"Alas, life!"

Charles adjusted the high collar of his black British windbreaker, ensuring it concealed half his face. He didn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him. The path to Tina's manor was long and winding, but Charles deliberately took the quiet route. Trouble was the last thing he needed.

After today's grueling training session with Grant, Charles had spent hours in Lumbia, digging for information. What he learned explained why everyone seemed to dread Tina.

Last year's Crown Cup had cemented her infamy. Alone, Tina had torn through the imperial capital, her fury culminating in the blood-red trial field. There, a princess of the Williams family—one of the eight red-blooded nobles—had dared to insult her. Tina killed her on the spot.

What truly shocked Charles wasn’t the murder itself, but the aftermath. The Turing family shielded Tina, paying an unknown price for her safety. The Williams family, initially demanding justice, went uncharacteristically silent.

The implications sent chills down Charles’s spine. Murdering a noble princess and walking away unscathed? Tina wasn’t someone to cross.

For the first time since his arrival in this world, Charles felt truly afraid. He’d spent his days chasing power and enjoying his aristocratic life, but above all, he valued survival.

"This is Tina’s manor."

He paused outside, adjusting the mirror hidden in his coat to ensure his face remained obscured. Tightening his grip on his windbreaker, he knocked. The door creaked open.

"Charles, you're here."

Tina stood in the doorway, draped in a loose lace slip. One strap had slid off her shoulder, revealing her delicate collarbone. Her red lips curled into a dangerous smile as her pink tongue flicked across them.

"Come in," she purred.

The door shut with an ominous thud, and candlelight cast dancing shadows across the room.

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Hours later, Charles lay on Tina's bed, his body aching from countless welts. His voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"So, does this amuse you?"

Tina, holding the bloodied whip, tilted her head. Her eyes glinted with a sadistic familiarity—eerily reminiscent of Leia's gaze.

"I’ll do as I please," Tina snapped, tossing the whip aside. In a swift motion, she straddled Charles, pinning him effortlessly.

Charles groaned inwardly. Moments ago, he’d tried resisting her grip, but her strength was far beyond his. She had to be at least in the fourth sequence, perhaps higher.

Her lips crashed onto his in a rough, domineering kiss. Yet even as her sweetness mingled with the metallic taste of his blood, Charles felt nothing but pain and resignation.

Eventually, Tina pulled back, frowning. A silver thread of saliva hung between their lips.

"You're no fun," she muttered coldly, climbing off him. She threw his clothes at him impatiently. "Get dressed and go. I’ll call for you when I need you."

Charles, bewildered, complied. As he buttoned his shirt, he couldn’t help but feel... disappointed.

Was this it?

Before he left, Tina spoke again, her voice dripping with venom:

"I forgive you this time, but don’t show me that pitiful expression again." She paused. "And for the record, I don’t actually enjoy using force."

Back at his manor, Leo greeted him with a wry smile.

"Master Charles, if Miss Tina doesn’t satisfy you, you can tell me. There’s no need to keep looking at me like that," he teased.

"No, Leo!" Charles said sharply. He reached for the mithril necklace hanging around his neck and removed it. "Look at me. Do you feel... anything?"

Leo frowned, his gaze fixed on him. Slowly, an unexplainable emotion crept into his eyes.

"I feel... strange," he admitted, his voice trembling. "I want to crush you, Master Charles."

Charles’s heart sank. So it’s true.

He quickly slipped the necklace back on. The strange glint in Leo’s eyes disappeared, and his composure returned.

"This isn’t normal," Charles murmured. "Something’s wrong with me."

The realization hit him like a thunderbolt. At Tina’s manor, the moment she’d picked up the whip, Charles had sensed it. Her sadistic behavior wasn’t premeditated—it was instinctive.

It wasn’t just Tina. Leia had exhibited the same behavior before. And now, Leo, too, had been affected.

Charles clenched his fists. This wasn’t charm. It was something far darker.

"Leo," he said, his voice steady, "you mentioned this felt like a curse. Do you remember anything else?"

Leo hesitated. "It reminds me of something I once read about... but I can’t recall the details."

His words only deepened Charles’s unease. A curse. If he’d been cursed, it had to have happened years ago.

His mind raced back to the beginning—his first deal with Mammon. The broken mermaid heart.

Was it him?