Salvation Through Delusion C115

Chapter 115

In the past, the thought would have made him laugh. Now it became a crushing weight that dragged his heart straight to the ground.

Yet Hoiga was speaking right in front of him about the curse on the Koon family. The family members trapped inside the castle. The last shred of reason barely reminded him of his original goal.

I don’t care whether you’re the Savior or not. As long as you can lift Koon’s curse.

I’ll lift it. I will. So please don’t let Montain take me. If I become part of Montain, they’ll never allow me to break Koon’s curse.

He heard the answer he wanted. And yet, the words I’ll take you as my mate did not come out. His gaze drifted slowly toward the window, but inside his head, confusion raged like a storm.

Why? Because I want Rue that badly? Why do I want Rue that much? …Want?

That single word slammed into his mind like a stake, instantly cutting through the chaos. Facing the truth he’d been trying to ignore turned out to be strangely uneventful. Everything suddenly went quiet.

Ah. I—

The moment he acknowledged it, the heat subsided and reason returned. He could look at Hoiga coldly now.

Without the divine beast’s power, you can’t become emperor. And Koon’s divine beast is different from Borhumi’s, which has already vanished. You just need to find a way to awaken it.

Vanished? He nearly laughed. Someone who didn’t even know the truth couldn’t possibly be the Savior. Which meant the real Savior might actually be… Rue.

Once he had a solid reason to claim Rue, his chest fluttered like a child’s. After that, things unfolded as if a god had handed him a gift.

Your Grace, will you become my mate? Then I will become a Savior just for you.

Rue’s confession at the White Branch Council gave him a satisfaction he’d never felt before. Now Rue officially belonged to him—handed over without effort. But he couldn’t grow arrogant over luck gained too easily.

No. That was a lie.

Adeye Rue said it clearly, even while looking uncomfortable. I wasn’t bewitched by you.

Pain spread through his chest, sharp as if something had slashed straight through it. He couldn’t tell whether the feeling was anger or disappointment. Masking it with a smile, he asked,

Why don’t you like me?

It just doesn’t happen. My heart doesn’t move.

No reason, he said. And then he turned the arrow back on him.

You don’t like me either, Your Grace, so isn’t this better?

Me?

Yes. Isn’t that right?

Yes. That’s not true.

A whisper echoed inside him. But if he’d spoken it aloud, it would’ve come out as an ugly scream packed with rage.

Why don’t you like me? Why aren’t you desperate like I am? Why don’t you kneel and beg like everyone else?

The grotesque face of desire was painfully familiar to Tyroc. Countless people had screamed those words at him.

Please like me.

Let me stay by your side.

I’ll do anything—just don’t abandon me.

How irritating they were. No matter how intelligent, the moment they saw his smile they lost their senses and babbled nonsense. And now, he was no different.

Or maybe exactly the same. It didn’t matter. What mattered was keeping Rue with him.

Whatever Rue demanded, whatever secrets he carried—it didn’t matter. This maddening desire to possess him came first.

Rustle.

The sound of leaves underfoot echoed through the darkness like the only clue. Knowing he was deep in the fog, Tyroc didn’t stop.

At night, he couldn’t rely on sight. He could wait until morning, or make noise and draw a response.

Instead, Tyroc did the opposite—he stilled his footsteps and moved silently. Like hunting a hidden enemy, he sharpened every sense to its limit.

The urge to find Rue quickly and confirm his safety with his own eyes crawled over his skin like insects. Still, he suppressed his impatience again and again.

If he called out, letting his emotions spill over, Rue would only run farther away.

Rue had something he wanted. He wouldn’t leave. They’d even made a mate’s vow—yet still.

Right?

Tyroc stopped and changed direction. Ever since becoming a swordmaster, his instincts had rarely been wrong.

This way lay the cabin. Rue was quick-witted—if he’d found it, he would surely stay there until morning.

Soon, he’d see Rue. The thrill heated his heart, yet anxiety remained, driven into it like a stake.

He knew the answer. Rue’s gaze wasn’t directed at him.

