✍️✍️✍️✍️ Garden Of Poison Chapter 138 || 139 Complete Chapters ✍️✍️✍️✍️



Hidden death (4) (Chapter 138)

Catalina said to her sister, "Dante is the man I have been writing to, and you haven't been honest with him. You are using my—"     
"I didn't use your name. I told him exactly what my name was, and he just happened to fall in love with me at first sight. That is why he proposed. I really love the man, Catalina," Isabella confessed, and Catalina's hands tightened into fists.      

"That's not possible." Catalina found it hard to believe that her sister could also be in love with the same man she was. "I am the one who has been exchanging letters with him."      

"And I have been reading them and participating in the correspondence. I feel like I have known him for ages, and he has eyes only for me. Did you not see how he looked at me? As if I am his entire world," Isabella said before continuing, "We even shared a kiss."      

"…" Catalina fell silent for a moment before asking, "What do you think will happen when he finds out the truth? That it was actually me who has been writing to him all this time?"     

Isabella gritted her teeth before responding, "I was going to explain it to him, but he's already so taken with me, and he's set on marrying me. Why do you want to complicate matters and confuse him when he's arranging the wedding and has envisioned his life with me? Revealing the truth will only make things awkward for all of us. Did he ever propose to you in his letters? What if he ends up not marrying either you nor me?"      

Catalina had been eagerly anticipating the moment she would finally meet the man she had been writing to, even before he mentioned visiting her village. Now, she felt dejected and betrayed by both him and her sister. Her sister was stealing the man for herself, and binding him to her through their engagement, and him… because she had hoped he would recognise her at first glance and acknowledge their connection.      

Isabella stepped in front of her, grasping her hands. "We are engaged, and we have envisioned our lives together. Please, Catalina," she pleaded softly.     

On the third evening following the young man's visit, Catalina was cleaning the living room when Dante walked into the house. He said to her,      

"Isa is talking with Mrs. Spencer."     

Catalina acknowledged him with a nod and turned away from him. She had chosen to keep her words to herself while carrying the weight of her heavy heart.      

"You do not speak much, do you, Miss Catalina?" Dante spoke to her. "Or are you in disagreement with our rather sudden relationship?"     

"No, it isn't anything like that. You are a good man, and Isabella is happy… What more can I ask for?" Catalina replied with a faint smile.      

"Do you need me to help you with anything?" he offered, and she shook her head. "Please, I insist," he persisted, trying to be useful. Engaging in small talk, he mentioned, "Isabella said you don't want to move to Twarby. I am sure we can explore arrangements for you to stay nearby, not too far from here."     

"Thank you for your kind offer, Mr. Blackthorn, but I think I will stay here," Catalina replied. She asked him, "How are you finding our village? I hope everything is to your liking so far."      

"It has been perfect, knowing I would find what I was looking forward to," Dante replied, and her eyes met his. "My offer still stands if you change your mind, knowing how much Isabella cares for and loves you. Unless you prefer the company of the villagers, as the riverside offers peace and quiet."     

"I do like the peace and quiet," Catalina replied while absentmindedly adjusting the curtains. She continued, "I am sure the riverside is charming. It must make it easier to catch fish for cooking or to wash clothes…"      

When Catalina saw him stare at her, she became self-conscious and inquired, "Is there something on my face?" while instinctively reaching up to touch her face.      

"No, there isn't," Dante replied to her, and he said, "I was just thinking that you are a simple woman. And, even though Isabella and I have conversed, there are moments when it feels like I am still learning new things about her. Please don't misunderstand; I love her very much, but it's as if there is a bridge that is yet to be built between us."     

Catalina wanted to say something but struggled to find the right words to broach the subject. And before a word could leave her lips, the sound of footsteps heading towards the main door reached her ears, and Dante said,      

"I believe it will over time, won't it?"      

"I guess it will…" Catalina answered, and just then, Isabella entered the house, immediately noticing the two of them standing together.      

"Is everything alright?" Isabella asked.     

"Yes," Dante answered, and he walked to where she stood. "Your sister and I were talking about how lovely you look when you smile," he said, and he turned to look at Catalina, who nodded in agreement.      

Later at night, when it was just the two sisters alone, Catalina found herself unable to bear to conceal the truth or her feelings any longer. She entered her sister's room, where Isabella was arranging the new clothes she had received, and spoke up,      

"Tell Dante the truth, or I will do it myself, Isabella. He deserves to know."      

Isabella got up from her seat and uttered, "You have made up your mind, and I can't change it?"      

"No." Catalina knew it would hurt Isabella, but she couldn't ignore the situation. After a few seconds passed between them, Isabella conceded,      

"Okay. I will tell him when he comes by tomorrow. If that is what you want." Isabella's lips tightened, and she added, "I need some time alone. If you don't mind."      

Catalina wished she could offer words of support to her sister, but she could tell her sister wasn't in the mood to speak. She wasn't going to overlook the gravity of the mistake, and she decided to give her sister space, retreating to her own room to rest.      

As the villagers fell asleep and the moon ascended, Catalina's door creaked open. She was abruptly roused from her sleep, and Catalina felt disoriented as Isabella stood beside her bed, holding a pillow firmly over her face.      

