As he reached the top of the stairs, he saw the woman perched on the bed, tenderly cradling the fake child and softly humming a lullaby. She emanated an aura of remarkable gentleness.

But the moment she noticed the King’s presence, her face twisted in terror. She clutched the “child”—a pillow—tightly against her chest, retreating until her back was pressed against the wall. “Don’t come near me, don’t, don’t!”

Her screams echoed through the room, sharp and desperate, as if her cries alone could drive the King away.

However, the King remained unmoving, his gaze frosted over as he regarded the woman. “I’ve provided everything for you all these years, yet you’re still so cold. When will you ever acknowledge my kindness?” A flicker of anguish lay buried beneath his icy exterior, though it remained deeply concealed—almost imperceptible.

The woman offered no response. Instead, she began hurling everything within reach at the King, desperate to banish him from her presence.

The woman’s eyes widened in terror as she screamed, “Help! The murderer is here! Get out!” She hurled after , each one landing near the King’s feet.

But after years of imprisoning her, the King had grown accustomed to her outbursts. None of the items she threw were hard—just plush toys and soft cushions—so the King remained unscathed.

In the past, her frantic fits had led to self-inflicted injuries, prompting the King to order all hard s to be removed, ensuring she could no longer harm herself during her rages.

His expression darkened. His voice sliced through the air like a blade. “Keep this up, and I’ll kill your child.”

His words struck like lightning. She froze instantly, the fire in her eyes extinguished by sheer terror. The s in her hands slipped from her grasp and fell limply to the floor. Her fingers tightened around the pillow she held, as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality—her last, desperate lifeline. She refused to let go.

? g?ν?

Tears welled in her eyes as she trembled, her voice a desperate whisper. “No, don’t hurt my child. Please… my child is innocent.” The more she pleaded, the more her face twisted in anguish.

But the King remained unmoved. His patience was wearing thin as he barked, “Who has been here today?”

The woman hesitated slightly. Her lips parted as if to answer, but then she quickly snapped her mouth shut and shook her head violently. “You’re a bad man! Go away! I don’t want to see you! Don’t hurt my child!” Her words were disjointed, her thoughts tangled and incoherent.

The King watched her with narrowed eyes. It was clear he wouldn’t get anything useful from her today. Exhaling slowly, he cast her one last glance before turning away.

His gaze swept across the room, but there was no sign of an intruder. His brows furrowed. “Could it be that no one came?” he mused. However, the fake fire alert was too unexpected to ignore. Was there really no outside interference?

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