Awakening Domination System: But I'm a Slave?-Chapter 338: Desperate Measures

Selene stayed where she’d fallen.

Hours passed. The afternoon light through the windows shifted, lengthened, became golden, then amber, then faded to twilight purple.

She didn’t move. Just sat against the chair, hand still pressed to her cheek where the burning had finally dulled to persistent ache, staring at the wall with eyes that saw nothing.

Maids came. Knocked softly. Entered when she didn’t respond.

They’d cleaned the ink. Removed the ruined documents. Set the room back to order with practiced efficiency, working around their lady who sat motionless like broken doll.

One brought food, simple meal on a tray, nothing elaborate. Set it beside her with quiet murmur about needing to eat.

But Selene didn’t acknowledge it. Didn’t even look.

The maid hesitated, then retreated. The food remained untouched.

Evening came. Another maid tried. Different meal. Same result.

Night fell properly. The moon rose full and bright, casting silver light through the windows. Gentle breeze stirred the curtains.

Manor grew quiet. Servants finishing their duties, retiring to their quarters. The kind of deep silence that only came when households slept and watchful eyes closed.

This was the hour when everyone rested.

When no one would be watching.

And something inside Selene snapped.

Like the final thread holding her together simply frayed through and parted.

She moved.

Stood slowly, her legs protesting after hours of stillness. Her green eyes, which had been empty, unfocused, suddenly became sharp.

She looked around the guest room. Noted what the servants had cleaned.

Then her gaze settled on the letter opener.

Ornate piece with Glimor family crest engraved, blade long and thin and designed for slicing paper but sharp enough for other purposes. It sat on the writing desk where it always lived, innocent and decorative.

She crossed to the desk. Picked it up. Tested the weight, the balance. The way it felt in her grip.

Then it disappeared into her sleeve. Hidden but accessible.

"Sari."

The name came out flat.

The shadows in the corner shifted.

And a hooded figure materialized, dropping smoothly to one knee beside the desk with head bowed respectfully.

"My lady."

"Give me that," Selene said, not looking at her. Staring instead at the moonlight through the window.

"My lady..." Sari’s voice carried hesitation. "Are you su—"

"Give. Me. That."

Sari stayed frozen for several heartbeats

Then she nodded slowly. "Yes, my lady."

She reached into her cloak, into hidden pocket designed for carrying exactly this kind of contraband. Withdrew a small pouch. Sealed with wax to prevent accidental contamination.

She placed it carefully in Selene’s outstretched hand.

Selene’s fingers closed around it. She looked down at Sari. Met the shadowed eyes beneath the hood.

"You know what to do now?" Her voice was quiet.

Sari nodded slowly. "Yes, my lady."

She stood smoothly, her movements fluid, practiced. "I’ll be ready."

Then she melted back into shadows.

Leaving Selene alone in the moonlit guest room.

She looked down at the pouch in her hand.

Such a small thing. But containing suppressant specifically calibrated for Ferick’s particular constitution, his weaknesses, his vulnerabilities, his failures who’d never progressed beyond mediocrity despite family resources.

It wouldn’t kill him. Wasn’t designed to. Just... weaken, reduce him to baseline human strength while leaving him conscious enough to understand what was happening.

They want to take Elina.

The thought crystallized with perfect clarity.

Want to strip away the last person I have left. Want to leave me with nothing.

Her jaw clenched. Eyes blazed with fury.

She tucked the pouch into her dress.

Then walked toward the door.

Her steps steady despite the pounding of her heart. Her breathing controlled through sheer force of will.

She moved through corridors she knew by heart. Past servants’ quarters where everyone slept. Past her own chambers. Past Elina’s door, pausing there for just a moment, pressing one hand against the wood.

I’ll protect you... my child.

Then she continued. Down the hall to the wing her husband occupied.

To Ferick’s chambers.

The door was unlocked, he never bothered with locks, too drunk most nights to remember and too arrogant to believe anyone would dare enter uninvited.

Selene pushed it open slowly.

The room was predictably disordered. Clothes scattered across furniture. Wine bottles, some empty, some half-full, littering surfaces. The smell of alcohol and unwashed body permeating everything.

And on the bed—

Ferick sprawled face-up, snoring heavily. Still partially clothed. One arm hanging off the mattress. Completely unconscious in the way only heavy drinking could produce.

Around his neck was a pendant that pulsed faintly with protective essence.

The guardian artifact.

Selene’s eyes fixed on it. The one piece of actual value Ferick possessed, a defensive artifact keyed to detect hostile intent and activate automatically. It contained a bound guardian spirit that would manifest to protect the wearer from ambush or assassination.

