Chapter 110
Kalian traced his fingertip over the mark Angela had carved into the tree. The rough surface of the wood crumbled weakly and fell to the ground. The sharp arrow that had pierced it had long since been removed, but what did that matter? The wound had already been inflicted, and the scar remained intact like this…
Kalian brushed off the dark bits of bark clinging to his fingertip and recalled Angela’s face as she delivered the news about Grace. The chaos that had come without warning—it was a scar left on Angela.
Her already pale face had turned so ashen that it seemed like a drought had struck her veins. As if every drop of blood that should have been flowing through her limbs had dried up completely.
And her breathing—how erratic it was. Her lost breaths rampaged inside her flushed mouth, unable to find their way in or out. Watching Angela gasp irregularly without even realizing it, Kalian felt like his own heart might stop first.
“Grace Bilton…”
Kalian placed the name of the arrow embedded in Angela on the tip of his tongue. Was it because she was a being who cast curses? It felt cursed.
If he had his way, he wanted to tear apart his tongue where her name had touched. Unable to do so, Kalian instead roughly swept back his hair.
His mind was a mess. If possible, Kalian didn’t want to place Angela in front of Grace. He wanted to block the arrow that was flying toward Angela once again, this time himself. Because the past time when he couldn’t do so hurt his heart so much.
Becoming a shield on the battlefield was something Kalian had done countless times. He was used to it, and because of that, he could do it well.
But Angela wouldn’t allow it. She wasn’t the type to use Kalian as a shield to save herself.
In that case, he wanted to become a weapon for her. Kalian caressed the hilt of the sword at his waist, then quietly gripped it in his hand. How should he confront a being that transcended human limits with this? As he pondered, he swiftly drew the sword in an instant.
“Who’s there.”
A voice as threatening as the straight-extended sword burst from Kalian’s mouth. Kalian stared straight ahead without wavering. It was because a faint footstep had caught his ear.
Rustle.
Soon, emerging from the dim thicket was Dominic. His attire was simple, as if he had been lying in bed and just slipped out of the tent.
The two men faced off in silence. Even after confirming who he was, Kalian didn’t lower the sword aimed at his face. He scrutinized Dominic with a gaze sharper than the sword he held, checking if he was about to pull some foolish stunt again.
Only after confirming that the clear eyes looking back at him showed no trace of being controlled did Kalian return the sword to its place.
With a clink, Kalian properly secured the sheath that had swallowed the sword and broke the silence by nodding his head in greeting.
And just as he was about to pass by Dominic, what stopped Kalian was a quietly subdued voice.
“It’s not the time to enjoy a night stroll, is it?”
The voice, resembling the pitch-black night, felt unfamiliar coming from a man with hair like sunlight fluttering in the wind, so Kalian halted his steps abruptly. Turning his head, Kalian looked at Dominic.
“You should be guarding her tent.”
With their gazes meeting again, Kalian immediately understood the words and fully turned his body to face Dominic. Aiming eyes colder than a sword at him, Kalian asked.
“Where does that concern come from? From a dream?”
There was no way he would have left Angela’s tent unguarded, especially at this point when Grace was coming. Ian was there, Vigo was there, Jamie was there.
Even so, rather than saying she was well guarded, irritation slipped out first. It was unpleasant because of his presumptuous attempt to act like a father. That kind of attitude made Angela unable to cry or laugh.
“I’ve escaped from there. The pain helped.”
Saying that, Dominic rolled up his sleeve. The burn scar was vividly exposed on his skin. It was a wound that would make anyone frown upon seeing it.
However, Kalian retorted without a hint of pity.
“Then isn’t that concern even more ridiculous?”
To have rendered the child seeking help unable to even open her mouth. To have never watched over the child’s growth for even a single moment. To have snatched away even an unhappy life so she couldn’t continue it. And now, daring to wear the mask of a father—that was the accusation.
Dominic stood without answering. His lips, which had parted briefly, closed without saying anything. He knew that whatever he said, every single word would only be an excuse.
Meanwhile, Kalian also held back what he wanted to say. He wanted to warn him not to approach Angela. But on the off chance that Dominic existed in Angela’s heart under the name of father, he barely restrained himself.
Instead, Kalian left different words and turned away from Dominic.
“I’ll go guard Angela’s tent. So you don’t have to worry.”
He hoped he understood. It was sarcasm to fold away such overstepping concerns and not cause Angela any more confusion.
* * *
While riding horseback, Rasill glanced back and gritted his teeth. The path they had passed was entirely devoured by flames. At this rate, it seemed like the entire Tarlan Kingdom could burn to ashes and still have fire left over.
But Rasill was Grace’s hostage. He couldn’t resist. Losing the kingdom was better than losing his neck in a futile rebellion.
“Keep setting fires ahead, hurry! Don’t let the fire go out!”
Rasill thundered orders at the trembling servants holding torches in anxiety. Startled, the servants began igniting the grass on the ground, trees, anything. Pouring in the oil they brought, the flames spread quickly.
Grace watched the scene with satisfied eyes. The hot flames blazing bright red along every path she took made her feel alive. The warm heat melted her heart that was freezing cold.
She pitied herself for only thinking of this method now. She should have done this long ago. What was she doing sitting still in a room?
“Hehe.”
Grace giggled. Watching her pleased laughter, Rasill gripped the reins tightly with his hand. And he racked his brain.
