Heath shook the snow from his cloak and walked over to Isolde. His cloudy eyes held a flicker of undisguised disgust. He didn't like this tyrant either.

Cameron gave a brief explanation. "She fell and hit her head. She woke up and doesn't seem to recognize anyone."

Heath nodded. His bony fingers pressed against Isolde's wrist. A faint green energy seeped from his fingertips into her body.

Isolde panicked internally. "System! Hide my soul signature and the magic I just awakened!" she screamed in her mind.

[Acknowledged. Generating interference barrier. ]

The system quickly threw up a chaotic mess of energy on the surface of her consciousness, mimicking the disruption of a severe brain injury.

Heath's brow furrowed deeper. He pulled his hand back and moved to inspect the gruesome wound at the back of her head.

The three men in the room held their breath.

Heath turned around and sighed. "Her brain has suffered devastating trauma," he announced. "Her mental sea is a chaotic mess. She has indeed lost her memories."

Brennan let out a long breath, his eyes shining with undisguised joy. Cameron's jaw relaxed slightly. Dangelo chuckled, clearly pleased with the diagnosis.

Heath left a small pouch of herbs and added, "With this level of damage, unless she receives a significant shock, she may never recover."

After the healer left, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The three men looked at Isolde differently now. They weren't looking at a threat; they were looking at prey that had walked right into a trap.

Cameron walked over to the rickety table. He pulled out three yellowed pieces of parchment from his coat and laid them out neatly.

He turned to Isolde, his tone deceptively gentle but hard as steel underneath. "Since you've lost your memory, there are some legal matters we need to attend to."

Brennan stepped forward and shoved a quill dipped in red ink into Isolde's uninjured hand.

Dangelo explained coldly, "These are annulment agreements. You sign them, press your blood seal, and we are strangers. We owe you nothing."

Isolde looked at the dense text on the parchment. The system instantly translated it for her. It wasn't just an annulment. It was a complete forfeiture of her title as lord and all her property. She would be left with nothing.

[Warning! Signing the annulment will result in mission failure and immediate host termination. You will not survive the night without their protection. ]

Isolde's fingers tightened around the quill until her knuckles turned white. She couldn't sign.

She looked up, tears instantly filling her eyes. She stared at them with absolute terror and abandonment.

"Are you... my husbands?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Why do you want to throw me away? What did I do wrong?"

Brennan was struck dumb. He couldn't exactly list her crimes to a woman who didn't remember them.

Cameron tried to stay rational. "We have no feelings for each other," he stated flatly. "Ending the contract is best for everyone."

Isolde threw the quill away. She covered her face with her hands and broke down into loud, heaving sobs. She cried like someone who had just realized the world was a nightmare.

"I don't remember anything!" she wailed between breaths. "It's cold here! It's awful! If you kick me out, the beasts outside will eat me!"

This absolute surrender to vulnerability left the three beastmen completely at a loss. They knew how to fight violence with violence, but they didn't know how to handle a sobbing, helpless woman.

Isolde peeked through her fingers. Seeing their hesitation, she pushed harder. "Please," she begged, her voice raw. "Give me a little time. Don't abandon me now."

She held up three bloody fingers, trembling. "Three months," she pleaded. "If you still hate me after three months, I won't fight it. I'll sign."

The room fell silent. The men exchanged glances. Their plan to force her signature had just hit a wall of tears.

Brennan was the first to break the silence. He sneered, "Even without your memory, you're still cunning. Three months is plenty of time for you to scheme something nasty."

Dangelo twirled the discarded quill between his fingers, his eyes dark. "We have no obligation to play house with a crazy woman," he added coldly.

Isolde knew words weren't enough. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Using every ounce of strength left in her battered body, she pushed herself up from the floor. Her legs refused to fully support her, forcing her to heavily drop to her knees beside the table. She dragged her upper body up, leaning most of her weight against the rotting wood. Before they could stop her, she picked up the quill. But she didn't sign the parchment.

Under their shocked gazes, Isolde raised her right hand and drove the sharp, metal end of the quill hard across the pad of her thumb, slicing a deep, jagged line through the flesh.

Blood welled up instantly. Isolde gasped but didn't scream. She pressed her bleeding palm hard against her own chest, over her heart.

She looked up, her eyes clearer and more resolute than they had ever been. "I swear to the Beast God," she declared, her voice ringing with a raw intensity, "by my soul and my life. If, after three months, you three still wish to annul the contract, I, Isolde Perry, will sign without condition. I will exile myself to the wasteland. If I break this oath, let my soul be devoured by beasts, never to find peace."

As the words left her lips, a faint golden light flickered across the ceiling. The Law of the Beast God had acknowledged the vow.

The three men froze. In this world, no one dared make a false oath to the Beast God. It was a curse worse than death.

Brennan's mouth hung open. He stared at the blood dripping from her palm, a flicker of something complex in his eyes. Dangelo's mocking smile was gone, replaced by a deep frown.

Cameron stared at her for a long moment. Then, he stepped forward and swept the three parchments off the table, tucking them back into his coat.

"Since you've sworn to the Beast God," Cameron said, his voice low, "we will give you three months. But don't expect any care from us."

