A Peacock Husband of Five Princesses by day, a Noble Assassin by Night-Chapter 187

That earned another small smile from him—amused, pitying. "But isn’t she a burden to you? That’s what you said, remember?"

His tone was mocking, but the words were hers—the same ones she’d spoken in that glowing diner six years ago.

Sasha’s voice broke into a scream. "Amy might not have been born from love, but she’s still my daughter! The one I carried, the one I raised, the one who made me feel human again!"

The world tilted.

Sasha blinked, and she was no longer in the guest room.

She was seated in the familiar diner—The M Table—its warm golden light flickering like before.

The same smell of sugar and smoke hung in the air. Only now, there were no waitresses, no laughter, no clinking glasses.

Just him.

Mephistopheles lounged on a velvet sofa before her, one leg crossed over the other, a glass of Spiritwine resting lazily in his hand. His eyes gleamed like molten metal.

He smiled when he saw her. "Ah, milady. I was wondering if you’d show up."

Sasha steadied her breath, clutching the book against her chest. "I haven’t given up."

"Good," he said. "So... have you decided? Remember, you only have one chance to negotiate. After this, no second offers."

Sasha looked up at him, her fear buried under exhaustion and love. "You said something yesterday—that money can be bought with life, but life cannot be bought with material gains."

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"That’s why I have a counterproposal."

The devil’s smile twitched, intrigued. "I’m listening."

Sasha took a deep breath, forcing her voice not to crack. "Take my soul instead. As your payment. Just... give my daughter time. Let her grow. Let her see life—love, joy, pain, everything a human should see before she dies."

Her voice trembled. "Please, let her live."

For a long moment, Mephistopheles said nothing.

Then he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes gleaming in the low light. "Interesting. You wish to substitute your soul for hers?"

"Yes."

He chuckled softly. "You’re clever, milady. Clever... but I wonder—are you brave enough to bear the consequences of what that truly means?"

Sasha met his gaze, her heart pounding. "If it means Amy lives... yes."

His smile widened, cold and beautiful. "Very well, then. I’ll consider your proposal."

He raised the glass of Spiritwine to his lips and took a slow sip. 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Tomorrow night," he said, "I’ll give you my answer."

The diner lights flickered once—and vanished.

Would you like the next Chapter (Chapter 11) to open the following night, when Mephistopheles returns with his answer—offering her a twisted version of mercy, one that grants Amelia life but demands a cruel, unexpected cost?

Chapter 11: The Devil’s Terms

The world around Sasha shimmered again—the air heavy with smoke and gold light. The faint smell of wine and candle wax filled her lungs.

Mephistopheles was already there, sitting with his legs crossed, the same gentle, elegant smile on his face. His eyes gleamed like they carried a whole night sky inside them.

When she appeared before him, he gave a low whistle. "You came back."

Sasha swallowed hard. "I’m ready to hear your answer."

He leaned back, resting an arm along the sofa’s edge. "You know," he said softly, "you continue to surprise me, milady. I’ve dealt with countless mortals over the ages—kings, mothers, thieves, priests. Some begged for their own lives, others offered themselves for their children. But you..."

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing in fascination. "You offered your soul not to save your daughter forever, but simply so she could live a little longer. That’s... rare."

Sasha stood silent, her hands trembling at her sides.

He sighed, swirling the wine in his glass. "Still, I find sincerity refreshing. So I’ll grant your request—but with terms."

Her throat tightened. "Terms?"

He raised a finger. "Twelve years. That’s all I can give your child in exchange for your soul, milady. After that—when her time comes—I’ll claim her soul as well. That is the best I can offer."

Her eyes widened. "Twelve years..."

He nodded calmly. "Now, for confirmation—will you proceed with this exchange or not? You have one day to decide. Think carefully."

He paused, letting the silence stretch. "After all," he added, voice smooth as silk, "you are still young. You can always bear another child, can’t you?"

Sasha’s heart clenched. "No."

The word came out broken, almost a whisper.

She lifted her chin, tears glinting in her eyes. "I don’t want another child. I want her."

Mephistopheles watched her quietly. No mockery, no laughter this time.

Finally, he stood and inclined his head slightly, like a gentleman closing a deal. "Very well, milady. You truly are a mother."

Before she could speak, she took a shaky breath and said, "One more thing. Don’t take my life right away. I don’t want Amy to spend her birthday in despair. Take me after her birthday. Please."

Mephistopheles was silent for a long moment. Then he smiled faintly. "You wish to make her happy before the end."

He raised his hand, and a faint golden seal shimmered in the air between them, like ink swirling through light. "I accept your terms, milady. Your soul will be taken two days after your child’s upcoming birthday."

Sasha’s lips trembled, but she nodded. "Then we have a deal."

The seal pulsed once—then disappeared.

And with it, the light.

When she opened her eyes, the dawn light seeped through the window. The first sound she heard was Amy humming softly in her sleep.

Sasha brushed a strand of hair from her daughter’s face and whispered, "I’ve bought you time, my angel."

She forced a smile. "Twelve more years."

The next morning, she found the Bishop praying in the small chapel.

"Father," she said softly. "It’s done. The nightmare’s over."

The Bishop turned to her, hopeful. "You mean... he’s gone?"

Sasha nodded, the lie steady on her lips. "Yes. It’s been resolved."

He closed his eyes in relief. "Thank the Lord."

She smiled faintly, bowing her head. "Yes... thank the Lord."

By afternoon, she had packed their things and left the church.

Back home, she called her manager, Ava.

"I need you to contact a notary," she said. Her voice was calm—too calm. "I’m finalizing my will."

Ava froze on the other end of the call. "Sasha, are you okay? Why would you—"

"Just do it."

A few hours later, in the quiet of her study, Sasha sat a