Day 3 Part 5.2

Ensconced in the soft embrace of my bed, I grab the first wine bottle within reach. Turning it in my hand, I inspect the elegant label. It reads, "Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Grand Cru, 3571." A chuckle escapes my lips. Damn, they know how to spoil us here, don't they?

"Hehehe, let's see just how great this is," I muse to myself, my fingers working deftly to remove the cork. I don't even bother with a glass this time - there's no need for such formalities in the privacy of my own quarters.

The first mouthful is a welcome symphony of flavors - rich, robust, with a lingering aftertaste that promises to tantalize the palate. The bottle is half-empty before I even realize it. Shrugging, I tip it up again, finishing the remainder in a few deep swigs. The heat spreads through my veins like a slow-burning fire, culminating in a bout of hiccups. I laugh at my own foolishness, the sound echoing in the empty room.

An average person would be on the floor by now, but my Elven physiology is more resilient. Still, the alcohol adds a pleasant fuzziness around the edges of my consciousness.

My bliss is short-lived, though, as I glance at my desk. I'm expecting a call. A sigh escapes my lips - damn it, can't a woman enjoy her drink in peace?

Just as expected, the holographic screen flickers to life within a minute. The stern face of my father fills the display. He's a high-ranking Elven official and the person I least wanted to deal with right now. Not bothering to hide my irritation, I grumble, "What do you want?" Another bottle of wine is already in my hand, ready to be my faithful companion in this dreaded conversation.

His expression hardens, "It's time you come back, you've had your fun doing as you like. You need to come back and prepare for the ceremony."

A scoff escapes me at his pompous tone. "Tsk, fuck that shit. I told you I will never go back to that place. Send all the people you want. I won't ever go back to that shitty household," I fire back, leaning back in my chair, relishing the shock in his eyes.

His stern face gives way to a dangerous glare, "This is not an option, leave that unsophisticated place and return immediately. Your mother wishes to see you as well. If you refuse to return I will request an official from P.O.B to pick you up."

A bitter laugh bubbles out of me as I give him the middle finger. "Now you decide to show your true colors. Hahaha, but guess what you bastard. I luckily managed to meet a P.O.B official, he promised me a favor. You understand? No matter who you send, they'll be sent back," I can't help but let a victorious grin spread across my face at his growing frustration.

His eyes widen in anger, but he manages to control himself. "The ceremony will take place 5 months from now, you better return beforehand or I will personally pick you up," he growls, his patience clearly wearing thin.

I merely smirk, the prospect of him hauling me back is more amusing than it is threatening. I raise my newly opened wine bottle in mock toast, "To freedom, old man," and with that, I down the rest of the wine, ignoring the screen as it blinks out of existence.

With my heart racing and anger burning in my chest, I plunge into the soft bed covers, my body wiggling around like a frustrated child. The plush pillows are the perfect cushion for my turbulent emotions. I jam my face into the cool fabric, the scent of fresh linen and the faintest trace of lavender offering a minor comfort.

"Bastard, dick, unemotional robot!" I spit out, each word muffled by the pillow. My mind's a whirlwind of thoughts, all directed at my father. The nerve of him! After all this time, he thinks he can just order me back? As if I'm some pawn in his game!

Tearing my face away from the pillow, I stare up at the ceiling. The intricate design overhead does nothing to soothe my nerves. I hate my father, sure, but I don't particularly love this job either. Yet, the thought of going back to him... I'd rather face thousands of Islevores, honestly!

With a sigh, I push myself up to a sitting position. My hands instinctively reach for another bottle of wine - a personal favorite of mine - Château Cheval Blanc, 4032. The anticipation of its familiar, comforting flavor is a beacon in the turmoil.

As I down the liquid, I contemplate my options. My gaze drifts to the deactivated holographic screen. V... He's the wild card here. A P.O.B official undercover, and yet, a student. Would he help me if I ask? Or would he simply ignore my plea?

"Fuuuck," I grumble, the words barely a whisper. My fingers trace the empty bottle, the cool glass a stark contrast against the heat of my skin.

Suddenly, a reckless kind of determination seizes me. I spring up from my bed, my eyes gleaming with newfound resolve. "Fuck it," I mutter, tossing the empty bottle aside. It clatters loudly, but I don't flinch. "I'll beg him to help me out."

Even if I have to swallow my pride, I'll do it. There's no way I'm going back to that hellhole my father calls home. I owe him nothing. The way he's treated me... I'm sure even the most placid Islevore would lose its shit.

So, as I lay sprawled on the bed, my body burning with a mixture of alcohol and determination, I decide. I'll confront V, and I'll fight against my father's orders. No way am I going to let my life - no matter how twisted - be cut short.

And with that, I reach for yet another bottle. This battle is far from over.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

The crunch of leaves under my boots seems too loud in the silent forest. It is an echo of our collective silence. I linger at the back of the group, caught in my thoughts. The sun is low in the sky, casting long, twisted shadows across the forest floor. My companions move on ahead, their voices nothing more than whispers on the wind.

