Chapter 58
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Chapter 58
My heart dropped in an instant.
In truth, there was nothing wrong with what he said.
But what was unexpected was this:
I never imagined Kieran would show such vulnerability.
Especially knowing how infamous the Master of the Underworld was for his cold and merciless nature.
I had believed that his soft, fatherly demeanor before me was nothing but an act born of necessity.
Yet now Kieran was....
He truly looked wounded.
Was such a thing as being "wounded" even possible for him?
My confusion only deepened the silence that already choked my words.
I parted my lips.
Kieran continued speaking to himself, words meant for no one's ears but his own.
"What did I do wrong.... Why did you...."
Without thinking, I cried out.
"You did nothing wrong!"
Kieran's eyes widened.
Watching his trembling crimson eyes, I spoke again.
"Nothing at all...."
I threw the words at him, desperately hoping they would calm him.
But the moment he heard my voice.
His expressionless face contorted completely.
Kieran covered his face with both hands.
The staff that slipped from his grasp clattered loudly across the marble floor.
I noticed the shadows moving in an increasingly strange manner.
It was now impossible to blame the flickering on wind-swayed lanterns.
The lamplight that had illuminated the Holy Temple grew subtly dimmer.
The sanctuary, once bright as midday, was gradually—ever so gradually—being swallowed by darkness.
Kieran's breathing grew labored, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.
"If only I had done nothing wrong...."
A shattered, fractured voice leaked from Kieran.
"Why did you abandon me?"
A faint metallic rattle echoed through the air.
The moment Hailon summoned the Chains of Condemnation and the Holy Knights drew their blades.
"Count Basilian!"
The boy's cry burst through the suffocating tension that had coalesced in the air.
The Silver-haired Boy, his hood thrown back to reveal his face, gasped at the entrance.
With wide eyes fixed on Kieran, the boy rushed forward rapidly.
And then he drove his fist straight into Kieran's face.
Thud!
Kieran's head snapped violently to the side from the relentless barrage of punches.
The Holy Temple, which had grown strangely dim, blazed bright once more.
"...Hah, hah."
After pummeling Kieran, Belzeon gasped for breath.
He'd rushed here with such urgency that he couldn't speak for a moment, struggling to steady his breathing.
His trembling eyes first sought out Chesa.
Upon confirming Chesa nestled safely in Hailon's arms, looking unharmed, he felt relief wash over him.
But then, seeing Kieran's condition, his expression darkened.
"...Belzeon."
Kieran seemed to regain some semblance of composure.
Yet his eyes remained unsettlingly unstable.
Kieran forced the corners of his mouth upward.
It was a mechanical smile, habitual and hollow.
Then, suddenly and utterly without warning, he uttered words no one could comprehend.
"The rain won't stop."
Kieran whispered, licking his slightly swollen lips.
"It keeps... falling."
I couldn't fathom what he meant.
But Belzeon seemed to understand immediately.
"Count Basilian."
Belzeon spoke low and urgently.
"Snap out of it. Do you understand where you are right now?"
His expression suggested he wanted to strike again as he glared at Kieran.
Kieran slowly blinked and steadied his breathing.
At that moment, Duchess Ibroyel suddenly burst into laughter.
"Haha, quite the tense atmosphere we have here."
She brought her hand down hard against Kieran's back.
She patted him repeatedly with her large hand, speaking as she did.
"Looks like our dear niece isn't quite ready to head home yet?"
"...."
With each blow from the Duchess, the Holy Temple—still shrouded in lingering darkness—grew incrementally brighter.
Irritation crossed Kieran's face, and the precarious danger that had hung moments before dissipated considerably.
'Phew...'
I exhaled silently in relief.
'That was genuinely dangerous.'
I heard the sound of Hailon's chains.
Had he taken even one more step forward, Kieran would have been immediately bound in chains of condemnation and dragged to the Heresy Interrogation Chamber.
