Chapter 42
Lich’s hand gripped Maia’s shoulder with terrifying strength.
“I truly wanted to kill you back then. I backed off only because of a certain request—but instead of taking it as a blessing, you dare lay hands on what’s mine again.”
Maia couldn’t understand what Lich was saying.
Why was he acting like this?
Hadn’t this gone far enough?
“…Then I’ll kill you now.”
But Lich, burning with incomprehensible rage, wouldn’t stop.
Count Polaris’s body was being shredded, wounds opening all over him.
Blood flowed freely, and a formless scream tore through the dark forest like a waking nightmare.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
“Stop!”
Maia turned and threw herself into Lich’s arms.
He seemed momentarily stunned—but then his hand settled gently against her back, pulling her into a firm embrace.
In a soft, almost tender voice, he whispered,
“Just stay like this. It’ll be awful to see. Better not to watch.”
…He’s gone mad. Completely out of his mind.
Count Polaris mustn’t die here.
He’d admitted himself that the Empress was deeply involved in all of this.
If they wanted to expose that connection, they needed leverage—anything they could use!
Maia opened her mouth in a rush, trying to say something—anything.
“Ugh…?”
But her vision was already going dark.
“When you wake up, everything will be fine.”
Lich had done something. He’d used a trick.
“Y-You crazy bastard… if you kill him…”
“Just rest. Leave it to me.”
No, that wasn’t it—he couldn’t kill Polaris. He was the only witness who could expose the true mastermind behind this!
Maia desperately clung to the front of Lich’s robes, trying to stay conscious.
But she couldn’t resist.
Her world faded to black.
The last thing she felt was a firm pair of arms catching her as her body collapsed.
Count Polaris met a gruesome end.
It was likely he’d intended the same for Maia. The revenge had been more than sufficient.
Hiperion stood with a blank expression, gazing down at the count’s mangled corpse. Then he looked at Maia—still asleep in his arms.
—Why are you still by my side?
Was it because he’d seen her again?
Hiperion tried to summon the face of a woman he could almost—but not quite—remember. He gave up.
And he held Maia tighter.
This warmth was enough for him now. The past was the past.
He’d denied Adelstein’s death, over and over again, but in the end, he had been forced to accept it.
He had done it once before—so surely, it would be easier to forget this time.
…But the very fact that he had to tell himself that only proved he hadn’t forgotten.
Suppressing every flicker of emotion with brutal force, Hiperion marched forward.
Everyone else in the party had perished.
No… not everyone?
“…”
He stopped, listening to the sounds of the forest.
Even amidst the demonic beasts prowling through the underbrush, someone had survived.
So stubborn.
Hiperion let out a faint scoff.
Whoever it was, he had no intention of saving them.
Without looking back, he left the black forest behind.
“The others are late… Should we send a new team to reinforce—?!”
As he appeared silently in the center of the camp, the Grand Duchess and Grand Duke of Aetherna stared at him in growing horror.
They recognized his face. Lord Earis.
“L-Lord Earis? Why are you here…? And that’s—! That’s the Duchess of Western?! What is the meaning of this…?”
“The rest of the party died during an attack by the Recasate beasts. Only the Duchess survived.”
“…I beg your pardon?”
The Grand Duchess looked utterly dumbfounded.
Hiperion had no interest in explaining in detail.
Out of basic decency, he added one more line.
“There’s someone still alive in the forest, dragging around a heavy gown. Go fetch them if you want.”
The Grand Duchess and Grand Duke stood frozen, shell-shocked.
Hiperion turned without hesitation.
“Ah—wait!”
A loud voice halted his steps. He turned his head, just slightly.
The Grand Duke of Aetherna looked awkward.
“…Why are you taking the Duchess of Western with you?”
“Do I need to explain myself to you and ask for permission?”
His answer was colder than ice. The Grand Duke faltered at the force of it.
His green eyes drifted to Maia’s sleeping face, cradled in Hiperion’s arms.
…She didn’t even look injured. Then why take her?
“…That may be so. But please keep in mind—that woman you’re holding is the Emperor’s beloved niece-in-law.”
He smiled awkwardly, trying to keep the mood light.
Hiperion narrowed his golden eyes, committing the man’s face to memory.
“…Lord Earis.”
Now the Grand Duchess of Adelstein spoke up. Hiperion barely suppressed his irritation.
“This event has brought… significant loss. It may be impossible to continue the Prayer Festival…”
Ah, so that’s how she wanted to play it?
“What did you say?”
He sneered, turning to her with a beautiful but venomous expression.
“The festival proceeds as planned.”
The Grand Duchess looked stunned, but quickly recovered.
“But the number of dead…!”
What nonsense.
Hiperion glanced at the slightly charred camp—still intact, by his standards—and at the knights, who were whining over injuries that barely counted as scratches, wrapped in gauze and healing spells.
He muttered with disdain.
“It’s Lord Ruar’s command. A mage from the Tower will be sent down. Get yourselves together and continue the journey.”
He didn’t need to hear any more objections.
Hiperion immediately activated a teleportation spell and vanished, returning to the Mage Tower.
“All of the demonic beasts were wiped out. It was like their strings were cut. Could Lord Earis have done it?”
“We don’t know. And why was the magic barrier broken…?”
Such whispers followed in the silence he left behind—but they were none of his concern.
“Lord Ruar! Where are you rushing off to in the middle of the night—gasp, and who’s that?!”
“Shut up and get out of the way. You’re blocking the hallway.”
The Mage Tower, once still and quiet, erupted into chaos as Hiperion arrived—carrying an unexpected guest in his arms.
“…?”
Maia opened her eyes.
A strange ceiling filled her vision.
Gray and simple, with no ornate carvings…
For someone like Maia, who had lived her whole life among noble opulence, the style was utterly unfamiliar.
The rustle of sheets. Her stiff limbs.
…Where was she?
She frowned.
“Oh! You’re awake!”
Click.
The door opened, and a cheerful voice called out.
“It’s good to see you again, Duchess of Western.”
…Lord Terzen?
“Why are you…?”
Why was he here?
The handsome young man smiled warmly.
“You’ve been unconscious. We’re in the Mage Tower now.”
What?!
“Wait, why am I—?”
Then she remembered.
Lich. That bastard!
Hael, in stark contrast to certain people, tended to Maia with kindness and attentiveness.
After washing, changing, and eating without much complaint, Maia was finally able to see the root cause of all this.
“Maia.”
With that same infuriatingly beautiful face, Lich approached as if nothing had happened.
Still seated on the bed, Maia reached out both arms to rise.
“…?”
Her hands shot straight to his collar.
“I told you not to kill him…!”
Her words exploded with all the anger she’d been bottling up.
“Ahhhk—!”
A strangled sound came from the side.
Startled, Maia turned—and froze again.
Hael Terzen was standing there, pale as a ghost, staring at her in abject terror.
…Was this really that scary?
Oh—maybe she’d gone a bit too far. They were allies, after all.
“….”
Maia awkwardly let go of Lich’s collar. His golden eyes flicked toward Hael.
Then he grabbed Maia’s hand before it could fall away completely.
…What now?
“How’s your body?”
“…Huh?”
Maia gave him a strange look as he suddenly asked.
“Any pain? I cast healing spells, but…”
The sudden change in topic threw her off balance.
And just like that, she was swept along by Lich’s pace.
“It’s your first time in my home, isn’t it?”
He smiled, lacing his fingers with hers.
“I’ll show you around. Let’s go.”
He tugged her gently, and Maia, caught off guard, murmured, “Uh—okay…” as she followed him out of the room.