I glance at the bag Rai is holding. It's filled with disgusting strips of meat, prepared and edible. It's enough to last us a few days, and the mere sight of it irks me. Even the food seems like it was a part of that bastard's plan. That commoner, thinking he's so clever, daring to plan ahead as if he knew we'd split up. As if he thought I was so foolish as to not notice.

Inhaling sharply, I force myself to focus on the path ahead, the crunch of leaves beneath my feet like a mantra, bringing me back to the present. I can't deny that the air is fresher here, crisp and pure, in stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere back in the city. I hate to admit it, but the outdoors has a certain charm, even for a noble like me.

But the thought of V soils any enjoyment I might have found in the moment. The audacity of that commoner, defying my authority and dismissing my opinions. He was the first of his kind to dare talk back to me, a noblewoman, a duchess's daughter. The gall of him still leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

It's not just that, either. There's also his ridiculous decision to split our group, to go gallivanting off with Isadora and that lazy oaf, Biana. It's sheer stupidity, that's what it is. There's no sense in separating our forces, leaving ourselves vulnerable. We could have crushed those monsters together if we just persisted.

His gaze lingers in my memory - that rebellious glint in his eyes, that smug smirk. It's as if he planned this all along, as if he wanted to disrupt the natural order of things. A muscle twitches in my jaw. The mere thought of him considering me ignorant grates on my nerves. I am Isabella, I am nobility, I am not to be underestimated.

We reach the top of a hill, and I pause for a moment to catch my breath. The others forge on ahead, none of them stopping to appreciate the vista before us. My hand instinctively goes to the amulet around my neck, tracing the intricate patterns on its surface. A sense of melancholy washes over me, the memories of home bittersweet.

From up here, the island stretches out in all directions, a panorama of untamed wilderness. I can't see it all yet, but my gaze is drawn to a certain point in the distance, where the horizon meets the vast expanse of the sea. I know they're there, somewhere in that direction, those damn professors on that yacht. V's face flashes in my mind again, but this time, I let out a soft sigh, the breeze carrying it away.

Despite everything, he was brave. Braver than most nobles I know. But bravery won't keep him alive. He's reckless, too reckless. And while I do admire his audacity, he's pathetic.

His courage is a dagger's edge. One wrong move and it could be the end of him. It's a foolish game he plays. And I have no intention of becoming a pawn in it. Well, commoners are barbaric, it's in his blood to be stupid.

Perhaps that's why I let him go. Perhaps that's why I didn't fight harder against his ridiculous plan. It wasn't out of faith in his abilities, but rather, an understanding of his nature. To defy, to rebel, to leap before looking - that is V's way. Tsk, I can't stand him, how dare he boss me around.

I keep walking, one step after another, the world silent save for the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the distant calls of unseen creatures. As the sun dips below the horizon, casting long shadows through the trees. I will not be underestimated. I will not be made a fool. If V wants to play games, so be it.

But he's mistaken if he thinks I'll be the one to lose.

A soft rustling teases the edge of my senses, subtle but not inconspicuous enough to elude my trained ears. It stands out against the harmony of our procession, an untamed discord. I pause momentarily, my nostrils flaring as a new scent permeates the air - musky and wild.

Without missing a beat, my companions continue their steady march, their disregard an echo of their all-too-common complacency. I note this with a sidelong glance, the corners of my mouth twisting into a wry smirk. So they think they understand the rhythm of this forest? So be it.

As though answering my unspoken challenge, five brutish dogs burst from the underbrush, their forms a grim dance of shadow and moonlight. Teeth bared, they target me, the one trailing behind. I eye them with unveiled contempt. Their desperate hunger is clear as they snarl at me, a pathetic display that does nothing to mask their true, base nature. Filthy. Uncouth. Just like V.

Instead of rushing to my aid, my comrades spare only fleeting glances over their shoulders, a silent acknowledgment that I've attracted trouble. Rai's quiet chortle grates on my nerves but I mask it with a nonchalant shrug. It seems my companions share my sentiment about the pitiful beasts. Tsk, just some fucking wild dogs, there's no end to them. How many groups have we delt with now?

As the snarling dogs lunge, my lips part in a silent incantation. My hand arcs gracefully through the air, tracing a complex glyph. Five arrows of scorching flame materialize, flickering ominously against the backdrop of the night.

"Isabella!" Flora's voice is edged with concern, weak, for a barbarian with a talent she is weak. Her concern does nothing to soothe the tempest brewing inside me, only adding fuel to my simmering ire.

With a fluid flick of my wrist, the flaming arrows find their targets. The beasts yelp as they're hit, retreating with burnt flanks and scorched pride. They're left cowed, their previously menacing growls now whimpers of pain. The dogs fall, how disgusting, why attack if you're so weak?

I click my tongue, an outward expression of my inward disgust as I brush off the faint glow of spent magic from my hands. The scent of singed fur taints the crisp night air, earning a disdainful wrinkle of my nose. Pathetic.