The Criswell's Curse

Within this scenario, Bradley’s heart began beating faster. She stood by his side, so confident, so dignified and her coldness to that man, as if he was a mere cockroach that needed to be exterminated, was purely magical. Seeing her like that made his own desire speak languages he couldn’t decipher.

He wished to grab her, place her against the wall while his hands caressed her flushed cheeks. He wished to touch her body, every piece of it, from her pearly white breasts to her thin thighs. Bradley wanted everything, but what he truly craved was to ruin her so deeply she would see nothing but him. He wanted her to look like she had lost it all while he was her everything.

As Gilbert saw the dark expression on the maiden’s face, he understood there was no way out but, even then, he would play all his cards. Being lower than a rat, he’d gladly eat dirt if it meant he’d survive just to come back ten times stronger.

“Please milady! I beg of you!” In a swift movement, he grabbed the hem of the noble lady’s skirt.

Reactively, Ophelia moved back, tripping, but Bradley noticed her stumbling and caught her in time. With his hand wrapped around her waist, he noticed the slight fear in her eyes, thus, in a harsh movement, he pulled her closer, unconsciously sheltering her from the sudden emotion. Even though he felt the warmness of her body on his, his anger didn’t waver, turning itself into an insatiable hatred only appeased by bloodshed.

“Aiden... make it fifteen.” Bradley’s feet pushed back the servant by stepping on the man’s face, forcing him to fall straight onto the floor yet again.

The brunette man grinned. His long arms swung the plank upwards just to see it hit Gilbert’s back perfectly. The servant squirmed in pain, attempting to hold out his screams. He didn’t wish to lose anymore of his pride. Olivia and Ivy kept kneeling, bodies shuddering every time the lumber hit their companion’s back – which by now, had to be locked by other male servants as he yearned to run away from such torture.

Blood eventually poured out of his skin, tainting his body red and his eyes with despair. The floor soon gained a different color as everyone observed the ongoing events, horrified. The scene kept unfolding, again and again, as if someone had created a time loop, repeating the same action, repeating the same screams.

It was only then that Ophelia noticed the satisfied grins on Bradley’s and his servant’s lips. They truly were two sides of the same coin, even if they didn’t know so themselves.

The assassin’s clothes were now ripped, the viscous substance had become one with the cheap fabric who held more holes that most cheeses. Only after the sixth swing did he truly scream. His yells, filled with despair and pain, echoed through the halls, probably through the estate as saliva, snot, tears and sweat mixed into the crimson carpet, causing it to become completely wet.

Even then, no one spoke, no one dared. Not even the maids who had once so valiantly defended his insolence – yes, they simply sunk their heads further onto the carpet, their bodies trembling with each scream exiting the man’s body, knowing full well, that could’ve been their fate.

“What is happening here!? What’s all this racket about!?” No one had noticed that Edgar Wharton had arrived alongside some of his most trusted servants. His confused expression soon became enraged as he witnessed the catastrophic scenario in front of him: Bradley’s hand on his daughter-in-law’s torso, pulling her towards him, and his servant beating up one of his people with a broad wooden plank.

Understanding the situation, Ophelia grinned, pleased. What an splendid development.

Quickly, Bradley removed his hand from the girl’s waist as Aiden hastily dropped the bloody plank on the floor, bobbing his head forward.

“Bradley Trace! Why was your servant beating up my butler!?” The Duke’s eyes glared at him intensely, the veins on his large forehead attempting to pop.

“This butler was rude towards Lady Ophelia and, by her request, I punished him, Your Grace.” The young noble knew the only way to escape this situation was to lean on the instigator. She needed to come clean, to tell the truth or he wouldn’t be able to save face.

Slowly, Edgar approached her, his voice stern yet calmer than before. “Is that true, Ophelia?”

“The butler was indeed disrespectful to me, however, I never asked anything of our beloved guest. It wasn’t my place to do so.” Her polite smile and twisted words made Bradley clench his fists. It seemed she had lured him into one of her traps again and like a duck, he fell for it.

“Your Grace, that’s...” As he was about to explain himself, the Duke quickly interrupted him.

“Bradley Trace, I fear you have taken my consideration as negligence. It would be wise of you to leave. You are welcome to return after the marriage has occurred.”

With a rather frustrated cordial smile on his lips, the nobleman bobbed his head. “I apologize for my rudeness and any inconvenience I may have caused you, Duke.”

And with that, he glanced one last time at Ophelia, whose smile ran wide on her lips, peeking from behind Edgar’s large back. This had always been her plan, and foolishly, he’d been taken advantage of.

As Bradley reached his carriage, several thoughts ran through his mind. Ophelia’s words were true. She didn’t ask anything of him, but he simply assumed she did, taking her bait perfectly like a fish in a river feeding on the wonderful land worms – treats they couldn’t dream of attaining otherwise.

“She’s so...” He leaned back onto the cushioned seat, pushing his blonde hair back. “... infuriating.”

Seeing the frustration in the noble’s heart, Aiden’s mind had an ugly thought. “Master, should I get rid of her?”

However, the servant quickly gulped, feeling a shiver run down his spine. Bradley glared at him from the corner of his eye, with a coldness he had never witnessed. Surely it couldn’t have been from his words, could it?

“If you touch as much of a hair in her head, I will kill you myself.” His master had now lost all reason, being completely blinded by his own emotions, something that wasn’t an easy feat.

Confused and reluctant, Aiden struggled to understand this sudden change but had no choice but to come to terms with it. “As you wish.”

Back in the estate, the environment was tense as the Duke glared at the girl with a stern expression on his face. For a moment, a certain uneasiness stroke her, warning her of how mad he’d became due to having such power display in the middle of his own home.

“Ophelia, my sweet, smart child, do clean this mess.” Edgar’s kind smile returned as he patted her gently on the head. Indeed, he was far from naïve, clearly understanding everything that had come to pass.

The noble girl straightened her back before speaking loudly. “This is not a theater. Scatter.”

As the servants returned to their stations, with much to talk about to each other, Gilbert laid on the floor, his back almost fully exposed. Blood pumped out of his fresh wounds, while his lifeless face held a dead man’s expression. He wasn’t listening to anything anymore, being unable to even dare to think straight. Ivy and Olivia still kneeled on the floor, their articulations already aching from being in such a position for so long.

“I take all of you learned a valuable lesson here today. Take him to his room and clean up this mess.”

“Yes, milady.” Quickly, they got up as Ophelia turned on her heels, leaving them to their business.

But just as she was about to enter her chambers, Mace popped from behind a wall, a smirk on his lips. “Wasn’t that a show?”

His curious eyes observed her expressions carefully, as he eagerly tried to discover the reasoning behind her strange decisions. Yet, her expression was the same, completely void of any emotion or thrill – utterly unreadable.

“My Lord...” She simply bobbed her head and entered her room, leaving him outside.