When I Finished Playing the Terminally-Ill Villainous Omega C16

Chapter 16

 

“Gasp—khuk, h-heuk!”

The breath that had been blocked burst out in ragged coughs. I felt the faint tremor at the tips of Locke’s fingers as he pressed down on my tongue.

“Haa—hah…!”

Saliva dripped in long trails, yet Locke did not remove the hand pinning my tongue. His breath brushed against the shell of my ear as he held me tightly against him. My body shuddered, nerves stretched taut to the very edges.

“Would you rather it not hurt?”

His languid whisper drifted faintly through my dimming consciousness.

“You sure it’s fine rubbing lips with a gutter rat who used to crawl around the marketplace?”

I had never been a noble—if I didn’t take up part-time jobs, I couldn’t even afford a single meal. What did class matter? If it meant surviving, I could have pressed far more than just my lips against someone.

I tried to answer without hesitation, but no sound came out. All I could do was nod over and over. Tears that had pooled spilled down my temples in warm tracks.

“Then open your mouth.”

I let the tension loosen from my clenched jaw, releasing the pressure I had used to endure the pain.

“Good boy, our young master.”

His palm on the nape of my neck was cold. Before I could feel the chill, his hot breath skimmed the edge of my lips.

“How interesting…”

Locke said something with a faint smile curling on his lips, but the harshness of my own breathing drowned out his words. I could only groan and tremble helplessly—until something soft, warm, and plush settled fully inside my mouth. Heat melted into my frozen skin, dissolving the cold in thick, syrupy waves.

“Mmph—”

Instinctively, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, holding that warmth so it wouldn’t slip away. In my hazy, fading consciousness, I thought I caught a gentle scent—roses, subtle and sweet.

❖ ❖ ❖

—…I do not understand the emotions of… yet this curious… is not…

Haa… haa…

It was certainly Locke’s voice, but it was too faint, too unclear to comprehend. The unfamiliar, scalding sensation sweeping through my mouth consumed all my attention.

My body felt as though it were about to combust from within. Amid the sharp, overwhelming sensations, the soft fragrance of roses unfurled and drifted. The scent flowed through my veins, seeping into my cells, bringing with it a slow, creeping calm.

Only when the fragrance began to fade did my consciousness return.

Am I… alive? Or dead…?

With effort, I lifted my heavy eyelids. In my blinking gaze, the mural-painted ceiling came into view—an image of heaven I had imagined many times.

It was a familiar sight.

“Haa… I’m alive.”

My vision cleared, but my body still felt lethargic and hazy. Everything I had experienced felt like a previous life, yet the sensations of that night remained vivid, painfully so.

“…Locke.”

I murmured the familiar name, then winced when my lips tingled. I brushed my fingers across them with a slight frown.

It stings… it burns.

Slowly, I fumbled across the table for a mirror. As expected, my lower lip was swollen, protruding noticeably. A tiny cut marked the edge. Was that from when Locke forced his fingers into my mouth? I couldn’t quite remember.

I shot upright, immediately scanning the table. The rose vase was gone. What happened that night truly had occurred, but it seemed Locke hadn’t returned afterward.

He didn’t leave without even saying goodbye… right?

I had grabbed onto him so desperately.

No… If he had simply left, I wouldn’t be lying safely here in my room.

At the very least, Locke must have carried me somewhere out of sight. A sudden chill ran down my spine. One of the three people who went hunting that night had killed the knight—yet the culprit was far too obvious.

Cassian had mistaken the knight for his prey and killed him, then pinned the blame on Locke. And if Cassian had found Locke first, alone in the pre-dawn hours… then by now…

My heart plummeted straight through the floor.

“Locke!”

I lunged off the bed and sprinted into the corridor.

“Where are you, Locke! Can’t you hear me? If you can hear me, answer!”

I dashed down the long hallway and flung open the door to Locke’s room at the very end. I desperately hoped to see amber eyes looking up at me from the bed, asking, ‘What’s the matter?’

But my desperation didn’t reach the heavens.

The room was empty. The neatly arranged desk and bedding were exactly as they had been when he vanished.

If he had simply left without saying goodbye, I would’ve been hurt, sure—but I could have accepted it. But being framed? After everything I’d done to repair our relationship? If he risked execution saving me, Locke would never open his heart to me again. And then the fate of the Hestian family would follow the same tragic path as my previous life.

