When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C10

Chapter 10

Had I simply expected too much?

“I still cannot say for certain.”

Locke set the orange back on the table. My shoulders sank with it.

It seemed he didn’t find my wilted spirit pitiful at all, because he turned coldly, stating that he would take his leave. Watching his hand touch the doorknob without a single hint of hesitation—ugh, the sigh just escaped me.

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Did you have more to say, my lord?”

“No. I just felt sorry for my poor orange.”

His lashes lowered slowly, casting soft shadows—right before he spoke, voice clear and firm.

“The day I finally understand your intentions, I would prefer grapes over oranges.”

…What?

I wanted to ask what that meant—but the door closed before I could.

The moment he exited, strength drained from my knees and I collapsed onto the sofa.

“Phew… maybe asking him to be on my side was too fast.”

I should’ve moved slower. But seeing him start to open up had made me impatient.

“Ugh, difficult. Also—why grapes again after I went through the trouble of offering an orange?”

I gazed bitterly at the lonely orange on the table. Then frustration rose like bile, so I grabbed it and began digging out the peel with my thumb.

“As if I’d get discouraged from one rejection.”

Ha!

I scoffed, tore the fruit in half, and stuffed it whole into my mouth like I was devouring Locke himself. It didn’t even fit properly, but I chewed with the fury of a warrior.

Just you wait.

“Whatever it takes, I’ll make you mine. Then I’ll live a long, healthy life right in front of you!”

With my mouth packed full of pulp, I stared at the closed door as if I could pierce it with sheer will.

❖ ❖ ❖

A chamber lined with grotesque monster bones.

Between the luxurious furnishings stood rows of glass cases, each housing weapons embedded with mana stones, glimmering coldly like relics in a museum. The chill in the air made the gleam feel eerie rather than noble.

On a sofa draped in monster hide lounged a man, legs crossed, wearing a bored expression.

Cassian Allure Hestian—firstborn of House Hestian.

He idly stroked the mane of a tamed monster, a Bael Wolf, before his brow knit in displeasure.

“Having you look down on me doesn’t sit right.”

Without a word, the two knights flanking Locke kicked the back of his knees. Even when he still didn’t bend, they shoved his shoulders so he was forced to kneel.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

Cassian glared, face twisted with malice. Locke remained silent. Cassian lifted a clenched fist.

Chains clattered from thin air as he opened his fingers. A pendant made of jade dangled from one link. Only then did those expressionless golden eyes focus.

“I can’t just ignore a rat crawling around.”

A servant daring to touch a noble’s belonging—Cassian would show him the consequences. He jerked his chin. The knights forced open Locke’s fists.

“Cut off a couple fingers so he can’t reach for what isn’t his next time.”

Locke finally spoke.

“I never touched it.”

Under normal circumstances, this was when a man would beg for his life. The calm reply only deepened Cassian’s irritation.

His mind flicked to his younger brother—growing defiant these days.

So even a dying rat thinks being noble means something, hm? Foolish.

“My brother’s things were found in your room. And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“The young master gave them to me.”

“Why?”

“He said it would help my injury heal.”

“Oh, so the beggar thought a noble’s pity made him someone? You trying to latch onto him now? Climb your way up the corpse of a dying heir?”

“I don’t understand wha—”

Crash!

A vase shattered at Locke’s feet, petals scattering like bleeding scraps of silk. He recognized it instantly; it came from the rose garden he tended in secret.

Cassian smirked.

“I see it from my room. The rose garden you crawled to every dawn. Quite the effort for a dying boy, hm?”

Cassian was certain his frail brother would never become heir. Still, just in case, he planned to isolate him so thoroughly he wouldn’t even dream of succession.

And then this little upstart appeared. Calmly lying to his face, too.

“These days the young master has been weakened. I simply wished to put something living near him. There was no other meaning.”

Calm words—but Cassian’s displeasure only deepened.

“Oh really? Think Father will buy that? That you gifted pink roses for his health?”

Count Hestian valued dignity above all. If he caught wind of a scandal between his son and a servant, Locke would be thrown out instantly—truth irrelevant.

Locke clenched his jaw. He hadn’t found what he sought yet. He could not leave this estate—not until he obtained “it.”

“Hm. I’m merciful, you see. So I’ll give you a choice.”

Cassian tapped the wolf’s head like he was offering charity.

“Hunt with us. Kill a monster, and I’ll overlook this. They’re weak ones I picked out myself. Easy enough, right?”

For a normal person, fighting a monster was death. Better to live as a crippled beggar than accept such terms.

Yet Locke agreed immediately.

“I will. Tell me the time—I must plan around the young master’s medicine.”

Cassian’s smile disintegrated.

“You insolent—”

He halted mid-swing. No—too quick a punishment would be boring.

He forced calm and flicked his chin at the door.

“My servant will tell you the time. Get lost.”

Crash.

Locke exited. Something shattered behind him—surely the medicine vial Cedric gifted him.

Expression grim, Locke’s eyes drifted to the mountains beyond the window—land of House Hestian.

The Allure Territory. Forbidden without Hestian blood.

“…So it opens easily, after all.”

He murmured and turned away.

❖ ❖ ❖

The mountain and forest surrounding House Hestian were called the Allure Domain—a land saturated with ancient power, accessible only to those of Hestian blood.

Cassian’s white stallion approached the boundary. The air rippled, and a barrier parted.

“Wow, I always gasp when I see that. Seriously, how does it work?”

“No idea. Only the head of the family knows.”

Aiden’s excitement earned only Cassian’s cold dismissal.

As they climbed, the terrain grew harsh and bestial cries echoed. A faint pulse of mana bled from the undergrowth.

Monster territory.

Cassian tossed a sword embedded with a red mana stone toward Locke.

“You’ll need a magic weapon to kill one. Obviously.”

Locke caught it smoothly—but his shoulders rose and fell once. There was no mana inside it at all. A fake. An insult.

The wind whipped through the trees.

“Sure it won’t rain?”

“Largho’s eyes haven’t changed color, have they?”

Largho—Cassian’s Bael Wolf—changed eye color with the weather. Aiden accepted the answer easily.

But Locke knew better.

It would rain. This was a trap. A cheap, petty one—but real all the same.

The four dispersed into “assigned hunting zones.”

At least, that was what it looked like.

Two knights slipped away, using a hidden path toward a cave near the ravine.