TO BELONG TO CEASER

CHAPTER3:RULES

“You do not enter my room after midnight. If you do, you won’t like what you find.”

She blinked at me, fingers knotting together in her lap. Midnight. The word rattled her. I saw it in the way her throat worked as she swallowed, too afraid to speak.

“Rule number two.” My gaze stayed on her, unblinking. “You do not try to run away”

She nodded faintly, though I could tell her mind was already spinning.

“Rule number three,” I went on, harder this time. “No talking to the maid, you have no business with them”

Another nod. Confusion flickered in her eyes, but she tried to hide it. She was learning already.

“Rule number four,” I said, lowering my voice, making every syllable deliberate. “If you value your life, you don’t try to uncover what I keep hidden. Curiosity kills faster than any blade.”

Her chest rose and fell too fast. She nodded, slow this time, uncertain. Good. She didn’t need to understand. She only needed to obey.

The silence between us stretched until she broke it with something I hadn’t expected — her voice, small but steady enough to reach me.

“Can I… ask you something?”

I tilted my head, studying her. Boldness, even if it was trembling around the edges. “Ask.”

She wet her lips, and the words came out fractured. “Since you… bought me… are you… are you going to… touch me?”

The air thickened.

I let my lips curl, slow, deliberate, into a smirk. Not warmth, never warmth. Amusement, sharp and cold, because the fear in her eyes fascinated me more than anything. My gaze drifted over her, making sure she felt it, felt the weight of being seen. Her pulse thundered so hard I could almost hear it.

Then the smirk vanished. I stripped it away and left only the steel.

“Yes” My voice was flat, stripped of any edge but truth. “But not now.”

Agnes blinked, startled. Relief poured through her chest so fast her breath came shaky.

Caeser leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “I don’t know why I bought you,” he admitted, voice edged with disdain. “Perhaps to spite the filth who wanted you. Perhaps because your silence was louder than your screams. Either way, you’ll take care of my needs. Tidying my room. Preparing my meals. Nothing more.”

Agnes exhaled shakily, nodding quickly. The relief was sharp, almost painful, like her chest had been unbound after hours of suffocating. She rose on trembling legs, bowed her head slightly, and murmured, “Yes… sir.”

Caeser gave no acknowledgment, his gaze already shifting to the flames.

She hurried from the room, her footsteps soft against the marble floors, her heart still hammering but her shoulders lighter.

Left alone, Caeser leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers pressed against his lips. For a moment, his eyes closed.

The beast inside him stirred. It always did, especially when the moon pulled high in the night sky. The monster in his blood clawed against his skin, whispering of hunger, of violence, of tearing free. He had fought it for years, and though he remained in control, each day it grew stronger, carving cracks into his restraint.

He thought back, to the years in the orphanage, to the shadows where he hid from the children who called him “monster.” To the way their laughter turned to screams the one time he’d lost control. He remembered the eyes of the boy who had seen his fingers begin to twist, the way he’d run to the mistress, shouting, pointing. He remembered the silence that followed, the stares, the whispers.

No one had adopted him. No one had wanted him. He had been sixteen when he left that place, half starved, with nothing but rage to keep him alive.

He had clawed his way up from the dirt, brick by brick, bone by bone, until he became the man no one could touch. He was feared. Respected. Worshiped and hated in equal measure. But beneath it all, the beast still lived, a curse that reminded him he was never truly free.

Only one man knew the truth.

Xavier. His second in command. His only friend. The one who had seen the monster rear its head and still stood by him. Caeser trusted him with his life. And yet, sometimes, he wondered if trust was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

The fire cracked loudly, pulling him back. He opened his eyes, staring into the flames.

The redhead.

He thought of the way she had looked at him when he removed his mask, stunned, as though she’d seen something otherworldly. Not the monster, not the curse, but the man.

It unsettled him.

Caeser rose from his chair, slipping his mask back into place. The rules had been given. The walls had been built. Whatever spell that girl carried, he would break it before it broke him.

Because if he let her in, if she saw too much, she’d discover the truth.

And no one who uncovered the Devil King’s truth ever lived to tell it.