When Grace was in the room, she always stuck to the front of the fireplace. He recalled her room boiling with heat. Logs flew endlessly toward the fireplace.
And even now. She was insisting on continuously setting fires wherever her steps led. She couldn’t do without this heat. There must be something wrong with her body.
If this fire disappears, then…
Just a little further ahead was the eternal snowfield. A white land covered in pure white snow appeared. There was nothing there worth burning. No matter how much you tried to set fire on the snow.
Grace would naturally be left in the middle of the cold snowfield. What would happen? Rasill smiled secretly, unnoticed by anyone.
However.
“Why is there nothing to burn?”
When they arrived at the eternal snowfield and heard that they could no longer set fires, Grace laughed as if she had heard something very amusing.
Rasill, with a hardened expression at the unexpected reaction, looked around. Everywhere he looked, there was only white snow. What could they use as fuel to start a fire?
“You can see for yourself. There’s only snow here.”
Rasill said, exaggeratingly scanning all directions as if to say look for yourself. Then Grace burst into laughter, ahaha, like a child.
After laughing for a while, bending at the waist on horseback, Grace dismounted. Her steps headed toward the servants holding torches. They were all people who had seen her grotesque appearance, so their whole bodies trembled with tension.
But Grace, instead of creating corpses like before, simply snatched the torch from one servant’s hand.
She gazed lovingly at the warm flames. If it weren’t for the beggarly situation, even Rasill might have been entranced, thinking it beautiful.
It was right then.
“Ah…”
Grace, having taken even the oil from the servant’s hand, poured it all over him and tossed the torch.
“Aaaah!”
The servant, his entire body engulfed in fire, began thrashing and running wildly. Flames leaped to the hems of the other servants’ clothes as they tried and failed to flee from him. When one flailing to extinguish it spilled oil, the situation spiraled out of control.
Still, the somewhat clever ones rolled in the snowfield. But by the time Grace returned to her own horse, their breaths had ceased one by one. In an instant, a pile of corpses accumulated, and they became fuel, creating an enormous blaze atop the snowfield.
Only upon seeing that did Rasill realize. There was a reason why Grace hadn’t killed him outright but instead put him at the forefront, leading this large group to the battlefield. She intended to use each and every person as firewood.
“Done now?”
Grace, mounted on her horse, smiled prettily. Gazing at her, Rasill mentally pointed a finger at himself for having briefly wished to become a being like her.
He could never become like her. Their starting points were different. It wasn’t the secretary who had made her a devil. Even without seeing some mere secretary, that woman would have been a devil. Without a doubt.
The strength no longer flowed into Rasill’s hand gripping the reins as before. If he could, he wanted to turn the horse’s head around. But in that moment, his own breath would be cut off. He might end up as human firewood too.
With no other choice, Rasill followed alongside Grace. As they advanced, he could feel the surroundings growing quieter and more desolate.
Rasill had also taken others’ lives without a care, yet goosebumps kept rising on his arms. It was because of Grace’s cheerful humming that echoed in the silence.
* * *
“Can’t sleep?”
As Angela kept tossing and turning, Yvonne asked. It was the fourth night spent on the battlefield. Tonight, too, the Tarlan Kingdom’s camp was quiet. It was as if they had given up on the war.
Even so, until a white flag signifying surrender rose, the Phaelon Empire’s forces couldn’t disperse either. Besides, Angela knew, didn’t she? That Grace was coming. Angela’s war would begin from then.
“Shall I sing you a lullaby?”
To Yvonne’s question, instead of saying yes, Angela pulled her arm close and lay her head on it. Yvonne carefully patted Angela with her remaining hand.
“…Yvonne.”
The call came after quite some time had passed. Angela, who had been lying with her eyes closed as if asleep, suddenly spoke. Her eyes remained gently shut.
“I’ve been happy on so many days because of you.”
The words flowed out like a confession, and the hand patting Angela halted for a moment. Yvonne, unsure how to respond, opened and closed her lips repeatedly. In the end, unable to say anything, Angela’s words continued.
“Probably from the moment I first saw your eyes after being born, I was happy. Because you were the only one who looked at me with such love.”
By the time she heard that, Yvonne firmly closed her lips that had been parting. She realized this was a story she dared not add words to. She waited quietly for Angela to share the next ones.
“So a world without you is unimaginable.”
Saying that, Angela opened her closed eyes and looked at Yvonne. As if confirming her presence in the world, she slowly scanned her eyes, nose, mouth, and then, finding it insufficient, raised her hand to caress her cheek. Only after feeling the texture did Angela speak again.
“So don’t get hurt.”
Tears welled up along Yvonne’s eyes. She had already heard the news that Grace was coming. In that case, the most dangerous one, no matter what anyone said, was Angela. Yet this precious lady…
Yvonne grasped Angela’s hand resting on her cheek. It was a hand with a heartbreaking warmth. Yet it was warm. It meant that even that couldn’t steal away the inherent gentleness Angela possessed.
“I will…”
Swallowing the “I’m sorry” that had risen to her throat, Yvonne nodded and replied. Because she thought Angela would dislike it. Because she was so kind…
“Don’t worry. I’ll stay by your side.”
Watching Angela smile as if she had heard the answer she wanted, Yvonne made a wish. For Angela’s happiness.
