Chapter 63
The moment Theron’s dark, sunken eyes met mine—
“Ugh…”
A crushing pain seized my chest as though my lungs were being squeezed.
“I…shtar?”
Sensing something was wrong, Theron’s eyes widened in alarm as he rushed to steady me, his arm catching my staggering body.
‘M-my body feels strange…’
A suffocating pressure tightened around my throat, as if unseen hands were choking me. Heat surged up from my stomach to my throat, and I felt my whole body burn from within. My mind began to blur, unable to focus on anything.
“Are you all right? What’s wrong all of a sudden—”
“Wait… I just feel… so dizzy…”
The world spun violently. My legs gave way, and I sank helplessly to the floor.
Theron caught me in his arms, his hand immediately pressing against my forehead.
Realizing how hot my skin was, his eyes narrowed.
“Your body’s burning up… What on earth—”
“I don’t… know… ugh!”
A tidal wave of pain crashed over me, swallowing everything.
My vision went black as I went limp in his arms.
“Ishtar, stay with me! Ishtar!”
Theron’s urgent voice echoed faintly in my ears before fading away.
Then, sound and light vanished—swallowed by silent darkness.
That afternoon, Theron slipped out of the palace under heavy secrecy, making his way toward one of his hideouts in the capital.
‘I let my guard down and took a hit.’
He had originally planned to return to the main headquarters of his organization, Diader, but today, things had gone wrong.
Suleiman had somehow tracked down the hidden base and led soldiers in a full-scale raid.
“My dear brother, you’ve outdone yourself this time.”
A cold smile curved under the shadow of Theron’s deep hood.
One of his subordinates spoke cautiously, “Even if the headquarters is exposed, it won’t serve as proof of anything. There’s no real data stored there.”
The man was right. Diader’s base was nothing more than an empty shell.
Theron, ever meticulous, was not the kind of man to leave evidence in a single location.
He had fragmented both himself and the organization so thoroughly that tracing him was near impossible—over a hundred agents scattered across the city, each working only through encrypted orders.
The so-called headquarters was merely bait. Most of the captured members were mercenaries—decoys, not true operatives.
There was nothing to fear.
Yet the unease and irritation boiling inside Theron went far deeper than his men could guess.
“Go on ahead to the hideout. Prepare to assemble the lieutenants the moment I arrive.”
“But, Guildmaster, your escort—”
“You talk too much. Do you value your life or not?”
At his cold glare, the guards froze before bowing. “Understood.” Then they melted into the shadows.
Once alone, Theron clenched his fist and drove it into the wall.
Crash.
Bricks cracked and crumbled under the blow, falling in a shower of red dust.
“Damn it.”
He looked down at his bleeding knuckles, his jaw tightening.
Why was he so furious?
Not at the Sultan. Not at the soldiers.
But because it was Suleiman—his own brother—who had seen through his plans.
“…I feel like cutting something to pieces.”
Would it ease this fury if he spilled someone’s blood?
For a moment, his expression turned savagely cold.
Then, from the main road not far away, a loud crash shattered the silence, followed by frantic shouting.
‘What now?’
Drawing his hood lower, Theron cautiously peered toward the street.
A carriage had overturned—and around it, a fierce battle was raging.
The carriage’s guards were skilled, but heavily outnumbered and slowly being overwhelmed.
“It looks like bodyguards on one side… and common bandits on the other.”
Whatever was inside that carriage, it had to be valuable enough to risk such a fight.
He was just about to turn away—to avoid unnecessary entanglement—when he saw a woman dragged out of the wrecked carriage.
“Let go of me!”
Her voice. That face.
Theron’s breath caught.
“…Ishtar?”
What was she doing here?
The woman who should have been under Suleiman’s careful protection—appearing in a desolate alley, in the hands of ruffians.
But before he could process the thought, the brute holding her drew a blade.
And Theron—before even realizing it—was already sprinting toward them.
Rational thought vanished. The only thing that remained was the burning rush in his veins.
