I’m The Male Lead’s Biological Daughter, But I Want To Live With The Second Male Lead! - Chapter 93

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 93
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Though bright morning lay beyond, the heavy Blackout Curtain rendered the room indistinguishable from midnight.
“Ugh… ah….”
In the dimness, someone gasped in agony.
Hands clawed at the quilt with desperate force, convulsing as if seized.
Each spasm sent silver hair, soaked with sweat, tangling across the pillow in disarray.
“Gasp, ugh….”
His jaw clenched so violently that the masseter muscle stood taut, the grinding of teeth audible and sharp.
Tears pooled in eyes contorted by pain—a sign that something was profoundly wrong.
It’s only a dream, he told himself. Just a vicious Nightmare.
But the thought brought no relief; the terrible agony burning through his body only grew more vivid.
The Nightmare seemed determined not to release Zigmund easily today, just as it had for the past ten years.
Always the same.
No—not anymore—
As Zigmund thrashed in despair, a voice from deep within the Nightmare laughed.
– Yes, that’s it. Perfect….
A thin voice clung to his ears, adhesive and invasive.
The sensation made his skin crawl.
He wanted to flee, but something held him fast—his body refused to move.
Squelch.
Something pierced through Zigmund’s forearm.
Gasp, gasp.
As he breathed heavily and looked down through a clouded haze, he saw red tubes inserted across his entire body.
No—these weren’t mere tubes.
Was that… blood?
A newly inserted transparent tube flushed crimson.
Someone was drawing Zigmund’s blood at will.
Now that he thought of it, he caught the metallic reek of iron.
His mind felt foggy.
His brain seemed starved for oxygen.
Zigmund’s fists, which had been clenched tight, relaxed without his knowing.
– Ah, just a little more… ahhhh….
At that, the owner of the ecstatic voice moved their hand.
They drew back the plunger of the syringe with a long, deliberate pull.
Purple light began flowing through the red tubes.
In that instant, his heart seemed to shrivel from within.
Cough, choke, gag!
As Zigmund convulsed violently, several tubes tore free.
Along with them, the purple light flowing through the tubes ceased.
The crushing pain in his heart eased slightly.
But he had no strength left to escape this place.
Gasp, gasp….
All he could manage was ragged breathing, his body emptied of all vigor.
Please… stop. Please, I beg you….
Zigmund pleaded as he panted.
Even opening his eyes had become an ordeal.
But the gag wedged in his mouth allowed only whimpers to escape.
Please. Please.
Not knowing to whom he begged or what he was begging for, Zigmund simply pleaded on.
To be spared. Please, let me live.
But the answer that came back was….
– Now, how much longer will you resist? What a waste.
A voice cruel and terribly seductive whispered against his ear.
– Why don’t you just start enjoying yourself?
…Enjoy?
This agony—as if every organ in his body were being torn loose and scrambled? This humiliation—bound and helpless, endlessly exploited against his will?
Enjoy?
– You’re having a good time already, aren’t you? Aren’t you?
Thin fingers traced across his prominent abdominal muscles.
The clear implication in that touch made bile rise in his throat.
The fragile thread of reason he’d been clinging to snapped with an audible twang.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his heart hammering so violently it brought the threat of retching.
Blood rushed through his veins in a hot flood, leaving his mind blank and white-hot.
He didn’t know what had bound him, but in this moment he felt certain he could tear it to shreds.
Zigmund tensed every muscle in his body, wringing out the last of his strength.
– Hah… that’s… magnificent…!
Through his blurred vision, a pair of pale red eyes flashed suddenly into view.
They gazed at his twisted form with an expression of rapturous delight.
He would kill her.
He would kill that thing without fail.
Rage and hatred consuming him, Zigmund lunged forward with a cry.
That was when it happened.
“Kyaaoooo!”
“……!”
A roar shattered the silence of the room, and simultaneously a searing pain exploded across his forearm.
“Hah……!”
The pain jolted Zigmund awake from the Nightmare, but barely—it was far from enough.
For over a decade, that Nightmare had hounded him relentlessly, leaving its phantom trace even now.
In the darkness of his vision, red eyes glowed.
The woman from the Nightmare stood before him.
