Chapter 3

The underground shrine room was damp and dim.

This was the second time I had been locked inside.

The first time was still fresh in my memory.

It was because I discovered Lyra sneaking into Phaethon's bedchamber in the middle of the night.

I lost my temper on the spot and caught her red-handed on Phaethon's couch.

But in the end, she sobbed that old trauma had made her sleepwalk. She had no idea why she had entered Phaethon's chamber.

She only felt safe there.

She had not done it on purpose.

My parents and Phaethon believed that explanation without question.

Phaethon even told her gently that if she was frightened, she could come to him anytime.

Back then, my love for Phaethon was at its deepest.

I would not even allow female attendants near him. Other than low-ranking servants, there could not be a single young woman in the entire commander's residence.

So I slapped Lyra across the face, and my parents locked me in this underground shrine room.

For seven whole days, they gave me only one bowl of thin porridge a day.

Only after I was starved into a daze and agreed to apologize to Lyra did they let me out.

This time, however, they clearly did not intend to merely starve me for a few days.

When Father came in carrying a cane soaked in pepper wine, Phaethon came with him.

"According to royal family law, you should receive thirty lashes. But Lyra felt sorry for you and knelt to beg me to replace the whip with a cane. Since a cane is less forceful than a leather whip, you will receive fifty strokes."

Crack.

The cane struck my body, and a red welt rose at once.

Father struck me more than a dozen times.

The swollen marks gradually split open. Every blow after that carried a numbing, burning agony.

I thought of what they had said, that Lyra had begged for the cane.

It must have been soaked in pepper wine.

"Apologize to your sister!"

"Will you apologize or not?"

Father could not get the answer he wanted, so his anger only grew.

After fifty strokes, my entire back and both arms were covered in wounds.

Each gash gaped open, flesh turned outward, thin lines of blood sliding down my spine onto the floor.

Pain had numbed my whole body. I curled into the corner, gasping for breath.

After Father finished beating me, he threw down the cane and left.

Before he went, he left one sentence behind.

"Stubborn to the end."

Phaethon walked over and crouched in front of me.

"Lyra prepared medicine and clothing for you. Cleione, Lyra has always treated you with respect and courtesy. As her elder sister, and as her brother-in-law, we should both take better care of her. Why must you be so petty and filthy-minded?"

"Once you've thought it through, hurry up and apologize. Stop making us angry."

He shook out the clothes Lyra had prepared for me.

Then, with what he thought was care, he laid them over my back.

The instant the fabric touched my body full of wounds, it felt as though I had fallen into salt water. I curled up from the pain.

"So delicate."

Phaethon curled his lip and stood.

"Lyra turns pale from pain every time she falls ill, and even she doesn't exaggerate like this."

He left.

It took me a long time to catch my breath.

"Moirai..."

The voice of the Loom of Fate rang beside my ear.

"Daughter of fate, would you like to activate pain shielding?"

"No."

I gritted my teeth.

"I want to speed up the severing of the fate threads."

"Very well. Acceleration has begun. At noon tomorrow, everyone connected to you and blessed by you will suffer the backlash."