When the Villains Unite - Chapter 1; Part 2

After an eventful evening, we headed back to our respective rooms.

The trip back to our rooms wasn’t easy, though. The Duke and Duchess made sure to force me between Bellamy and Damian, making them hold my hands as we walked up the stairs.

The Duke and Duchess seemed oblivious to the fact that this would only fuel the brothers’ hatred, but there was a reason for this order. Their daughter, Ceria, had fallen down the stairs and died of a brain hemorrhage.

“Excuse me… My hand hurts, can you hold it gently?”

The biggest problem is Damian. In Bellamy’s case, he could keep his emotions in check and not let them out. For a nine-year-old, he was pretty mature.

Damian, on the other hand, is seven years old and acts just like one. He couldn’t hide his feelings and he was frustrated by his parents’ change in attitude. It was as if they had forgotten about Ceria dying, and acted as if she came back to life.

He knew that he shouldn’t show his anger toward the stranger in front of his parents, but he couldn’t hold it in. He was still upset over Ceria’s untimely death, and he hated the replacement in front of him.

“Fake.”

He gripped my hand with more force, almost crushing it. When I raised my eyebrows in pain, a smile of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Damian pushed me down, unmasked, as the Duke and Duchess disappeared from view. It was somewhat expected. I can count the number of times I’ve been knocked over by him on the way back to our rooms.

Thump.

“Ugh.”

I don’t think I’ll have working knees.

Damian left my fallen form behind and went to his room.

At any other time, Bellamy would’ve followed him, but he came to me without a sound and held out his hand to me. I trembled as I took his hand and stood up.

Could it be that Bellamy, like the Duke and Duchess, feels like I am Ceria?

“The moment I receive the ducal title…”

“…”

“You’ll be permanently removed from the ducal residence. Fake.”

So that’s it. There’s no way the Orca brothers would be nice to me.

It’s always the quiet ones who are more frightening than the direct ones.

I wonder what they would do if they knew what I was doing for them.

The Orca brothers, who don’t shed blood or tears, might not bat an eye, but I was paving my own way in life. Or, to be more precise, surviving the imprisonment with the Orca brothers.

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