Stolen by the Rebel King
Chapter 332: Cheap Replacement I

Chapter 332: Cheap Replacement I

Eugene held his breath as he saw the shadow first. The shadow’s silhouette was so awfully familiar to him, and his palms grew sweaty at the thought of finally seeing Daphne again. Eugene found himself leaning forward, his heart racing in excitement as he imagined the expression on Daphne’s face when she caught sight of him.

Would she hate to see him? Most definitely.

Maybe her bright blue eyes would flash with anger, and her hands would blaze with a powerful flame that threatened to burn his face.

But that was fine― as long as she kept her eyes on him and him only. Eugene believed that with enough time, he would wear her down so she would think of nothing but him.

And he would love nothing more than to wear her down and remake her. She would be his masterpiece. They would be a perfect match.

Then she actually walked in with her own two feet, and Eugene’s breath caught in his throat, before giving way to an incredulous laugh as he registered the heavenly sight before him.

A goddess in the flesh, clad in a pink silk dress that had clearly seen better days. Her bright blue eyes met his own, and she hurriedly looked away before clearing her throat.

"I’ve been told that you wanted to meet me?" Her words were imperious and her voice melodious, yet Eugene could detect the undercurrent of fear.

There was no outrage in her voice.

He laughed. What else could he do in the face of Prince Alistair’s audacity?

To think he would dare to cheat him? And to do it in such a half-hearted manner too! Oh, there was no fault with the copy’s physical attributes, everything from her hair to her eyes, to the delicate moue of her lips, to the fullness of her breasts― everything was perfect.

They looked exactly like Daphne’s, and Eugene had no doubt that Alistair must have tried all sorts of deranged experiments to get such a flawless result.

Unfortunately, he paid so little effort to Daphne’s character. Gone was her spark, her vivacity, her strength of character, the anger in her eyes. Who was this meek slip of a woman that dared to wear her face?

And in such a hideous pink gown nonetheless!

Eugene’s eyes darkened even as he continued to howl uproariously to himself, a hand over his forehead. He tilted his chair back, balancing on the chair’s hind legs, the very picture of childish pleasure.

Warning bells began to ring in Drusilla’s head. Did she accidentally say something wrong? She did her best to emulate Daphne, but the details of her relationship and Eugene Attonson were murky at best. Her brother was less than forthcoming with her when she pressed for details, only telling her the bare minimum.

This was a man who was in love with her oldest sister, and he didn’t even care that she was married. He wanted her anyway. Just the very thought made Drusilla’s guts curdle with jealousy― no man had ever felt this strongly for her!

Since she failed to snatch Atticus from Daphne, she might as well make do with Eugene Attonson. She had slept with enough men, one more wouldn’t make a difference. Since Eugene Attonson had gone to so much trouble to grab Daphne, it definitely wouldn’t be for something as trivial as a chat!

But Eugene Attonson was a dangerous man to double-cross.

Drusilla discreetly gave Alistair a worried glance, but her precious brother did not seem worried in the slightest. Instead, this was the happiest he looked since he lost his hand. A victorious smirk crossed Alistair’s face as he caught sight of Eugene’s delighted face, the way his eyes widened with rapture when he first caught sight of ’Daphne’, and the peals of laughter that escaped his throat.

Just as he expected― the disguise was perfect. Someone who had only interacted with Daphne a few times would never be able to see through it.

"My, my, Prince Alistair," Eugene Attonson finally said, theatrically wiping a tear from his eye. "I must say I’m thoroughly impressed at your skills. Truth be told, I had no hopes for your success. I’m glad to be proven wrong. Daphne, it’s very nice to see you again. How’s that inner fire of yours?"

’Daphne’ pursed her lips and looked away, refusing to reply, but her hand glowed a bright orange, her flames clearly visible.

Smart of her. The less she spoke, the fewer chances she had to ruin the scheme. Unfortunately, Eugene had already known she wasn’t Daphne from the moment she walked into the room willingly.

Since this woman had pyromancy abilities, she must be none other than Princess Drusilla.

How nice of Alistair to send a whore to him, as though he didn’t spend his days hiding in brothels.

"Now that you’ve got what you wanted, where is my medication?" Alistair demanded. "Are you someone who renegades on your promises?"

Eugene waved a lazy hand. "Fair enough, a deal is a deal. Since you went through all this trouble to procure her for me, this is for you." He rummaged through his drawers and pulled out a series of numbered bottles and their corresponding syringes. Alistair noted that the bottles were bigger than usual, but there were only three of them.

Now with the sorry state of his coat and pants, he had no way to carry them, but he’d be damned if he asked Eugene Attonson for more help.

Eugene caught the brief look of stubbornness on his face.

"Do you need a bag? I doubt your singular hand can hold all of them," Eugene snickered at his own joke. "Then again, that’ll soon be a problem of the past."

"Assuming your cure works," Alistair retorted. "Why are the bottles so big, yet there are so few of them this time around?"

Eugene merely shrugged and helped him pack the bottles and syringes into an enchanted bag― the very same bag that was distributed to participants during the Crown Conquest’s hunt.

"This is the last and final dose, so more is needed. Or would you rather I give you too little and you end up with tiny stumpy hands too small for your arms?" Eugene retorted. "I’ll throw out half if you like."

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