Read Novel Full Chapter 626: The Last Sin
Chapter 626: The Last Sin
The day before the party, no one came to torture Mika.
It was strange—so strange that Charlotte kept glancing at the door, waiting for the next monster to stride through with their instruments of pain.
But the door remained closed. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, they were alone.
Charlotte guessed that the guests were all busy with their own preparations. New Year’s Eve was approaching, and even monsters needed time to dress themselves up, to prepare their masks, to ready themselves for the grand celebration.
The thought made her sick, but it also filled her with a guilty sense of relief.
At least for today, Mika could rest.
And rest he did.
He slept almost the entire day, his mind finally getting the chance to recover
Charlotte didn’t dare disturb him. She sat quietly by his side, holding his hand, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest.
He looked so peaceful when he slept. So young. So innocent.
It was easy to forget, in these quiet moments, that he had endured more suffering in three weeks than most people would experience in a thousand lifetimes.
‘Just a few more hours.’ Charlotte thought. ‘A few more hours until the new year. And then Mika will get us out of here. He promised.’
She didn’t know what plan he had brewing behind those tired eyes.
But she trusted him more than she had ever trusted anyone in her entire life.
So she kept vigil. And she waited.
—
As the hours passed, Charlotte found herself thinking about the new year.
In the real world, her family would be gathering for their annual celebration. There would be food and laughter and fireworks painting the sky in brilliant colors.
Her mother would be fussing over everyone, making sure each of her children was warm and fed and happy.
Her aunts would be trading stories and teasing one another.
Her sisters would be arguing over who got to sit next to Mika.
The thought brought tears to her eyes.
She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her thoughts. The concept of time had become meaningless in this place.
But eventually, the door opened, and Marcus Williams stepped into the room.
He was dressed for a celebration.
His white suit was immaculate—tailored perfectly to his frame, not a wrinkle or stain in sight. His silver hair was slicked back with precision. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat perched on his nose, replacing the spectacles he had worn before.
He looked like a prince preparing to address his court.
“Well, well.” He said, his voice carrying that familiar tone of smug satisfaction. “It seems you two have been enjoying a rare moment of peace. How lovely.”
Charlotte scrambled to her feet, positioning herself between Marcus and Mika’s sleeping form.
“What do you want?”
“So hostile.” Marcus shook his head with mock disappointment. “I came to collect the boy. It’s time to prepare him for tonight’s festivities.”
“What do you mean, ‘prepare him’? What are you going to do to him?”
Marcus raised a hand, and suddenly Mika’s body lifted from the chair. He floated through the air like a puppet on invisible strings, still unconscious, still peaceful. Charlotte’s heart lurched.
“No!” She lunged toward Mika, trying to grab him, but her hands passed through his floating form. “Let him go! What are you doing to him?!”
“Relax, Lady Charlotte.” Marcus’s voice was almost gentle. “I’m not going to hurt him. I’m simply going to make him presentable. After all, he’s going to be the guest of honor at our little gathering. We can’t have him looking like a ragamuffin, can we?”
“Mika! MIKA!”
But Mika was already floating toward the door.
Charlotte ran after him, screaming his name, but Marcus waved his hand and the door slammed shut between them. She threw herself against it, pounding on the wood with her fists.
“MIKA! MIKA! Give him back! GIVE HIM BACK!”
No response. The door remained firmly closed. Charlotte pressed her forehead against the wood, tears streaming down her face.
‘He’ll be okay.’ She told herself. ‘Mika is strong. He’ll survive whatever they do to him. He has to.’
But the fear in her heart wouldn’t go away.
—
She stayed there for hours, huddled against the door, waiting. The minutes stretched into an eternity. She tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mika’s face.
She saw him screaming, bleeding, being torn apart by monsters who wore the faces of heroes.
So she stayed awake, her eyes fixed on the door, praying for it to open.
When it finally did, Charlotte scrambled to her feet.
But it wasn’t Mika who walked through. It was Marcus.
“Still waiting, I see.” He tilted his head, studying her with that cold, calculating gaze. “You know, most people would have given up by now. Curled into a ball and waited for death. But you…you’re still fighting. Still hoping.” He chuckled. “It’s almost admirable.”
“Where’s Mika?” Charlotte demanded. “What have you done to him!?”
“The new year is almost upon us, Lady Charlotte.” Marcus’s voice was almost dreamy. “In just a few minutes, the old year will end and a new one will begin. All my guests have arrived. They’re celebrating. They’re laughing. They’re so eager for the festivities to begin.”
He looked at her with that terrible smile. “And they’re all asking about you.”
“I don’t care about your guests.”
“You should. They’re very important people, after all. Politicians. Celebrities. Business leaders. The cream of society.”
He spread his hands wide.
“And they’ve all gathered here tonight to celebrate the new year in style. But it wouldn’t be much of a party without our ‘special guests’, would it?”
Charlotte’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”
“Come with me.” Marcus extended his hand. “I’ll show you.”
Charlotte’s jaw tightened. She wanted to spit in his face, to tear his white suit to ribbons.
But the desperate need to find Mika overrode everything else. She stood up silently and followed him out of the room.
Marcus reached out, attempting to pat her head like a fond father, but when his hand clipped through her phantom hair, he simply smiled, folded his hands behind his back, and led the way down the dimly lit corridor.
