Chapter 7

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: Chapter 7

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter 106

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The arms clutching my waist with all their might squeezed my lungs tight.

A chill wind raced up my back, making the fine hairs there stand on end.

"......Yurta."

I called his name, and the man's red eyes curved like crescent moons.

"Sis."

His low, rumbling voice sent a shiver down my spine.

"Why the hell are you here...?"

"Because I heard you were here, sis."

Yurta smiled happily as he brushed back the hair that had fallen over my face.

Then he buried his lips against my neck and inhaled deeply.

"I've missed you."

"......"

"You still smell so good."

His hands trembled slightly around my waist, as if he were savoring it.

But all I felt was pure disgust—I wanted to shove him off me.

I'd thought the scent Rihart used to rave about had finally faded from my body, that he couldn't smell it anymore.

Guess I was wrong.

It felt like my hopes had been crushed, leaving me utterly wretched.

But at the same time, I couldn't help wondering.

Then why couldn't Rihart smell it anymore?

The question bubbled up, but I couldn't dwell on it any longer.

"Get off me, Yurta."

"No way. You're already mine, sis."

The grip on my waist tightened.

"Now that I've finally found you..."

Yurta lifted his head from my neck and looked at me.

His red eyes, filled with a strange ecstasy, were downright eerie.

"You think I'd let you go?"

......Damn it.

I'd finally escaped Rihart, only for this guy to show up?

Rage boiled up inside me at this godforsaken turn of events.

"Three years ago, when you pushed me down the stairs and ran off with Dillon—you have no idea how that made me feel."

That day three years ago had been a nightmare for me.

I'd barely managed to put it behind me, but lately, it seemed like everyone was dragging it back up.

It was exhausting.

"I told you I'd grant any wish if you'd just stay by my side..."

His red eyes glared at me, brimming with resentment.

Like he was scolding me for being so cruel.

"You abandoned me. You can't even imagine how pathetic I felt."

Pathetic?

He was the one who'd tried to force my hand even after I rejected him.

I couldn't fathom why he'd throw that word around so casually.

"I clearly told you I didn't want to hold your hand. How many times do I have to say it before you get it?"

"......Sis."

"Just give up already. I'll never be yours, Yurta—not in this lifetime."

I pounded on his shoulders mercilessly, trying to wriggle free from his arms.

But his body didn't budge an inch.

Then his red eyes flashed, as if entranced by something.

"Blood... I smell blood."

His gaze slowly shifted toward the source.

And finally landed on my bandaged wrist.

I tried to pull my hand back to hide it, but it was no use—he snatched it with a sharp snap.

"Let go."

"......"

"Let go—right now!"

No matter how much I yelled, he ignored me and unraveled the bandage from my wrist.

I tried to yank my hand free, but his grip was ironclad.

"This looks like it was sliced with something sharp..."

Yurta muttered slowly, then turned his eyes elsewhere.

"And the scent's coming from somewhere else too."

His red gaze slowly raked over me.

It felt like my skin was being peeled back, everything laid bare—chilling me to the core.

Then his eyes stopped lower down.

"What happened to make you reek of blood like this, sis?"

"Ugh......"

His grip on my wrist tightened, drawing a groan from me.

Seeing me in pain, he finally loosened his hold—belatedly.

A low sigh escaped him.

"Right... You're fragile, after all."

Fragile my ass. You're just brutally strong.

"Where the hell have you been for a whole week, running around barefoot and bleeding like this?"

Barefoot.

I'd been wearing slippers, but they'd flown off in my frantic dash.

Too scared of getting caught again, I hadn't even noticed.

"We've got plenty of time now, so I can hear all about it later?"

"Ah...!"

Yurta scooped me up effortlessly.

I yelped in surprise, and he burst out laughing.

"This is too good, sis."

"Put me down!"

Was I doomed to be trapped by this guy now too?

No way in hell.

I thrashed wildly to escape his arms, but then he whispered,

"Sis, do you know how many of Marquis Evantes's knights are swarming this area?"

"......"

"With checkpoints everywhere, who do you think could get you out safely right now?"

He grinned, as if to say it was obviously him.

"Even Dillon, the one you've been waiting for, isn't here."

......Dillon.

I bit the inside of my cheek at the name slipping from his lips.

