Chapter 290
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 290
Chapter Title: What Did You Just Say?
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***
It's not because of the psionic.
Nor gratitude, duty, or fate.
Regardless of any of that.
Simply as one woman.
She wanted the man she had fallen for.
Rimon raised one eyebrow briefly as he watched Maia speak those absurd words with such calm composure.
Then he let out another sigh.
"My lady, that's a misunderstanding."
"Is that how you see it?"
"Yes."
He was utterly firm—almost cruel—in his response to the woman who had just confessed to him.
Rimon stated it flatly.
Maia didn't like him; she was merely under that delusion.
"As you know, my lady, dragon psionics have a resonance effect."
"I know that much."
"Your dragon's pure blood reacted to my dragon psionic, so you must have felt at ease whenever you were near me."
"That, I know as well."
"And when you were feeling unwell, I was the only one by your side, so that's all you noticed about me..."
"You're right that it started then."
"...You simply mistook that for love, my lady."
"Your words undoubtedly make sense."
"..."
Rimon fell silent.
His persuasion was clearly working.
Maia was even nodding along readily.
But the more he spoke, the more something felt off.
And Maia's next words proved his intuition spot-on.
"So what does that matter?"
As if she'd heard some ridiculous joke.
With her usual cynical smile that somehow looked oddly amused.
Maia mocked him.
"You're saying my feelings are a delusion because they arose from the dragon psionic."
"Yes."
"Then what reason would make it acceptable?"
"What do you mean?"
"If I fell for you because I admired your strength, your looks, your character—is that also a delusion?"
"..."
"Does that mean the only true love is feeling attraction the instant you meet someone whose face, abilities, and personality you know nothing about?"
"That's..."
"If that's what true love is, then I have no need for it."
Maia spoke coldly to Rimon, who was at a loss for words.
"Love itself is nothing but a grand delusion to begin with."
People often say it.
That love is noble.
But in truth, it's just an illusion.
A product of hormones designed to make us attracted to the opposite sex for reproduction and to maintain relationships.
That's why even loving couples or spouses drift apart once those hormones expire.
So she neither believed in nor expected any such "true love."
Rimon was dumbfounded by Maia's cynical words, delivered as both a doctor and researcher.
"If you think that way, then why confess to me?"
"People get addicted to gambling and drugs knowing they ruin lives. It's the same thing."
"...Are you seriously comparing love to drugs right now?"
"They both cloud your judgment similarly."
If it were actual poison.
Or some kind of pleasure-inducing stimulus.
Even an aphrodisiac or narcotic a hundred times more potent than ambrosia—she could have endured it.
But what Rimon had given her was kindness without strings attached, gentle warmth, and soothing comfort for her pain.
For Maia, who had lived in solitude and agony since Karla's death, it was an irresistible deadly poison.
They had only spent ten days together.
Yet now, she couldn't even imagine life without him.
"I've already become addicted to you."
The direction was different, but...
Love was akin to revenge.
The obsession with the other person.
The way it changed you just by possessing it.
And the desire for them to look only at you, to be changed by you.
Even how it made rational judgment impossible, leading you to accept any loss for their sake.
Like a madman blinded by vengeance, racing toward ruin.
Knowing this delusion was poison, yet unable to refuse—the woman said with self-mockery.
"And because of it, I've been ruined like this."
Her mind knew it.
That it was ultimately a delusion.
That it could vanish at any moment.
But she couldn't refuse it.
No—even her mind whispered that if this feeling could be fulfilled right now, even if it was just a temporary illusion, it didn't matter.
This insane hormonal surge had turned her into a fool.
Saying it with a mocking laugh, Maia finally met Rimon's eyes squarely and concluded.
"So take responsibility for ruining me."
"...You say the most embarrassing things so casually."
"It's all your fault."
Blame yourself for making her fall, she said.
Rimon sighed as he watched Maia counter without so much as a twitch of her brow.
"My lady, not all love is the same. It's surprisingly common to mistake fondness as a person for romantic affection toward a man."
As if to prove that fact.
Rimon suddenly thrust his face forward.
He brought it so close their noses nearly touched, then declared confidently.
"Look. If you truly like me as a man, then even like this, you'd naturally..."
"..."
"Hm, your face is turning red."
Rimon was speechless.
Her delicate eyelashes trembled.
Her pupils wavered, her cheeks faintly flushed.
This overt change, so unlike her usual cynicism, told him his assumption was completely wrong.
"How long do you intend to stay like this?"
"...Could it be you really do like me?"
