Sigurd, walking in the rain, couldn’t help but stop in his tracks. A silent frown crept onto his handsome face as he lightly shook his head. The betrayal playing out before his eyes was truly shocking and extraordinary. Although he hated being stabbed in the back, that didn’t mean he disliked watching such scenes unfold……
Gerard, standing right in front of him, had just been hit with some heartfelt words delivered with ruthless precision—so cold and sharp it sent a chill through the heart and lifted the spirit. Calling it cruel and merciless wouldn’t be an exaggeration.
But this scene was somewhat familiar to Sigurd. He just couldn’t recall exactly when or where he had seen it before. After all, handsome men tended to be forgetful.
Given the current situation, though, no matter what, it was a good thing—at least Gerard was as good as dead.
But the person attacking Gerard from behind was truly despicable.
Could there be a deep-rooted vendetta like a father’s murder between the two?
“That guy—yes, I’m talking to you—keep going. Don’t worry, I won’t interfere. After all, I’m a bit of a clean freak; I don’t like being the third party……”
He even worried that Duke Olay might be suspicious and abandon the finishing blow, so he hurriedly added this to prevent the other from escaping due to caution. His main attitude was one of detachment, keeping a safe distance, but at the same time he was wary of Olay. The latter didn’t look like a good person.
Still, this not-so-good fellow took the opportunity to speak up in thanks.
“Thank you. Should I call you Lord Demon King? It’s an honor to meet you. I am Duke Olay. Just call me Olay; saying the full name is quite a hassle.”
Soon after confirming the heartbeat of the person in his grasp had ceased, Olay carelessly discarded the dying Gerard to the side, letting him fend for himself like discarded trash. His words remained as polite as ever.
Yet, the scene just witnessed left a chilling feeling.
Sigurd’s gaze was drawn to a girl arriving belatedly not far away. She moved as gracefully as a butterfly, silver hair fluttering in the rain like a beautiful sight. At this moment, Emilia seemed cautious; she ran over despite Sigurd’s orders, only hoping to see her lover safe and sound. Without that, her future would be meaningless.
Even Sigurd noticed her as she glanced back lightly, running toward them. He sighed helplessly, saying nothing further. After all, the matter was more or less settled, and he had no intention of blaming her. Most likely, she was just worried about him again.
After all, what could one do about one’s own woman but spoil her?
As the two of them focused on Emilia, Gerard, struggling to crawl on the ground, gradually dimmed in his eyes. Life was slipping away; blood was cooling. He prayed to the gods—and the gods did respond. But because of the power inside him, Gerard’s death only accelerated.
Clenching his fists tightly, he was unwilling. Truly unwilling. He refused to die just like that, with so much left undone. Moreover, he had not yet earned Emilia’s forgiveness………
Memories flashed rapidly through his mind, mostly about Emilia.
And all the things he had done to her, each excused by various justifications and masked by twisted emotions. But at death’s door, there was no need for further pretense.
Upon reflection, he really was a scoundrel, but facing death cleared his mind considerably.
They were truly childhood sweethearts, and she was clearly the most suitable bride for him. He had sworn in his heart to love only her. So why had he forgotten before? Why had he wronged her? Yes, it was the blindness caused by power and beauty, the arrogance and foolishness that led to this miserable end. His thoughts spun rapidly, finally understanding the reason.
Perhaps it was regret—regret for the past, for having cast Emilia away without regard for right or wrong, driven solely by selfish desires.
At this moment, there were no selfish desires left; after all, he was dying. This was his most sincere moment of repentance. He lifted his head to look at the girl not far away.
It seemed like hope, but he no longer had the strength to call out or embrace her. He could only watch helplessly as the girl embraced her lover. She looked so happy—as if they were truly made for each other.
He was at peace and finally understood Hakimi’s meaning: as long as she was happy, that was all that mattered.
Returning to reality, he lay on the cold ground, rain dripping steadily onto his dirt-smudged face. Motionless, he was on the verge of death, unable to cry, utterly exhausted—even breathing was becoming difficult.
Ah.
Trying to make a sound, unwilling to leave life with regrets, but failing. His eyes were already heavy with sleep. He understood: this was truly the end. It was an unbearable feeling.
Before closing his eyes, his unwillingness overflowed without words. Perhaps Sigurd sensed something, for he muttered a complaint and bent down to lift the dying Gerard up. Raising his hand, he infused something into him to slow the dying process.
Maybe he didn’t want Gerard to die harboring resentment, to become a wandering ghost. Or perhaps it was respect for a mortal enemy. Or some other reason. Sometimes Sigurd didn’t understand his own motives… but he just did it.
“Speak, Gerard. I see that look of unwillingness on your face. If you don’t say something, I’ll let you go.”
“…Sigurd, congratulations. You win.”
Surprised, Gerard did not expect this. Weakly, he clung to his last breath… “It’s really unnecessary. Just watch me die.”
But he understood that Sigurd was not mocking him. Perhaps it was true that a man’s last words are sincere. Looking at the girl so close by, a thousand words converged into one.
“Emilia, you must be happy. Don’t ever meet a man like me again. Goodbye, and I’m sorry.”
She did not respond, only watching silently as Gerard died with no sign of life left. Her gaze lowered slightly, bloodshot eyes revealing a trace of sorrow. Perhaps she felt it was pointless now and didn’t want to argue with a dead man. Her delicate hands slowly clasped together, resting over her chest.
“May you rest in peace.”
“All right, the farce is over. Shall we talk now?”
He tossed the corpse aside. “This thing’s an eyesore. By the way, barring any surprises, Gerard won’t be coming back. Rest assured.”
Nearby, Duke Olay—the one who had dealt the final blow to Gerard—watched everything quietly, his tone low and teasing. He didn’t care about lives or death. His eyes were fixed solely on Emilia; not even the Demon King could enter his sight.
Seeing the wary looks from the two around him, he smiled dismissively, never taking his gaze off the girl from beginning to end.
“Don’t look at me like that. Even I would get hurt. Yes, I was a bit excessive, but don’t be so suspicious of me. I even used Gerard’s life as a bargaining chip. My sincerity and attitude should be decent enough. If anything’s inappropriate, tell me. I’m open to advice.”
Pausing briefly after this opening statement, he began expressing subtle greetings and longing toward the girl.
“Lady Emilia, long time no see. How have you been? How is your health? I’ve been thinking of you lately.”
“…Not bad.”
Seeing that Olay was still the same as ever, she responded softly.