Chapter 140
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 140
The diary she had tried to burn, but couldn't, was buried once again beneath the wooden floor of the main hall.
Then, she had blindly boarded a ship to find the man rumored to be the only blade capable of killing her father. If it meant recovering her grandfather's remains, she was prepared to deceive and use him. She didn't care if the price was her own life.
As she crossed the vast ocean, she had abandoned all hope of returning alive.
In the unfamiliar world where she finally arrived, the wolf came for her, just as her master had foretold.
And yet… how had things come to this?
How had she come to care for… this man?
The unanswered question charred her heart.
She should have escaped him then, but Seo-ah couldn't bring herself to break free from the sleeping Oscar—from his arms, which held her so tightly, as if she were his very life.
The night spent in his embrace was both quiet and tumultuous.
No matter how tightly she closed her eyes, his voice echoed deep within her.
"Say you like me."
The words seemed trapped inside her, holding her completely captive.
Her body felt strange.
Those words, the first of their kind she had ever heard, were a gentle touch stirring a shallow sea one moment, a raging typhoon the next. They were warm sunlight, then a biting wind.
The night, spent repeating those words to which she had no answer, was agonizingly long.
By the time she could no longer bear to lie still, a thick, milky dawn was rolling in. Haunted by his words all night, Seo-ah finally rose, her nerves worn to a thread. She was utterly exhausted. After pacing aimlessly, she slumped into a wooden chair.
Naturally, her eyes drifted to Oscar.
The dawn light, pale as crushed seashells, washed over his face. Seo-ah checked his breathing, just as she had done all night. The man, always so strong, lay completely still. She stared, unaware of how long she had been lost in the sight.
His picture-perfect forehead and thick, straight eyebrows gave him a powerful impression. His deep-set eyes were long and sharp, and the high bridge of his nose anchored his features.
Suddenly, she remembered the first time she had seen him while hiding behind a door. She had thought then that if darkness were molded into human form, it would look exactly like him.
“Han Seo-ah!”
As his intense cry echoed deep within her, the memory of the explosion that shook heaven and earth—and the existence of the father she was searching for—loomed cruelly.
Father.
The man who had taken her grandfather's remains. The man who wanted to kill Oscar. And she, who had to use Oscar to catch him.
Staring blankly at Oscar, Seo-ah squeezed her eyes shut.
“Han Seo-ah!”
She ignored the voice clamoring inside her head.
That is not my name.
The tumultuous night was drawing to a close.
It wasn't Oscar's words that had kept her awake. The strange one wasn't him—it was her.
What she wanted was not something she could ask of him.
In the first place, regardless of what she wanted, there was only one path laid out for her. There was no other way.
Just as she could never change the blood flowing through her veins.
She felt tears welling up.
Wanting to stop them, she opened her eyes wide and stared at the ceiling. The world, tinged with dawn, darkened for a moment before golden sunlight pierced through the gloom. The light dawning from the east painted everything in vibrant color.
Looking away from the ceiling, Seo-ah turned her gaze back to Oscar.
The pale light that had gently enveloped his face was gone, leaving no trace of its brief existence. The sleeping Oscar would never even know that the dawn had passed over him.
“He won’t even know…”
Murmuring as if possessed, Seo-ah reached out to touch a ray of morning sunlight that looked like a golden thread.
The Senior Madam of Hoyeonjae used to offer prayers while watching the sun rise.
Following the memory, Seo-ah clasped her hands tightly before her chest. She squeezed them so hard that her interlaced fingers turned white, and she prayed, almost unconsciously.
“Please, let me mean nothing to this man.”
So that I leave no wounds. So that my existence does not become a disaster.
Like the fleeting dawn light, like a leaf that blooms only to wither, like grass that is cut down and disappears in its time—let me be an existence that simply passes him by. Let me be someone he can forget the moment he turns away.
The woman who had once yearned to mean something to someone now prayed over and over that she would leave no trace of meaning behind.
*
“Why isn't that bastard dead?”
“Fuck, go find out what that lapdog is yapping about.”
“Actually, why don't you guys just kill him? Our lives will get a lot easier once he's dead.”