"Are your ears just for show? Or are you deliberately trying to make me lose interest?"
Was she embarrassed?
Or angry?
Maia turned her head slightly, avoiding his gaze, and spoke sharply.
Only then did Rimon awkwardly pull back, scratching his cheek with a deeply troubled expression.
It would have been better to push with his body.
Even for Rimon, he couldn't brush off this embarrassing confession—that she hadn't wanted to but had fallen anyway.
"I'm truly grateful for your feelings. But as I said before, I have a fiancée."
His response remained unwavering, true to form.
"A fiancée means you're not legally married yet."
"It's not a legal issue. It's a matter of propriety."
"...That's so like you."
Slowly.
She bowed her head.
Her ungloved hand.
More precisely, the tattoo on her wrist—like a remnant, ten white balance weights without the scale itself.
Maia suddenly asked.
"If I used this power to command you, could you still uphold that propriety?"
It was a remnant of the contract.
During her fight with Rimon.
To delay her attacks even slightly, he had used the final weight.
Of course, his contract term had ended, and with Herman dead, their pact was void.
But that single weight remained, awaiting use.
Without the scale, it held absolute command authority, free from backlash concerns.
"Well, that would be tough."
Rimon scratched his cheek.
This scale was born of his own power.
Resisting its compulsion was akin to strangling himself.
"But I'm not worried."
"...Why not?"
"You're not the type to do that, my lady."
As if it was a non-issue anyway, no need to fret.
He spoke so nonchalantly that she glared at him briefly.
Then she closed her eyes.
"In the end, you're toying with me to the last."
"Don't misunderstand. That was meant as a compliment."
"That's what toying is."
She shot back at Rimon curtly.
Then Maia glanced toward a corner of the hospital room and tossed out a question.
"Don't you think so too, Li Chingwei?"
"...Busted."
It happened right then.
A shadow rippled in the corner of the room, and Li Chingwei emerged as if rising from it.
But neither Rimon nor Maia showed any surprise.
They accepted it as if they'd known she was hiding there all along.
"How did you know?"
"If I were you, I wouldn't leave me alone with this weight."
"Fair point."
If Maia tried anything dangerous with the weight, what would she have done?
Even having her intentions seen through, Li Chingwei smiled faintly as Maia spoke coldly.
"I'll overlook your rudeness this once. But remember, there's no second time."
"Isn't that a bit harsh for the benefactor who helped your clan?"
"Hmph. Be grateful instead."
Maia snorted.
She fixed Li Chingwei with a chilling glare.
"The only reason I'm not tearing you apart is out of consideration for that favor."
"That's certainly fortunate."
Sharp words bordering on murderous, even for a benefactor.
But Li Chingwei laughed.
For merely killing one lord in her stead, overlooking Rimon's eighth dragon psionic.
That alone was something to thank Maia for.
"Still, don't let your guard down. Your life is already like a candle in the wind, Li Chingwei."
"What do you mean?"
Rimon looked puzzled.
"There was an urgent report from the border today."
"The border?"
Li Chingwei tilted her head too.
Even with Leviathan's intelligence network, Brazil was Green Dragon Clan territory.
Hard to grasp every detail, so news from the distant border would reach Maia first.
"A group burst from the Amazon rainforest, broke through the border guards, and escaped Brazil."
"Forest Guild remnants?"
"If so, it would be lucky for you, but I doubt it."
Crushing false hope.
Maia stated flatly.
Then, as if anticipating Li Chingwei's reaction.
With a cynical gaze, she revealed the key reason she'd noted the report.
"They were all blond white men using firearms."
At that moment.
Li Chingwei lost her smile.
In a tense voice unlike her, she asked.
"...Which border did they escape from?"
It was a question with an obvious answer.
Places those escaping mighty Brazil in South America could go: three.
Across the Pacific.
Across the Atlantic.
Or...
"The north."
Across the Geomryong Sea—once Central America before the Sword Dragon War—to North America.
And the one elite group based in North America, composed solely of blond whites: one.
"...What did you just say?"
Crossing the jungle.
Over the Brazil border.
Through the treacherous Geomryong Sea.
Days without sleep or rest, traversing the continent nonstop.
Was that why? Dusty and disheveled in tattered clothes.
Yet without even washing, the blond middle-aged man rushed to his revered princess and knelt.
Head of the Rockefeller family, Gold Dragon Clan vassal-level expert.
Hans D. Rockefeller reported what he'd uncovered in a trembling voice.
"We have located the eighth dragon psionic."