"That bastard could never help you."

"......"

"I made sure of it. I ruined him so he could never reach you."

His words dripped with obsession, a refusal to let me go to anyone else.

It dragged up feelings I'd momentarily forgotten.

"You're still the same, huh."

I sneered at him mockingly.

Asking about Dillon now might soften my resolve, so I laughed coldly instead.

"Three years later, and you're still harboring those pathetic feelings for him."

"......Sis."

"What? Did I say something wrong?"

For some reason, looking at Yurta stirred up unfamiliar emotions in me.

Emotions that didn't feel like mine—like someone had forcibly ignited rage inside me from afar.

"Sis, don't provoke me."

Yurta growled, his eyes gleaming fiercely.

"......You'll find out soon enough who the most useful person by your side is."

With that, Yurta carried my struggling form off somewhere.

Plans going awry didn't just unsettle Rozhi.

In a northern castle, a woman paced by the window, gnawing at her nails.

"Rina......"

She stared anxiously out the window.

Word had come back that the carriage carrying Rozhi had been ambushed.

All the knights sent to escort her had been slaughtered.

What the hell had happened?

Rozhi had been kidnapped.

They'd launched a search immediately, but a week later, there was still no sign of her.

And with Marquis Evantes's knights refusing to believe she was dead and scouring the area, she was on the verge of madness with worry.

Worry not. We're interfering with Marquis Evantes's search.

I'll inform the baroness the moment we hear anything.

The count had said as much, but she couldn't just take his word for it.

"I need to send my own people."

She couldn't sit idle any longer.

A week had been more than enough—hell, it had felt eternal.

Just then, a knock came from the door.

"Baroness, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?"

Who would come calling on her now?

No, it didn't matter. Finding Rozhi was all that counted.

"Tell them to come back later."

"They said if you refuse to see them, they'll tell you they know where Rozhi is."

Michel whipped her head around at that.

"Bring them in—now!"

Someone who knew Rozhi? Who?

She needed any lead, no matter how small.

And so, the 'visitor' the servant mentioned entered Michel's room.

The tall, broad-shouldered man wore a robe that hid his face.

Suspicious.

Michel narrowed her eyes.

Sensing her discomfort, the man removed his hood.

Dark brown hair and striking red eyes.

A standout handsome face, but something unsettling about him—probably that decadent, parched aura.

"You know Rozhi?"

The man nodded.

"Forgive my late introduction. I'm Dillon."

Yurta carried me through the woods to a nearby villa.

The place was luxurious inside.

But after experiencing the opulence of the castle where Rihart had imprisoned me, this just felt tiresome.

More annoying than impressive, really.

"It suits you perfectly, sis."

Yurta gazed at me with rapturous eyes, like I'd become some vision of beauty in fresh clothes.

I'd been shivering in just a thin negligee, so it was a relief.

Yurta had changed me into new attire.

The old negligee had been torn by branches and caked in dirt on the way down from the forest.

To think I ran like that without noticing.

I must've lost my mind in the rush of desperation and freedom.

Yurta knelt before me as I sat comfortably on the sofa.

"Your feet are hurt. Let me apply some medicine."

He gently took hold of one.

Protesting seemed pointless—he'd do what he wanted anyway—so I let it slide out of sheer annoyance.

It wasn't like he'd do anything harmful.

I watched him crouched at my feet with a complicated mix of feelings.

His face looked boyish and innocent now, but the venomous glare from earlier lingered in my mind.

Even Dillon, the one you've been waiting for, isn't here.

Three years had passed, yet Yurta still saw Dillon as a threat.

I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.

Dillon.

Three years ago, after we fled, I'd heard while working as a maid in the Seyblin barony.

Dillon Herthas had been stripped of his heir position.

Rumors flew wild.

That he'd been crippled, or gone mad.

I'd wanted to know the truth later on, but the Herthas family had buried it deep—impossible to uncover.

I knew Dillon was a trigger for Yurta, but the question slipped out anyway.

"......Yurta."

"Yes, sis."

"What did you do to Dillon?"

At that moment, his hand tightened around my ankle.

"Even now, you're worried about Dillon?"

His red eyes darkened ominously.

I realized I'd touched a nerve.

"You're in my hands now, sis. What makes you think you know what I'll do with you?"