How dare they…!
The very thought of Ishtar in danger made his blood roar in his ears.
In an instant, Theron’s sword flashed. The man holding her dropped lifeless to the ground.
“There’s someone interfering! Kill him!”
The remaining assailants charged, shouting—but none could touch him.
They dared to lay a hand on her.
Rage flooded him—pure, unreasoning fury. He didn’t even know why he was so enraged. Only that even as he fought, his every sense stayed fixed on her behind him.
When the last attacker fell, he glanced toward the few guards still fighting some distance away.
‘I see Iblan’s among them. The fight won’t last long.’
But they were too occupied holding off the enemy to protect Ishtar.
Biting his lip, Theron strode toward her and extended a hand.
“It’s dangerous here. We should escape. The guards can handle the rest.”
“No, I can’t. Arin is still—”
Her voice trembled. Tears welled in her eyes as she looked down at the unconscious young maid.
Risking her life… for a servant?
It was something Theron couldn’t comprehend—yet, seeing her expression, he didn’t argue.
He couldn’t bear seeing that sadness on her face.
‘…She’s hurt too.’
If the carriage overturned, there was no way she’d come out unscathed.
Her face was pale, bloodless. Foolish, he thought—and yet, she looked heartbreakingly fragile.
As he helped her into a narrow alleyway, he noticed a streak of blood matting her hair. His brows drew tight.
What is my brother doing?
What had she done to deserve this?
To Theron, Ishtar looked less like a royal pawn and more like a helpless sacrifice—used and discarded by the Sultan and Suleiman alike.
If it were me… I’d never let that happen.
If there were something precious—someone he couldn’t bear to lose—he’d never leave them alone.
That was his conviction.
He didn’t care for the kingdom’s future or for sacred duties as a royal.
For the one he cherished, he’d give it all up—status, wealth, everything.
“You poor soul,” he murmured softly. “Why do you care for others so dearly… yet neglect yourself so cruelly?”
“It’s… not a serious wound,” she muttered tersely, turning her head away.
The dismissal pierced him deeper than he expected.
“Do you despise me so much?” he asked quietly. “That even a moment’s touch is unbearable?”
“It’s not that… You’re just—too close.”
Too close.
Did she mean that literally… or something else?
If he closed that distance—what would become of them?
He wasn’t a fool; he knew exactly what he felt.
Theron realized that this woman—this strange, gentle light—had already become something irreplaceable.
He gazed at her, that mirage-like beauty within arm’s reach, blushing and biting her lip. Even her flustered expression was enchanting.
‘I want to be near her… just a little longer.’
What if he took her away from all this—away from the Sultan, from Suleiman—and gave her freedom?
If there was a place for him by her side, he’d abandon everything without hesitation.
But before he could speak again, she suddenly collapsed.
‘This… it’s the same as before, back in the palace.’
Yet unlike that time—when their lips had met, even if she’d been in feline form—this time he hadn’t kissed her.
‘Then why… did she faint?’
Was it from the shock of the crash? From using too much power healing the girl?
“Please… don’t be in pain,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms.
Seeing her suffer like this made him feel as though he’d go insane.
He’d killed without remorse countless times—but the mere sight of her in pain cut deeper than any blade.
What was this feeling?
Then—
A brilliant violet light began to seep from her body.
“Ishtar…?”
With a soft whoosh, the light flared, filling the air—then faded as suddenly as it came.
When it was gone, Theron looked down… and found a small, warm kitten resting in his arms.
‘Her breathing’s steady again.’
Perhaps transforming had stabilized her condition.
Relieved, he let out a slow breath, his hand gently stroking the tiny cat’s forehead.
“…There’s no way we can return like this.”
With her unconscious in feline form, he’d have to handle everything himself. Yet he couldn’t risk revealing his identity.
Holding her carefully, Theron disappeared into the depths of the dark alley.
Only her discarded clothes remained on the ground—mute proof that she had been there.
