Moonlight spilled into a vast study room through large stained glass windows. From the blue light cast, it could be deduced that today was the third day of Staywes week, ruled by Shadowed Depth.

  Alira stood before a sturdy wooden table and stared down at the man with blue eyes as cold as the ocean’s depth.

  She should have known. There were just enough hints—the family of three, the grand palace, the high security. If she had been suspicious enough, she could have guessed, following the logic of the transmigrator almost always being somewhere near the protagonist.

  In this case, she stood at a place closest and farthest to Raine, Ravon Duchy. Before her sat the arguably most important man in Raine’s story, Duke Everett Ravon.

  She knew who he was at one glance of his face. Of course, she did. That face of his was featured in all four books of Dual Point of View she’d seen, one too similar to Raine. After all, he was Raine’s biological father, and also the first person on Raine’s hitlist.

  The first in-novel character she came across just had to be the story’s final boss, one who remained untouched even at the end of book three. The very man who was rumored to be serving the Outers.

  Duke Ravon had an impassive look on his face as he resumed working through the mountains of documents on the table right after dropping a bombshell on her. A simple ‘I’m adopting you’ and nothing more.

  He was taking her in. But why?

  As far as the first three books of Dual Point of View went, the duke only had two children. The older son he had with the duchess and the illegitimate daughter, Raine. Raine’s mother was a maid who once served the duchess and ran away from the duchy after she’d gotten pregnant.

  Raine was a gender bent protagonist who disguised herself as a boy to avenge her mother, whom she suspected was killed by the duke and his men. Her path of revenge as the edgy protagonist on a pursuit for retribution at all costs was inevitably trailed by the blood of House Ravon as she purged the duchy from the inside.

  Alira took a long, careful look at Duke Ravon. He didn’t look like he was planning to add another word after simply stating she was soon going to be a Ravon, placing her right on the protagonist’s chopping board. He gave no further explanation to her. It didn’t seem like she had a choice or a say in this matter either.

  Recalling the day Raine tore down the duchy, Alira was reminded of a crucial piece of information. The duke, in fact, had more than two children.

  There had been a throwaway scene earlier on where Raine found out about the hybrid child the duke had adopted. Said character was never mentioned again until that day Raine hunted down every member of House Ravon. Fate had already done the job for Raine, as the adopted daughter had long passed away silently.

  As a hybrid who was about to become adopted into House Ravon, Alira ticked all the boxes. She had become a character who had two lines in the novel, first about her adoption and second about her death. She didn’t even know what to feel about the fact that she was destined to die according to the plot anyway.

  Alira took a subtle step forward to glance at the paper the duke was working on. The first line she made out was Deed of Guardianship and Settlement.

  Nope.

  “No,” Alira said. She was not going to wait for death to come until who knew when. She was leaving, ideally right at this moment, and she didn’t want any more interruptions.

  Alira didn’t hesitate to use Narrate, her only useful aspect, on the duke.

  “No?” Duke Ravon asked. He didn’t look up from writing the paper. His voice was blank with no hint of questioning, merely repeating what Alira said. “And why is that?”

  Bright runes colored in a frosty blue glow the shade of the duke’s eyes emerged above his head just as he spoke. Alira squinted to read the words.

  [ Duke Ravon considered all the possible reasons the young girl might not want to be the daughter of the Empire’s only duke. None of them, he decided, were problems he couldn’t resolve with a flick of his finger. And if the girl demanded more than that, he was willing to oblige. He had given his word to take her in and keep her under House Ravon’s name. A promise was a promise. ]

  Alira frowned. So he wasn’t adopting her out of his own will. Who was it that wanted her to be here? And for what reason? Did the original body have her own storyline and owe someone a favor? If so, Alira didn’t want this ‘grace’.

  “Because,” she said. “I simply don’t want to be.”

  “Well, I won’t stop you from leaving,” the duke replied. Before Alira could celebrate, he added, “The guards might. It is their duty to protect their master, the young lady of House Ravon.”

  Alira didn’t know why she even expected the duke to let her go just because she didn’t want to stay. He was a villain and a villain thoroughly. He didn’t not kill people just because they didn’t want to die.

  “I’m just a useless hybrid who won’t contribute anything to this house now or ever. You have no reason to adopt me,” Alira said, knowing very well that her character accomplished nothing important to House Ravon or the plot. “Go find literally anyone else, yeah?”

  “If I kept people only for their use, this palace would be haunted,” the duke replied.

  Okay. So she was basically a decoration. Nice.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “I have problems,” Alira blurted, thinking up reasons why she wouldn’t make a good decoration. “I’m telling you that I’m not someone you’d want under your roof. I lie. I steal. I’ll throw your money around, abuse my title, and throw dirt on your name. I’m sure you’ve already heard from your servants about what I’ve been up to. I will bring all the shame to the Ravon duchy every second I’m inside your walls.”

  “I don’t mind. The worst you could do is make a battlefield out of my estate, and I have lived through plenty of them,” the duke scoffed. He dropped the quill in its holder, sliding the completed paper toward Alira.

  Alira shoved the paper back to him. “Until your servants line up to report about finding your reputation in the drain.”

  “You mean my reputation as a bloodthirsty war general? Actually, that one has diminished a bit after I sent the Emperor’s dear concubine’s head flying on his little birthday party.”

  Alira forgot who she was trying to reason with. She was clearly using the wrong way to go about this.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you the truth,” she sighed in defeat. “This morning with your servant. I want to die, but I’m scared to take my own life. I’ll find someone to help me, and that’s why I want to leave to find them. I have no reason or will to live...”