"Why couldn't you just let it be, Catalina? Everything was going perfectly, but you had to go and ruin it." Isabella's voice was tense as she continued to press the pillow over a struggling Catalina's face. A few seconds later, the muffled sounds ceased, and there was no more movement from the older sister. "It is time for you to sleep," Isabella whispered, her grip on the pillow loosening.     

The next day, Catalina was cremated after Isabella was found crying and shouting for help for her sister. The man to whom Isabella was engaged offered his support during her grieving process and postponed the wedding so that they could honour the memory of the dead woman.      

As days went by, the bridge that Dante had expected to close between them only widened. And though he continued to love Isabella, he couldn't help but feel unfamiliar with the woman with whom he once exchanged heartfelt letters. He wasn't alone in this sentiment, as Isabella also noticed the growing distance between them and sensed that he wasn't as warm and connected as she had initially believed him to be.      

Dante found himself revisiting their conversations in the letters, while Isabella's heart was increasingly filled with hatred and a growing sense of separation.      

It took only one meeting with another man before her wedding to Dante for her to realise that she would never truly be happy with him; because the man was evidently still in love with her dead sister, not her.      

So when the chance presented itself, Isabella took action and killed Dante in order to manipulate sympathy and gain wealth before continuing with the life she believed she deserved.      

Anastasia's mind was brought back to the present. To think it wasn't just one, but two previous lives of hers that she didn't know about until now.     

After reliving the first life's memory she hadn't consciously retained, she stared at Isabella. A mix of familiar and unfamiliar emotions passed through her, and she questioned,      

"How could you? You never loved anyone but yourself…"     

And while Anastasia locked her gaze on the figure before her, Dante's eyes widened in realisation, and he turned to look at his soulmate. What he saw was something he hadn't been aware of—the fact that it wasn't Isabella, as that particular fragment of memory had been obscured by his overwhelming rage.      

Throughout all these years, his anger and hatred were misdirected, a consequence of his transformation into an archdemon. The woman who had captured his heart through those letters had never been deceitful—his affections had always been meant for Anastasia, not Isabella. Through every life, they were destined for each other.      

Isabella cowered as Dante's icy, narrowed eyes moved towards her. "You have cost us years…" Anastasia watched the figure transform into the form of an earthling, just as she remembered, and she heard him continue, "And for eternity you will suffer."     

"AHH!!!!" Isabella let out a piercing screech as something forcefully hammered her fingers, causing blood to splatter. The invisible hammer persisted, as did the agonising screams, evoking pity from neither Dante nor Anastasia.      

Anastasia felt Dante slip his hand into hers, which instantly gained her attention. With their shared experiences across different times, she felt even closer to him than before. She heard him say,      

"Now we know why you wanted to marry a simple man who was a farmer."     


Transcending through lives (Chapter 139)

A heads up for the future of this book, the next story (Volume 2) that follows after Dante and Anastasia is Princess Emily's story.      
[Music Recommendation: Sugar Storm- Trent Reznor]     


Anastasia and Dante departed from the place where the dead souls were being tortured, moving away from the anguish and screams until they faded into a distant background. As they approached one of the tall and expansive structures, she heard him say,      

"This is where I reside."     

Dante's place in the underworld, Anastasia thought to herself, her brown eyes taking in the dark walls and the distinct architecture that differed significantly from the surroundings of Versailles. She asked him,      


Dante turned to look at Anastasia and replied with a smile, "Not anymore." He then said, "The archdemons possess their individual towers, bestowed upon them by Viktor. Allow me to show you the inside." They entered the tower that belonged solely to him, and he didn't let go of her hand even once.      

Anastasia couldn't help but look up at the ceiling, where the chandeliers hung high like stars against the expanse of the dark overhead. She murmured, "It looks beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here." This allowed them to learn more about each other.      

One of Dante's underling demons materialised in front of them, offering them a bow before informing, "Master Dante, the bath has been prepared and awaits your presence."     

Anastasia turned slightly perplexed, and she met Dante's eyes. "Anastasia, my demon form is in need of a special bath to regain its lost strength. It shouldn't take long. As you have been touched by the smoke, Ozga will lead you to a bath that is more suitable for you. I assure you, you will enjoy it," he explained, perceiving the troubled expression on her face. Leaning forward, he planted a kiss on her forehead and added, "Don't be disappointed that it is separate."     

Her cheeks filled with colour in response to his words before she followed the lowly demoness.      

Fifteen minutes later, in a bathing room adorned with dark walls and an array of flickering candles, the bath remained still, attended by servants waiting for the archdemon to emerge. Rather than water, the bath contained blood infused with elements capable of rejuvenating a demon.      

Dante emerged from beneath, breaking the surface, his form drenched and painted in blood as scarlet droplets cascaded back into the bath. The skeletal protrusions that extended from his back in his demon form began to elongate, angling sideways until their tips dipped into the viscous blood.      

"Is it to your liking, Master? The blood is fresh," a servant informed from the corner.      

