The phone screen remained pitch black, and Tess's inbox was frighteningly silent. She still hadn't received any messages from Silas. That silence felt like an invisible pressure, suffocating her mind with a barrage of unanswered questions: What did Silas really want from her? And more importantly, when did he plan to return? A cold, razor-sharp premonition sliced through her heart: perhaps this relationship was nothing more than a fleeting amusement, a passing infatuation, after which she would be tossed into the drawer of oblivion just like his previous lovers. But Tess refused to let herself become a victim of fate. In the darkness of the room, she forged an ironclad conviction within herself: she would make herself a useful tool, an indispensable pawn in Silas's hands the moment she reached him. At all costs, she would offer her special ability as a tribute, dedicating her entire worth to secure a permanent place beside that man.
Later that night, Tess stepped into the library, her hands decisively pushing open the door that was usually kept locked. What appeared before her eyes was a space so lavish it was overwhelming. Tess stood frozen, her gaze sweeping over the exquisite interior details, secretly guessing that Silas's actual residence must bear the exact same regal and frigid aura. Perhaps during his visits here, when his hectic work schedule prevented him from returning home, Silas would choose this place to rest. The direct connection between the library and the bedroom revealed a pragmatic yet sophisticated lifestyle, where everything was calculated to serve the convenience of a ruler.
However, for the entire week that followed, Silas remained completely missing in action. His sudden disappearance plunged Tess into a state of extreme restlessness. Her previous fear of catching Silas's attention was now replaced by an even greater horror: the fear of being forgotten. What was the real reason behind this disappearance? Tess kept gathering information on Silas from the wolves, but it was all for naught if he never showed up, denying her any opportunity to get close to him. She came to a bitter realization: aside from passively waiting for him to visit on his own whim, she had absolutely no way to lure Silas out. This helplessness pushed her into an abyss of melancholy. The gnawing frustration drained her spirit to the point where, for the past few days, she couldn't stomach a single bite of food.
Finally, as the agonizingly long week drew to a close, Silas reappeared. Vena—with the sharp intuition of an observer—instantly noticed the anomaly: Silas was giving this place a strange priority, for he rarely frequented it with such high density under normal circumstances. Clearly, Tess had officially entered his radar. Silas sat there, amidst the tranquil ambiance of the tea room, serenely sipping his drink and flipping through the pages of a book as if his disappearance had never happened. Kane quietly approached Vena, a gentle pat on her shoulder speaking louder than words. Understanding the cue, Vena silently headed upstairs to find Tess. After a long night of staying up to battle her fractured thoughts, Tess was still fast asleep, though she was still well within her permitted rest hours.
In recent days, Tess's mind had been stretched taut, like a violin string on the verge of snapping. Because of this hypersensitivity, the sound of Vena opening the door—though so faint it nearly dissolved into the air—was still enough to pull Tess out of her fitful sleep.
Vena stood there, her face as impassive as a statue carved from marble. Wasteful of neither words nor actions, she dropped a single sentence that was brief yet heavy as lead: "Lord Silas is looking for you."
Tess froze. A jolt of shock shot down her spine, but before she could utter a single question, Vena had already turned and left, leaving behind a terrifyingly still void. Tess had no time to overthink. She rushed to wash her face, the ice-cold water restoring a fraction of her alertness. She understood clearly that this was the turning point—a fateful transition in her perilous relationship with that man.
Yet, instead of dolling herself up to catch his eye, Tess chose the exact opposite. She threw on the most modest outfit possible, like a cocoon protecting herself within the boundaries of "duty." She did not want to be beautiful prey; she wanted to be invisible.
Downstairs in the living room, the space was steeped in the rich, lonely scent of cigarette smoke. Silas sat there, his silhouette exuding absolute authority, his eyes pinned to the boundless void outside the window. "Make some tea," he ordered, his low voice completely devoid of ripples.
Tess began the task she had long mastered. However, Silas's presence felt like an invisible weight, causing her hands to tremble slightly against her will. Every clink of the porcelain pot, every stream of water poured carried the terror of making even the slightest mistake. Once the tea was ready, she brought it to the table, carefully pouring it into his cup.
Silas gently patted the empty space on the sofa beside him—a calm gesture, yet one that brooked no refusal. Tess sat down, her breath seemingly catching in her throat.
"How is work?" he asked, his eyes never straying from the hazy mist of smoke.
"Very well, boss," Tess replied, her voice soft but clear.
Silas turned slightly, his gaze now locking onto her, carrying an intensity that seemed to pierce through her very soul. "Very well?" he repeated, a fleeting smile passing over his lips like a toxic breeze. "Then what if the benefits were better, but came with too many risks... what then?"
Silas's question hung in the middle of the room, ambiguous and riddled with hidden traps. Tess froze, her heart skipping a beat. Standing on the fine line between comprehension and ambiguity, she could feel an invisible contract with the devil being held out before her—one whose price might far exceed anything she could ever imagine.
"What are the risks, boss?" Tess asked.
"That depends entirely on my satisfaction. To be frank, I am not someone who cares about backgrounds or pasts, but I require absolute submission. No stepping out of line."
For a moment, anxiety gripped Tess, leaving her at a loss for words. Seeing her tension, Silas found it both amusing and mildly sympathetic. He patted her shoulder and said, "I'll give you three months. I will drop by here from time to time. Think it over carefully."
With that, Silas left. He walked away decisively, without a single hint of lingering. His overwhelming aura completely shattered whatever confidence Tess had previously built up. Yet, looking back, given her personality, there was no way she could just accept defeat. How could she possibly give up on all her previous efforts and desires? How could she let such a rare opportunity slip through her fingers? What Silas desired most was obedience and tact—the exact things Tess was certain she could provide. She was acutely aware of how utterly insignificant she was in his eyes, but rather than letting her mind wander in endless hesitation, she decided it was better to just go for it.