To His Hell and Back-Chapter 106: That Old Memory

Ariel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, fingers ghosting over the rim of her teacup. She had no idea what the man she was about to meet would look like. And if history had taught her anything, it was that men were never kind to her or her sister.

The young men who had once professed affection had only done so to mock her, relishing in her humiliation. Others made their disdain clear, whispering cruel judgments behind her back—because they knew of her mother’s affair. They expected Ariel to repeat the same sins, as if betrayal ran in her blood.

And her father...

Ariel swallowed, her grip tightening. He was a man who wielded his temper like a weapon, never hesitating to remind her and Arabella of their place.

She sighed, pouring herself another cup of tea, needing something—anything—to steady her nerves.

Across from her, Courtez, draped elegantly in a pink shawl, raised a brow.

"Stop drinking. That’s your eleventh cup in thirty minutes." ƒrēenovelkiss.com

"Ah?" Ariel wet her lips, hastily setting the cup down. She hesitated, then murmured, "Do you really think he’s a good man, Courtez?"

Courtez yawned lazily, stretching her arms before replying, "There is no ’good’ man, Ariel. There is only a man better than the one before."

"That doesn’t help my nerves." Ariel sighed, earning a chuckle from Courtez.

"It doesn’t. But I won’t lie to you. Being naive and flower-headed won’t save you from misery."

Her words carried a quiet sorrow, yet Ariel understood them for what they were: the truth.

She curled her fingers into her dress, inhaling deeply. No matter what happened, she had to smile, to make this man see her as someone worth his time, his money. Someone he couldn’t afford to lose.

Courtez watched her with quiet approval. Despite her meekness, Ariel had always been by Arabella’s side, learning to steel herself in the face of hardship. Even when she was brought here, she had wept at first but soon, those tears had hardened into resolve. And Courtez respected that.

Then came the knock at the door.

Courtez rose fluidly from her seat, lifting a hand to stop Ariel from standing.

Ariel kept her eyes trained ahead, resisting the instinct to look. Courtez had taught her well—never show nerves, never betray curiosity. Let the man feel as though he was just another among many. Let him believe he did not matter.

So she remained still, gazing softly at the wall, her profile bathed in a quiet, effortless pride.

But inside, her heart was in shambles.

Her ears strained for the voice beyond the threshold. And when she heard it, the sickly light, dulcet, unbearably familiar, her breath hitched.

"Indeed, I have been awaiting this day to arrive. Thank you so much, Courtez, for your help."

This... voice.

Ariel’s face turned ashen.

She forced herself not to react, but she couldn’t control the shaky breath that escaped her lips. Her fingers clenched around the teacup, eyes locked onto the golden liquid inside. Her own reflection stared back, her anxiety mirrored in its trembling surface.

She pursed her lips tightly as Courtez, unaware of Ariel’s reaction, responded with an easy smile.

"I should be the one thanking you, Lord Morpheus. You have been so kind to wait until Ariel was ready to meet you."

Morpheus stepped forward, his smile as smooth as silk, his amber eyes flickering toward Ariel.

He noted the pale cascade of her hair, the stiff way she stood at the table. His smile deepened.

He had found what was lost.

Turning back to Courtez, he nodded. "I do not mind waiting, as long as the angels have finally allowed me to meet her."

Courtez chuckled, her voice light. "Oh dear, ’angel’? Such high praise for our Ariel. But I suppose she is quite the beauty, isn’t she? Many men wish to see her, offering me a small fortune. But I refused them, knowing you had always wished to meet her first."

"I shall remember your kindness, Courtez."

Morpheus stepped fully into the room, his presence commanding, his movements unhurried. Behind him, at the threshold, Matheo stood guard.

Courtez’s sharp gaze flickered to him. Their eyes met for a brief second, before Matheo, ever obedient, dipped his head and stood straight once more.

The door clicked shut behind them.

And Ariel...

Ariel barely breathed.

Though Courtez found Morpheus to be unnervingly gentle, the same could not be said for Matheo. His eyes. They were bleak, empty, trained to betray nothing and the sight made her skin prickle. There was something unsettling about a man who felt nothing, and for a fleeting moment, it put her on edge. But she dismissed the thought quickly, turning away as she shut the door behind her.

