The Luna returned from the dead.

"Get out, get out of here!" I screamed, my voice hoarse as I felt my throat burning raw. I couldn't even remember how long I had been held captive in this place, how long it had been since I last saw the outside world or the people I once loved.

The maids around me had grown accustomed to such outbursts, but that didn't mean they were any less worried. They knew very well that if something were to happen to me, they'd be forced to "join" me in the afterlife.

"Miss Joolie, please, at least have a little something to eat. You didn't have a single bite yesterday; even a deity couldn't bear that."

"I said I'm not eating! Now get out!" I snapped, throwing the entire tray of food onto the floor. The expensive glass plates shattered into countless pieces, the deafening sound echoing off the marble floor.

The room was a chaotic mess of broken dishes and splintered glass shards scattered everywhere. 

I noticed the maids turning pale as they took in the scene before them. I'd refused food and sent them away many times, but I'd never destroyed anything like this before. They all knew I wasn't just anyone—they knew very well that my fury was just as terrifying as *his*.

"Why don't you try talking to Miss Joolie? I…I'm afraid things will only get worse if it continues like this," one young maid, no more than thirteen or fourteen, whispered with trembling lips.

"I… I… I don't dare," stammered another, just as frightened.

"Someone needs to speak to her; she hasn't eaten since yesterday. If she keeps this up, her health won't hold," they murmured anxiously. But not a single one dared to step forward. The floor was covered with glass, and I was seething with rage. Who among them would be brave—or foolish—enough to try?

I felt my control slipping further and further away. Dropping to the ground, I buried my face in my hands, clutching my head tightly as if that could silence the whirlwind of pain inside me. Words couldn't begin to describe the agony I was enduring. Ever since I'd been trapped here, I lived in despair and hopelessness. If I could die, I would do so a million times over. This wasn't a home—it was a living hell. A place I despised more than anything else.

"I said get out! Get out!" I shouted again, my voice filled with raw pain. I didn't even bother to look at them.

"Get out, get out!"

Yes, everything associated with *him*—including these maids—was revolting. Just seeing them made my skin crawl.

"Miss Joolie, even if you despise him, you should at least eat a little. You need your strength. Food isn't your enemy. I'll go have them prepare a new meal for you, alright? As long as you eat something, we'll feel better. Starving yourself isn't the solution," one maid pleaded softly.

I stood up abruptly, a bitter smile tugging at my lips.

"Why? Why isn't starving myself the solution? I think it's perfect. If I die, I'll finally be free of this misery. I won't have to wake up every day to this disgusting place. You won't have to serve a difficult mistress like me anymore, either. Isn't that a good outcome for all of us?"

"Is that so? You think dying will make things better for everyone?" a deep, gravelly voice echoed through the room. The door swung open with force.

A tall man dressed entirely in black stepped inside, a wooden cane in his hand. He looked like a carved statue, beautiful yet foreboding. His chiseled features, sharp jawline, and prominent nose caught the dim light, while his dark eyes gleamed intensely. But it was his presence that made the air in the room still, a silent power that made me want to recoil. He wasn't handsome in a princely way—no, his beauty was of a warrior, bronzed and scarred. A small mark on his neck stood out, a reminder that he, too, had faced death before.

"You think your death will solve everything?" He moved forward slowly, crushing the broken glass beneath his boots as if it were nothing.

"Lord Ricard, please be careful with the shards!" one of the maids cried out.

Yes, the man before me was none other than Ricard, the tyrant of this place, the one who held the power of life and death in his hands. He was a man of absolute authority, one whose word was law. No exceptions—except, perhaps, for me, the girl standing before him. Even he couldn't fathom why he showed so much patience towards me, why I was the only one allowed to challenge him again and again, breaking every one of his rules.

"Miss Joolie, is there something you're unhappy with? Perhaps you'd like me to change your room?" he asked in that infuriatingly calm tone.

"Shut up, Ricard! Don't try to distract me with your nonsense!" I spat, glaring at him with all the hatred I could muster. "You know perfectly well why I'm reacting like this. Don't waste your breath pretending otherwise. Everything between us is crystal clear!"

My fury didn't surprise him in the least. If anything, he expected it. Ricard knew that his very presence only fueled my anger, my hatred. I loathed him to the bone, wishing every moment that I could tear him to shreds. If I could, I would have killed him long ago.

"Joolie, must you always be this stubborn?"

I lifted my chin defiantly, my eyes burning as I sneered.

"Stubborn? Is that what you call it?"

"Ricard, you asked me what I'm dissatisfied with, didn't you? The only thing I'm dissatisfied with is *you*! If you could just drop dead, that would be perfect!"

It was the most venomous thing I'd ever said in my life. A curse so filled with spite it nearly made my chest ache. But it was the only thing I truly wanted at that moment. I didn't just hate him; I despised him.

"Can't do it, can you?" I taunted as he remained silent. "If you don't dare to die, then leave me to it! Let me starve myself to nothing but bones!"

Before I could say another word, Ricard closed the distance between us in a heartbeat, his massive frame looming over mine. We were so close I could feel his breath on my face.

"Very well. If you want to die, go ahead. But I should remind you of one thing: if you die, Thierry will be heartbroken."

His words were like a punch to my gut, the name *Thierry* a weapon that struck deep.

"Ricard, how dare you mention him!" I snapped, my voice trembling. "Don't you see how low you're stooping?"

"Low?" He laughed softly, the sound devoid of humor. "And what is low, Joolie? You say it is, so it is. You say it's not, so it's not."

Ricard didn't smile, but his tone made it seem as if he was mocking me. Every time he mentioned that name, my reaction was the same. To me, Thierry was the opposite of Ricard. Where I wished Ricard dead and in agony, I wished for Thierry's happiness with every fiber of my being. The way I felt for Thierry mirrored how Ricard felt for me—he couldn't bear to see me hurt.

"I've said all I needed to say. Whether you eat or not, I don't care anymore."

Ricard turned to the maids standing by and ordered in a low voice, "Clean this mess. Leave no shard of glass behind."

The servants rushed to obey, fearful yet efficient. They knew Ricard well. He was not a lenient lord; he was ruthless. But then again, how else would he have survived in a world full of enemies? "The head of Lord Ricard is the most valuable prize in this world"—everyone knew that saying. Whether it praised his brilliance or hinted at the bounty on his head, it meant one thing: there were countless people who would pay a fortune just to see Ricard's lifeless body.

"Oh, and one more thing, Joolie." He paused at the doorway. "I'll be attacking the Blue Moon pack soon. You might get to see Thierry again. You wouldn't want him to see a skeleton in a coffin, would you?"

With that, he left me alone, trembling with rage and anguish. I knew one thing for sure: if kindness wouldn't sway me, Ricard would use every weapon at his disposal. He wouldn't let me defy him—not even by dying.