Salvation Through Delusion C23

Chapter 23

 

She flinched, her eyes widening as she finally looked at me properly—for the first time. Though only for a brief moment.

 

“W-Why… why are you doing this…?”

 

“I’m truly sorry,” I said, bowing my head deeply. “I brought you here without even realizing you wouldn’t want to share your name. I’ve been so inconsiderate. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

 

When I pressed my hands together and kept apologizing, her confusion grew stronger.

 

“P-Please don’t… it’s not… it’s not your fault…”

 

“Of course it is. You won’t even tell me your name. You must really hate me for that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

 

I figured about ten rounds of apologies might soften her heart—and fortunately, it worked.

 

“M-My name… is E… Ellian…”

 

Her voice was too faint to catch properly, so I leaned in closer.

 

“I didn’t catch your surname. What was it? ‘E…’ what?”

 

“E… Ew… ik…”

 

Strangely, her voice grew even smaller, as if saying her name was a crime. But I couldn’t afford to let this chance slip.

 

“Sorry? Ewik?”

 

“N-No… E… uh… w… ik…”

 

“Ah, Ewik Silian?”

 

The moment I repeated the name, hurried footsteps echoed behind me.

 

Tap, tap.

 

And then came the gasps.

 

“Gasp!”

 

“E… Ewik?!”

 

“Oh, heavens…”

 

I half-rose to my feet and turned toward the healers. Their faces had gone pale with shock.

 

Why? Before I could ask, Mo projected a file before my eyes.

 

> [Ewik Silian, Baron – The last surviving heir of a Spiritist family now nearly extinct across the continent.

 

Once, the Ewik bloodline could command many spirits, but now only one remains—a spirit said to be the ‘King of Poison.’

 

With its aid, the Baron cultivates and trades in toxic flora. She is capable of handling poisonous plants so deadly that a single leaf could wipe out an entire village.

 

Known across the land as a ‘Walking Poison,’ the name Ewik alone inspires fear greater than that of monsters.]

 

 

 

My head turned stiffly, creaking toward the bed—no, to the small spirit hovering above it.

 

> [Oh dear, my poor flower~ You need to get up soon so your face can bloom again~ You haven’t eaten a single pink petal because of these foolish humans~ Poor little Venomie~]

 

 

 

Excuse me? You can’t just sound that cute when you’re literally the most feared entity on the continent.

 

Suppressing a sigh, I turned back to Baron Ewik.

 

“Do you perhaps need… poison to recover?”

 

“S-Sorry…”

 

It hadn’t even been five minutes since I met her, but I understood immediately. She needed poison.

 

Rubbing my forehead, I straightened up.

 

“Sigh… Remember the pink-leafed plant I mentioned before? The one that changes color under sunlight?”

 

“Yes, but it’s highly toxic—”

 

“Bring one for Baron Ewik to try.”

 

“W-What? But… Ah.”

 

The healer’s face turned ashen, but she nodded, understanding. I patted her shoulder lightly and stepped out.

 

 

—

 

Splash.

 

Water rippled as a massive figure rose from the bath. Droplets rolled down his tanned skin, tracing the sculpted lines of muscle beneath.

 

Koon of the Sun.

 

That was what people called him—praising the healthy bronze of his skin and the unshakable strength of his body.

 

But few remembered that such beauty had been carved through endless training, through battles against monsters that nearly destroyed him.

 

Only a few years ago, people mocked him freely.

 

> “If you want to meet Duke Koon, just find a monster first.”

 

 

 

That used to be the joke. But monster hunting had rebuilt the Koon family’s fortunes and restored its standing.

 

Even so, there were still wolves waiting to tear him apart again.

 

He, of course, was more than ready to bite their heads off first.

 

Which made it all the more infuriating—this unfamiliar, tangled feeling. To think he’d feel anything at all toward someone he should consider an enemy.

 

His hand, which had been drying his body, paused midway down his thigh.

 

The bite mark still stood out vividly.

 

“Ha… Rue.”

