To His Hell and Back-Chapter 506: Accused Thief

Morpheus wanted to argue with her, truly, deeply, fervently wanted to argue. Four days. Four full days. To any ordinary man it might have been a blink, but for him, a creature who thrived in control and immediate gratification, four days felt like an eternity stitched together with threads of uncertainty and dread.

He clenched his jaw, silently calculating. Four days meant four days of her watching him, judging him, evaluating whether he was going to trust her, like a never ending test that was given to test his capability.

It meant four days without slipping, without revealing his temper, without being swayed by temptation or whispers from his subordinates who still believed he could change her mind if he simply exerted more pressure.

This annoyed him, clearly this test was meant to bruise his ego.

Yet as much as his pride throbbed, how could he not be tempted by the simplicity of her offer?

Her third test sounded... almost insultingly easy. It was just to have a showcase of his test, to pretend as if he was someone of loyal by the gesture, an easy performance he believed any man could manage if he simply willed it so.

He only needed to dedicate himself to her for four days, turn away from every other voice, every opinion, every lingering softness for women who draped themselves over power like moths to fire.

If he could ignore the murmurs around him and keep his mind tethered to Arabella alone... then truly, wouldn’t this test be easier than the first two?

Easier than carrying out her demands?

Easier than proving his strength for her amusement?

Arabella watched him quietly as the gears inside his head rotated, clinking its rusty gears to come up with a decision. His scowl deepened while his brows twitched. His pride warred against his desperation.

She let him stew in silence, allowing him to believe he was thinking on his own rather than being subtly guided into the corner she had already chosen for him.

Her gaze drifted, not to Morpheus, but to the glass of the tall window beside her. From its reflection, she could see Cassius standing several steps away, half-shrouded by shadow. He hadn’t spoken or moved, yet she saw everything she needed in the looseness of his posture, the faint serenity in his eyes.

He trusted her, his entire soul trusts her.

Even without hearing the entirety of her plan, he believed in her judgment so completely that he didn’t require explanation, reassurance, or conditions.

This was what true loyalty looked like. A man who did not need to be convinced, a man who did not demand to test her intentions every other breath.

A man whose faith in her hovered so quietly and stubbornly that it became a shelter in itself.

Meanwhile Morpheus, despite his show of power and control, couldn’t even decide whether to trust her for a mere four days.

It too funny that she could almost choke from her own laughter. This man thought that he could still pretend that he’s a loving man when he doesn’t even know what love looks like?

It was an insult to all the loving men in the world.

"Are you sure you won’t walk back on your words?" Morpheus finally asked, suspicion leaking from every syllable. "When the four days end, if I pass, then you will marry me no matter what. That is what you said."

Arabella turned back to him with a gentle smile that should have soothed him but instead tightened the knot in his stomach.

"I gave you my word, Morpheus. Why is that so hard to accept?" she asked lightly, stepping closer so the sunlight from the window pressed a halo around her hair. "Don’t worry. I assure you, I don’t lie. If you manage to pass this test, no matter what happens or what anyone says, I will honor the oath I have made. I will go through with the wedding." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Her tone had the softness of a lullaby, but the certainty of a queen who had already foreseen the ending.

Morpheus stared, studying her features for traces of deceit, searching every blink and breath for an inconsistency. And yet, nothing. She looked painfully sincere.

After a long moment, he exhaled sharply, defeated by her calmness more than her logic.

"Very well," he muttered. "Then I will take your word. The four days begin now."

He pushed back his chair with a force that made the air tremble and rose to his full height. His white robes dragged behind him like a river of moonlight as he strode to the door. He did not look back— not at her, not at Cassius, not at the room that felt suddenly smaller and more suffocating.

Arabella watched until the door shut with a heavy, echoing thud.

Only when the last vibration faded did her shoulders finally drop.

She released a long breath, the kind that had been locked in her ribs far too tightly. Turning toward Cassius, her brows knitted with genuine concern.

"Are you sure they will come tomorrow?" she asked in a hushed voice, as if afraid Morpheus could still hear them through the walls.

