Chapter 109
Was there a clearer way to reveal that she was no ordinary being? A woman emerging from the flames, yet not a single strand of her hair scorched. It was a terrifying sight. To everyone watching.
The man who had drawn her gaze upon himself through an unnecessary act of kindness trembled violently all over. He dragged his backside across the ground, propping himself up on arms prickled with goosebumps, flailing as he retreated. In the process, he kicked over a bucket that had been rolling at his feet.
The bucket rattled along until it bumped against the mysterious woman’s foot and came to a stop. The woman glanced down briefly at the bucket touching her bare feet, then slowly lifted her gaze to the terrified man.
For a fleeting moment, a soft smile graced her face. Regardless of the fear she instilled, the curve spreading across her pallid, almost ghostly white features was beautiful enough to leave one speechless.
The man, who had been scrambling backward until his backside was raw, halted and stared at her in a daze. Just for a moment.
“Urgh…!”
A groan of agony began to crawl from the man’s lips. His hands, which had been clawing at the ground, now raked sharply at his own throat. He looked as if he were suffocating.
The edges of his eyes gradually tinted with a vivid red. Soon, unsightly foam dribbled from the corners of his mouth. His collapse to the side was inevitable.
His limbs twitched sporadically in convulsions, then finally fell completely still. Not even the slightest twitch remained. It was death.
“Gasp!”
A maid who nearly screamed clamped her hands over her mouth. She knew that making a loud noise and drawing the woman’s attention would mean she too would not escape such a gruesome fate.
Yet the woman’s eyes turned precisely toward the maid’s direction. At the same time, the maid’s face swelled to a deep crimson.
Thick veins bulged along her neck. Tears streamed from her tightly shut eyes. The agony of being unable to breathe was palpably evident.
Just as with the man moments ago, it seemed the maid’s breath would soon cease. When it appeared she had little life left.
“Stop this instant!”
The one who raised his voice and stepped forward was Rasill. In that moment, breath returned to the maid.
The servants and guards, who had been stunned by the appearance of this inhuman being, moved to follow the king out of ingrained habit as he stirred.
A few guards positioned themselves in front of the king, wary that the mysterious being’s power might reach him. But Rasill shoved them aside and stood before the woman who had terrified the palace—Grace.
“What madness is this!”
Rasill barked harshly. With Grace’s true nature already exposed, it no longer mattered how the palace folk viewed them. Rasill unleashed his anger without restraint.
“Answer me! What do you think you’re doing!”
Grace met Rasill’s glaring eyes and smiled at him, just as she had at the man she killed. Lowering the corners of her eyes and lifting the corners of her mouth in an endearing way.
“Ha, don’t tell me this fire is your doing too…!”
And then, without hesitation, she used her power on Rasill as well.
“Kuh, cough!”
From Rasill’s lips came grotesque sounds, each step edging toward death. Grace savored the sight of Rasill flailing pathetically, feeling the scorching heat from the burning building.
The servants and guards who had tried to do anything for their king found their feet bound to the ground. They were so easy. Not one could escape her power. Like insignificant worms that wouldn’t even wriggle if stepped on.
Grace smirked, and just when it seemed he might truly die, she returned the breath she had stolen from Rasill.
Khaah! Rasill, heedless of dignity, gulped air greedily. His whole body shuddered as he replenished the deprived breaths.
Grace looked down at his trembling crown, drooping downward as he gasped, and spoke.
“You should have stayed put when I told you to behave. At least you shouldn’t have done anything foolish out of my sight.”
Rasill jerked his head up, locking eyes with Grace. His gaze was shocked, as if asking how she knew. He clearly hadn’t imagined she could intrude into his dreams. How dare he.
“Our majesty the king has a tendency to overestimate himself.”
Grace giggled. Rasill’s face flushed red again, like someone suffocating. Still, her laughter didn’t stop. It seemed it would go on forever.
Then, abruptly.
“Rasill.”
With that quiet call, even the faintest trace of a smile vanished from Grace’s face.
* * *
The next day, there was no battle. Perhaps due to the heavy losses from the day before, the Tarlan Kingdom’s camp was as silent as if abandoned by its soldiers.
That didn’t mean they could relax entirely. An ambush could come at any time. Knights from each house voluntarily stood watch, keeping a vigilant eye across the border. Thanks to them, the sentries got a rare chance to rest their eyes.
Time flowed calmly, belying the fact that they were in the midst of war.
On what seemed like a day destined to end peacefully, Tristan—who had hidden his eye-catching pink hair under a helmet—received a message from a carrier pigeon just as the sun, having reached its zenith, began its descent halfway.
“This… isn’t very pretty.”
Tristan murmured subtly after unfolding the note tied to the pigeon’s ankle. He immediately crumpled it in his fist and set off to find Kalian.
* * *
Kalian was searching for Angela.
By tomorrow, the rear guard would arrive, assembling the full force of the Phaelon Empire. Because of this, the house heads had held a brief meeting.
It hadn’t even taken an hour. Yet Angela, whom he had left in his tent, was not there.
Kalian had promised a quick return with a kiss, and Angela had nodded, saying she would wait—but where had she gone?
Like searching for a runaway cat, Kalian moved his steps. Before long, he spotted Angela.
Actually, what caught his eye first was the back of Jamie’s head. Jamie sat carelessly on the dirt ground, his face beaming with joy. Even from behind, his expression was evident.