But only if it senses the attack coming.

She pulled out a crystal artifact and pressed it.

The room engulfed in an invisible dome.

Soundproof barrier.

Then she moved to the windows. Drew the curtains back. Opened the glass panes wide to let in night air and moonlight.

Creating exit routes. Escape paths. And more importantly, entry for what was coming.

She stood beside the bed for a moment, staring down at her husband. At the man who’d just agreed to hand over her daughter like she was property to be traded.

Who’d struck her. Who’d told her she had no rights, no authority, no worth beyond administrative function.

Her hand moved to the pouch. Opened it carefully. The powder inside glittered faintly in the moonlight, essence-reactive, designed to be absorbed through skin contact or inhalation.

She sprinkled it across his face. His neck. His exposed chest where his shirt had come open.

Ferick stirred slightly. Coughed. But didn’t wake, too deeply unconscious from wine to register the irritation.

The powder began to work.

Slowly, his essence signature started to dim further. Even weakening him physically.

His breathing became more labored.

Now.

Selene’s hand moved to the open window. Made a specific gesture, signal prearranged with Sari.

And shadows poured through the opening.

Which then wrapped around the pendant at Ferick’s neck, the guardian artifact that should have activated by now, should have sensed the hostile presence in the room.

But the shadows weren’t attacking. Weren’t triggering defensive protocols. Just... containing. Suppressing. Using techniques that convinced the artifact’s guardian spirit that everything was fine, no threats detected, no need to manifest.

Selene’s hand closed around the letter opener. Drew it from her sleeve.

Moonlight caught the silver blade. Made it gleam.

She raised it high—

Ferick’s eyes snapped open.

Groggy and confused.

His body weakened, his mind struggling to process why his wife stood over him with blade raised—

And she struck.

Not at his heart. Not killing blow. Just pain.

The letter opener plunged into his shoulder.

THUNK!

Punching through muscle, scraping bone, drawing blood that flowed hot and dark.

Ferick screamed.

He tried to surge up. To throw her off.

But nothing worked. The suppressant had reduced him to even below ordinary man.

The shadows kept his guardian bound. And Selene’s weight pressed down on his chest, pinning him.

"What... what are you doing?!" His voice was panicked. Confused. "Selene... stop... you’re insane—"

She pulled the blade out.

SQUELCH!

Blood sprayed across white sheets.

And stabbed again. His other shoulder. Then his thigh. Then his side—

Not deep. Just pain. Methodical, measured pain that accumulated with each strike.

"You hit me," she said quietly. Her voice was flat.

Carrying none of the emotion that should accompany this violence.

"You agreed to take my daughter. You called me..." The blade struck again. "You told me I wasn’t her mother!"

STAB!

"Stop... please... guards..." Ferick tried to thrash. To escape. His hands grabbed at her wrists, trying to force the blade away—

But right now, he was just weak man struggling against someone driven by absolute fury.

Selene’s free hand came up.

And cracked across his face. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her knuckles split from the impacts.

His nose broke with sickening crunch. Blood poured from it, mixing with tears and snot and fear.

"You’re weak," she hissed. "You’ve always been. Worthless. Good for nothing except drinking and whoring and selling your own daughter to curry favor with the—"

Her fist came down again.

Again. And again.

Not calculated strikes anymore. Just pure, unleashed hatred. Every frustration, every humiliation, every year of tolerating his existence coming out in violence she’d suppressed for decades.

Ferick’s struggles grew weaker. His face swelling, distorting. Blood everywhere, on the sheets, on her hands, on her dress, everywhere.

His eyes rolled back. Consciousness slipping as trauma and blood loss overwhelmed his weakened system.

Selene raised the letter opener one final time. Positioned it over his throat. Over the spot where one thrust would end everything. Would free her from him permanently.

Her hand trembled. Ready to plunge, then—

Stop.

If he dies now, Lucius takes Elina immediately. Claims guardianship. I lose everything.

She stopped.

The letter opener remained poised but didn’t fall. Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her entire body trembling with adrenaline and rage and horror at what she’d almost done.

"No," she whispered. "Not yet. I can’t... not yet!"

She stood abruptly. Stumbled backward from the bed. Stared down at her hands, covered in blood, knuckles split, still gripping the letter opener like lifeline.

"I almost killed him," she breathed.

And before she could recover...

"Mama?"

The voice came from the doorway.

Small and confused.

Selene froze.

Then slowly, she turned, dreading what she’d see—

Elina stood in the doorway, wearing nightclothes, her red hair loose around her shoulders, her golden eyes wide with shock and incomprehension.

Staring at the scene before her.