~CHAPTER 45~
Caliph froze in shock, and Mayna roughly pulled her hand away from his grip.
With trembling hands, she grabbed the knife and threw it far away to a safe place.
Caliph was speechless, staring blankly at her.
It was the first time he had ever seen her so completely lose control and shout.
Even when chased by debt collectors and nearly kidnapped, she had always maintained the dignity of a noble lady.
If she had to choose between her life and her pride, she would have gladly given up her life.
No matter how upset she was, she always remained calm and gentle.
But now, she was shouting with raw anger, tears hanging in her eyes.
“There’s a knife right in front of you, placed so carelessly it could fall any second. You didn’t even notice that, did you?”
Mayna glared at Caliph.
Forget the title ‘Sir Renox.’
Respect is a right only those who deserve it should have.
“You probably don’t care. I’ll take care of it anyway.”
“……”
“The knife, and this kitchen too.”
Mayna clenched her teeth, refusing to cry, and looked around.
Yes. This kitchen, ruined by his drunken tantrum.
“You caused this mess, but I’ll be the one to clean it up.”
“……”
“I don’t want Magia, Hoji, or anyone from Renox Castle to suffer because of you.”
“……”
“You wouldn’t understand that, would you?”
Mayna’s voice carried a faint sneer as she looked straight at him.
“Feelings like that… you’ll never understand.”
She met Caliph’s eyes and spoke firmly.
“You’ll never understand, not even when you die.”
Turning her gaze away, she looked down at her wrist.
Red marks from his grip were still visible.
“It hurts.”
Caliph stared at her face, forgetting to breathe.
“When you grab someone that hard, it hurts.”
“……”
“Do you know that?”
“……”
“When you yell, people get scared. When you mock someone, they get hurt. When you throw things, they feel fear. And when it keeps happening… it turns into humiliation.”
Mayna slowly lifted her head.
“You don’t know that, do you?”
“……”
“You don’t know, Caliph.”
A faint, almost bitter smile appeared on Mayna’s lips.
But it wasn’t sarcasm anymore. It was something else—something he couldn’t define.
Caliph staggered like a defeated soldier, barely catching himself against the cold marble counter.
Her lips curved into a composed smile—cold, yet empty.
Ah…
That was when Caliph realized it.
Mayna had finally given up on him.
“No matter how much you pay, I’m done working with you, Sir Renox.”
Her voice was steady and firm.
“Let’s spend the remaining time cleaning things up between us.”
“……”
Caliph’s body stiffened, rage boiling like hot oil under his skin.
He remembered it all—the poor boy wandering the slums, the noble Winslet family who took him in, and Mayna Winslet, the radiant girl who lived behind those high walls.
When her family fell apart and she was about to be sold, he had appeared like a savior.
When she signed that ten-year contract, she became his.
She had agreed, hadn’t she?
At least until the contract ended, she couldn’t say such things.
She can get angry, she can yell, she can even go out and sleep with someone else if she wants—but she can’t say she’s leaving me.
Because she’s mine.
“It’s late. Please, go get some rest.”
She’s mine.
She shouldn’t sound this emotionless.
“Go to your room first. I’ll clean this up. It’s still my job for the next five days.”
So cold. So businesslike.
As if she’s really going to leave when those five days are over.
As if she’ll never come back.
Mayna turned away.
She didn’t even want to share the same air anymore.
After she left, she’d return to clean up this mess—his mess—like she always did.
He grabbed her wrist again, acting before reason could stop him.
“When you grab that hard, it hurts.”
“……”
“Do you know that?”
Caliph was painfully aware of it now.
He was that kind of man—the kind who didn’t even realize that hurting someone actually hurts.
Mayna sighed and looked back at him.
“Don’t make me abandon you.”
The words slipped out of him before he could stop them.
It was a plea, a confession stripped of pride.
Mayna faltered.
Her warm, coffee-colored eyes wavered.
Her calm expression crumbled.
“So this is what Banze meant by the final stage…”
Mayna shut her eyes tight.
I can’t weaken now.
“Don’t leave me.”
Caliph’s voice trembled like a child’s first word—fragile but desperate.
It was fear and belief tangled together.
Fear that she really would go.
Belief that if he begged hard enough, this kind-hearted woman would stay.
But Mayna steadied herself.
She wasn’t his mother.
She hadn’t carried him, birthed him, or raised him.
There had been moments when she fooled herself into thinking she could care for him like that, but it was only an illusion.
They weren’t family.
She owed him nothing.
Caliph Renox was an adult who had never truly grown.
A broken man who hurt others because of his immaturity.
She had to leave him.
Banze had told her.
Curden had reminded her.
And deep down, she had known all along.
To reclaim her lost life, she had to escape Caliph Renox’s shadow.
Just as she turned to leave—
Caliph suddenly grabbed her shoulders, his voice breaking.
“Please… don’t go.”
Startled, Mayna froze, overwhelmed by his closeness.
His touch, though desperate, was trembling and unsteady.
The air between them was heavy with unspoken pain and confusion.
Mayna took a sharp breath, then pushed his hand away.
“This isn’t how we fix things, Caliph.”
“Let go.”
Her voice was steady again.
She stepped back, keeping distance between them, and turned toward the doorway.
Without another word, she walked away—quiet, resolute, leaving only silence behind.
Caliph stood there, staring at the empty space where she’d been, realizing at last that he had truly lost her.