Cassius crossed his arms, leaning one shoulder casually against the marble column. His expression softened at her worry.

"The letter they sent by owl said tomorrow," he replied. "But considering their... shall we say overly enthusiastic personalities, they have a habit of appearing earlier than promised."

His lips pulled into that familiar, cunning half smile, warm only for her.

"So rest easy. If anything, they might arrive tonight."

And just like that, her heart unfurled a little, finally able to breathe.

"Tonight..." she then turned to Isaac, "If our guests appears tonight, remember to do as I have instructed you."

"Yes, milady," bowed Isaac with a determined look.

That night, for the first time in a long while, Arabella’s bedroom was quiet. There was no Isaac humming nonsense while folding her dresses, no Cassius leaning against the wall pretending to read a book he definitely wasn’t reading.

Instead, the two of them were in the servants’ dining hall, a low-ceilinged stone chamber warmed by lanternlight and the constant movement of kitchen workers. The air was thick with the scent of roasted herbs and potatoes.

Most of the servants were already halfway through their meals, laughing, gossiping, slurping soup, or exchanging secretive glances. Tonight, however, their attention was unmistakably fixed on Cassius— the so called "new maid" Lady Arabella had brought under her wing.

Cassius felt the heaviness of their stares immediately, feeling quite irritated.

He never came to this place by choice as the food did nothing for him. His body accepted it, but his stomach were never filled by food and that only makes him feel as though he’s wasting time. Only blood ever truly quieted the hollow ache in his stomach.

But Isaac, who dragged him by the wrist like a stubborn older uncle dragging a feral cat, seemed determined tonight.

"You have to sit here," Isaac whispered harshly, ushering him to the corner table. "And you have to eat. Or at least act like you do. Don’t glare at the plates like they insulted your ancestors."

Cassius gave him a deadpan look. "This is unnecessary."

"It’s extremely necessary," Isaac snapped, scooping mashed potatoes onto his own plate with the energy of a farmer harvesting for winter. "People are watching us. After everything that happened, the tests, Morpheus questioning who you are, the rumors, you need to look ordinary."

"I am many things," Cassius corrected, "but never ordinary."

Isaac groaned as if Cassius personally gave him a migraine. "You don’t know how hard it is to lie, Cassius. But I still tried! Yet it’s already far too difficult for me to continue."

Cassius blinked. "...You find it hard to lie?"

"YES, of course!" Isaac yelped, still piling food. "I’m not as insane as you, so lying is difficult. And do you know how many people come to me every day? They all want to know who you are, what you do, why Lady Arabella picked you, my head is going to explode! They bombard me with questions more than I can ever handle!"

Cassius tilted his head, "Questions?"

"Yes! Endless! They especially ask why you never appear in the dining hall, and I— I had to make things up!" Isaac breathed dramatically. "I told them you’re always busy cleaning Lady Arabella’s chambers. And then, when they still questioned it, I said—" He slapped more potatoes onto Cassius’s plate. "—that you’re tasked with eating leftovers from Lady Arabella’s table."

Cassius frowned faintly. "Arabella eats cleanly."

"I know," Isaac stressed, "That’s the problem! When one of the maids saw Lady Arabella leaving the table sparkling clean as usual, she came running to me saying we were mistreating you because you ’never get proper food.’ I had thirty eyes staring at me like I was starving you to death!"

Cassius didn’t laugh but there was a small twitch at the corner of his lips that counted as hilarity in Cassius-language.

"So," Isaac concluded, "tonight we FIX that image. Tonight, everyone will see how Lady Arabella pampers her favorite maid. She pampers you even more than me." He sniffed, pouting as if deeply wronged. "Hmph. I’m not jealous. But I am absolutely jealous."

By the time Isaac finished venting, Cassius’s plate looked like a small mountain range —a grotesque combination of mashed potatoes, two whole chicken legs, pasta, and a baked roll that Isaac had dramatically thrown on top like a flag claiming territory.

Cassius stared at the plate, wondering if the one who had been starved all this time wasn’t him but Isaac.