—
They walked into the room where the abducted children were kept. But when Charlotte looked into the iron cells, her stomach plunged.
The cages were completely empty.
During the past few weeks, Marcus’s inner circle had been so obsessed with breaking Mika that the kidnapped children had been largely left aside, locked away like forgotten props.
But now, not a single child remained.
“Where are they?!” Charlotte demanded, panic lacing her voice as she stared at the vacant bars. “What did you do to them?! They’re just little kids!”
Marcus kept walking, his gait smooth and unbothered.
“Do not fret, Lady Charlotte. You will be joining them shortly.”
His vague, chilling answer only deepened her confusion as they descended to the next dungeon layer—the sector housing the adult prisoners.
Those cells, too, stood completely vacant, the iron chains hanging limp against the damp stone walls.
A sickening foreboding settled over Charlotte as Marcus led her up the winding stone staircases, out of the dark basements, and back into the ground floor of the grand estate.
It had been nearly twenty days since she had last seen the mansion’s interior. Yet, stepping out of the dungeon brought no relief; the air inside the grand hallway felt just as suffocating and cold.
She was still trapped within the absolute boundaries of Marcus’s domain.
As they approached the rear of the mansion, however, the heavy silence was broken by distant, lively soundscapes—cheerful chatter, bright laughter, the clinking of fine crystal glasses.
The party.
Marcus placed his hand on the doorknob leading to the garden but didn’t turn it.
Instead, he looked at Charlotte’s attire—the same shabby dress she had worn since she arrived in this nightmare world, the one Mika had given her before everything went wrong.
“Are you quite sure you don’t wish to change first?”
Marcus asked, tilting his head with a mocking sense of upper-class refinement.
“Our guests tonight represent the absolute pinnacle of society. Wearing such shabby attire is a bit uncouth, don’t you think? I could easily manifest a lovely silk gown for you—make you look like a proper little princess.”
Charlotte glared at him. “I’d rather die than wear anything you give me.”
Marcus shook his head, his smile never wavering.
“Well then.” He said. “Welcome to my personal New Year’s party. Or as the other guests call it, The Last Sin.”
“The…Last Sin?”
Marcus chuckled, a sound that made Charlotte’s skin crawl.
“After all.” He explained. “This will be the last sin we will all be committing this year.”
And with that, he opened the door.
—
When Charlotte had first arrived in this nightmare world, she had looked out the window of her prison room and seen a dark forest surrounding the mansion.
But now, the entire space was lit up with beautiful golden lights that twinkled everywhere, casting a warm glow over the entire area.
Round tables with white sheets were set up all over the place, their surfaces laden with lavish spreads of every imaginable food.
A band wearing tuxedos played melodious music that suited the party atmosphere perfectly.
Waiters moved gracefully between tables, carrying silver trays of champagne.
It looked like a scene from a fairy tale. A beautiful celebration that would have been the envy of any socialite in the real world.
And everywhere—there were people.
Charlotte recognized them. How could she not?
They were the elite of society—the wealthy, the powerful, the famous.
Lady Eleanor, heiress to the largest shipping conglomerate in the realm, laughed at something her companion said.
Duchess Amelia Harrington, whose family controlled half the mining rights in the northern territories, sipped champagne with practiced elegance.
Senator Richard Hale, whose family had held political office for three generations, exchanged pleasantries with a famous actor whose films had grossed billions.
Marcus’s own father was there. The legendary S-Class Hero.
The man whose face had graced recruitment posters for the war against the Eternal Queen.
He was chatting amiably with a group of businessmen, a glass of champagne in his hand, looking for all the world like a respectable citizen attending a respectable gathering.
There were at least a hundred and fifty people in the garden. Politicians, celebrities, nobles, business tycoons, famous Blessed, and socialites.
The absolute elite of society. The 0.0001%. The people who ruled the world.
And every single one of them was a monster.
But worse than the guests, infinitely worse were the tables.
They were scattered throughout the garden, interspersed among the food-laden banquet tables.
But these tables didn’t hold canapés or champagne. They held people.
Live human beings, restrained with all four limbs tied securely to the table legs.
Their mouths were sealed shut—silenced by some spell that prevented them from speaking.
They lay flat on their backs, staring up at the night sky with eyes wide with terror.
White cloth covered each of them from neck to toe, making them look like sacrificial offerings.
There were dozens of them. Seventy, eighty, maybe more. Adults and children. Teenagers and elders.
People from all walks of life, all races, all ages.
They had been decorated with flowers in their hair, as if they were gifts to be unwrapped.
And the guests walked among them, examining them like shoppers at a market, discussing them in casual tones.
One man, a famous athlete whose face Charlotte had seen on cereal boxes, was standing over a young woman who looked barely out of her teens.
“I’m going to take my time with this one.” He was saying, his voice carrying across the garden. “Start with the fingers, work my way up. See how long she lasts before she breaks.”
His companion, a politician whose speeches had once made Charlotte’s mother roll her eyes, shook his head.
“Too slow. You need to be more creative. Here—”
He leaned in, gesturing at the terrified girl.
“What if we peel the skin off her back and rub salt in the wounds? That would get a reaction, don’t you think?”
They laughed, clinking their champagne glasses together as if they were discussing the weather.
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