Chapter 42
“Responsibility? Forget it.”
Raphael’s eyes flickered strangely, almost as if he were high on something.
Something about that look made me instinctively pull back. Whatever he was planning, I didn’t want any part of it.
“Really? That’s a shame,” he murmured.
Even his disappointment sounded fake. I knew I’d done the right thing refusing him.
“Anyway, I’m sorry you ended up living alone because of me. But if you really hated it, you would’ve rejected my offer back then.”
He wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t deny it.
I’d been so obsessed with Raphael that I’d ruined every tea party my father arranged just to help me make friends.
And once—just once—Chloe had attended one of those parties.
How did that end again?
I couldn’t remember. Probably like always: I’d passed the time half-heartedly until Raphael showed up, then ended everything.
If I’d become friends with Chloe back then… would the future have changed?
If Raphael had fallen for her, would she have turned him down for my sake?
Of course, that was just a pointless thought.
“Anyway,” I said, “you liked Miss Chloe, didn’t you?”
It had looked that way to me.
“I was mistaken,” he said flatly.
“Then maybe what you feel for me right now is also a mistake.”
“No. I finally realized the difference between you and her. When you reject me, I lose my mind. When she does, I feel nothing.”
“So she turned you down, and you came running to me?”
“That’s not it.”
When had he gotten so close?
His fingers brushed the ends of my hair, twirling a strand.
Once, that tiny gesture would’ve made my heart race. But now… my chest felt perfectly calm.
“You lost your mind because your pride was hurt,” I said quietly. “I always accepted you before. You just can’t stand that I don’t anymore.”
“That’s not it,” he whispered. “I realized I can’t stand seeing you with anyone else.”
The absurdity of his calm tone made me laugh.
“You mean you can’t stand the idea that someone who used to adore you now looks at another man.”
“I love you,” he said simply. “Let’s forget the past and start over.”
I was about to tell him to get lost—but stopped.
He was crying.
Thick tears slid down Raphael’s face, and for a moment, I just stared.
It was strange. Back when I wrote this story as Yvona, I’d always imagined this exact scene—the beautiful, tragic moment where Raphael wept and begged her to stay.
But now, standing here as Yvonne, I felt nothing. No thrill, no satisfaction. Only irritation.
“It’s not hard,” he pleaded. “Just go back to the way things were. You loved me once, didn’t you?”
“I did,” I admitted. “But I don’t now. That’s why I’m not with you.”
“Then love me again.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” I said, “you’re not even handsome to me anymore.”
He froze, stunned.
Even if he’d dressed up, even if he looked his best, I wouldn’t have gone back to him. But now, standing there in his worn clothes and desperate face, he looked pitiful.
“I’ll come back when I look better,” he muttered. “By the way, that black-haired guy—he’s not it, right? You’ve lost so much weight lately.”
“That’s not why,” I said sharply.
He was completely misunderstanding. I hadn’t lost weight because of Theo. It was because my own family had nearly killed me.
He grabbed my wrist tightly.
“Let’s get married. This time, I won’t look at anyone else.”
“Don’t be insane. Let go.”
I tried to shake him off, but his grip was too strong.
“I can’t,” he said. “But I’ll wait. A week, maybe?”
“Even in a hundred years, it won’t be you.”
“You’re wrong. You’ll come back to me. You always do. You’ve been with me since we were kids. It’s a habit by now.”
“Then go on imagining that,” I said coldly.
When pulling away didn’t work, I switched tactics.
“Ow— you’ve gotten rough.”
Try nearly dying sometime, I thought bitterly. You’ll toughen up too.
I kicked him hard in the shin. He flinched, grimacing, but still didn’t let go.
“Take your delusions home,” I said, glaring. “And get your hand off me.”
“Then come home with me,” he said with a faint smile. “It’s been a while.”
As if.
I didn’t even bother answering—just gave him a look dripping with contempt.
Even after that, he started dragging me toward the entrance.
“Unhand the young lady!”
Marie rushed forward, but Raphael’s strength—fueled by his madness—was too much for her.
I was about to curse him to hell when—
“Let her go.”
A deep voice cut through the tension.
A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward and caught Raphael’s arm.
“And who the hell are you?” Raphael snarled.
“Anyone who disrespects my lady isn’t welcome here,” the man said evenly. “Leave now.”
“Do you even know who I am?”
“You’re a guest who won’t be returning,” the man replied. “Now get out.”
And before Raphael could react, the man all but threw him out the door.