She crossed the room, settling beside Ariel. The girl’s hands were damp with sweat, trembling slightly as she clenched them in her lap.

Courtez smiled, a picture of effortless ease as she called out, "Please, Lord Morpheus, take a seat. No need to tire yourself."

Morpheus, whose gaze had not left Ariel for even a second, smiled at Courtez’s words, but his attention remained fixated on the girl before him.

"May I sit in front of you, Princess?" he asked, voice velvety smooth.

Ariel swallowed hard. Her stiff nod was barely perceptible, but it was enough to make Morpheus’s smile widen.

With slow, deliberate steps, he moved toward the wooden chair, his march as composed as if he were stepping into a ballroom rather than a dimly lit room heavy with tension. He lowered himself into the seat, his presence commanding yet oddly patient.

Beside Ariel, Courtez gave her a subtle nudge. "Pour him a cup," she whispered.

Ariel’s breath hitched. Her eyes darted to the teapot and teacup, but her fingers trembled as she reached for them. The porcelain felt foreign in her hands, her nerves turning a simple task into an impossible feat.

Then her fingers grew weak and the teacup slipped.

A gasp broke through the air as warm liquid spilled over the table, cascading in an uncontrolled stream. The room stilled.

Courtez jolted to her feet, her sharp gaze flicking toward Morpheus. The dark fabric of his coat was drenched, tea seeping into the fine material.

"My apologies!" she said hastily, smoothing over the mistake with practiced grace. "She must be... a little too excited to see you, Lord Morpheus. Did you hurt yourself?"

Morpheus let out a low chuckle, entirely unfazed. "Do not worry, Miss Courtez. The tea was cold, and I wouldn’t mind being thrown a cup or two by the Princess."

Courtez exhaled, though a knot of concern twisted in her stomach. Morpheus was unfailingly kind, so much so that it was impossible to tell if he was truly unbothered or merely pretending to be.

Still, she couldn’t risk displeasing him.

"Regardless," she sighed, already moving toward the door, "I should fetch something to wipe the spill—"

"Courtez."

The whisper was almost lost beneath the tension.

Ariel’s voice was small, fragile, bubbling with nerves.

"Don’t leave..."

Courtez paused, glancing back. Ariel’s wide eyes pleaded with her, but she firmed her grip on the girl’s shoulders.

"I know you’re afraid," she murmured, "but pull yourself together, Ariel. This might be our only chance."

"No—Cour—"

The words died on her lips.

Courtez was already gone, the door clicking shut behind her, leaving Ariel alone.

Alone with Morpheus.

Silence settled like a heavy fog as the door clicked shut behind Courtez. Ariel sat frozen, her hands clasped tightly over her knees, willing herself to stillness despite the faint tremor running through her limbs.

Across from her, Morpheus studied her with an unreadable gaze. Then, softly, almost thoughtfully, he spoke.

"Unlike your sister, you remember me."

Ariel’s breath caught as she slowly lifted her eyes, green meeting gold. There was warmth in his smile, a gentleness in his voice, yet something about it coiled around her like a whisper of something inevitable.

"It’s been a long time," he mused, as if they were merely old acquaintances. "You look well. Better than I expected, given the circumstances." He paused, watching the way her fingers curled slightly against the fabric of her dress. "Though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. I did warn your mother, after all."

The words were calm, almost idle, but they slid under her skin like a cold touch.

"I told her, again and again," Morpheus continued, his voice light, as if sharing an amusing memory, "that the man she married wouldn’t be able to protect her... or her daughters. And yet, here we are."

He exhaled, almost wistfully, as if reflecting on something long past. His fingers tapped idly against the armrest of his chair.

"In the end, not only did he fail to shield you... but he handed you over himself."

Ariel’s grip tightened, nails pressing into her palms. The tea in front of her had gone cold, but she could still see the faint ripple across its surface, the only visible sign of the trembling she fought to suppress.

How could she ever forgot Morpheus?

After all... he was the man who had almost drowned Arabella years ago.

Ariel could never forget it. She could never forget how this man in front of her had ordered her mother to drown her younger sister in his pond and when his mother refuse, he had ordered his people to do so.