"I hate being disturbed in my sleep," Cassandra Bolton said coldly, her voice almost playful. "I hate it even more when vermin crawl into my room without permission. It ruins my mood. But what I hate the most…" She crouched down, her bloodied hand brushing against the trembling guard's face, smearing her with gore. "Is when filth like you touches me. Should I rip off your legs as well—just to brighten my day?"
Her words dripped with mockery, her smile wide, teeth glinting white between streaks of blood.
The guard who had once lorded cruelty over her was now reduced to a shivering wretch, her arrogance shattered, her eyes wide with unbridled terror as she drowned in her own blood.
For Cassandra Bolton, the act wasn't merely retaliation. It was compensation. This body had suffered—beaten, starved, humiliated by these same hands. Though she wasn't truly the Cassandra Bolton of this world, inhabiting this fragile flesh demanded at least some vengeance on behalf of the original girl.
But as her gaze lifted to her mother, a darker thought rooted in her mind.
Karmilla Visent Bolton stood frozen, her usual elegance dissolving into a grotesque mask of fury and shock at the sight before her Her eyes didn't hold the shock of a mother watching her innocent daughter commit a monstrous act—they brimmed only with shock of a person witnessing a docile pet bite it's master.
Her eyes was filled with an almost unearthly hatred. It was not the hatred of a strict parent, nor even the disdain of neglect. It was deeper. Older. Wrong.
Why does she hate me so much?
The question struck Cassandra Bolton like a blade, colder than the blood dripping from her fingers. That hatred—so absolute, so irrational—could not have come from mere disappointment or disgust. No mother, not even the most twisted, should look at her child with such consuming malice.
For the first time since her rebirth, a flicker of doubt stirred in Cassandra's heart.
Just what am I to this woman?
Her doubt increasing came alive when he saw the strange glint in Theodore Bolton's eyes, not like how a brother should react but more like a spectator observing her progress.
Her heart feel unsettled as an ominous dread filled her.
Reaching out her bloody hands, Cassandra Bolton grabbed the left leg of the female guard and stepped on her right one as the servants, Karmilla Visent Bolton, the butler, and the other guards all stared in horrified disbelief.
The female bodyguard wailed, her voice cracking as she desperately pleaded for her mistress's help. "Madame! Help me! Please—!" But Karmilla Visent Bolton only watched in silence, her face turning as dark as a pig's liver, lips twitching as though she couldn't decide whether to shriek or faint.
With a sickening crack, Cassandra applied her full force and ripped off the screaming guard's leg as easily as if she were tearing the stem off a rotten fruit. She giggled softly, tossing the dripping limb at the old butler. It landed at his feet with a wet thud.
"Catch," she said, in a casual tone as if she was tossing a jacket instead of a human leg. Then, tilting her head with a smile that didn't reach her eyes, she added, "Mr. Butler, don't let anyone enter my room without my permission again. Or they'll have to leave their limbs here as a welcome gift. You'd all do well to remember that. Now… clean this up, mop the blood, and get out."
The butler froze. For a moment, his shock vanished, replaced by a calculating gleam. Yes… this is true Bolton behavior, he mused darkly, bending slightly in acknowledgment, though his gaze lingered on the little monster covered in blood. His usual disdainful gaze changed into a pleasant one.
The guard had already passed out, her screams dwindling to silence, and it wasn't clear whether she was still alive. The other three bodyguards, veins bulging with fury, clenched their fists and charged toward Cassandra Bolton, their faces twisted with murderous rage.
Just then, Cassandra Bolton suddenly skipped back with exaggerated panic and darted behind Theodore Bolton's tall figure, pressing herself against him like a terrified child. She peeked out timidly from behind him, her face smeared in blood but her eyes wide with mock innocence.
"Big brother," she whimpered in a trembling voice, "they're bullying me."
The entire room froze.
Black lines appeared across Theodore Bolton's face as he exhaled slowly, expression unreadable, as if even he couldn't decide whether to laugh, strangle her, or pat her head.
Karmilla Visent Bolton: ...
Theodore Bolton: ...
The female guards: ...
The servants: ...
The Butler: ...
Even Cassandra Bolton: ...
Her lips twitched. Well… she thought, that came out dumber than expected. But since the words were already spoken, she decided to shamelessly thicken her skin. After all, what is shame? Can you eat it? No? Then who needs it?