  She turned his gaze away from the duke, worrying he might see through her. She lied a lot, sure, but never intentionally. “Not since my mother had passed away in that place...” She wanted to sell more of her made-up sob story, but her creativity ran dry. “So, I don’t care what you want me to do. Nothing will change my mind. You can stop me all you want but know that I’ll succeed one day. Then, you will regret all your wasted efforts.”

  Duke Ravon’s gaze burned into her for a second. Their eyes met for the second time since they met at the dark dungeon cell when she turned, calm seas washing over her in a strange, unsettling way. She couldn’t tell what was on his mind, and she tried her best not to care.

  The duke broke the stalemate of mutual scrutiny to take his leather gloves off. He motioned for Alira to come closer. She blinked, hesitating for a moment, before leaning in further.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, extending his own. With a wave of his other gloved hand, he conjured up a pointed dagger with a red gem shaped like a large eyeball embedded in its grip.

  Alira placed her hand in his bigger palm only because she knew whatever she did, it would end with him getting what he wanted. She guessed he was planning to intimidate her into changing her mind with that shiny dagger.

  Duke Ravon clutched onto her smaller hand, wrapping two fingers around her bony wrist. He slid the steel blade across her palm.

  “Ouch!” Alira hissed, glaring at the man but refused to shy away from the pain. Blood instantly gushed out, warm crimson dripping onto the table as he tilted her hand.

  “That’s not where you cut if your plan is to fulfil my wish,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I’m grateful, but I’d be even more thankful if you could let me go painlessly.”

  “My apologies and my sincere condolences to your mother. It’s very unfortunate,” the duke said, barely a hint of sorriness in his voice. “But I can’t let you leave.”

  Alira immediately tried to pull back her hand but was firmly kept in place. She had a bad feeling which only worsened when he cut his own palm with the same blade.

  “Wait, no!”

  Alira reached to wipe the blood off the surface. Duke Ravon tapped at the seal stamp on the table, shaped like a black winged lion, and the next moment, Alira found herself unable to move, the sensation too familiar.

  She was frozen in place like the stamp was. When she fought against the force heavy on her, all it did was make the stamp shake ever so slightly.

  Alira was forced to watch helplessly again as her blood mixed with his on the wooden surface. He dipped his finger in the pool, drawing out a messy, indeterminate shape using their blood as paint. The droplets didn’t stay in place, quickly merging back into a blob, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  It probably didn’t matter anyway since the crimson puddle flashed a red glow the moment he finished. Something was formed. A pact. She knew it even when she couldn’t feel anything different.

  “You know what you want,” he said, finally letting her go to take out a handkerchief from who knew where and handing it to her. “So do I. Just like you, I’m also willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want. This—” He gestured to the bloody mess. “—is an alchemic bind which will do just that. I’ll give you one hint in your favor against mine. It’s a Complete Bind.”

  Alira was finally able to move again when the damage was done. She watched the wound on her palm close, disappearing without a trace. It wasn’t some healing magic. Duke Ravon showed his palm; the cut he had was twice as wide as before.

  She knew what a Complete Bind was from the novel. Any physical harm she sustained would be immediately transferred to the duke. So long as he was alive, death couldn’t get to her.

  Alira exhaled with difficulty, lowering her eyes. He got her. Staywes got her, bringing out one of its strongest characters to keep her here. They were desperate and determined to trap her.

  “Don’t worry,” the Duke reassured. “While I cast a Bind since a simple Exchange wouldn’t do the job, I will make sure you won’t be on the receiving end if I ever get injured. Think of this as the non-existing Complete Exchange instead.”

  His face was as blank as always. Yet somehow she could almost see a color of victory on it.

  “I...” Alira whispered, her voice shaking.

  “You were so determined just now. Don’t let the determination wane so easily. Go to the Academy. Learn alchemy. Get stronger. There’s no such thing as a bind that couldn’t be broken—”

  Alira’s hand raced to the dagger placed aside, snatching it up to stab it into her neck, cutting her throat open before he could finish his sentence, let alone stop her.

  Why would she do all that while she could just kill him here and now? If the alchemist died, the bind would naturally be released.

  The blade left a trail of agony along the deep slit, gone as fast as it came as the bind shifted the fatal injury away. Duke Ravon arched his well-defined brows, merely amused. The fatal injury didn’t appear on his neck as she’d expected.

  “I admit. I’ve underestimated your determination. So have you, my status,” he said, his voice stark. “I’m a Duke of this Empire, little lass. My life weighs heavier than you can imagine. To be my knight is to protect me always, each bearing a Life Bind to me. It will take hundreds of thousands of stabs before you can take my life. If you want to die so badly that you’re willing to kill them all... Then, I’m afraid even I can’t keep you alive.”

  Shit.

  Alira stumbled back. She hadn’t considered that, acting too fast for a chance she might not have later on. It wasn’t so pleasant to take a life; still, she’d convinced herself that it was fine if it was him. Raine would kill the man sooner or later anyway. She was potentially saving lives by killing Duke Ravon, a man of many evils.

  But, fuck, did she just take the life of some poor bastard? Her grip tightened on the dagger until her knuckles turned white. She held it firm to stop her hand from shaking.

  No wonder the duke was unkillable and remained untouched even after the duchy fell into ruin; he had an army of cannon fodder serving as his meat shields.

  She glared at the dark-haired man, her eyes red and tears welling up despite herself.

  So, this is how dirty you’re willing to play?

  Damned Goddess.

  Damned Staywes.

  A knock on the door snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. A young man’s voice came from behind.

  “Your Grace, why are you stabbing yourself midday? It really hurts. Please remember to release the Bind on me first if you’re feeling suicidal.”

  Duke Ravon ignored him, turning to Alira instead.

  “Don’t worry, it will take more than a few stabbings to get rid of my first shield. He happens to be a rank seventy healer.”