Chapter 17
“To Live or to Die, That Is the Question”
Castian’s heart had started beating again.
Whether it was thanks to Marcus’s healing power or some divine stroke of luck, it felt unreal that he had returned from the brink of death—stronger than ever.
“So my role here is done.”
I was about to lift the soul-binding spell and call it a night when he said something completely unexpected.
> “Lydia, I think it’s best to keep the soul-binding active for now.”
> “Huh? Why?”
> “I’m not mentally ready yet.”
> “Mentally ready for what?”
> “To lose this feeling.”
What on earth was he saying? Here I was, ready to erase the dark magic from my body without hesitation, and now he’s saying… this?
I tilted my head, unsure what to make of his cryptic words, and Marcus stepped in to support him.
> “Though his body has been revived, we cannot be sure whether his divine threads and soul are truly restored to their original state. Just as the Duke said, it may be best if you stay close to him for the time being, Lady Lydia.”
Hmm… is that so?
When a renowned high priest speaks that seriously and the Duke solemnly nods in agreement, it suddenly doesn’t sound so far-fetched.
And besides, I had nowhere else to go right now.
> “If staying by Castian’s side a little longer is an option, why would I refuse?”
> “Alright. I’ll do that.”
When I answered obediently, Castian’s lips curled into a slow, elegant arc.
Even before, when he was pale and gaunt, his smile had been breathtaking—but now, with a healthy glow to his complexion, it was outright dizzying.
Truly, the living radiate a different kind of beauty.
Swelled with pride over having saved him, I couldn’t help but beam back at him.
As we smiled at each other, Marcus once again interjected.
> “I’ll also remain by the Duke’s side for a while.”
Castian, who had just moments ago been basking in the warmth of a springlike smile, turned his gaze toward Marcus—and in an instant, that warmth vanished.
His expression froze, his eyes becoming colder than the northern sea.
> “You’re not needed.”
> “I revived you with my own hands. I want to monitor your condition until I’m satisfied.”
Despite the icy rejection, Marcus didn’t back down.
They had said their goodbyes like they’d never cross paths again, so what had changed?
It didn’t quite match the Marcus I had known so far, who’d always kept his distance. Something about it felt off.
Castian, too, eyed him with suspicion.
> “I don’t think I’m the one you’re hoping to examine.”
> “Regardless, isn’t it better that I do the checking?”
The conversation drifted into an odd and murky direction.
Castian’s mood turned increasingly dangerous.
His glare practically screamed, “Get lost now or I’ll chew you alive,” yet the words that came out of his mouth were the exact opposite.
> “Do as you please.”
And so, just like that, our traveling party grew by one.
Castian had many duties awaiting him, so we wasted no time and headed straight back to Marga.
But the news that awaited him from the Bernstein estate’s intelligence officers was dire.
> “It failed?”
> “Yes, my lord.”
The informant bowed his head in shame, as though bearing the guilt of the whole empire.
> “The expeditionary force is retreating. They’ve abandoned further conquest and should arrive in Stemwood within a few days.”
> “Has the Emperor been informed?”
> “They’re trying to keep it quiet for now, but it’s likely the news has already reached him.”
The expedition failed.
Now that Castian had returned, the plan was to join the expedition and crush the dark mages together.
That way, we could have stopped the descent of the Demon King and saved the world…
But now, it was all too late.
Castian’s jaw clenched hard. He was likely grinding his teeth, holding back frustration.
His tone was expressionless as he questioned the bowing officer.
> “What was the cause of the failure?”
> “It seems the Imperial Army failed to cooperate. They used your absence as an excuse to retreat, leaving the expeditionary force overwhelmed on its own…”
Hearing the report, Castian swept his long fingers through his hair.
His sleek blue hair, momentarily brushed aside, revealed a deep, furrowed line between his brows.
He remained silent for a moment, as if swallowing his rage, then turned on his heels.
> “To the ducal estate.”
Everyone’s expressions tensed immediately.
Even Marcus now wore a grave look in response to the news.
Inside the carriage bound for Stemwood, Castian remained engrossed in reading a lengthy report the entire journey.