What could be so enjoyable with Angela? As Kalian approached, he felt for a moment as if the flow of air had stopped.
Her back straight and erect. Legs unmoving. Arms drawing a perfect straight line. Eyes sharply fixed on the target. Everything was flawless for piercing the bullseye.
The arrow soon left the string and embedded itself dead center in the slender tree. Jamie clapped enthusiastically. Only then did Kalian swallow the air carried by the returning breeze and breathe again.
“Now I think I need to learn from you.”
At Kalian’s voice, Angela’s gaze turned toward him. Meanwhile, Jamie sprang up, bowed deeply, and awkwardly excused himself. It was clear he had a crush on Angela.
“Really?”
As Kalian clicked his tongue inwardly, Angela asked. Not seeming to expect an answer, her tilted head soon straightened back to the front.
It didn’t take long for the next arrow to be nocked and released. That one, too, pierced the target with unerring precision. Considering how, when she first began learning, her arrows hadn’t even grazed the vicinity of the target and merely embedded themselves in the ground, this was astonishing progress.
‘Use this to keep the bad guys from even coming close.’
Though he wondered if the young lady of Duke Bilton’s house would ever have a chance in her lifetime to loose an arrow in real combat, Kalian had said those words. Angela had nodded with a smile.
‘That’s the plan.’
Back then, Kalian hadn’t known, but Angela truly would have wanted to draw back the bowstring toward someone. She would have longed to show that she, too, possessed a sharp weapon against the arrows hurtling her way. But she hadn’t.
Kalian regretted the stretches of her past where he couldn’t stand as her shield. He should have protected her. No, at the very least, he shouldn’t have become one of the countless arrows fired at her. It was a pointless regret now.
“Why are you out here? You promised you’d wait for me.”
Angela didn’t respond immediately. A couple more arrows flew, thudding into the tree. The accuracy was astounding. Every single one clustered in the exact same spot.
After staring blankly at them, Angela finally approached Kalian. Her hand, still gripping the bow, trembled faintly—from exerting too much force.
Why was that happening? Even the tiniest of Angela’s actions had the power to unsettle Kalian. Trying not to let it show, he watched her in silence.
“Tristan just stopped by and left.”
If Tristan had come, it must have been with news from the Tarlan Kingdom.
“Looks like something’s happened in the Tarlan Kingdom.”
As expected.
“What kind of something?”
Angela fell silent for a moment. Then, with a soft snort, like exhaling a puff of wind, she continued.
“A fire that started in the palace is spreading, sweeping through the southern regions of the Tarlan Kingdom.”
The southern regions of the Tarlan Kingdom meant this very area. Kalian furrowed his brow slightly, seized by a premonition that this blaze was no mere natural disaster.
“But the one who started the fire is some mysterious woman, and she’s holding the king hostage, igniting more fires as she moves. Heading this way.”
Ha, Kalian let out a hollow laugh at his intuition proving spot-on.
“I have no idea what kind of bizarre nonsense this is.”
Angela tightened her grip on the bow even further. It seemed as if either the bow would shatter or she would.
“Grace is coming.”
And finally, with a sharp crack, the bow in Angela’s hand splintered.
“That’s convenient. Saves us the effort of going to her.”
Kalian replied as casually as he could, prying the broken bow from Angela’s hand. He knew her strength had grown, but he couldn’t stop himself from worrying—she might get hurt.
Angela watched Kalian tenderly inspecting her hand, trying to cool her feverish mind. She strove to think with a clarity as cold as her body temperature.
Soon, she would face Grace. The real Grace.
She hadn’t asked for this, but now she would come eye to eye with the woman who had unnecessarily carried Angela in her womb, only to abuse her for daring to be born from that very belly.
This was different from their encounters in dreams. The pain had felt utterly real then, yet it hadn’t carried the sensation of truly facing Grace. It was like staring down a tormenting illusion. But this time…
Angela drew in a deep breath and released it. She repeated the process a few more times. Inhale and exhale. Slowly, telling herself she was doing well.
“Angela!”
Only at Kalian’s cry did Angela realize something was off with her breathing. It was ragged. Her heart ached and prickled. She inhaled too much, yet exhaled so little. Then, when she expelled it all at once, there was nothing left to draw back in.
Her mind was growing hazy. Her lips sealed shut abruptly as warm breath flooded in. It was a kiss meant for rescue. As if urging her to take every last bit of his air, Kalian poured his breath into Angela.
Angela clung to him desperately, as if she might devour Kalian whole. The hand that had grasped his sleeve now wrapped around the nape of his neck.
Begging for just a little more, she stole away all his breath. Yet Kalian scraped the depths of his lungs, offering everything to Angela. He embraced her with an intensity fiercer than her own hold on him, surrendering himself completely.
Only when steady breathing returned to Angela did Kalian end the tenacious kiss. Lingering reluctance remained, though, as tiny kisses rained down on her lips like a bird pecking with its beak.
“I was being foolish, wasn’t I?”
Embarrassed at herself for abruptly succumbing to breathing difficulties while lost in thoughts of Grace, Angela buried her face in Kalian’s chest and mocked herself with a soft scoff.
Kalian stroked her hair, then gently brushed her reddened earlobe with his fingertip. In a voice laced with utmost tenderness, he whispered.
“You seemed so human. An incredibly lovable one.”
