Salvation Through Delusion C125

Chapter 125

“What could Adeye possibly be doing?”

Before the guard captain could even finish processing the absurd thought, Tyroc twisted his lips into a crooked smile.

“No.”

“…Pardon?”

“That can’t be it.”

“Y-Yes? What do you mean—”

He clearly didn’t understand a word of it, but fortunately, Tyroc didn’t seem offended. If anything… he looked oddly buoyant.

The guard captain quickly shook the thought from his head. What am I thinking?

At that moment, Tyroc abruptly stood up.

“Your Grace, where are you going?”

“Didn’t you say I should go home?” he replied. “My fiancé is apparently crying because he misses my body.”

Me?

The guard captain’s head filled with question marks, but Tyroc had no intention of clearing them up. He strode off at a brisk pace and disappeared from sight.

“A flood of mercenaries from the West Mercenary Guild?”

Around the same time, Rick was receiving the same report. Haas’s faint image flickered in the communicator as he nodded enthusiastically.

[Yeah! They showed up in droves saying they’re here to hunt monsters!]

“But didn’t you say things had calmed down?”

[They had, but a lot of monsters slipped past the defensive line. Since we’re busy occupying Borhumi Castle, we were wondering how we’d deal with them—then the mercenaries just started chasing them down on their own. Who knew we’d end up getting help from people who only care about money?]

“People who only care about money…”

Rick muttered blankly—then froze.

“…Don’t tell me. Did Lord Rue really—?!”

[Huh? What about Lord Rue? Did something happen to the club?]

“Hey. Shut up.”

Sensing Haas was about to go off the rails again, Rick immediately cut the connection and shot to his feet.

[Wait! I turned this on to tell you something important. His Grace is heading back to the estate.]

“When?”

[Now.]

“…You should’ve said that first!”

Rick bolted outside, searching for Rue. His commotion drew the butler toward him at a brisk pace.

“What’s going on—”

“His Grace is returning right now. Where is Lord Rue?”

The butler’s expression instantly turned serious—likely remembering the previous incident.

“He hasn’t returned from the fog yet.”

“He went there again?” Rick exclaimed, staring out the window. “There’s nothing to see or do in there.”

A lowered voice answered him.

“I believe he’s worried about the people who gathered outside the estate on the first day, searching for the Savior.”

“The perimeter’s blocked by palisades, so they can’t enter. Some tried peeking through the gaps, but—”

Ah. That made sense. Perhaps Rue wanted to understand the situation, even if only through cracks.

The butler seemed to reach the same conclusion.

“I didn’t expect him to be this considerate. He’s very different from the rumors.”

Rick, who actually knew Rue from school, had no response. No, he’s exactly like the rumors.

Still, the Rue who arrived here had changed.

The proof was the fog.

A place no one dared enter—yet Rue went in daily, trying to undo the curse of Koon.

And this time, Borhumi owed him a debt. The one who mobilized the West Mercenary Guild was almost certainly Adeye Lantuya—yet Rue never claimed credit.

“Let’s go find Lord Rue first.”

Rick turned—then stopped short.

“Ah—tell whoever goes to fetch him this: make sure to tell him to come ‘quickly, quickly.’ Got it? ‘Quickly, quickly!’”

The butler’s face hardened. How dare he speak so crudely to the future Grand Consort?

But Rick was already halfway down the corridor, practically embodying 빨리빨리(ppalli-ppalli) = “hurry up, hurry up himself.

Huff. Huff. Huff.

By the time I reached the estate, the sky had turned red.

On the way from the fog boundary, I ran into a servant who was clearly looking for me—to inform me of Tyroc’s return.

I nodded and continued on, but the servant hesitated.

“Q-Quickly… quickly, please…”

What?

Why was everyone in such a hurry?

Did Tyroc get hurt?

The thought struck me suddenly, and a chill ran down my spine.

The future had already changed because of me. If Tyroc died before I even closed the Eye of Hell—

I started running.

My strength was still terrible, but thanks to all the cardio from sprinting around Adeye’s massive estate, I managed to reach it without stopping.

“Lord Rue.”

The butler appeared out of nowhere the moment I entered through the back door.

“His Grace—huff, huff—”

I wanted to ask if he was injured, but I was too out of breath.

With gentle eyes, she reassured me.

“He’ll arrive shortly. You’re not late for the first welcome, so please don’t worry.”

Since she sounded calm, it didn’t seem like he was hurt. Then why the rush?

One word caught my attention.

“First welcome?”

“Yes. Greeting His Grace at the door—rather than in the bedroom—is the duty of the Grand Consort.”

“…And if it’s not the first welcome?”

“Then you welcome him warmly in bed, naked.”

“……”

I never imagined warm and naked would end up in the same sentence so casually.

But something else mattered more.

“Is that a house rule?”

“Yes. A beautiful tradition passed down through generations.”

My expression hardened into something decidedly not beautiful.

“So you want me to lie on the bed with my legs spread?”

“You may also welcome him face-down, lifting only your hips. That allows immediate insertion in his preferred position—”

“No! That’s enough!”

I shut her down immediately.

“Do I have to do that every time he comes back from battle?”

“Usually, it’s only after campaigns lasting ten days or more.”

Ten days.

I clenched my fist.

No matter what, I’ll make sure Tyroc comes home within ten days.

Just then, a servant hurried over.

“He has arrived.”

The butler nodded and gestured for me to follow.

“Lord Rue, this way.”

As I walked quickly behind her, I steeled myself. Fine. Until I get that contract, I can endure anything.

Then I turned the corner—and saw him.

Even surrounded by people, his height made him impossible to miss. Rick was at his side, reporting nonstop, while Tyroc listened with a blank expression, scanning his surroundings.

What’s he looking for?

Normally I would’ve looked around too, curious—but I couldn’t take my eyes off him.

It was the first time I’d seen him since we slept together.

The moment I realized that, my steps slowed.

Heat.

Hot air.

Ragged breaths.

The crushing weight pinning me down.

At the time, the waves of pleasure had swallowed everything else. But now—days later—only fragments lingered, like photos at the front of an album.

Most of all, his smile.

But now, he wasn’t smiling at all.

Just that alone made him look like a different person.

That face—slick with sweat, breathing hard, grinning widely while thrusting—his gaze never leaving me.

Why was he smiling back then?

There were too many reasons to count. He laughed every time I opened my mouth.

“Like it?”

“If you like it that much—hnng—want to try getting pinned instead, Your Grace? I’m better than you think.”

He’d paused—not in anger, but to hold back laughter.

“Too small,” he’d said, smiling brightly.

I glared at him in frustration, which only made him more excited.

“Hey—take it easy.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear—ah!”

“Hm? Didn’t hear.”

He lied shamelessly and laughed again.

He laughed even when I couldn’t speak anymore, choking back sob-like moans.

But more than any of those smiles—

The expressionless look he gave me as he stared down at me was burned deepest into my mind.