She was always so hazy when he woke that he could never make out her face—but now, unmistakably, she was there.
Those pale red eyes, the ones that had smiled at him with bewitching grace, were fixed upon him.
Zigmund ignored the throb in his forearm and seized the woman with crushing force.
He would kill her, tear her to ribbons with his own hands without fail.
Before he forgot her, before she could fade and blur again, this time he would end it.
Lost in fury, Zigmund’s teeth bared in a snarl of pure hatred.
“Kyao, kyaooo, haaaagh!”
Again, his forearm erupted with a sensation as if being torn away.
Around the impact, he felt flesh being shredded with shocking clarity.
Something was desperately fighting to restrain him.
Or rather—to protect something from him.
To protect? Protect whom? And why would anyone protect that woman?
Zigmund’s grip tightened further.
His short nails bit into his own palm.
There was nothing in his hands.
That couldn’t be. He’d seized her—he’d felt her in his grasp.
As Zigmund reached out again, there came a dull crack.
His wrist bent at an unnatural angle, and searing pain shot through it.
What in the world was fighting so desperately to protect that woman?
Zigmund glared downward, his frustration mounting.
His wrist was bent at an impossible angle.
And what had bent it so was… his other hand.
The one who had protected that woman from Zigmund was none other than himself.
……Why?
As confusion painted his vision and mind alike in absolute black, a young voice cut through.
“H-House Master……?”
For an instant, Zigmund’s skin crawled with dread.
The darkness that had colored his sight began to recede, bit by bit.
The hazy blur that had clouded his eyes gradually came into focus.
The pale red glow vanished, replaced by brilliant scarlet eyes meeting his own.
And with it came another wave of horror.
“……Mabel?”
Mabel stood directly before the hands he’d meant to close around that woman.
Drip…… drip…….
Blood fell from the forearm where Winter had bitten him, soaking into the Navy Quilt below.
And thus the Nightmare seeped back into Zigmund’s depths and dissolved.
He could remember nothing more.
Yet Zigmund’s Nightmare was far from over.
“Why did you… I… I…….”
A reality far worse than any Nightmare pressed down upon her.
* * *
Moments before.
Mabel, cradling Winter, had found Zigmund’s bedroom.
“How strange. There’s no one around.”
In other parts of the house, maids moved about cleaning and servants bustled with their tasks.
Perhaps, given that this was the House Master’s quarters, they had finished their work here first.
Thinking little of it, Mabel promptly knocked on the heavy door.
But whether he truly was sleeping in, the room beyond remained silent.
“Hmm, I really wanted to talk soon…….”
And there was something she wanted to ask him.
What Aselt had mentioned—that thing Winter had supposedly resolved.
Given what Ella had said about not even telling Kellic, Mabel doubted Zigmund would reveal it if she asked.
But Zigmund might know what Aselt was talking about.
So Mabel was about to knock again, both to wake him and to speak with him.
“Ugh, ggh…….”
That was when she heard a groan of agony from within the room.
Mabel and Winter’s eyes widened as they looked at each other.
“This isn’t just oversleeping—he’s not hurt, is he?!”
“Master?!”
Worried about Zigmund, Mabel and Winter yanked the bedroom door open.
In the dim room darkened by the Blackout Curtain, Zigmund lay anguished, drenched in cold sweat.
“House Master, House Master!”
“Hey, hey!”
Mabel and Winter rushed to the bed, trying to wake him.
But whatever the extent of his suffering, Zigmund could only clutch at his chest and groan.
He scarcely regained consciousness.
“What do I do—I need to call Sister Ella!”
It was just as Mabel was about to slip from the bed.
Swift as a shadow.
Zigmund’s hand shot toward Mabel’s throat.
“Ah……?”
Click.
If Zigmund hadn’t caught his own hand in midair.
“Kyaoooo!”
If Winter hadn’t lunged in and bitten him.
“……!”
Mabel’s neck would have been crushed in that grip.
But even in his delirium, Zigmund twisted his own wrist to hold back.
Thanks to that, Mabel remained unharmed. Zigmund, however, was not.
“Why are you…… I, I…….”
Zigmund’s face drained pale as despair-stricken panic consumed him.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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