affection chapter 3

I felt a growing unease after overhearing the maids’ gossip. It wasn’t simply the prospect of witnessing a child’s punishment. As I walked down the hallway, memories I had long suppressed surfaced like a chilling mist. I remembered my younger brother, Soohan, who died at the same age as Damon, a victim of relentless bullying. A cold sweat trickled down my spine as I pictured him lying bruised and lifeless in the funeral home. A tightness gripped my chest, making it hard to breathe, and I stopped in the hallway, feeling as though I were drowning. After a few deep breaths, my vision cleared. I continued walking until I reached the door where the Baron had summoned me. I knocked.

“I’ve come to clean the carpet.”

“Enter.”

I stepped inside, feeling like a pig being led to slaughter.

“You’re late.”

“I apologize. I had to refill the cleaning solution.” It was a flimsy excuse, but Baron Limerio didn’t comment. His focus wasn’t on an anonymous maid, but on Damon. I walked towards the ink-stained carpet. A considerable amount had already seeped in, creating an unsightly mess. The inkwell remained overturned. It was clear he hadn’t summoned me for mere cleaning. If he cared about the carpet, the inkwell wouldn’t still be upside down. I knelt, righted the inkwell, opened my cleaning solution, and slowly tilted it towards the carpet.

“Let’s continue our Bible study.”

“Yes.”

Damon’s young voice made me glance at him. Though I couldn’t see his face from my position, he was incredibly small and thin for a twelve-year-old. Seated on a chair, his feet dangled above the floor, and his ankles, peeking from beneath his worn trousers, were as slender as winter branches. Was he not receiving proper nourishment at such a crucial stage of development? His appearance overlapped with Soohan’s, and I quickly shook my head. Don’t think about it. He’s not my brother. No matter how thin and underfed, he’ll live to eighteen. He’s different from my brother. Interfering will only lead to my own demise. I need to focus on surviving and escaping this wretched book. I returned to cleaning the ink stain, dabbing at it with the soaked cloth until the edges began to fade.

“Lost and hungry, the wanderer wept, and a whisper emerged from the fog.”

“Chapter 13, Verse 4.”

“Tormented by demons, the man was saved by the Goddess Istera, who descended upon the temple.”

“Chapter 25, Verse 8.”

“Eternal rest of…”

He’s incredibly bright. Damon answered flawlessly, even though Baron Limerio was picking random verses. Not multiple choice, but full recitation. The boy’s clear voice resonated through the room. Limerio had covered most of the thick Bible, and Damon hadn’t missed a single question. I found myself rooting for him. Maybe he won’t be punished after all. A flicker of hope arose within me. But Limerio, clearly displeased, scowled. He flipped through the Bible agitatedly, stopped at a verse, and began to read, a smirk playing on his lips.

“The Goddess, riding a lion and wielding a spear, descended before the people.”

“Chapter 3, Verse 2.”

“Wrong.” He finally smiled, a look of satisfaction on his face.

“That’s the New Testament. In the Old Testament, it’s Chapter 3, Verse 1.”

“…I apologize.”

How can he be so petty! It was a blatant nitpick, but Damon accepted it without protest. I stared at the Baron, forgetting my place in my astonishment. But Limerio, preoccupied with Damon, didn’t notice.

“If you’re sorry, you must be punished. How many lashes will you take?”

“Whatever you deem appropriate, my lord.”

“You always say the same thing.” Limerio frowned at Damon’s impassive reply, clearly bored. He removed the gold bracelet from his wrist and placed it on the desk. His now-freed hand opened a drawer beneath.

“Place your hands on the desk. Ten lashes. Not a single whimper.”

“Yes.”

The whip, more like a club than a disciplinary tool, was thicker than my wrist, clearly designed for inflicting pain, not correction. My hands trembled around the cleaning cloth. Damon, however, placed his hands on the desk as if accustomed to this.

Thwack.

The sickening sound of flesh tearing made me squeeze my eyes shut. Damon didn’t make a sound. Just as the maids had said, this wasn’t discipline; it was brutal violence. I bit my lip. Growing up like this, it’s no wonder he snaps at eighteen. They couldn’t possibly believe they could shatter a child’s world and continue their own lives undisturbed. It was pure arrogance.

Thwack.

The sound, so forceful it made my body ache, echoed sharply in my ears.