The meaning carried by this necklace was far too heavy, leaving Tulia at a complete loss.
“Can I… not wear it?” she lowered her eyes, her voice barely audible, “I think… I’m not ready yet.”
Sophia’s hand froze mid-action.
Tulia could feel the air around them turn to ice. She didn’t dare look up to see Sophia’s expression—it must be frighteningly grim.
But the expected coercion didn’t come.
“All right,” Sophia’s voice was unexpectedly calm, laced with a restrained tenderness, “It’s fine. I’ll wait until you’re ready. I’ll always wait.”
Eh?
Sophia… actually didn’t force her?
Sophia simply turned to Ilana and nodded slightly.
The Boss Lady understood, and immediately brought over a black collar that had clearly been prepared in advance.
Tulia hesitated for a moment, then nodded gently, which counted as her silent consent.
When Sophia personally fastened the collar around her neck, the cold metal pressed against her warm skin, making Tulia instinctively shrink her neck.
Sophia looked over her “masterpiece” with satisfaction, her fingertips gliding lightly across the leather band that shimmered with a dark luster, as if caressing a treasure that belonged solely to her.
“Mm, it suits you very well.” She laughed softly, her tone openly delighted, “A beautiful little collar. Now, everyone knows whose little golden canary you are.”
That one sentence instantly turned Tulia’s cheeks crimson, the flush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.
Damn it! Why can this woman always say the most embarrassing things with the most elegant expression?
This scene was straight out of a classic rich-lady-takes-her-kept-lover-on-a-shopping-trip drama.
And she herself… really was the collared little lover!
What’s more, she realized she might… not actually dislike this feeling?
At night, the Queen’s Opera House became the grand stage of high society.
When Sophia, arm in arm with Tulia, appeared at their family’s exclusive VIP Box, Tulia felt as though every gaze in the room swept over her like machine-gun fire.
“Keep your back straight.” Sophia’s breath was warm at her ear, carrying a warning, “You’re representing me tonight. If you don’t behave… you won’t get the rest of the Letters when we get home.”
Tulia jolted, immediately straightening up even stiffer than a lamppost.
Tonight’s opera was “The Imprisoned Nightingale.”
Tulia couldn’t help but glance at Sophia beside her; that half-smiling, half-not expression made her heart clench—this choice of performance was surely no coincidence.
When the opera reached its climax, the King, longing to possess the Nightingale’s song forever, locked it inside a golden cage. The plaintive aria echoed through the theater. Just then, a cool hand settled atop Tulia’s on the armrest.
She shuddered, as if burned, and quickly snatched her hand back to her chest.
Turning her head, she saw that Sophia wasn’t even watching the stage—that pair of deep violet eyes, in the dim light, was staring unblinkingly at the side of her face, as if Tulia alone was the real performance tonight.
“Tell me,” Sophia’s voice was soft, yet slithered into her ears like a serpent, “was this King wrong?” Her fingertips tapped a dangerous rhythm on the armrest. “To lock away something so beautiful and fragile, all for the sake of protection—isn’t that the deepest kind of love?”
Tulia’s spine snapped straight.
She scooted away, purposefully widening the distance between them, her voice trembling slightly with suppressed anger:
“That’s not love, that’s selfishness. If you truly think it’s right, then why did I try so hard to run away from you back then?”
Sophia’s hand, hidden by the darkness, slid stealthily onto her knee, through the flimsy silk skirt.
Tulia’s inner alarm bells screamed, her body going rigid as stone.
She jolted again, as if struck by lightning.
Panicked, she clamped her hand over her mouth, terrified any shameful sound would escape.
The soprano’s song from the stage now sounded so far away—her whole world had narrowed to that wicked hand.
Sophia’s fingers began to move in waves; every motion sent violent tremors through Tulia’s body.
“No… Don’t…” She whimpered through her fingers, her voice small as a mosquito.
Tulia’s mind buzzed blank, her body melting like useless mush.
At that moment, the Nightingale on stage cried out its final, soul-piercing lament, dying in sorrow as thunderous applause filled the opera house.
Only then did Sophia, unhurried, withdraw her hand.
The surrounding nobles were still immersed in the opera’s sadness, hotly discussing the story, and no one noticed the far more private “tragedy” that had just played out in the shadowed corner of the VIP Box.
Tulia collapsed into her seat, her mind a total blank.
Then Sophia did something that caught her completely off guard.
She raised the withdrawn hand to her face with elegant leisure, eyes full of appreciation and playful interest, then slowly drew it close and breathed in its scent.
“Mmm…” Sophia sighed in satisfaction, her purple eyes flashing with fulfilled desire.
Within the magnificent opera house, the final note faded between velvet curtains, and the thunderous applause rose and fell like tides.
The chandeliers blazed again, and the guests began to rise and make their way toward the exit.
Yet in the most luxurious box on the second floor, Tulia felt as if she’d just dragged herself from a drowning nightmare.
She still slumped in the wide velvet seat, her legs as limp as freshly boiled noodles, not a shred of strength left in them.
At that moment, a shadow loomed over her.
Tulia looked up and met Sophia’s deep, purple eyes.
Surprisingly, those eyes no longer held the predatory aggression from before. Instead, they shone with a kind… gentle concern?
“Can you still stand?”
Sophia’s voice was low and just a little hoarse, sounding for all the world like a true gentleman inquiring about his lady companion’s well-being.
Tulia was momentarily stunned.
Sophia offered her hand with perfect gentlemanly grace, palm up in a classic invitation-to-dance gesture.
“In that case, as an apology, may I help you to your feet, my dear lady?”
Tulia hesitated for a moment, but finally placed her hand in Sophia’s, though clearly not of her own will.
Sophia’s fingers closed gently, steady and firm, pulling her up from the chair.
The moment she found her footing, her body swayed uncontrollably.
“Careful.”
Sophia immediately wrapped an arm around her waist, holding Tulia’s soft body tightly against her own.
Tulia’s face went crimson in an instant.
“Looks like you really do need some support.”
Sophia’s voice sounded right at her ear, laced with a trace of triumphant amusement. She naturally guided Tulia’s arm into the crook of her own.
And so, Tulia found herself leaning almost half her weight on Sophia as they left together.