Dante's fingertips grazed the liquid's surface before he regarded it with a content expression. He replied, "Impeccable. The skeletal structure on my back seems to have mended itself." When he turned to look over his shoulder, the bones slowly retracted before disappearing from his back, and his form shifted back into his earthling appearance.      

"Master, do you intend to leave for the realm of the living to complete the devastation and bring back Master Raylen and Master Magnus?" the servant inquired.     

The blood droplets on Dante's head traced a path to his jawline, finally dropping into the bath as his gaze remained fixed on the wall adjacent to the room in which Anastasia was bathing. He responded,      

"There has been a change in the plan. I have other things that require my attention and effort."      

In the past, when Raylen left the underworld to reside in the living world, Viktor had not taken it well. Dante, who possessed the ability to sow destruction with his uncontrollable rage and hatred towards the world, had been dispatched for the purpose of annihilation, only to be ensnared by a curse cast by one of the earthlings.      

However, in light of the new information and developments that had taken place, his interest in decimating the place had waned. With the exception of some necessary adjustments, the previous mission didn't entice him anymore.      

The servant's already large eyes widened even further, and it inquired with a hint of surprise, "W—What about the Devil?" After all, that was the primary reason why his master had returned to the living realm in the first place. "As expected of you, Master Dante! Your courage knows no bounds!"      

Dante didn't pay heed to his servant and continued to soak himself in the blood, while his thoughts drifted back to the past. He relieved those memories until he cleansed his body and eventually exited the bath.      

Meanwhile, Anastasia was wiped clean with the assistance of the lowly demoness. Though she was not initially keen on the bath, she now felt significantly better, free from the clinging sensation of the smoke and haze. Right now, she stood before a closed door, taking a few seconds before she pushed it open.      

Considering they hadn't returned to Versailles and were in Dante's quarters, Anastasia could only imagine the possibilities of how they could spend their time.      

Upon entering the room, Anastasia caught sight of Dante draped in a black robe, with water droplets dripping from the ends of his hair. Their eyes quickly locked with one another, and she observed him finish the drink in his hand before he subtly licked his lips.      

"How was your bath? Hopefully everything was to your satisfaction."     

"It was pleasant… How was yours?" Anastasia asked. She saw Dante languidly walk to where she stood, his movements confident. And as he drew closer, her eyes momentarily became captivated by the sight of his neck and the expanse of his chest, revealed by the V-shaped neckline of his robe.      

"I thought it was magnificent, but I believe I like the present time better," Dante hummed, his fingers gently reaching for the tips of her hair, as if inspecting its dryness.      

Anastasia felt her heart skip a beat, even though his touch wasn't direct. She heard him say,      

"Seems like there's something on your mind. What is it?"     

As her eyes met his crimson ones, she recognised the familiar predatory gleam within them. She softly uttered, "It isn't anything important."     

Dante leaned towards her, brushing his lips against her cheek before he said, "You should know by now that nothing is unimportant when it concerns you."     

As Dante pulled his lips away from her, Anastasia's eyes met Dante's gaze once more, her attention involuntarily tracing his movements, and it brought a faint smile to his lips. This, in turn, prompted her to smile in return as she lowered her eyes before saying,      

"While I was in the bath, I couldn't help but ponder…About the memory of the past that we saw back there. Why is it that I have no recollection of it?"      

"Souls that remain innocent and untarnished do not retain the memory of the pain they went through in their past lives. Such memories are wiped clean upon their entry into Heaven, or, in rare cases, when they are reborn. Unlike demons who harbour grudges and resentment," Dante explained to her, his gaze fixed upon her as she looked up at him.      

"But I didn't go to Heaven, and you were turned into a demon…" Anastasia pointed out that his words didn't quite apply to their circumstances.      

"I think that, at some point in the past, demon blood found its way into my family line," Dante responded, piquing Anastasia's interest even higher. "It isn't uncommon, because some demons escape into the living world and engage with earthlings intimately."      

"That leaves quite a range of possibilities," Anastasia murmured to herself, and then felt Dante gently take both her hands in his.      

Dante looked serious as he gently squeezed her fingers. He confessed his thoughts to her, saying,     

"You exist for me, just as I exist for you, through many lifetimes. You are here because I needed you. Still need you. It is perfectly alright if you don't remember your past lives, because what matters most is the present, and if you need to know, you always made my lonely and aimless days bearable. Both now and in the past."     

Anastasia's heart warmed in response to his words, and she turned her hands around so that she was the one holding his. Looking straight at him, she said,      

"If it were in my power to fix it, I would have told you the moment I met you that it was me who had been waiting for you, to spare you years of solitude and heartache. My heart has longed only for you, and there has been no one else. And I hope I can make up for the years we lost, and I promise not to keep any secrets from you, not that I think I can."     

Though Anastasia's memory remained elusive, she felt heartache and heartbreak. Taking a step forward, she rose onto her tiptoes. Dante wound his arm around her waist and pulled her close until her back gently arched.      

When Dante's fingers traced the mark he had imprinted on her neck, a shiver coursed through her. The sensation continued as his touch travelled to the valley of her chest, and he spoke,      

"Allow me to corrupt you, Anastasia. Let me steal your heart, soul, and body."