Chapter 8

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter Title: The Obsessive Seme is Trying to Imprison Me Chapter 107

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Seeing him turn icy cold, I regretted having asked.

But it was a point I absolutely had to clarify.

...No matter how hard I tried to figure out Dillon's situation, I just couldn't.

"Sis is trapped here right now."

Yurta, gripping my ankle, gently stroked my Achilles tendon. The ticklish sensation made my toes curl up.

"Right beside me—the one you find utterly repulsive."

He whispered it to me, as if demanding I acknowledge the fact. But I met his gaze steadily.

"Pathetic, Yurta."

"...Sis."

"Pathetic. All that hysterical flailing around. How long do you plan to keep it up?"

Yurta's grip on his sanity looked razor-thin, ready to snap.

Provoking him further wouldn't get me anywhere.

And yet, how was I supposed to contain this nauseating surge of emotion I couldn't hold back?

It leaked out through every crack, impossible to stop.

Still.

'Maybe I should play along with him for now.'

With my plans in ruins, slipping out of this Northern Region wouldn't be easy.

If Yurta was telling the truth, the controlled checkpoints made it even harder right now.

'Looks like my only option here is to rely on him.'

But I couldn't afford to get complacent.

Yurta had to know I'd bolt the second we left the Northern Region.

Surveillance would ramp up even more after that.

The best I could do right now was humor this wretched little colt and lull him into dropping his guard.

What a pathetic "best"—no real solution in sight.

I sighed inwardly and reached out to him.

Stroking his cold cheek, I gave him a soft smile and whispered.

"You're a Transcendent. Nothing like a mere human."

"... ."

"So why do you keep comparing yourself to Dillon?"

As I soothed him tenderly, the madness in his red eyes softened back to docility.

He pressed his cheek into my palm and spoke in a calmer tone.

"...Because you keep asking about Dillon."

"You said you ruined him—why wouldn't I be curious? You brought it up first."

"But... ."

His sulky, childlike pout was almost comical.

It felt like dealing with a second Michel.

Though this one's temper was far worse.

"You don't have to tell me. You started the Dillon talk, so I just asked."

I acted nonchalant, and Yurta's face lit up.

"Really?"

"Yurta, it's been three years. After all that time apart from Dillon, you think I'd care now?"

Only then did he break into a genuine smile.

As if he believed his chance had finally come.

It was ridiculous, but there was something innocently childlike about it too.

At the same time, I sensed that pure, vicious cruelty—the kind that crushed siblings just to hoard their mother's attention.

"Then you don't care what happens to Dillon anymore, right?"

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"Even if you say that, I know Dillon still comes before me for you."

His bright expression darkened in an instant.

Yurta's voice took on a gloomy edge.

"If you want to protect Dillon, you'd better stay as far away from him as possible."

There it was again.

I could have brushed it off, but something felt off.

This wasn't his usual obsessive nagging to avoid Dillon—it carried real weight.

I couldn't just let it slide.

"What do you mean by th— Ah!"

A sharp sting shot up as Yurta smeared medicine on my foot.

Applying it without warning! I wasn't braced for it!

"Ow!"

"I'm amazed you ran through that forest nonstop on feet like these."

"...I'm fine—stop. It stings."

"How could I leave feet like this untreated?"

He ignored my pained groans and kept applying it doggedly.

That cold-blooded bastard!

My toes clenched hard in agony, drawing a low chuckle from Yurta.

"So cute."

I'd known it, but he really was a lunatic.

"You have no idea how shocked I was when I heard you'd been kidnapped by the white one."

He said it while wrapping a bandage around my foot.

"That white bastard did this to you?"

Once the bandage was secure, his eyes shifted to the wound on my wrist.

"I gave some thought to this 'white one.' Turns out there's a Transcendent known as the Pure White One."

Sharp as ever.

"The Holy Knight Captain, faithful hound of the Pope."

He nailed it, so I couldn't play dumb.

"Did that bastard kidnap you?"

"Yeah."

Yurta scowled.

"...Daring to lay a hand on you, not knowing his place."

His seething voice carried real menace.

"He did this to you, so I won't let him get away with it."

"And how exactly?"

"Rip him apart slow and painful. Make him beg for death."

"Fine. Do whatever."

How long did I have to keep up this charade?

He had to know it was all a farce—a bad comedy.

Yet he clung to it desperately, as if even fake affection was enough.

Sis.

You really should have listened to me.

"Yurta!"

Tiny hands pounded frantically on the door.

Even as her pale hands tore raw, the pink-haired girl felt no pain.

Trapped in the dilapidated warehouse with not a sliver of light, Rozhi fell into a panic.

"Open this door right now!"

But no matter how hard she pounded, the massive door wouldn't budge an inch.

Exhausted at last, Rozhi slumped against the door and begged.

"Yurta, please... just open the door."

"... ."

"I have somewhere urgent to be. Please, open it. Okay?"

She swallowed her anger, speaking in soft, coaxing tones—and a voice replied from outside.

"Planning to head to the temple?"

His tone made it clear he knew her every move.

"...Yes. I have to go there."

"Why? Can't it wait?"

Yurta pressed, but Rozhi had no answer.

If he knew she was going to meet 'that child,' he'd make damn sure she never reached the temple.

"I've followed you to the temple before."

"... ."

"And I saw you smile then—the brightest smile I'd ever seen on you."

So what?

Rozhi bit her lip in mounting frustration.

"What made you smile like that?"

"... ."

"Whatever it is in that temple."

Rozhi couldn't grasp why Yurta was so furious.

No—she knew exactly why.

It was that overwhelming possessiveness he had for her.

But she couldn't fathom him cornering her like this over something so selfish.

"It's got nothing to do with you."

Whatever she did, whatever face she made—it was none of his business.

"You're mine."

"I belong to no one."

"No. You are mine. I can do whatever I want with you, and you can't even fight back—so you're mine."

Rozhi was utterly speechless.

"Which means you have no reason to go to the temple."

"What do you—!"

Rozhi hammered the door in desperation.

"Yurta! Yurta!"

She called his name pleadingly, but no reply came.

Had he left?

No! I have to get to the temple now. Or I'll miss 'that child'...

"Ha... ."

What had she done to deserve being locked away on his whim like this?

"...You're always like this."

Locking people up on a impulse, smashing everything they cherished.

Never once respecting her wishes, always forcing his way.

It was miserable.

Her utter powerlessness.

Tears welled up, threatening to spill. She collapsed weakly to the floor.

"...I want to go home."

Back to her hometown.

"...I want to go home."

Everything she had was there.

All she'd ever built in her life.

So why was she suffering like this here? Why did she have to?

Why restrain her for some bullshit reason that wasn't even real!

As she sat there helpless, the door flew open with a bang.

Bang!

Yurta stood in the doorway.

"Yurta... ."

Was he finally letting her out?

"I've changed my mind."

Shadows fell across his downturned face.

Rozhi flinched at the sight, her shoulders trembling.

She knew that look—what came next was never good for her.

She didn't know the details, but it was always something against her interests.

As anxiety gripped her, something thudded to the floor before her in a heap.

"Dog food."

She knew what that was.

She'd seen what the dog Yurta kept used to eat.

"Finish it all, and I'll let you go."