Chapter 207: A Broken Woman?

Deep inside the Crimson territory, inside the residence of Amelia Crimson.

Amelia’s residence was huge, with a vast courtyard surrounding the mansion. But this time around, the residence was silent…eerily so.

Rahu materialized in the courtyard with a wave of his hand. His presence was completely erased.

Rahu looked around and was surprised to see how quiet the mansion was.

“Where are the maids and servants?” With his vast senses, he scanned the entire mansion and frowned.

“This…was far more serious than I imagined it to be,” Rahu muttered, his tone sounding incredulous.

The entire mansion was in chaos, with pieces of furniture and ornaments scattered around everywhere. But that wasn’t the most horrifying part.

As he stepped inside, Rahu took a deep breath when he saw the scene in front of him. There were marks engraved on the walls…every single corner of them.

Some were written in blood, and some were carved directly out of dried skin. It was his name…written thousands and thousands of times on the wall. Every single corner was covered by it.

Rahu observed every single detail, then his gaze fell onto a room in the further corner of the hall. Taking a step forward, he entered the room.

“Are these…?”

There were hundreds of thousands of…paintings and portraits. But the reason he was shocked was that they weren’t Amelia’s…They were his. Hundreds of them, with all having different expressions and different angles.

They were carved out of obsessive precision; even a single missing dot would make that painter go mad—type of obsession.

Some… drawn with something darker.

As if worshipped.

Some were drawn with something far darker shades, and some were drawn in obsessive…crimson.

But Rahu noticed something different; every portrait had one single thing identical. They were his eyes; they were painted far brighter than the rest of the drawn canvas.

As if he was being worshipped.

Did he find this weird and unsettling? The answer was yes and no. Was it weird? Yes, it definitely was, but was he unsettled? No, not in the slightest.

After going through every single one of his paintings, he exited the room. The portraits were all of the previous Rahu, his stupid and submissive smile, and that frail, beaten body.

Then he entered another room, which was in the same corridor. The first thing Rahu noticed was the smell. No, it wasn’t decay and blood.

They were Roses.

Thousands of them, all of them were preserved. But dried and hung on the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier. The scent was overwhelming.

He then remembered a small scene from his memory, the previous Rahu had unintentionally once gifted the woman a rose as thanks for the payment.

And it seemed she wanted a room to smell full of roses, in hopes of recognizing the scent of roses he once gifted.

He exited the room and entered the floor, which, at the far end, was a room where Amelia resided. He could feel her presence.

Stepping into the corridor, he passed countless rooms where his name had been etched in blood across the walls, each chamber also lined with yet more portraits devoted entirely to him.

Some of them consisted of his old belongings and stuff…even strands of hair weren’t spared.

“Sigh, this is all the fault of that previous wimpy bastard, only if he had handled her well. I didn’t have to clean up this mess,” Rahu shook his head with a sigh on his face. From this alone, he could guess her mental health right now.

And gods, he was grateful he had not encountered her back when he was weak. Or he was sure this bitch would probably abduct him and flee from the crimson territory.

And now, reading her mana and body, he finally understood the crux of the problem here. Amelia Crimson possessed an incredibly dangerous and forbidden bloodline!

And when she saw Rahu the first time, the bloodline was triggered, and slowly it started to affect her mind.

It had all begun with subtle habits….staring at his face for hours without blinking, whispering his name under her breath as though it were a mantra, and countless other small behaviors that slowly spiraled into something far more dangerous.

And Elder Mo Rath being useless didn’t help either; that bastard was always holed up in his residence and cultivating day and night.

Shaking his head of the useless thoughts, he finally stepped in front of Amelia’s room. The door was locked, but he could clearly see a figure in the corner of the room.

Rahu once again shook his head when he saw her state; it was downright horrible. There were scribbling and cut marks on every corner of her body, thin lines carved into her pale white skin with precision. Some were shallow, and some were bone deep, all forming one, unmistakable name—Rahu.

Across her arms, collarbone, and curve of her wrists, but this wasn’t even the scary part. There were burned marks on her skin which looked like Ritualistic Blinding arrays carved into her own skin using heated metal sigils, as if she was trying to brand herself as his. It was present on her shoulders and lower abdomen.

Her fingernails were torn and bloodied; there were several bite marks on her wrists, covering her entire arm. She used to bite herself when jealousy would overwhelm her. The marks were layered upon each other; some were healed, and some were fresh.

Her frame had become incredibly thin since the last time he had seen her; she probably stopped absorbing mana or eating food. Her collar bones were more pronounced and her waist a bit thinner.

Even her heartbeat was irregular, as visible from her slightly darker veins.

There were knife scars and cuts on her palm where she tried to carve his name over and over until her grip could no longer work.

She sat in the far corner of the room, scooped up, and was trembling intensely. Her knees were close to her chest…pressed together.

“This…” Rahu’s eyes took a rare trace of seriousness in them. This woman…she was broken. Far too broken.

But…could he leave her in this situation? The answer was obviously a no, seeing her like this, he guessed her days were probably numbered from the intense stress and obsession.

With a single thought, he removed the restriction placed on him and pressed the door open.

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