at me.”
She obeyed.
SLAP!
The third slap sent her hurling across the room, her body rolling on the floor.
But this time, Varnel didn’t wait.
He marched forward.
Then came the kicks.
Brutal. Repeated. Hard.
“You only had one job,” he snarled. “Just one fucking job. Be obedient!”
His foot crashed into her side.
“I picked you up from your trash family! You were nothing!”
Another kick.
“Do you know how much face I lost in that meeting!?”
Another kick.
“Do you know what’ll happen to my reputation if they ever find out it was you?! Huh? Do you!?”
Another blow landed.
Khana could do nothing but shield herself with her arms. Her body shook from the impacts, bruises and blood piling on her body with each passing second.
Everyone saw Varnel as the charismatic and charming Pulse with a permanent smile. While some knew how shrewd he could be, only Khana, his wife, knew the real truth. The real him.
Behind that smile was a manipulative, narcissistic man who needed control like he needed air.
She couldn’t count the number of times she had been “punished” for falling short of his expectations.
In the room, only the thuds of his kicks echoed.
‘H-he’s not stopping.’
A terrifying realization struck Khana as Varnel continued to vent his rage.
Usually, after a few strikes and after releasing his anger, he stopped. But that didn’t seem to be the case this time.
His gaze was still cold. Still filled with anger. He kept beating her without hesitation.
“P-please…” she finally whispered between the beatings, her voice barely audible through her choked sobs.
Almost immediately, Varnel’s foot stopped mid-air.
As it did, he exhaled slowly, deeply, before letting out a long sigh.
His gaze fell upon Khana, now lying crumpled on the floor.
She was bruised all over. Blood leaked from several open wounds, dripping onto the polished floor beneath her. Her skin was filled with purple and red. But she still held on to her fan tightly.
Without a word, Varnel turned and walked over to a nearby table. He poured himself a drink before drowning the contents in one swift gulp.
Another sigh escaped his lips.
Then, he turned back to face her.
“…Khana.”
His voice sounded different now. Softer.
Khana, who was still writhing on the floor, flinched the moment he spoke. Her body trembled. Her arms instinctively tried to shield her face.
Varnel began walking toward her.
His footsteps were quiet.
“You always bring this upon yourself, honey,” he said gently, almost with affection.
His gaze had softened too, looking at her warmly, as though the violence had never happened.
He reached her.
Khana lay huddled in a pool of her own blood, her body quivering as she cried silently.
“I always told you…” Varnel knelt, reaching out.
“Don’t do anything to get me angry.”