Not wanting to disturb him, I shrunk into the corner of the carriage.
Maybe the expedition had been doomed from the start without Castian—its commander and key strategist.
If only I’d moved faster… if only I hadn’t slept so long after the ritual…
Even though I knew regret was pointless, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes.
I leaned against the rattling window, lost in a daze, when Castian’s voice brought me back.
> “Don’t make that face. We can always rebuild the expedition.”
> “What face?”
> “The face of someone fearing the consequences of failure.”
He’d been reading all that time—how had he noticed my expression?
I sighed. He wasn’t wrong.
Even Castian’s mother, Lady Elysia, had said the Emperor had high hopes for this mission.
Now that it had failed, the Emperor would surely blame Castian.
The mere thought of him being unfairly scolded made my chest tighten.
Sensing my gloomy mood, Castian tried to lighten the atmosphere.
> “You must feel burdened for betraying your former comrades to join us. Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the next expedition succeeds.”
> “This isn’t the time to be worrying about me! I’m worried about you! What if the Emperor gets angry?”
Frustration spilled into my voice.
Castian blinked, surprised by my outburst, then let out a soft chuckle.
> “He’ll be delighted. He finally has an excuse to scold me.”
Delighted?
What kind of emperor gets happy over the empire’s failure just so he can criticize someone?
I stared in disbelief, but Castian’s amusement only grew.
> “Is this funny to you?”
> “It’s pleasant… to know someone is angry on my behalf.”
He said it with such a bright, relaxed face that it only made me angrier.
How come no one’s ever been angry for him before?
Why did it feel like, in moments like this, he said such foolish things just to hide how alone he truly was?
The continent’s strongest man, the savior of Heimnad, the Emperor’s political rival—so many grand titles, yet they only seemed to mask his isolation.
> “I’ll get angry for you. If the Emperor scolds you, I’ll curse him out for you too.”
> “How reassuring.”
Castian chuckled at my clumsy show of loyalty.
If it made him smile, I’d happily curse the Emperor as much as needed.
He seemed to understand the sincerity of my resolve, for his expression softened for the rest of the ride.
Eventually, we arrived at the Bernstein estate.
Lady Elysia, dressed in a deep sapphire gown, stood waiting at the front of the grand mansion.
> “I’m back, Mother.”
> “Welcome.”
Castian greeted her formally, and she accepted it without a flicker of emotion.
Even after fifteen days apart, their reunion was stark and dry.
Her amber eyes moved past Castian to examine me and Marcus.
> “We’ve met before. You’re Lydia, right?”
> “Yes, my lady.”
I bowed politely, wearing my most respectful expression.
She hadn’t said anything harsh, but her presence alone was intimidating.
Her gaze shifted to Marcus, prompting Castian to make introductions.
> “This is Marcus, a priest known as the Wandering Sage.”
Her right brow lifted slightly—an incredibly rare show of emotion.
> “Let’s talk inside.”
Without waiting, she turned and walked away, with Castian following closely behind.
I was about to sneak away, but Castian turned and reached out his hand.
> “I want to introduce you formally to my mother.”
Formally?
> “What are you doing, Duke? You’re going to introduce me to the Duchess of Bernstein as a necromancer?”
> “No, I’m fine, really.”
> “She needs to know.”
> “Ah, um…”
I subtly tried to back away, but Castian gently took my hand.
Am I really about to come out as a necromancer in the Bernstein manor?
I mean… I’m his friend, so surely they won’t throw rocks at me. A slap with a fan, maybe?
While my brain spiraled out of control, I found myself seated in the parlor beside Castian, facing Elysia.
She took a graceful sip of tea before asking in her usual flat tone,
> “I heard you deserted the expedition. Why?”
> “I was injured. I couldn’t join due to treatment.”
Castian answered casually while picking up his own teacup.
> “Injured? You were hurt?”
It was brief—but I saw it.
For a split second, Elysia’s expression faltered.
Though Castian missed it while sipping his tea, I saw it clearly from beside him.
For a moment, those cold amber eyes flickered—with genuine concern.