“Don’t come back,” I shouted weakly after him. “You’re banned for life!”
When the door closed, I turned to the man who’d saved me.
Raphael had been tall and fit, but beside this one, he’d look fragile.
“I don’t recognize you,” I said.
“Good evening, Lady Yvonne. I’m Luca, your new attendant.”
Ah. That explained it. At least the new hire had perfect timing.
“Are you all right, my lady? Oh no, your wrist—it’s all red!” Marie fretted.
“I’m fine,” I said softly. “I’ll rest in my room.”
A faint red mark lingered on my skin where Raphael’s hand had been. It would fade soon enough—just like him.
I started up the stairs when—
Cough. Cough.
A rough sound echoed from above.
Too loud for a room—someone was coughing in the hallway.
A door clicked shut a moment later.
I didn’t need to hear the voice to know who it was.
Nathan had stepped out of his room for the first time in days, restless from staying cooped up.
He hadn’t expected to stumble upon such an interesting scene—Raphael struggling with Yvonne.
Perfect time to kill him, he thought idly, watching with faint amusement.
But before he could act, the new servant intervened, and Nathan’s interest faded.
He turned to head back when a fit of coughing overtook him.
Blood splattered his palm.
He’d overused his power again. His body felt weaker than ever.
Nothing was going right. He’d lost his handkerchief, and for now, he couldn’t even use his ability.
Three nights earlier—
“Did you find out what that emblem means?” Nathan asked the leader of the Lamore Assassins, a man named Hugo.
He was referring to the ornate symbol engraved on the dagger embedded in the assassin’s back—the one who had tried to kill his sister.
“We did, but…”
“But what?” Nathan snapped.
“It’s the crest of the Norbert Imperial Family.”
Nathan’s eyes widened. Yvonne had nothing to do with Norbert.
Did one of them just happen to be there…? Or was the emblem forged?
Either way, she was too lucky.
“Find out whose weapon it was,” Nathan ordered.
“I’m afraid we can’t,” Hugo said stiffly. “We’ll be ending our contract and returning your payment.”
“What?”
Nathan’s brow twitched in irritation.
“Even if they’re from another empire,” Hugo continued, “they’re still royalty. Touch the wrong person, and we’re all dead.”
“Maybe it wasn’t really a royal’s weapon. Could’ve been a vagrant who picked it up.”
“Even a commoner who steals from the royal family is condemned,” Hugo said calmly.
“So you’re refusing me.”
“I’m sorry.”
Nathan laughed. The sound made every assassin in the room stiffen.
“I see,” he said lightly.
Hugo relaxed, thinking the storm had passed—
“Then you’re all useless. Die.”
Nathan’s blue eyes glowed.
Every assassin in the hall suddenly turned their blades inward.
One by one, they drove their swords through their own chests.
Screams filled the air, blood pooling beneath them as Nathan watched without flinching.
“Fools,” he muttered.
Then—
Cough.
Blood filled his mouth again.
He wiped it with a fallen handkerchief, his hands trembling.
“That was… impulsive,” he whispered.
He’d planned to kill them after eliminating his sister. But they’d angered him, and he’d lost control.
Cough, cough.
Seven people at once. The toll was immense.
His lungs burned, his vision swam, but he forced himself to leave.
He didn’t even notice the handkerchief he’d dropped behind.
The next morning—
“Master Nathan, should I fetch a priest?”
“No.”
“You don’t look well, sir…”
“I’ll recover soon. Leave me.”
No priest could fix this. The pain was the price of his power.
Mother… I had no choice, he thought bitterly.
“Never use that ability, Nathan. Promise me.”
He remembered his mother’s voice.
As a child, he hadn’t understood why. Why inherit a rare power only to be forbidden from using it?
Then one day, curiosity got the better of him.
He’d used it—to make his friends kill a frog.
“You used it, didn’t you?”
Of course, she’d found out. Every time he used his ability, his body would weaken.
Only when she lay dying did she tell him the truth.
“That power consumes your life,” she’d said weakly.
Before she died, she made him promise to inherit his father’s title and live—never to waste himself as she had.
But watching her frail body then, he’d realized something.
She’d burned through her own life to find his father… and to raise him.
When her eyes finally closed, Nathan waited for the father she’d promised would come.
[Comments]
→ Nathan’s been garbage since childhood 😤
→ He’s coughing blood again—guess he’s dying soon 😏
→ Can’t wait for the brother to drop dead lol
→ Why has everyone already forgotten Raphael 😂