Isolde's tense muscles finally went slack. She had won the gamble.

But the moment the adrenaline faded, the reality of her injuries crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her vision went black. Her body went limp, collapsing forward like a puppet with cut strings.

Cameron, standing right in front of her, instinctively reached out. His arms caught her falling body, pulling her against his chest.

Isolde's head rested against him. She could smell a faint, bitter scent of herbs on his clothes.

Dangelo and Brennan didn't move to help. They just watched.

Cameron frowned, looking down at the woman in his arms. She was as light as a piece of paper, her face as pale as a ghost. A strange, uncomfortable feeling twisted in his gut.

He carried her to the broken wooden bed and laid her down gently. As he pulled his arm back, his gaze landed on the bloody mat of hair at the back of her head. He remembered the moment, just hours ago, when he had shoved her.

He leaned in close. His eyes traced the gruesome, bloody mat of hair, and for a fleeting second, the cold scholar's mask slipped. He looked at her pale face, and a sudden, uncharacteristic wave of hesitation washed over him. He had pushed her on purpose. It was a calculated move to rid them of a monster. Yet, seeing her broken like this, he questioned his own descent into the very cruelty he despised.

Isolde, hovering on the edge of consciousness, felt the tense, complicated silence radiating from him. Her heart clenched in fear. But she forced herself to keep her breathing steady, playing dead.

Cameron lingered for a moment, making peace with his own guilt. He had been a scholar once, not a killer.

He straightened up and turned to the others. "She's lost too much blood. If she dies before the three months are up, we'll be charged with murder. Get some food."

Brennan cursed under his breath and stormed out into the snow. Dangelo just snorted and walked to the far corner of the room, closing his eyes.

The room fell quiet. Isolde lay in the dark, her mind racing. The heavy, suffocating silence of Cameron's lingering gaze still chilled her to the bone. This three-month battle for survival had only just begun.

Outside the stone house, the wind and snow had lessened slightly. Cameron and Dangelo stood under the eaves, staring out at the white wasteland.

Dangelo exhaled a cloud of white breath. "We can't let her remember," he said, his voice icy. "If she gets her memory back, we're dead."

Cameron looked at him. "How do you propose we do that?"

Dangelo's lips curled into a cruel smile. "We make her work to survive. If she's exhausted and starving every day, she won't have the energy to remember anything."

Cameron didn't argue. He nodded. The unspoken agreement was made: they would use the harsh environment to break her, physically and mentally.

Inside the dark, freezing room, Isolde's consciousness had sunk into the virtual space created by the Nexus system.

A soft blue light pulsed. [Host has survived the first three hours. Novice protection period ended. Distributing talent rewards. ]

A surge of warm, immense energy exploded from Isolde's heart. It rushed through her veins, bringing both a sharp pain and an incredible sense of relief.

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened Life Magic (Beginner). Effective for healing wounds and accelerating plant growth. ]

Before she could process that, a wave of spatial distortion hit her, making her dizzy.

[Congratulations, Host. You have awakened Spatial Magic (Beginner). You have gained a 10-cubic-meter static storage space. ]

Isolde almost jumped for joy in her mind. In a world that worshipped physical strength, having magic was her ticket to survival.

She couldn't wait to test it. Her consciousness snapped back to her body. She opened her eyes a crack. The room was empty, and she could hear Dangelo and Cameron talking outside.

Isolde carefully lifted her injured hand-the one Dangelo had crushed and she had stabbed with the quill.

She focused her mind, following the system's instructions. A faint, pure green light bloomed in her palm, glowing like a firefly in the dark room.

She pressed the light against her wounds. A cool sensation washed over her skin. The deep puncture wound and the swollen bruises began to heal at a visible rate.

Within a minute, her hand was smooth and pale, without a single scar.

Isolde was stunned by the power. She immediately reached back to touch the fatal wound on her head. The green light flashed again. The throbbing pain vanished, replaced by a dull itch as the wound closed, leaving only a small scab.

As the magic faded, a wave of exhaustion hit her. [Warning: Beginner Life Magic energy depleted. Requires food or rest to recover. ]

Despite her fatigue, Isolde's eyes sparkled with excitement. She decided to test the spatial magic next. She looked at the chipped wooden bowl on the floor. With a thought, the bowl vanished.

She closed her eyes and saw the 10-cubic-meter space in her mind. The bowl was floating there. Another thought, and the bowl reappeared on the floor.

She took a deep breath. With these two trump cards, she finally had the confidence to survive the next three months.

The crunch of footsteps outside made her freeze. She quickly pulled her hand under the thin blanket and closed her eyes, feigning weakness.

The door burst open. Brennan walked in, covered in snow. He was carrying a frozen, unrecognizable low-level beast corpse by its leg.

He threw the carcass onto the floor with a heavy thud. "Get up and work," he barked at Isolde. "No free rides here."

Isolde opened her eyes, pretending to be startled. She looked at the bloody, scaly beast on the floor, her expression shifting to one of perfect fear and helplessness.

Inside, she was calculating. If they wanted to work her to the bone, she would use it. She would use the chore of preparing food to show them just how much the "new" Isolde had changed.