I knew it wouldn't end quietly, but I never expected him to charge in so recklessly.
'But why am I worried about Kieran?'
To be honest, if he were condemned, it would only make things easier for me.
I wouldn't have to worry about being chased anymore—I could simply revert to being a demon and be done with it.
But I had just genuinely worried about Kieran.
It was an emotion far too intense to be explained away by mere affection.
As I struggled to comprehend my own feelings, Duchess Ibroyel deftly took control of the situation.
"I've been thinking, you see. Why don't we adults have a proper conversation first? Myself, Count Basilian, and...."
She gazed at Hailon with a smile.
"My granddaughter's escort knight as well. The three of us."
Hailon didn't offer the usual pleasantries people typically gave—how honored he was, how delighted—nothing of that sort.
Even when a duchess of the Palen Empire requested his presence, he simply answered with blunt indifference.
"As you wish, Your Grace."
"Haha, I always think this, but you're truly audacious."
Duchess Ibroyel chuckled and asked.
"Which organization do you belong to?"
"The First Rank Holy Knight Order of the Hilderd Holy Empire."
"Hmm.... I see, I see. So your audacity isn't without foundation, then."
She draped an arm across Kieran's shoulder.
Gripping his shoulder firmly—he still seemed not entirely lucid—she smiled toward Hailon.
"So then, shall we have some tea? It's sudden for such a late hour, but surely it's better than standing about talking like this."
She jested about how difficult it was to stand for long at her age.
I recalled that Duchess Ibroyel was actually over sixty years old.
Hailon, too, seemed to belatedly remember this fact, for his demeanor became noticeably more courteous.
"I shall show you inside."
As the commotion settled, Belzeon approached and extended his hand.
"My sister."
At his words, my eyes widened slightly.
It was the first time he had explicitly referred to me as his sister.
"Return her to me."
Hailon slowly released me from his embrace.
Belzeon carefully took me into his arms.
The moment I was held by the boy.
Thump-thump.
His heart thundered violently against me.
It was a moment that revealed just how tense Belzeon had been, despite maintaining his expressionless facade.
He held me close without a word.
After regaining his composure through the warmth of my presence, he finally spoke.
"My sister is still young and needs her rest. I shall retire first."
"Very well."
Duchess Ibroyel's lips stretched wide in a sinister grin.
With that ominous expression, she called out to Belzeon.
She urged Belzeon with a sinister expression.
"Don't you dare run off. Stay put in your room, Belzeon."
"Understood, sir."
Leaving Duchess Ibroyel to her soft, amused chuckle behind me.
Belzeon swept out of the hall swiftly, cradling Chesa in his arms.
As my vision receded, Kieran came into view.
He seemed to have regained his composure entirely now, though his face remained noticeably pale.
"Did Chesa leave Father?"
Kieran's words echoed strangely in my mind, refusing to fade.
Before my eyes could meet his, I quickly averted my gaze.
Click.
Belzeon shut the door behind him and leaned his back against it.
He stood there in silence for a moment.
Then, still holding Chesa, he slowly slid down to the floor.
Belzeon held Chesa tightly.
His body trembled uncontrollably.
"What the... damn it, rain, nonsense..."
Chesa's lips parted slightly.
It was the first time I'd ever heard Belzeon curse.
Yet he seemed entirely unaware that he'd done so.
He only buried his face in Chesa's small frame, breathing heavily.
'He's not in his right mind either.'
In any case, the men of House Basilian were all rotten to the core, no matter how composed or superior they appeared on the surface.
Chesa reached up and gently stroked his hair.
At the small gesture, Belzeon flinched.
But soon he leaned into the tender touch, letting his body go limp.
The two of us remained like that for some time.
Clatter, clatter.
Suddenly, the window rattled.
Before we could even react, it swung wide open.
On the night breeze, two small figures slipped swiftly through the window.
"Brother! We—"
"We're here."
It was Ishuel and Karha.
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