Garden Of Poison-Chapter 215: How to punish

With a sense of disbelief, Emily wondered whether this was all a dream as she rubbed her eyes. However, the scene unfolding before her was undeniably real, with Raylen having Marshall bound to a chair. It took her a moment to find her voice, and when her lips finally parted, she remained speechless for a few seconds longer before finally managing to speak.

"Can we speak in private?" Emily requested from Raylen.

"Hm? There are no secrets between the three of us now, Princess. I only invite those I am close to to slumber parties," Raylen remarked, his expression shifting from concentration to amusement as he stood up after noticing Emily’s sullen expression. He then made his way to the entrance of the room.

As the archdemon walked towards her, Emily’s eyes fell on Marshall’s bleeding hand, and she demanded of Raylen, "What are you planning?"

"Well, I haven’t started anything just yet, but if you have any plans, you are more than welcome to pitch in. Although I must say, I already have something wonderful in mind for you. It is crucial that all of us participate," Raylen replied with a smile full of enthusiasm, his eyes twinkling with intrigue.

Emily stared at the archdemon for a moment before shaking her head and saying, "No. I mean, what is Marshall Travis doing here? Tied up. In his current state?"

"You said you wanted to kill him," Raylen stated with a solemn expression. "So, I brought him here for you."

"What?!" Marshall exclaimed, overhearing Raylen’s words from where he was seated, and protested, "I didn’t—"

"No talking," Raylen admonished the man with a stern glance over his shoulder. "You will be given your turn to speak."

Emily whispered, "I didn’t really plan to kill him." She had already taken a person’s life once, and it weighed heavily on her conscience to this day. She had no intention of repeating it. She asked, "And what do you mean by ’I said’?" It was as if he had been listening to everything she said. "I told you I wanted you dead too."

Raylen chuckled and remarked, "Tough luck with that." He then turned back to Marshall and spoke to Emily, saying, "Come, Marshie had only just begun to have fun. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on it."

Emily’s eyebrows furrowed as she observed the state of Marshall. His head was smeared with dried blood, and there was a conspicuous bruise on his face, with blood trickling from the corner of his lips. Glancing down at one of his bloodied, bound hands, she believed he had likely already learned his lesson during Raylen’s unconventional ’slumber party’.

Raylen moved to stand behind the chair he had been occupying earlier, placing his hands on the back of it for support as he leaned forward. "It has come to my attention today that he seems to have a history of ruining women’s reputations. He impregnates them, and upon learning of their pregnancies, these women were tragically forced to undergo procedures that led to the loss of their babies and, in many cases, their own lives. But his crimes don’t stop there, and this time he decided to spin the same tale with you, even though you never slept with him."

"Forgive me!" Marshall begged for mercy because the pain of having two of his fingernails ripped out was already too much to bear. "I swear, I will never speak another word about you."

"But the damage has been done." Raylen clicked his tongue, shaking his head as if implying that there was no way to salvage what had transpired.

"I—I will tell people that I was lying. I will confess to all the sins I have committed!" Marshall exclaimed with desperation, clinging to a glimmer of hope for his life. "Please, Lady Emily! Please save me!"

Emily had heard about Marshall’s reputation of ruining women’s lives, but she had no idea he had gone to such extremes to cover up his vile deeds, and it was utterly unacceptable to her. Meanwhile, Raylen watched her ponder his words, and eager to stoke the fire like the devil he was, he coaxed her further,

"He spread rumours about you, labelling you as a desperate woman trying to break up Nathaniel and Layla’s relationship. If I hadn’t arrived on time, he would have beaten a poor, homeless boy for no apparent reason. We don’t need a person like him in this world, do we, Princess?"

"I did not beat him!" Marshall exclaimed, his panic evident.

"You are being a bad boy, Marshie. Lying only leads to tongues being ripped out, and I’d rather avoid that, as we still have stories to hear from you," Raylen warned, giving Marshall a pointed look that silenced him. "Weren’t you just badmouthing the Princess a while ago?"

The memory of what happened earlier that afternoon in the town was still fresh in Emily’s mind. She stared at Marshall, who shook his head in denial. Despite his seeming quest for justice, she also knew that Raylen was using this man to satisfy his diabolical soul.

"P—princess?" Marshall asked in confusion, unable to fathom that Raylen could possibly have a daughter.

"This ought to be good. Have you heard of the Blackthorns?" Raylen asked with a sly smile and saw Marshall nod.

"The ones who killed all the Elder ministers," Marshall mumbled in response.

Raylen offered no further explanation and merely continued to smile as he watched Marshall’s expression slowly change from a look of puzzlement to one of shock, and he gaped at Emily with wide-eyed astonishment.

"A B—Black—Blackthorn?" Marshall stammered, on the verge of throwing up more blood from the shocking revelation. Wasn’t it another archdemon?

"What a pickle you are in, Marshie." Raylen’s smile grew wider, and he straightened his back. "What do you say, Princess? Don’t be shy; you don’t have to hold back if you want to give him a taste of the iron rod. I have everything prepared for your disposal. No one will judge or question you," Raylen whispered the last words. The night, unlike many previous ones, was devoid of rain, and the clouds had been calm, yet to clash with each other. That was precisely why the archdemon knew Emily would hear this pathetic man’s screams.

