Salvation Through Delusion C133

Chapter 133

Ever since opening my eyes in Adeye Rue’s body and beginning life in Tuvine, I have lived with death in mind. This body and this life are merely borrowed, after all — fate could reclaim them at any moment.

But I had never imagined dying from sheer frustration.

Right now, I genuinely felt like my breath might stop.

The damn bear slowly settled into place, then spread its arms even more slowly. Sitting with both arms extended sideways formed the consonant ㅎ. The word it was expressing was—

[“I’m fine.”]

Mo translated, though it hardly mattered. The bear was so painfully slow that anyone could have figured it out with time to spare.

From the miserable scraps of conversation I’d managed to have with this cursed creature, I’d learned only a few things: the bear was indeed Sarne’s divine beast, and it had learned this Korean consonant body-language nonsense from a “friend.”

That friend, of course, was the Borhumi divine beast.

The moment I realized that, I nearly roared in fury.

What the hell did that snake-brained idiot do?!

Did it go home to recover and start exporting weird cultural trends? I wanted to storm into the Crimson Tides Forest and shake it by the neck.

I almost asked the bear about the snake’s condition, but restrained myself. That would only waste more time — and spike my blood pressure.

Still, something didn’t add up.

The Borhumi beast used this method because it lacked strength. Did that mean Sarne’s divine beast had a similar problem?

That was the question I’d asked earlier — and the answer was:

“I’m fine.”

And when I wondered how it would express ㅉ, the bear drew ㅈ with its arms and held up two fingers.

I was irrationally offended.

After more than an hour of this torture, that was all I’d learned:

The bear was fine.

That’s it.

“…So you’re fine, but you use body language because you can’t speak?”

I asked, bracing for another geological-era response.

But the bear didn’t move.

Had it gotten even slower?

No. I can speak.

A voice rang inside my head — clear and beautiful, like a siren’s song. The disconnect between that voice and the plush monstrosity before me stalled my thoughts for a moment.

Then realization hit.

“You can talk?! Then TALK!!!”

I unleashed the roar I’d been holding in.

The bear responded by standing — slowly, agonizingly slowly — and only when I was on the verge of collapse did it finish spelling:

“Body language is fun.”

[“It says: this is fun.”]

…You insane bear!!

I nearly lunged for its collar — divine beast or not — when Mo interrupted:

[It’s time to return to the estate.]

I clutched the back of my neck again.

This wasn’t a divine beast.

This was the final boss.

“You told them to keep the date?”

After hearing Solongo’s report, Dr. Kim tapped his desk thoughtfully.

“The hunting tournament is when Duke Koon and the traitor grow close, correct? It’s clearly a trap.”

“Probably.”

He agreed, eyes distant.

Solongo spoke urgently:

“We must use another method. If they intend something that day, Rue must absolutely not attend.”

“But if Rue refuses, Adeye may be treated as an enemy.”

She was visibly troubled.

Dr. Kim answered easily:

“Why stop Rue? Postpone the tournament.”

“Ah!”

Solongo nodded in admiration.

“I’ll arrange it immediately.”

“…Something still bothers me,” Dr. Kim added.

“Hoiga emphasizing the date.”

Solongo replied lightly:

“He wanted pressure. To ensure Adeye brings Rue that day.”

“Ordinary deception, maybe. But Hoiga has spent a decade mastering lies.”

“A double trap? Forcing us to avoid the date? But an incident truly happens during the tournament.”

Dr. Kim tapped the desk again, then sighed.

“Perhaps I’m overthinking. Still — caution. And don’t inform Rue. If we haven’t heard from him, he likely hasn’t even entered Acorn Forest yet.”

He glanced at the silent communicator.

“No need to burden him while he’s alone in hostile territory.”

“Sir Rick, what’s wrong?”

Rick had been working nonstop in Tyroc’s absence, yet every evening he checked Rue’s door out of habit. Rue returned from the fog daily, exhausted, bathed, slept briefly, and left again before dawn.

Tonight, instead of resting, the head servant stood outside Rue’s room, worried.

“Rue hasn’t eaten. He’s just lying down.”

“He went into the fog again today?”

“Yes… and something seems wrong. A servant changing the bathwater saw him covering his face…”

The servant hesitated.

“There were tears.”

“He’s crying?!”

Rick lowered his voice in shock.

“Why?”

“Perhaps frustration… he sighed heavily.”

The fog could only mean one thing.

“He hasn’t found a way to lift the curse.”

Rick stared at the door, conflicted. He hadn’t realized Rue was this sincere about Koon.

“Tell the staff not to disturb him tonight.”

If Rue really lifted the curse…

Rick might serve him for life.

“Haah… haah…”

I’d left earlier than usual and sprinted nonstop. My lungs felt shredded.

Then Mo spoke:

[Destination nearly reached.]

Unlike hikers’ lies, Mo never exaggerated.

Soon the clearing appeared — the rock, the cabin, and the same figures as yesterday.

“Adeye Rue.”

Black Bear approached immediately.

I greeted her absently and looked past her.

The damn — divine — bear sat like a doll, eyes rolling to acknowledge me.

Of the three divine beasts I’d met, its eyes were the wildest.

No wonder. Only a lunatic could frustrate someone this precisely.

I’d barely slept, steadied my mind overnight, yet seeing it already tightened my neck.

I looked away.

Black Bear studied me with equal exhaustion.

“Are you alright?” I asked.

“You… are you a savior?”

“…Hard to say.”

No reason to commit.

“But I can see divine beasts. Adeye bloodline trait.”

“Adeye can barely see minor spirits.”

“I can see them.”

I pointed behind her.

“Sarne’s divine beast is still there.”

“…Why should I believe you?”

“Then why faint yesterday?”

“….”

“Ever seen a giant plush bear before?”

Her eyes wavered.

So she had.

“Strange,” I mused. “You’re not supposed to see them.”

“I didn’t see it… I felt something as a child.”

“Like a giant bear?”

She stared, shaken.

“I won’t believe you without proof.”

“Alright. I’ll ask the divine beast.”

Her eyes widened.

“Warning,” I added.

“The answer will be slow.”

“How slow?”

“…Very slow.”

“And?”

“Extremely slow. Painfully slow.”