 

A laugh escaped his lips—half irritation, half disbelief. When Rue had clung to his leg and sunk his teeth into him, he’d been too stunned to react right away.

 

It had been so utterly unexpected. But what stuck with him wasn’t the act itself—it was the look in Rue’s eyes.

 

That burning fury had been so intense it almost glimmered like starlight.

 

As Tyroc traced the mark with his fingers, he recalled those eyes again. Even as he bit down, Rue hadn’t stopped glaring up at him—eyes wide and sharp, like a cat ready to claw.

 

For days now, that image refused to leave Tyroc’s mind.

Under the moonlight, clinging to his leg, eyes ablaze with hatred and defiance.

 

Would those eyes still look the same if they met again?

 

He wanted to know. He wanted to force him down, hold him in place—wrap a hand around his throat, press him beneath his legs, and see what happened next.

 

Would Rue’s eyes well up with tears?

 

Or would he keep struggling, still flashing those sharp, feline eyes even in desperation?

 

The thought alone sent a surge of heat through his body. He looked down and frowned at the evidence of it—hard, heavy, and unwanted.

 

“Damn it.”

 

Why the hell was he reacting to someone like Adeye Rue?

 

Cursing under his breath, he strode back into the bath. This time, he needed cold water.

 

 

—

 

“Lord Brons’s condition has stabilized completely,” reported Rick, Tyroc’s chief aide, who’d been waiting for him to finish bathing. “However, he wishes to keep the incident quiet. Baron Zarayal has also agreed not to pursue the matter, saying Bilge’s humiliation is punishment enough.”

 

Rick’s tone shifted slightly.

 

“However, Lord Brons insists on finding the person who rescued him. He says he must meet the world’s kindest hero again—to thank him personally.”

 

“The world’s kindest hero?” Tyroc echoed with a disbelieving chuckle.

 

Rick sighed. “If you heard Lord Brons describe him, you’d think he was some gallant knight. Apparently, he floored Bilge in a single blow and beat him relentlessly. Of course, that’s impossible.”

 

He shook his head.

 

“Bilge is a trained mid-level mage—and he wears an expensive defensive artifact. There’s no way he’d be taken down so easily.”

 

“Bilge was unconscious.”

 

“Yes, and that’s what confuses me. If someone really did overpower him…” Rick hesitated, then met Tyroc’s eyes.

 

“There’s no way that someone was Adeye Rue. Absolutely not.”

 

“Rick,” Tyroc said calmly, “there’s no such thing as ‘absolutely not.’”

 

“Wait, you mean to tell me the one who saved Brons was Adeye Rue?”

 

“He was the only one who fled from that room.”

 

“But that can’t be! Rue’s mind is filled with nothing but men. The only thing he ever fights is his reflection in the mirror. There’s no way he’d jump into a real fight—especially one where he might get bruised.”

 

Rick couldn’t help himself; disbelief colored his voice.

 

“And if Rue really attended Count Fenouan’s party, why didn’t he show up in the main hall? This is Adeye Rue we’re talking about. If there’s a man in the room, he’d swim across an ocean to meet him. But instead of mingling, he rescued someone? You must be mistaken.”

 

Tyroc’s golden eyes flicked toward him, sharp and unreadable. Rick immediately backpedaled.

 

“Of course, if you saw it, it must be true. Your vision’s… impeccable.”

 

Still, he couldn’t help muttering, “But could Rue really have changed that much?”

 

“He came back from the dead after fighting a monster,” Tyroc said simply.

 

“Even so…”

 

“I found him barely alive and kicked him away from the beast myself.”

 

“…Ah.”

 

Rick nodded, understanding dawning.

 

“I see. Meeting a demon right after escaping death could traumatize anyone. And… Rue always feared you, didn’t he?”

 

A faint memory surfaced; Rick, who’d attended the same academy, nodded solemnly.

 

“Yes. He was infamous for it. At the academy, the moment someone mentioned your name, he’d bolt. You really didn’t know?”