Emily had been so deeply hurt by the slanderous gossip that she had indeed thought about torturing the tied man before her to ensure that he would never repeat such actions again.

Marshall pleaded his case to her, imploring, "Lady, I mean Princess Emily, forgive me! I didn’t know what had gotten into me, but I was only seeking your attention—"

"By sullying her reputation before the public," Raylen interjected.

"I am in agony! Please spare me; I shall never breathe a word about this. I will leave the kingdom!" Marshall begged with his eyes wide open in fear and desperation.

"You wanted to make him feel as much pain as he caused you earlier, didn’t you? Now’s not the time to go soft on him, because he deserves to be punished," Raylen said softly, giving her a gentle nudge, particularly aware of how mild Emily’s nature usually was.

Over the years, as Raylen had kept a close eye on Dante’s arrival in Versailles, he had observed various members of the Blackthorn family before he had the opportunity to acquaint himself with the princess, who wasn’t known for her kindness through word of mouth alone. She consistently wore a smile and engaged everyone in conversation without ever causing harm to anyone. But surely, no one was entirely pure; there were always two sides to every individual, comprising both good and bad. It was only a question of which aspect would ultimately overpower the other.

He wondered whether Emily would agree or refuse, suspecting that she would probably resist just as strongly as he wanted her to do what he suggested. However, she surprised them both by saying,

"Yes."

Raylen’s eyes lit up like the candles that burned brightly in the room.

"WHAT?!" Marshall shouted and then quickly reverted to pleading, "No, no, no! I didn’t physically harm you!" When she took a step towards him, he snapped, "I am tied to a fucking chair, held somewhere underground, and I am bleeding! How much more reflection do you need from me?!" His fury was unmistakable.

Emily wasn’t a violent person, yet at the same time, she wanted this man to face punishment for his sins. She turned to Raylen and inquired, "Isn’t there another way to resolve this?"

Raylen gazed into her worried hazel brown eyes, offering her a reassuring smile before he said, "I did consider ripping his head off, but I decided we could save that for later. Why kill the goose when it can dance for you?"

That wasn’t what Emily meant, though. She suggested, "What about having him publicly punished before executing him so that people witness and learn about his actions? This could also serve to deter anyone else from doing the same in the future."

Raylen frowned and remarked, "You have such hopeful expectations from my people; it is rather adorable." He continued, "Marshall’s father is a respectable demon from Hell who will not like it and would open the portal to Hell in retaliation, which I won’t like. You see, his father is involved in maintaining the barrier."

"He will find out that both of you harmed me!" Marshall warned them.

Raylen ignored Marshall’s words and continued to say, "Also, the executioner just got married and is currently honeymooning somewhere. Surely, we don’t want to interrupt their joy and disturb them when we can handle something so simple ourselves. Let me get the dagger, as you love it the most."

As Raylen walked to the other side of the room, Marshall gritted his teeth, fixing a hostile glare at Emily, and said,

"You conniving women dress up just to attract men’s attention. You slyly drop your coats and handkerchiefs, making us pick them up, trying to entice us. And when approached, you have the audacity to reject us. You deserve to be soulmate-less!" Marshall sneered, his words filled with venom, as if wanting to wound her as he realised he wouldn’t be released anytime soon, at least not until his family noticed him missing tomorrow. "You are a lying bitch!"

Emily felt a prick in her heart upon hearing his words about being soulmate-less. It wasn’t as if she had asked for it or done anything to deserve it. Her hands clenched, her fingernails digging into her palms.

"Tsk, time to cut your tongue off. Any last words?" Raylen asked, bringing over the sharp dagger.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME! HELP!" Marshall shouted in desperation.

Raylen sighed and commented, "I often wonder if my kingdom is filled with nothing but idiots. All the more reason to weed out the likes of you." He then turned to Emily and asked, "Would you like to do the honour, or shall I?"

Emily was still grappling with her thoughts and emotions, and she whispered, "No."

A sigh of relief escaped from Marshall’s lips, and he smiled briefly, but his relief was short-lived as the princess spoke, saying, "I want to use something else."

Emily had been wounded by the actions of others when she often minded her own business without interfering in people’s lives. She was hurt by the rejections, disheartened by those who were quick to look at her as if she were an outcast, and on top of that, she was dying, yet it seemed that people couldn’t care less.

She walked over to the table where Raylen had laid out an assortment of torture equipment, and she turned to look at the archdemon with a questioning gaze.

"I am a passionate enthusiast when it comes to collecting torture implements," Raylen replied, responding to the inquisitive look she gave him, wondering which one she would pick. I hope you select something and do not walk away empty-handed. Don’t disappoint me, Princess, he said in his mind.

Emily’s eyes carefully observed the array of items on the table, taking in barbed wire tied to a rod, a simple rod, daggers, pliers, rusted nails, and various other spiky objects. Her hand hovered over one item, and finally, she made her choice and picked it up.

"An interesting choice," Raylen remarked upon noticing Emily holding a hammer. Though a dagger would be easier to work with, the hammer seemed to reflect the pent-up frustration and anger she concealed within her.