Torrential rain lashed down as violet lightning tore through the night sky.

Under the night sky, the Princess’s mansion stood in opulent grandeur, yet inexplicably exuded an air of decay.

The sprawling garden was completely deserted – not a single soul in sight.

Lizzie, her hair wild and unkempt and her face contorted with terror, stumbled frantically through the garden.

“Stay away. Don’t come near me,” Lizzie screamed hysterically.

The world around Lizzie twisted grotesquely as countless bloodied hands clawed at her skirt, pulling with inhuman strength as if to drag her into the abyss.

Lizzie kicked and thrashed wildly, screaming, “Get away. Go away. It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill you. I didn’t kill any of you.”

Raindrops the size of marbles pelted her face. Her long hair, matted and tangled, clung to her skin like venomous snakes – ice-cold and clammy.

Lizzie pressed her back against the wall, frantically brandishing a wooden stick. “No. Get away. Stay away from me,” she screamed, her voice cracking with terror.

She watched in horror as the corpses from the mass grave clawed their way out of the earth, one after another.

Their rotting corpses were in various states of decay, with bones protruding through the flesh in places.

Lizzie turned pale, huddled in the corner with her arms wrapped tightly around her head, utterly paralyzed with terror.

“Ferris, save me. Please save me.” Lizzie’s consciousness wavered between feverish heat and icy chills as she dragged herself forward through the flooded courtyard, her fingernails clawing desperately at the cracks between the stone slabs.

Lightning flashed, and through the misty veil of rain emerged a figure clad in moon-white.

Ferris stood with his hands clasped behind his back against the palace wall. His usually affectionate, charming eyes now glinted with frost.

Under his umbrella, Ferris watched with icy detachment as Lizzie collapsed into hysterical sobs. Not a flicker of emotion crossed his cold, impassive face.

Phantomheart Grass could amplify one’s deepest fears to unbearable extremes.

Ferris had laced those dishes with a large amount of Phantomheart Grass. But with lethal poison already in Ferris’s system, mere Phantomheart Grass couldn’t possibly harm him.

Yet after consuming the food tainted by Phantomheart Grass, Lizzie’s mind was completely enslaved by the drug.

Ferris extended his hand, letting the icy rain gather in his palm, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Arthur wanted Lizzie to disappear without a trace, yet dared not dirty his own hands. And so, Ferris became the sharpest weapon in his arsenal.

Before she knew it, Lizzie had crawled to Ferris’s feet, her voice trembling with desperation as she pleaded, “Ferris, where are you? Please, help me. Save me.”

Lizzie was caked in mud, her long hair plastered to her face. No trace remained of her former nobility. Now she was nothing more than a dying wretch.

A subtle shift crossed Ferris’s features. Just as he was about to leave, Lizzie seemed to sense his presence.

A sudden, desperate cry tore from Lizzie’s throat. “You’re here, aren’t you? I know you are.”

With an anguished cry, Lizzie summoned her last ounce of strength and reached out desperately. Her hands flailed blindly through the air. Though Ferris stood right before her, her clouded vision could no longer perceive him.

Just as Lizzie’s hand was about to brush against the hem of Ferris’s robes, he recoiled a step. His eyes glimmered with undisguised revulsion.

“You’re so filthy.” Ferris’s voice, laced with contempt, stabbed into Lizzie’s ears.

She froze for a moment, then a hollow, almost hysterical laugh burst from her lips. “So it really was you pulling the strings. Well, dying by your hand – have no regrets.”

Perhaps the heavy rain brought Lizzie a moment of clarity. Clutching her head as she slumped against the steps, she smiled vacantly at the empty air. ” I always knew this day would come, just not so soon. Ferris, do you know why I’ve clung to you all this time?”

Just as Ferris was about to leave, a cold gust of wind whipped up the hem of his robe. He paused, glancing back at Lizzie, unsure if she was truly mad or just pretending.

But no matter what, once someone consumed Phantomheart Grass, there was no coming back.

Its victims drown endlessly in their own fears, unable to escape, and fear itself finally claims their lives. But Lizzie’s question echoed in Ferris’s mind.