It would be so easy to just lock him up somewhere. A cruel thought slipped out naturally. What if he hid him away where no one else could reach him—where only he could see him? Just imagining it made his heart pound.

But not now.

Tyroc forced himself to think clearly. He couldn’t act like his mindless followers.

Soon, a faint light appeared. Suppressing the urge to run, Tyroc stared at it as if to devour it.

He wanted to set traps Rue could never escape, seize his weaknesses, drown him in a honeyed mire of pleasure. But he couldn’t let this ugliness be exposed—not until he’d wrapped Rue in even more chains.

Exhale.

Quietly, Tyroc reached for the cabin door.

Creak.

The door opened, and in the light within stood the only existence that let him breathe.

Even before seeing a face, the sound of the door told me it had to be Tyroc. He was the only one who’d enter the fog himself.

Still, caution came first. Even on Koon land, carelessness was dangerous.

I prepared to summon my club, tense—then relaxed when I saw the figure through the half-open door.

I didn’t even need to see his face. His clothes and legs were enough. I lowered my head immediately.

“This is my fault. I wandered without a lantern and got lost.”

“……”

“…When we return, I’ll accept punishment and stay confined to my room for four days.”

I apologized first, hoping to get it over with, but there was no response.

No sound of the door opening wider. No footsteps entering.

Only then did I sense something was off. I lifted my head and saw him still standing at the doorway.

He just looked down at me, expressionless. My first thought was, Is he angry?

Of course he would be. I’d shaken off my escort, entered forbidden dark magic fog, and made him come find me.

But one look at his eyes erased that thought. There was no irritation, no anger—only a trembling restraint, like he was suppressing something. Almost… happy to have found me.

No. That couldn’t be right. We’d seen each other just this morning.

I pulled myself together and offered the most rational explanation.

“Did you get lost too, Your Grace?”

Maybe seeing the cabin made him happy? But as he slowly brushed his bangs back, his expression was hard to read.

Instead, I heard a faint murmur. It was unclear, but Mo was helpful as ever.

[It is inferred as: “I won’t get caught.”]

What are you hiding from me? Suspicion flickered, then I dismissed it. I had plenty of secrets myself.

More importantly—wasn’t he angry? I’d caused all this trouble.

I stayed tense, watching as he moved slowly and sat on the simple bed in front of me.

Even when his lips curved, I didn’t relax. He smiled too easily. Sure enough—

“Four days?”

He asked with a smile. I’d set my own punishment as an apology—maybe he didn’t like me choosing the duration myself. My face stiffened. Was he going to extend it?

“…Five days, then. But I’d appreciate at least one bottle of water.”

When I asked seriously, his smile vanished. He tilted his head, puzzled.

“Water?”

What—no water either?

“Then… half a bottle?”

“Were you planning to starve yourself while locked up?”

Now it was my turn to blink in confusion.

“Yes. Otherwise it wouldn’t be a punishment.”

“……”

Why did his gaze suddenly turn so dangerous? Damn it—was the punishment too light?

Then a cold question cut in.

“Did Lantua usually lock you up and starve you?”

What on earth was he talking about?

“Why would my sister starve me? She feeds me incredibly well. Even this morning, before I left, she fried chicken tenderloin and packed it with pickled radish.”

He studied me, as if judging whether I was telling the truth, then asked,

“Do you like chicken?”

“No. The pickled radish.”

“…….”

This time, he looked at me with pity. I hurried to explain.

“It’s really delicious. Not salt-pickled—vinegar and sugar—”

“Enough.”

Tyroc cut me off coldly. Hey, you should listen properly and then have your kitchen make it too. I wanted to say that—but until I got the contract, I couldn’t complain about food.

Thinking about it, it was depressing. Damn it. Five days of self-imposed punishment—no food…

“I won’t starve you.”

The sudden statement made me snap my gaze up.

“So I’m allowed to eat?”

I asked seriously. He let out a hollow laugh.

“Do I look like the kind of man who’d starve you?”