If Ruby bonded with a beast and gained access to that beast’s mana through the bond, imagine what she would become.

She could then access mana. She could use holy magic, honing it beyond what a mere Priestess capability.

That beast, of course, needed to be him. Arzhen Vasiliev. The billionaire. The man who would give her the power she needed to surpass every limitation.

By then, Ruby would be even more coveted than a literal Saintess.

A Saintess was too great. Too valuable. So valuable that she was not allowed to enter rifts, harvest resources, or expand an empire.

She was chained in a safe place, her every movement requiring approval from all the world’s governments before she could even step into the sun.

But someone like Ruby, someone strong and flexible and useful, was perfect. No one could compare to Ruby. Not even that woman.

Building a shield that could repel corruption without the need of a priestess or a Saintess?

Ha. Only Cecilia could think of something like that.

Useful aside, wasn’t that pathetic? Like an insect trying to build a sand castle in the face of genuine power. When the high tide comes, what could a sand castle do?

All because she would never be Ruby. All because she would never be able to replace Ruby.

Of course she hadn’t brought anything with her when she left. Of course she hadn’t demanded money or settlement in the divorce. She had simply walked away, as though she had nothing to take and nowhere to go.

Because she truly had nothing to take and nowhere to go. She never would have thought of divorcing him in the first place. She was merely seeking attention. Throwing a tantrum.

Arzhen knew Cecilia had always planned to return.

She hadn’t even brought her adopted mother’s photograph with her. If he had not thrown her belongings out, would she ever have retrieved them?

He knew she would crawl back. She would beg.

The thing was, Arzhen still needed to divorce her. She was pregnant with another man’s child, after all. And Arzhen still needed to marry and bond with Ruby. Those were non-negotiable facts.

But maybe, if that woman could beg well enough... If she could smile at him... tell him, with tears in her eyes, that he was the only thing in the world that could make her happy, then he might keep her as his mistress.

Of course, if Ruby permitted it. If not, well, they would see. He could simply have her around to entertain him in a different way.

He would forgive her infidelity. Of course as long as she aborted that creature growing inside her.

That thing never had a right to exist. And if he told her it was the only way he would take her back, she would get rid of it. He just knew.

She would come back to him and be grateful.

Cecilia had always been his. Only his. He could do whatever he wanted to her.

Why not? No one else would want her anyway. No one else, except him, would take her in. She was just that worthless.

She had nowhere else to go.

***

"How can you see into my eyes, like open doors?"

Eastiel lay sprawled on the floor where the living room table used to be after they shoved it against the wall. His golden hair fanned out around his head like a halo, his eyes closed, dramatically anguished.

He cradled the karaoke microphone like a dying lover, his lips nearly touching the foam cover as he whispered the lyrics into it. "Leading you down into my core, where I’ve become so numb..."

CREAAaaaAAaaaAK—

"Without a soul—" Oathran emerged from behind the floor-to-ceiling curtain, pulling it away theatrically, his hand clutching the fabric as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. "—my spirit’s sleeping somewhere cold!"

"Until you find it there and lead it baaaaa...ck—" He paused for the beat. "—home."

A beat of silence.

Arkai launched himself over the back of the sofa. He landed directly on top of Eastiel, grabbed his brother by the chest and hauled him halfway up, their faces inches apart. "WAKE ME UP!"

"Wake me up inside!" Oathran wailed from across the room.

"Can’t wake up!" Eastiel screamed into the microphone, his eyes squeezed shut, his body limp in Arkai’s grip.

"Wake me up inside!" Oathran dropped to his knees, one hand reaching toward the ceiling.

"SAAAAve meEEEE!" Arkai shook Eastiel’s shoulders desperately.

"Call my name and save me from the dark!" Oathran fell forward, his head bowed.

"Wake me up!" Arkai released Eastiel, who flopped back to the floor with a thud, and spread his arms wide.

"Bid my blood to run!" Oathran clenched his fist in front of his chest, crushing the empty air.

"I can’t wake up!" Eastiel shook his head violently from side to side, his golden hair whipping across his face.

"Before I come undone!" Oathran grasped at his own chest.

"SAAAAve meEEEE!" Arkai and Eastiel screamed in perfect, ear-splitting harmony.

"Save me from the nothing I’ve become———"

Oathran’s final note hung in the air.

...

...

...

"Kyaaaaa—!"

Cecilia shot to her feet from her seat on the relocated sofa, her hands flying together in a thunderous standing ovation.

Her three boyfriends, a four-hundred-year-old dragon, a werewolf CEO, and a trust-fund lion, had just performed an Evanescence cover in the middle of their living room just because she said she was bored.

"Ah." Cecilia remembered something.

"AAAAAAAAAA—I SHOULD’VE RECORDED IT, I WAS SO DUMB AAAAA—" Cecilia grasped her head in despair.

That could’ve gone viral and she would be done with that task!

[No, Cecilia, you need to be the one who got viral, not your Love Interests—]

Huh?

"WELL, I SHOULD’VE RECORDED IT ANYWAYYYY—"

"Don’t worry, Princess," Eastiel ripped his shirt open. "That wasn’t even our ’special’ performance."

"He’s right," Arkai pulled his black hair back, making it slick and straight. "That was just a warm-up."

Oathran cleared his throat as he tied his pants’ drawstring securely. "Get ready to dance, boys."

"Hit it, East! 2 Phút Hơn, Funk Version!"

"Eh?"