I Traded My Voice For Legs, Then He Betrayed Me

Red, swollen lumps spread across my body, a horrifying sight that made Seraphina recoil in fear.

"What’s wrong with her face? It’s so disgusting!" she exclaimed, stepping back as though my pain were contagious.

Victor’s gaze finally shifted to me, and his expression morphed from confusion to sheer panic. In an instant, he tossed on his clothes and scooped me into his arms.

"Elysia, you’ll be fine," he muttered, his voice trembling with desperation. "I’ll take you to the spiritual healer right now."

Three days passed before I woke again. My body felt weak, but the sight of Victor sitting by my bedside startled me more than my fragile state. His face was pale, his eyes rimmed with exhaustion, and the relief in his expression was heartbreakingly genuine.

"Elysia!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "I was scared to death! If you didn’t wake up, I would’ve… I would’ve gone with you!"

His trembling hands grasped mine as though afraid I’d disappear again.

Maxine entered with a tray, her voice soft. "Miss, Lord Vic truly loves you. For three days and nights, he’s copied scriptures with blood and ink, praying for your recovery."

Victor nodded fervently. "As long as Elysia is fine, I’m willing to do anything!"

He took the medicine bowl from Maxine and carefully brought it to my lips, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. The bitter taste lingered in my mouth, but worse was the memory that struck me as he pulled out my handkerchief to wipe my lips.

The same handkerchief they had used.

A wave of nausea surged, and I couldn’t hold it back. I vomited the medicine onto Victor, my stomach churning with anger and disgust.

Victor, who had always been obsessively clean, didn’t even flinch. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice full of concern. "Elysia, where does it hurt? Tell me!"

I gestured weakly. "The room feels stuffy… I want to walk outside."

He immediately helped me up, his movements gentle. When I stepped out, he hurried after me with the cloak he had made.

"Elysia, you shouldn’t go out without your cloak. The cold wind might harm you."

The sight of the cloak—cleaned and pristine—only deepened my revulsion. I stepped back as he tried to drape it around me.

"Be good," he coaxed, his tone soft. "Even if you’re angry with me, there’s no need to harm yourself. Please, put it on."

I snatched the cloak from his hands and threw it to the ground, stomping on it with all the force I could muster.

Victor’s face drained of color as realization dawned. His lips trembled as he whispered, "Elysia… why… why would you do this?"

I met his gaze, my hands trembling with suppressed rage. "I don’t want dirty things."

His body stiffened as though struck.

"Victor," I said, my voice cold and unyielding, "you’re dirty too. I don’t want you anymore."

Victor, the Lord, knelt before me without regard for his position or power, his usually proud demeanor shattered.

"Elysia, what did I do wrong? Tell me… I feel so bad when you ignore me!" His voice trembled, the words heavy with guilt and regret.

He looked so broken, so human in that moment. "It must be my fault that you’re unhappy," he continued, his voice cracking. "I’ll punish myself. Can you calm down?"

With a swift motion, he slapped himself across the face. His skin immediately turned red and swollen, a visible testament to the depth of his self-inflicted pain. The sight of it twisted something sharp in my chest. He was truly suffering, but it wasn’t enough.

I gestured weakly, wanting to get away, to breathe.

"I want to go to the beach," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Victor’s face turned pale, his eyes wide with panic. "Elysia, are you going to leave me?"

His voice broke, his desperation palpable. "Why? What did I do wrong? I will change! Please, don’t leave me!"

He didn’t hesitate. In his agony, he abused himself further, calling down thunder from the heavens. The strikes left his back covered in blood, yet he endured the suffering, crawling toward me.

"Elysia, are you calmed down now?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own pain.

A memory flashed before me: his proposal at the beach, his vows to love me for eternity. The words echoed in my mind, but they felt distant now, hollow.

"Elysia, is it worth it?" my mother had asked, her eyes filled with concern. "If he changes his mind in the future, will you regret what you did today?"

Her words rang true. He had changed his mind. And now, seeing him cry, seeing him beg, only left me feeling bored, detached.

He had fallen in love with someone else, and yet, here he was, pretending, pleading, as if nothing had changed.

"I just want to go to the beach to relax," I murmured, the weight of the past decade settling heavily on my shoulders. "I haven’t seen the sea for ten thousand years."

Victor, despite his bloodied form, smiled through the pain. "Elysia, you miss home. I’ll take you to see the sea now."

As we stood before the endless blue, a faint vortex swirled in the depths, like the eye of a glacier about to open wide. I felt a pull, a connection to something ancient and untouchable.

Victor, ever attentive, picked up small, colorful shells from the shore. He carefully strung them together and draped them around my neck, his hands gentle despite the chaos around us.