“Why did it have to be me?” he wondered. “After all, she keeps plenty of handsome guys – most of them far better looking than I am.”

As if compelled by some unseen force, Ferris stopped in his tracks. Holding a black umbrella, Ferris descended the steps and stood in the veil of rain. Gazing down at her, he asked, “Why?”

Lizzie’s body stiffened slightly as her unfocused eyes strained desperately to open wider.

She seemed to be searching for Ferris through the haze. But it was no use – her vision had failed her completely.

Lizzie’s mind was filled with a cacophony of voices – the wails of vengeful spirits. She could even feel icy hands clutching at her neck, slowly creeping up her back.

This bone-chilling sensation drove her to the brink of madness.

Lizzie wrapped her arms tightly around herself, shivering uncontrollably.

Her lips were pale, and her voice trembled as Lizzie said, “Ever since I was a child, I was raised in the lap of luxury, surrounded by people constantly fawning over me. Yet not a single one of them ever truly cared.

“But that day, when I was whipping a palace maid, you stepped in and stopped me. You told me that as a princess, I should show compassion. I couldn’t take lives so lightly.

“Even though you were scolding me, I was strangely happy, because you’re the only one who won’t just obey me because I’m the princess.”

At this point, Lizzie broke down in quiet sobs. Bloody tears streamed from her eyes as she clutched her head in agony.

She sobbed, “I wanted to be a good person – truly, I genuinely wanted to turn over a new leaf. But the very first thing Arthur did after seizing power was to have someone violate me. It was he who destroyed my entire life.

“In this treacherous palace, with no one to rely on, how could I possibly survive? So I threw caution to the wind and became the slut – only by doing this could I make Arthur lower his guard against me,”

Lizzie threw her head back in hysterical laughter. “A princess by birth, yet living such a wretched life. I can’t control my fate, can’t break free from their grip – so I choose to wallow in the filth myself.”

Clutching her chest in agony, Lizzie wore a pained expression, her clouded gaze seemingly fixed on Ferris.

She stretched out a trembling hand toward him and pleaded, “I’m dying, Ferris. Won’t you just hold me? I truly don’t resent you. For me, death is a kind of release.”

That hand, once caked in mud, was now startlingly clean, scoured by the relentless downpour.

Ferris’s brow furrowed slightly as he remained motionless. Disappointment welled in Lizzie’s eyes. With a bitter, self-mocking laugh, she murmured, “Of course, who would ever want to hold someone like me?”

Suddenly, her hand was enveloped by a large, warm grasp. Ferris’s low voice resonated in her ear. “In your next life, never again be born into royalty.” Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating Ferris’s face – a fleeting glimmer of pity flickered in his eyes. His fate, in a way, was the same as Lizzie’s.

Trapped, unable to break free, and powerless to save himself, he could only sink deeper into this quagmire.

Lizzie clung desperately to Ferris’s hand, blood-streaked tears streaming down her cheeks in a ghastly display.

Like a drowning woman grasping at her last hope, she dragged herself toward Ferris with every ounce of strength she had left.

Just as Lizzie was about to touch the hem of Ferris’s robe, she stopped herself. Shaking her head, she whispered, “Someone as worthless as me shouldn’t soil your robe. Ferris, what I owe you in this life, I’ll pay you back in the next.”

Lizzie fished something from within her gown and thrust it into Ferris’s hand. “Promise me. Keep this safe. Never let a second soul know about it,” she whispered, her voice tense.

Ferris looked down at his palm, startled to find a small key and a single elixir.

Lizzie let out a manic laugh. “My father doted on me. He knew he couldn’t protect me after his death, so he hid a massive treasure trove in my territory – riches Arthur desperately coveted but could never get his hands on.

“For all these years, he’s searched everywhere, but never in a million years would he have imagined that everything he wanted was hidden right there in my territory.”

Ferris looked at Lizzie in disbelief, never imagining she would give him something so important in her final moments.

“After I’m gone,” Lizzie pleaded, “please take my ashes to my territory and bury them in a beautiful, peaceful place.”