This world seemed determined to cast me as the villain who ruined Locke.

If this were my first life, maybe I would have accepted it. But even following the storyline, Cedric’s death had always been inevitable. Now that I knew that truth, why would I ever meekly follow the script? I would stop it. Somehow, I would stop Locke’s fall.

I raced up toward the third floor—only to nearly collide with a descending servant.

“John, have you seen Locke?”

“I have not, young master.”

“Don’t lie.”

“It is the truth. Has Locke returned?”

A drenched young master being carried in by a servant in the middle of a storm should have been gossip by now. Yet he asked me so calmly? A lie—obviously.

Cassian has taken control as the next head of the household. I won’t get the answers I want from any of the servants.

It was maddening, but I couldn’t blame them. I stifled my frustration and pressed on.

“Has Mother returned?”

“She has not yet come back.”

“Cassian is in his room, right?”

He stared at me with wide eyes before lowering his head again.

“The eldest young master left for the square right after finishing breakfast.”

He must have gone to the forge—polishing his hunting weapons was part of his routine. With Cassian gone, this was my chance.

I need to find Locke and hide him before Cassian returns!

I tore through the mansion with frantic precision, searching every corner.

Every servant I ran into, I asked—how I had returned, where Locke was being held. As expected, they all repeated the same rehearsed line: “I don’t know.”

The consistency of it was sickening. I nearly wanted to summon every servant and shout that I was the son of Count Hestian—their rightful master.

“I’m going to lose my mind—seriously!”

My rare outburst made one servant flinch and scurry away, muttering about needing to return to work.

Honestly, it made sense. While I had been busy obsessing over missions, Cassian had been solidifying his claim to the household. With our parents absent, the estate had effectively become his domain.

I ruffled my hair in frustration—then froze as something caught my eye outside the window. A dark silhouette stood beneath the cherry tree, watching me.

Anna?

The moment our eyes met, she ducked behind the tree.

Just as she had guided me discreetly to the dining hall, she was avoiding someone’s gaze again.

Pretending not to notice her, I kept walking, checking on the tree from the corner of my eye. When I reached the corner of the hallway, a slender hand appeared—Anna’s hand—and pointed toward the underground level of the mansion.

What?

A chill shot through me.

Nobles often punished servants or hired knights themselves when mistakes were made. The same went for spies and assassins. Anyone who endangered the family had to be dealt with—quietly, discreetly, without a trace escaping the estate.

That was why every noble mansion had a hidden place. And in the Hestian estate, that place was underground.

“Cassian…”

I bit my lower lip hard.

❖ ❖ ❖

Tap, tap, tap, tap—

I rushed down the stairs. They had always felt steep and heavy, but right now, I felt nothing at all.

Please… please let me not be too late!

Locke must have known he would be in danger, yet he had still come down to the mansion for my sake—only to be caught by Cassian. Labeled as the murderer of the knight.

If not for me, he would have left the estate, following the path he was truly meant to walk.

Everything that had happened to him was my fault. So I had to save him.

Bang!

I searched Mother’s room, found the key to the cells, and sprinted toward the underground prison. The moment I pushed open the old wooden door connecting the lobby to the basement, I froze.

The corridor—unused for years—was lit with a row of torches.

My fists clenched as I descended the winding stairway. At the bottom stood a fully armed knight. He flinched upon seeing me, then hardened his expression.

“My apologies, young master, but you cannot pass this point.”

“If you work in this mansion, you should know my face. Move.”

“It is an order.”

“Whose order?”

“That is…”

Of course, he couldn’t say it easily. Admitting it would reveal exactly who had locked Locke inside.

“All knights of this mansion have sworn loyalty to my father. And my father would never have ordered you to guard this place. So who was it?”

When I tried to push past him, the panicked knight drew his sword.

“Have you lost your mind? You dare raise your blade against one who carries the blood of House Hestian?”

His reaction startled me, but I forced down the fear, clenching my fists tighter. If I backed down now, I would lose everything.

More than that, I couldn’t help wondering—how had Cassian manipulated him so thoroughly that a knight sworn to protect the family would so easily raise a sword against the family’s son?

“My apologies. We have detained a dangerous criminal and were ordered not to let anyone approach.”

“So tell me—by whom?”

“…L-Lord Cassian.”

Good. Now I knew exactly who had taken Locke. And it was time to persuade this knight.