Episode 11
The moment Lydia collapsed limp in his arms, if Castian’s heart were still beating, it would’ve stopped right then.
Even though his heart had long since stopped, Castian was now gripped by a fear of death he had never felt before.
If Lydia died—so would he.
Necromancy or spirit-binding didn’t matter anymore.
His cause of death would be loss… fear… and a pain so deep it didn’t even have a name.
With trembling hands, he gently caressed Lydia’s bloodied cheek.
“Lydia…”
Only a faint breath answered him.
She wasn’t dead.
And that meant… he wasn’t either.
Even unconscious, Lydia was still clinging to Castian’s soul.
“You foolish…”
The words of blame he barely managed to mutter through clenched teeth were left unfinished.
There would be time for blame and regret later.
Castian lifted his head, his blue eyes flashing as he shouted to Edan, seated in the driver’s seat.
“To the Mage Guild!”
“Yes, sir!”
With Edan’s sharp reply, the carriage tilted as it swerved violently.
It raced across the small town toward the Mage Guild.
As soon as they arrived, Castian didn’t hesitate. Holding Lydia tightly, he stormed into the building.
The mage guarding the small-town guild was startled by the loud noise, but upon seeing Lydia’s condition, he clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Mana exhaustion?”
“I’ll buy every mana potion you have.”
“What the hell did she do to burn through that much mana? Kids like her always overestimate themselves…”
Bang!
The grumbling mage flinched at the sudden noise.
For a moment, he thought an earthquake had struck—but then he realized the tremor had come from Castian stomping the floor with force.
“I said I’ll buy the mana potions.”
The mage was about to raise his voice in protest but stopped when he met Castian’s burning gaze. He cleared his throat awkwardly.
“I get that it’s urgent, but mana potions aren’t cheap. You can’t just storm in and demand—”
Before the mage could finish, Castian shifted Lydia in one arm and pulled a checkbook from his coat, issued by the House of Bernstein.
He didn’t even waste time signing it.
Instead, he pressed the seal on his index finger onto the check, leaving the symbol of the sword and rose—stained with Lydia’s blood—embedded into the paper.
The mage’s eyes nearly popped out of his head.
“Y-You’re the Duke of Bernstein?!”
“Mana potion.”
Castian repeated the same words for the third time, barely holding on to the last thread of his patience. If he didn’t get the potion now, he would draw his sword.
The mage, now frantically inspecting the check, verified its authenticity and rushed off, returning with a small vial of violet liquid.
Just one.
Holding the tiny potion in his hand, Castian spoke again, this time barely containing his irritation.
“I said I’ll buy all of them.”
“This is a small town, sir. We only keep one emergency vial on hand. Honestly, this one shouldn’t even be for sale…”
The mage’s excuse droned on, but Castian had already turned away.
“Your Grace! You didn’t fill in an amount!”
The mage shouted at his back, but Castian didn’t even glance back as he walked out, leaving behind a blank check with the Duke’s seal.
The stunned mage could only stare after them in disbelief.
Once outside, Castian headed to the nearest inn. He needed somewhere safe to lay Lydia down.
When the innkeeper caught sight of the blood-soaked woman in Castian’s arms, she screamed in fright.
Castian asked for a room—twice—but it wasn’t until Edan drew his sword that they were finally led to the best room in the inn.
Inside, Castian carefully laid Lydia on the bed, then knelt beside her, gently holding her hand as if in prayer.
“Lydia…”
Hearing the desperation in Castian’s voice, Edan couldn’t help but feel uneasy.
He had always suspected Lydia.
He’d been convinced she was a dangerous necromancer waiting for the perfect chance to kill his lord and flee.
So why… Why was Castian still protecting her?
And now, after everything, she was dying—after protecting Castian’s soul to the very end.
Edan might not know much about magic, but he knew mana exhaustion could be deadly.
Even with a potion, no one could guarantee she’d survive.
For the first time, Edan thought he saw tears on the back of his master—someone who’d always seemed like a mountain, unshakable and unfeeling.
Tears, from Castian?
It sounded absurd—but the despair pouring off him was real.
Castian uncorked the potion.
He carefully tilted the bottle and let a few drops of the shimmering violet liquid fall on Lydia’s lips.
But the potion only spilled out, sliding down her blood-streaked mouth.
Castian gently pressed her lower lip with his finger and tried again.
“Lydia… please…”
With a desperate plea, he dripped the potion into her mouth. Then, suddenly—Lydia coughed violently.
“Cough!”
Blood splattered from her mouth, and some of the potion came out with it.
Castian winced as though he’d just drunk poison himself.
After wiping her mouth, he made a decision.
He brought the potion bottle to his own lips and took a mouthful.
Then, leaning over, he pressed his lips to Lydia’s.
She flinched faintly, but Castian didn’t pull away until she swallowed every drop.
He could feel her breath against his own, mixed with the stench of blood.
After watching her closely for a moment, he drank the remaining potion.
Then, more slowly and gently than before, he kissed her again, carefully transferring the rest.
When he finally pulled away, Lydia’s breathing was calmer. The bleeding from her nose, ears, and eyes had stopped.
Edan, who had been watching anxiously, sighed in relief.
“It must be working. The bleeding’s stopped.”
Castian didn’t respond.
He simply whispered a silent prayer of gratitude to no one in particular, then pressed his lips to Lydia’s cheek.
He didn’t even realize what he was doing.
When he finally stood, a deep red mark from his lips remained on her cheek—like a seal.
He accepted that the same mark had been burned into his own soul.
It wasn’t just the black magic linking their spirits anymore.
And even if it was—it didn’t matter.
So what if Lydia was a necromancer?
Who cared about necromancy or spirit-binding?
His mortal heart may have stopped, but something in his soul had started to beat for the first time.
He wanted to protect her. To treat her with care. To meet her eyes, touch her hand, and connect with her heart.
From the moment his heart had stopped beating, his desire had become simple—yet intense.
“Haa…”
A long sigh escaped Castian’s lips, somewhere between relief and helpless laughter.
With his heart finally unburdened, Castian turned his head, his gaze now deeper and more focused.
Edan was staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers.
“Edan, bring back healing potions—those without divine blessings. And check if there are more mana potions available.”
He handed over the checkbook as he spoke, but Edan was still in shock.
He had just witnessed the impossible: Castian—kissing someone.
Not just once, but multiple times.
Sure, it had been necessary. A matter of life or death. The kiss could be excused.
But that kiss on the cheek?
That… was different.
The look in Castian’s eyes hadn’t been clinical or calculated. It had been warm. Tender.
Loving.
Was it even possible—for Castian Dale Bernstein to look at someone like that?
“Edan?”
“Y-Yes! Right away!”
Snapping out of it, Edan took the checkbook and rushed out.
But as he reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused and glanced back at their room.
That look Castian had given Lydia…
It was unmistakably the gaze of a man in love.
In love—with her?
“Come on… no way.”
Despite what he saw, Edan shook his head in disbelief.
Lydia had risked her life to save Castian—it made sense that he felt gratitude or companionship.
Edan, too, had come to see her differently after today.
That was all there was to it.
He tried to convince himself as he started walking again—but then paused once more.
He would give his life to protect Castian too.
But Castian… wouldn’t kiss him on the cheek.
Or look at him like that.
Even if he did, Edan would refuse—but still. The thought itself was laughable.
Which meant…
“This really is love, isn’t it?”
With a wistful gaze, Edan glanced back once more.
The love between the Duke of Bernstein and a necromancer?
He could already see the trials and tribulations that awaited them.
Clenching his fist with quiet determination, Edan made a silent vow:
If no one else will support their difficult love… then I will.