“Yap, yap.”
“…”
“As expected, a well-bred lapdog whimpers so prettily. Right?”
Thebes cackled, but for once, his subordinates couldn't bring themselves to laugh along. If they so much as let out a nervous chuckle, the red-eyed devil would personally make an example of them.
Thebes patted his knee and gestured toward the devil as if calling a dog.
“C’mere, boy! Come sit here. I can dote on you, too.”
Simon von Bernheim, the legitimate heir of the House of Count Bernheim—one of Luxen's most historic noble families—and the current Count. Who on earth would dare direct such vulgar words and gestures at him?
Perhaps Simon was the unsung hero who had allowed Thebes to secure his position as Combat Team 1 Leader in the first place.
Murderous intent swirled in Simon's red eyes.
He could kill him right now. No, a quick death would be too merciful.
“Team 1. If you don't assassinate your leader, I will send you all to a place where you will have no choice but to die.”
“This son of a bitch sure talks big.”
“If your entire team just rushes him, severs his tendons, and hangs him up, he'll die. When His Excellency wakes up, I'll tell him your leader died at His Excellency's hands yesterday. He'll likely accept it.”
“What?”
“Otherwise, I'll personally kill every last one of you within six months. Mark my words.”
Simon flashed a cold, mocking smile at the silent members of Team 1.
“Does it sound like a joke?”
When he smiled like that, even his own Wolves shuddered.
“It’s just as well. We were overdue for a cleanup anyway.”
As Simon muttered quietly, Thebes, who had been laughing from his seat, sprang to his feet.
“A cleanup? All you do is wag that fancy tongue of yours next to His Excellency, you high-born bastard!”
“If you're stupid, then just do as you're told. You're a dog meant to fight on your master's command, so why do you make clumsy guesses, jump to conclusions, and run wild? It's far beyond your station.”
“Beyond my station? Our pretty boy has a pretty face but talks like absolute shit. How do you think I've survived this long?”
“If you couldn't even manage that, you should have handed over the position of Team 1 Leader long ago.”
Thebes got right in Simon's face as if to devour him, but Simon didn't back down an inch, his expression twisting in disgust.
“It's called instinct, you son of a bitch. I move on my gut.”
“Instinct, my ass. Ignoring probability and doing whatever the fuck you want isn't instinct. And look where that's gotten us.”
Veins bulged along Thebes's rugged jaw. The blue veins on his neck swelled, looking as if they would burst at the slightest touch.
Click.
The sound of a door opening carefully echoed through the room.
The two wolves, who had been baring their teeth and radiating murderous energy, froze instantly.
Thebes whipped his head around, his expression shifting in the blink of an eye.
Thebes Venok.
Combat Team 1 Leader. Though Simon dismissed him as a mere fighting dog, he was highly regarded by both Barbara and Karl as the most skilled Combat Team leader in history.
While Simon von Bernheim operated on precise information and probability, Thebes Venok acted on Oscar's orders, guided by his own beastly instincts.
To Simon, who placed absolute faith in data, Thebes was nothing more than a lucky bastard. However, the battlefield demanded split-second judgment built upon their master's directives—and in that regard, Thebes was more than qualified to lead Combat Team 1.
While this occasionally led him to make the wrong call, once he realized his mistake, no one was quicker or more proactive in correcting it.
Just like now.
“Young Lady!”
Seo-ah flinched as the massive man shoved Abel aside and rushed toward her. Then again, anyone would have.
He was the most primal of all the Wolves. In the wild, a wolf quickly discerns the pack's strongest and knows to whom it should bare its belly. For such judgments, data and probability are useless. Only a beast's raw instinct can identify true power.
And this primal wolf was acting entirely on that instinct.
Thebes practically snatched the large water pitcher from Seo-ah's hands.
“I told you not to carry things like this, Young Lady. You'll hurt your wrists.”
“Ah, I-I'm fine…”
He then spun around and barked at the others.
“I told you bastards not to let our Young Lady carry things like this! Did I or did I not?!”
The wolf whose leg Oscar had broken for throwing a knife alongside Thebes came limping over in a hurry.