Chapter 2
The year I met Veyne, I was still a college student, working part–time as a dance instructor.
That night, he was ambushed by his enemies in a dark alley, alone.
There were at least twenty men on the other side. Anyone else would’ve either run or died.
But Veyne wasn’t just anyone. He earned his title as Vyrtham’s God of Slaughter with blood and fists.
He took them all down by himself.
When he walked out of the alley, he was bleeding from multiple wounds, but he leaned casually against a streetlamp and lit a cigarette, completely unbothered.
As he looked up, the warm golden light from a second–floor window spilled across the street. In that glow, a girl danced gracefully by
the window.
He said that was the moment I broke into his heart–became the eternal light he could never forget.
He told me I looked like a fairy… no, an angel.
When he started pursuing me, I was terrified. I gave him excuse after excuse.
“I only like polite, well–mannered men. You’re too rough.”
So he spent a fortune hiring an etiquette coach–the same kind that trained flight attendants.
“I don’t want violence. I just want a quiet, peaceful life.”
So he dismantled his entire underground network and became a proper businessman, doing charity work instead.
Everyone in Vyrtham said he was obsessed with me. The moment anything involved me, it was like someone had touched his sore spot
-and the God of Slaughter would resurface.
But this man, the one who claimed to love me more than anything, had now destroyed my father’s life for another woman. Forced me to kneel to a molester’s grave…
The car rolled into the funeral home. The bodyguards yanked me out and dragged me into the hall.
The Sylvia’s family saw me and immediately swarmed in, ready to attack.
Veyne only frowned slightly, and Sylvia raised an eyebrow and spoke before he could,
“Her dad killed my brother. My family have every right to get some revenge. You don’t mind, do you, Mr. Veyne?”
Veyne said nothing.
He didn’t stop them either.
And so I was drowned in their rage.
They slapped my face, kicked my stomach, tore my clothes, yanked my hair like they wanted to rip it out.
One of them even shoved his filthy hand toward places no one had the right to touch.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I screamed his name.
“Veyne! No matter what, I’m still your wife at least in name!”
He frowned. But before he could opened his mouth, Sylvia spoke first.
“That’s enough. Stop. Veyne brought her here today to repent for what her father did. Let’s not go too far.”
The crowd backed off.
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And I was left exposed, clothes torn, face swollen, completely humiliated.
Sylvia’s eyes gleamed with mockery as she pointed toward her brother’s coffin.
“Eleanor, I want you to kneel before my brother’s casket and admit you’re the daughter of a murderer. Apologize to him.”
I clutched my ruined clothes and answered coldly, “Keep dreaming. I’ll never admit my father is a murderer.”
But no sooner had the words left my mouth than Veyne’s figure appeared beside
“Do as she says,” he ordered. “Or I’ll bring your mother here instead.”
My fingernails dug into my bloody palms. I looked at him through burning eyes.
“Veyne, are you really going to destroy everything?”
He looked down at me, his voice chilling me to the bone.
“It’s just a few words. Don’t be so serious. Sylvia wants to hear them—so say them.”
“And if you keep being this stubborn, I’ll have to break you in other ways. You know I have a thousand methods… no, ten thousand.‘
Right. How could I forget?
He was the God of Slaughter.
Even if I resisted, he had countless ways to crush me.
“}
Psychological. Physical.
It wouldn’t be so bad if he only used them on
me…
but what if he turned them on my mom? My dad?
I didn’t even want to imagine.
So I shut my eyes.
གསལ་ཅོམ་པ་ནམ་ག་མ་ཤེས་ན་འད་ར་
My fist unclenched, blood dripping to the floor.
And I gave in.
“Fine. I’ll say it.”
I crawled to Barry’s coffin. Each word caught in my throat, rasped out with pain.
“I’m the daughter of a murderer. I apologize to Mr. Barry. I’m sorry.”
But Sylvia wasn’t satisfied.
“Eleanor,” she said with a sneer. “You should kneel. That’s how you show sincerity. And your voice was too soft.”
I trembled.
Shame boiled inside me as I clenched my teeth.
Almost like I was punishing myself, I raised my head and slammed it hard against the floor.
“I’m the daughter of a murderer. I apologize to Mr. Barry. I’m sorry!”
Blood poured from my forehead, streaking down my face.
Veyne barely flinched. A subtle crease formed between his brows–nothing more.
I lifted my head and looked straight at Sylvia.
“Is that enough?”
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The Sylvia’s family stepped back in alarm at the fierceness in my eyes. They tugged on Sylvia’s sleeve.
Sylvia tilted her chin and said haughtily, “Barely acceptable.”
I struggled to my feet, legs shaking.
Veyne moved quickly to catch me.
I shoved him away.
“Don’t touch me. You make me sick.”
His expression darkened. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
“What did you just say? Say it again.”
I met his gaze without fear. My voice was clear and unwavering.
He froze–like something I said had pierced him.
Then suddenly, he let go.
This time, I didn’t look back.
I walked straight out, my steps firm despite everything breaking inside me.
