1: 00 in the morning, the party was winding down. Most of the guests were dead drunk and had stumbled back to their rooms.

In the darkness, Frederick lay flat on his bed, his sweat-slicked palm clutching a pure gold crucifix. His eyes were clamped shut in what appeared to be agony.

The desire within him felt bottomless, crashing against his reason like waves on a shore. He didn't even dare to take off all his clothes; though it would have been more comfortable, it would have stripped away one last layer of restraint.

He warned himself that he must not step a single foot out of this bedroom—he couldn't even allow himself to call his Little Bird.

He couldn't afford to hear her sweet, mischievous voice. A single "Daddy" from her would tear his soul apart, turning him into a mindless beast that would devour her whole.

God Father... please forgive me.

Frederick gripped the cross tighter, the cold, hard gemstones cutting into his fingers. His blonde hair, damp with sweat, hung in matted clumps over his forehead.

Forgive me for my sins and lusts. Forgive my wanton body and my wicked soul.

As Frederick prayed in a low whisper, the door to the cabin was silently turned open and then clicked shut.

The old-fashioned lock made a faint click.

Daisy's hands were trembling as she closed the door. She took out the perfume her mother had given her and sprayed it four or five times.

Her mother had said this perfume contained hallucinogenic ingredients like sage and mandrake; once inhaled, it could plunge the brain into a brief, ecstatic illusion and accelerate arousal.

Taking a deep breath, Daisy moved to the bedroom door and quietly observed the man on the bed. She admitted that Frederick was incredibly charming and sexy—the exact type of husband she had always desired.

Yet, the fact that he had fallen for a commoner filled her with a sense of shame and a feeling that the man was perhaps not as high-minded as she had thought. If it weren't for the fact that Frederick possessed wealth and status that none of her other suitors could match, she wouldn't be stooping to such a low act.

Daisy comforted herself with the thought that once she became the mistress of House Herheid, it would all be worth it.

Shaking off her thoughts, she stepped slowly into the bedroom, bringing with her a strange, exotic fragrance.

Though Frederick's mind was chaotic and his body taut to the limit, he still possessed the instincts of a hunter. He caught a scent that didn't belong.

Who is in here? He opened his eyes. The room was pitch black, but he could make out a slender, blurred silhouette.

Mischievous Little Bird.

Frederick closed his eyes helplessly. "Little Bird... who gave you permission to come here?" he asked, not daring to look again. His voice was hoarse and parched with thirst.

Daisy simply let out a vague, soft "Mhm."

As the figure drew closer, the strange fragrance became more intense, invading his senses and further clouding his already confused mind. "Where did this scent come from...?" he rasped.

It was a strange and unfamiliar smell. It wasn't unpleasant—on the contrary, it was a very rich, floral tone—but it made him feel uneasy.

Daisy didn't speak. She moved to the edge of the bed and sat down. The man on the bed stiffened visibly. She curled her lips into a knowing smile, her heart finally settling. It seemed Frederick hadn't broken his "vow" yet. The charm of that mixed girl was apparently only so-so.

Daisy brushed her long hair to one side and untied the belt of her cashmere robe. The fine material slid down her smooth skin. She leaned in slowly, reaching out a hand to stroke the man's face. 

Just as her fingertips were about to touch his nose, the man released his grip on the crucifix. Like a hawk suddenly spreading its wings, Frederick lunged. Before Daisy could react, her throat was suddenly seized in a vice-grip.

Frederick opened his eyes. His blue irises had melted into the dim darkness, appearing almost black. His voice was a gravelly rasp accompanied by heavy breathing: "You are not Aerona."

Daisy felt a suffocating sense of impending death. Her face turned a dark red from the lack of oxygen, and she clawed desperately at Frederick's arm, letting out broken, strangled sounds.

Frederick squeezed his eyes shut, forcing some semblance of reason back into his mind. He let go, throwing her back with a shove, then rolled out of bed and flipped on the lights.

Seeing that it was Daisy, he froze for a split second, but he showed no further emotion. He simply picked up her cashmere robe from the floor and tossed it onto her.

"Get out."

He turned his side to her coldly, not sparing her a second glance. His tone maintained a level of polite distance. "Daisy, you aren't usually this stupid. Don't destroy yourself."

Daisy gasped for air, her mind a complete blank at the situation before her. How could this be...? Her mother had said that drug was top-grade—something that even the most chaste woman couldn't resist, let alone a man.

She had watched him drink the entire glass herself; not a drop had remained.

So, where had it gone wrong?

Daisy didn't believe it.

She couldn't believe she had no charm; in university, she was the undisputed most popular girl, with a line of suitors as long as a river.

Stepping over her cashmere coat, she approached Frederick. She saw the bulging veins on his arms; he must be exerting immense self-control.

"Fritz, I know you're suffering..." Her voice was alluring, her German sounding as sexy as French. "I'm willing to play those games as well. You'll find it much more rewarding." She gave him a knowing smile.

"Play what?" Frederick asked flatly.

Daisy looked into his eyes—eyes clearly ablaze with burning lust—and smiled seductively. "You can be my Daddy, too".

"You made me sick, Daisy Beaumont".

Daisy's face froze.

Frederick's upbringing prevented him from saying anything more vile, but he refused to let the stalemate continue. With a dark expression, he started to leave the bedroom to find another room. Suddenly, his footsteps halted. A thought struck him, and his sharp gaze pierced Daisy. 

"You drugged me, in that glass of wine. That's why you had the nerve to enter my room".

He was so intelligent—terrifyingly so, even with his thoughts in such chaos and his body reaching its limit.

"...What drug? I don't understand," Daisy said, trying to stay calm as she picked up her coat. She needed to leave immediately while she could still salvage the situation.

"Did you drug Aerona's wine?"