The Devil's Good Girl-Chapter 286: His last day as a human

At one point, Quentin thought that night was the end of him. What Latrice did to him put him in this unbearable pain. He felt like his blood was boiling, which made his skin steam. Every part of him itched with this stinging pain.

He remembered writhing in pain as he begged her to stop, but she kept drinking his blood he could hear her gulps. After that, he felt something crawling through every fiber of his body before the pain followed.

He even remembered tumbling down the bed, crawling away from it to call for help. But alas, before he could even say "help," he fell unconscious for the second time.

When he woke up, he was lying in the throne room with this strange large circle around him. Candles were arranged at a precise distance that made a total of three circles. The first circle was on the line, then the second circle within it, and the last within those two.

Quentin panicked at the sight of it, as it looked like he was being sacrificed for a ritual. But when he tried to get up, he couldn’t. He felt this unbelievable force on him as if an entire boulder had been placed on top of him.

"Latrice..." he called, looking around with shaky eyes.

Soon, he found Latrice chanting some ancient language under her breath while holding her fist in front of her. Blood dripped from her closed fist, letting it fall on the candles. When her blood landed on the candle, the flame quickly died. She then moved on to the next candle, extinguishing the flame while continuously chanting under her breath.

Latrice continued this cycle until all the candles on the first circle died.

"Latrice, what are you doing?!" Quentin panicked, finally finding his voice to speak. "Latrice!"

But no matter how much he called or tried to break free, he couldn’t move from his spot. He felt trapped, scared, and regretful for falling for her sinful seduction.

Why did he believe she wouldn’t harm him?

He was told that she was a malevolent demon and that he shouldn’t trust her.

At this point, all sorts of things surged in his mind. But somehow, it didn’t confuse him at all. If anything, he felt like he woke up from a spell and was now sober enough to distinguish that his desires might not be a product of his lust alone.

She was manipulating him, putting him in a spell that he would be addicted to.

"Latrice!" Quentin yelled his lungs out, hoping anyone would hear him if he shouted enough. However, no matter how much he shouted, all he heard in return were the echoes of his voice.

When his throat started to hurt, he stopped for a moment. His chest felt tight, as if a hand was squeezing his heart. Quentin grunted but gradually stopped when her chanting sounded louder.

For the next few minutes, Quentin could only listen to the language she was chanting. He couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but he knew it wasn’t any good.

"Latrice..." taking the defeated route, Quentin’s voice shook. "Please, I’m begging you. Don’t do this. I promised you that I’d do whatever you want. Please. Don’t kill me."

But Latrice just continued as if she couldn’t hear him.

Quentin begged and begged, crying until he was sobbing. He didn’t know if he was scared or angry or felt shameful. But he couldn’t stop his tears from falling. He couldn’t stop thinking of the empire and how pathetic the crown prince’s death was.

It would be much better if he just marched into the war. In that way, even if he died on the battlefield, he would die with honor.

Even at the last moments of his life, Quentin still thought of his reputation, which he cared for the most.

After what felt like an eternity, the last candle died. As the thin smoke ascended from it, Latrice stopped chanting.

"Please..." Quentin sobbed through his gritted teeth, looking at her in defeat.

Latrice was now standing close to him. Hence, he could see the emotionless look on her face. She gazed down at him without any feelings or anything. It was as though how they spent the past months together bore no value to her at all.

"Quentin, my dearest... why are you crying so much? You’re breaking my heart," she whispered as she approached him. "Hadn’t you trusted me until now, my dearest?"

Latrice sat down on top of him, wiping his eyes with the back of her fingers. She then licked his tears from her finger, gazing down at him.

Quentin was already hiccuping as he blinked hard to clear his vision. Unlike her voice full of worry, her eyes didn’t carry any of what she sounded at all. She didn’t even look amused. If anything, she just looked... reassured. frёeweɓηovel.coɱ

"What’s — what’s that for?" his voice was coarse and shaky. "You were chanting something just now. Weren’t you offering me?"

"Oh, dear. It’s called an ancient spell and a sacrifice for the devil."

His complexion instantly turned pale, but she only chuckled.

"Do not fret, Your Highness." She smiled reassuringly before she slowly took out a dagger from behind her.

Quentin’s body stiffened at the sight of it. "Latrice — what are you — please don’t do this!"

"Shh." She pressed the dagger to his lips and shook her head. "Trust me, Your Highness. Can you do that?"

"You have to tell me first!"

Latrice sighed, but she exercised patience. "Telling you isn’t gonna be fun. Just trust me with this one. I told you, didn’t I? I made a promise and Filomena never goes back to her words."

Quentin gulped, but her reassurance didn’t do its job. If anything, he felt even more terrified now. However, he couldn’t do anything but stiffen as she traced his jaw with the tip of her dagger.

"Your Highness, from now on, you will live for me and for me alone," she whispered. "I bind you and I... forever, my loyal servant."

As soon as those words rolled out of her tongue, Latrice stabbed him straight to his chest. Quentin gasped for air with wide eyes, looking at her as if he was betrayed.

His last memory was Latrice smiling at him as he slowly fell unconscious.

And then... he woke up the next day, but not as a human anymore.