To His Hell and Back

Chapter 530: You Said Trust-III

It was as if he had seen it only yesterday. Every detail remained sharp inside Morpheus’s mind, echoing endlessly, ringing with a persistence that bordered on torment.

It was not a memory that simply lingered. Rather it had clung to him, a memory that refused to fade, a memory that continued to demand its place within him. No, it was not something he could forget, nor something he should ever allow himself to forget.

The image that rose most vividly was Jullie’s face on the night she had chosen to leave. That expression, so raw and full of anger, had been carved into his mind deeper than any wound.

She had looked furious, almost feral in her anger, as though she had been hurt far more deeply than he ever was, even though it was him who had been cast aside. Her gaze had burned with accusation, with disappointment, with a grief so sharp it had turned into fury.

"I hope," Jullie had said, her voice steady despite the storm behind her eyes, "that one day you will realize that you have gone too far and yet could not stop what you started." The curtains behind her had billowed wildly from the strong gust of wind, framing her like an omen rather than a farewell. "So you will know, Morpheus," she whispered then, her words cutting deeper than any spell, "that you have destroyed everything you once held dear."

The memory drove him forward.

Morpheus quickened his pace, his steps growing uneven as urgency consumed him. He was moving so fast that he had begun to run, nearly stumbling in his haste, his breath coming sharp and shallow. It was a sight no one had ever seen of him and in a normal state, he would have cared.

This time, however he couldn’t wait.

He did not even realize that he had forgotten his magic, forgotten that he could have crossed the distance in an instant, because panic had stripped him down to something painfully human.

When he finally reached the door he had sealed with such care, such devotion, his world fractured.

The door stood wide open.

The sight alone made his blood run cold, but what greeted him beyond it froze him completely. Just outside the threshold lay the shattered remains of one of Jullie’s favorite vases, broken into jagged shards that glittered cruelly against the floor. It was the first thing he saw, and it felt deliberate, as though the room itself was accusing him.

Morpheus strode inside.

Glass crunched beneath his feet as he stepped forward, shards slicing into his skin until blood spilled freely onto the floor, yet he did not slow, did not react.

Pain meant nothing compared to the fury that rose within him. Someone had dared to touch this room, to defile the space he had preserved with obsessive care, and that someone was Arabella.

His gaze swept violently from side to side, his head snapping left and right as he took in the devastation. Nothing had been spared. All the drawers were overturned, the shelves emptied, objects displaced or destroyed without mercy. It was chaos, one that had been determined to hurt, as though a storm had torn through the room and left nothing untouched.

When his eyes found Arabella again, she was holding a scissor on her hand, tearing cutting a handkerchief into pieces, the same one that Jullie had given him.

"What are you doing?!"

Arabella turned her head slowly, almost lazily, as though she had only just become aware of his presence. The movement was deliberate, unsettling in its calm, and when her gaze finally met his, a smile curved her lips, that soft, pleasant smile, which felt entirely wrong for the situation.

"Doing what I believe is necessary for you," she replied lightly. Her eyes drifted around the room as if she were listening to something only she could hear. "There is an odd current of magic here. Don’t you feel it?"

Morpheus’s gaze sharpened at once. "I sense nothing," he said coldly. "You are mistaken. Leave this room now, Arabella, before I lose my patience."

"But I do feel it," she hummed, tilting her head, her tone almost sing-song. "You don’t, Morpheus? How strange." She began to walk, a pair of scissors dangling from her fingers, twirling them around her fingertip with careless precision. The metal flashed dangerously as it spun. "It feels like... something trapped. A soul lingering where it doesn’t belong."

Her steps were unhurried, deliberate. "I’ve been curious," she continued. "So many deaths surround you. And you know how it goes~ sorcerers, witches... some of them curse the person they hate with their final breath. My concern for you led me to investigate."

"What nonsense are you spouting—"

"You don’t trust me?"

Her green eyes narrowed, suddenly sharp, predatory. "Oh, come now. I did this for you. Because I care. I thought you’d be relieved to know I was here, protecting you."

Morpheus faltered.

For the first time since he had known her, Arabella did not look merely defiant or clever. She looked unhinged yet still clear in the head. Like someone who had shed every restraint that once bound her, as if finally showing that she had never been sane in the first place.

There was no hesitation in her movements, no fear in her gaze, only a frightening certainty.

"How disappointing," she murmured when he did not respond, her smile fading into a faint frown. She let the doll slip from her grasp, watching it hit the floor before crushing it beneath her heel with a decisive stomp.

"Stop it," Morpheus snapped. "Stop this at once!"

She raised the scissors, the blade catching the light as she pointed it toward him, not threatening, not pleading, simply unwavering. "Don’t stop me," she said quietly. "If you truly believe this place isn’t cursed, then let me finish. If you interfere, I’ll take it as proof that you don’t trust me."

Her lips curved again, slow and deliberate. "There are only thirty minutes left until the third test ends. Surely you wouldn’t want all of this to amount to nothing... would you?"

His anger surged violently. "This is another one of your traps. Do you truly think that by doing this you will—"

"I will be satisfied," she cut in smoothly. "This is my test, Morpheus. Which means I can do whatever I want." Her voice dropped, each word measured and sharp. "Whatever. I. Want."

Then she paused.

"Oh?" Her head snapped toward the far wall, where a section was concealed beneath a heavy cloth. Her eyes lit up with sudden interest. "What’s that?"

"Don’t—"

He lunged forward, but it was too late.

Arabella rushed ahead, her hands already gripping the fabric. With a sharp pull, she tore it aside, revealing the portrait beneath.

Her breath stilled for a fraction of a second.

Then her grin widened, slow and dangerous, her green eyes glinting with triumph.

"Is this Jullie?"

Of course she knew what Jullie looked like.

But unlike her memories, Morpheus’s portrait showed a different kind of Jullie.

Not the Jullie with the short hair that she could be mistaken for a beautiful young boy. Rather as a lady with a sad gaze looking far at nothing. Her hair swept to the side curled to frame her soft features, her eyes that were green filled with a hint of lonesome.

This wasn’t the real Jullie who always seemed so happy and confident.

It was the Jullie that Morpheus had wanted to see.

Arabella took the frame off the wall with her magic, snapping her finger for it to immediately fall down to the floor.

It’s not that she didn’t feel stung seeing all the items in the room being torn to pieces. How could she not feel hurt knowing that most of these items held memories of Jullie? That it held traces of her, the fact that she was alive back then...?

It’s these items that proved to her that her mother was real.

She felt her heart torn apart seeing the items.

But to know it was kept by Morpheus?

That hurts her more.

Morpheus only wants to see what he wanted to see.

Not the real Jullie, nor the real her.

Not even the real Esme.

Arabella let the frame dropped down to the ground and stabbed the scissors down when Morpheus reached out his hand, using his magic to stop her, "Don’t do it. Don’t you do it, Arabella! Stop this madness of yours! Now!"

"But I feel the curse energy from here," Arabella swirled her head to him, smiling. "So think about it, Morpheus. If you stop me, I’ll take it as you not trusting me."

Morpheus hesitated. His eyes closed as he felt his anger buzzing in his bloodstream.

"If you had destroyed everything, will you be happy then?" Morpheus’s eyes turned frightening, "Or will you regret it?"

"Who knows?" Arabella answered back at him, chuckling, "But there is still one more item I will destroy after this."

As Morpheus raised his eyebrows, Arabella had moved from the portrait and held out a round ring between her index finger and her thumb.

"It’s a ring! This is where I find the most power from."