#109

Ella had nearly slipped off from Zerakiel’s sheer speed.

If she hadn’t bitten down on her tongue and held on tight, she would’ve rolled right off and ended up covered in bruises.

This black lion—who completely lost it whenever Cersia was involved—felt like a stranger to Ella.

‘How did Lady Cersia end up caught in the claws of that insane black lion…?’

She let out a sigh as Cersia’s angelic, gentle face came to mind.

Thankfully, Zerakiel turned docile around Cersia… but that, too, could change once he matured.

Black lions were a breed that could go mad even without drugs once they reached adulthood. Ella clenched her fists, remembering the Zerakiel of the past—gradually unraveling, losing himself.

‘I have to protect Lady Cersia.’

She might be suffering because of her.

That child deserved protection—with everything she had.

‘Damn black lion… my butt’s going to be all bruised.’

As she sniffled back tears and brushed leaves off her tattered clothes, Ivan casually sidled up beside her and opened his mouth.

“I’m impressed you didn’t faint while riding on the Young Master’s back. Is there a secret technique you’d be willing to share?”

He meant it as a friendly icebreaker—but the answer he got was nothing but cold.

“I fainted twice on the way here.”

Ella’s voice was flat and bitter, like she couldn’t believe he was joking at a time like this.

Still, Ivan responded with those same bright, innocent eyes.

“Ah, then what’s the secret to not getting kicked off even after fainting?”

Ella shot him a frosty glare and turned sharply in the direction of where Cersia was.

“Yeesh. She could’ve at least told me before she left.”

Left alone, Ivan scratched his head with a sheepish grin and trotted after her.

* * *

As she’d confidently declared, Ayla finished off Keinhrih in just ten seconds and dusted off her hands. I stared at her, utterly dazed.

Not a hair out of place, and yet she had taken down a raging mutt like it was nothing. Her skill was nothing short of flawless.

She’d always been by my side, so I’d forgotten—but that was true knight-of-Jabis level prowess.

“Ayla… you’re amazing…!”

With shining eyes and both thumbs up, I showered her in admiration. Ayla blushed and ducked her head shyly.

“Oh please… I didn’t want you to see me like this…”

“No! You were so cool!”

I clapped with sparkling eyes, and Ayla’s fists trembled slightly as if resisting the urge to do something more.

That’s when Keinhrih, who’d been knocked out just moments ago, began to stir. Covered in dust, he groaned and said,

“Grrk… I’ve never met a female beastkin who beat me like a dog before. I hate to admit it—but I have no choice but to acknowledge you!”

Fresh out of unconsciousness and already talking nonsense. Ayla seemed to share my thoughts, judging by her cold response.

“Didn’t really ask for your acknowledgment, though?”

“Ooh! That proud refusal to seek others’ approval—it’s so attractive!”

“Lady Cersia… is he mentally challenged?”

“Surprisingly, no. His head is perfectly intact.”

Ayla clicked her tongue at my answer. She muttered something like, “Must be the mutt blood,” but I pretended not to hear it.

Sure, there are smart mutts out there… but Keinhrih clearly wasn’t one of them.

On top of that, he was clearly the type to fall in love at lightning speed. The way he was now staring at Ayla—his eyes even shinier than before—was proof enough.

Given how quickly he proposed to me after I kicked him last time… maybe that was his type.

He was definitely different from Zerakiel, who was drawn to strength, not beatdowns.

Then Keinhrih said,

“Judging by what I overheard, you’re tracking that officiant from earlier. How about we make a deal?”

“A deal? What kind of deal?”

Ayla growled and stepped protectively in front of me. If he even hinted at trying to trade me, she’d likely make sure he never breathed again.

But Keinhrih’s attention had already shifted.

“Don’t worry. I’m no longer interested in that puffball weasel.”

…Wow, thanks.

Not like I ever wanted his attention anyway.

As I stared at him with dead eyes, Keinhrih gave a nod to one of his men, who returned with a large bundle.

“It’s the luggage that punk was carrying when he fled earlier. I claimed it as loot. I’ll give it to you—if you agree to be my wife!”

There it was again—loot.

He’d been weirdly obsessed with my carriage, too. Maybe he just had a thing for hoarding.

But Keinhrih had miscalculated. If he wanted to bargain with that, he should’ve hidden it better.

Ayla cracked her knuckles.

“Why bother trading when I can just take it?”

“Eh?”

“I don’t care about weak males.”

“Then what about cute ones? Mutt dogs are supposed to be cute, right?”

“Hmm. You’d have to be reborn first.”

Keinhrih blinked, dumbfounded by Ayla’s wall of steel.

Sure, Ayla had a soft spot for cute things—but Keinhrih was the exact opposite: bulky and brutish.

Ayla twitched her fingers like she was about to launch herself again.

“Hand it over quietly and I’ll let you keep your life.”

“…I suppose I don’t have a choice.”

Cornered again, Keinhrih reluctantly handed over the bundle. Thankfully, he wasn’t completely brainless.

As Ayla opened the bag and began dumping its contents onto the ground without hesitation—

“Why is it so cold all of a sudden?”

A chill ran down my arms. I shivered, suddenly gripped by a dreadful premonition.

And I knew my instincts were right the moment I saw Zerakiel standing right before me.

He glared at Keinhrih and said,

“So it was you. The filthy mutt.”

The air turned razor-sharp. He looked ready to draw his sword that very second.

“Lord Zerakiel?”

Wait… what?

I turned toward Keinhrih and nearly gasped.

His face had gone soft.

Like… puppy-soft.

Like someone had just brought out a Maltese.

Gone was the swagger and growling; his voice was suddenly eager, even bashful. His tail wagged, betraying him completely.

“Don’t you remember me?”

“No. Who are you?”

“It’s me—Ken! Keinhrih!”

“Never heard of you.”

Zerakiel didn’t even blink. Desperate, Keinhrih ripped open his shirt.

“This scar! You gave me this, remember?!”

Wow. So dramatic.

With a scar like that, he was lucky to be alive. How was that the mark of a savior and not someone who tried to murder you?

I stared in disbelief at the deep gash across his stomach.

And surprisingly… the moment Zerakiel saw the scar, recognition lit his face.

“Oh. Right. You’re that mutt from back then.”

“I knew you’d remember me!”

Keinhrih’s voice shook with emotion.

“If you hadn’t struck me with your pheromones back then, I would’ve died from a full-blown pheromone seizure!”

Ah… so that’s where the scar came from.

The poison in Jabis pheromones was so strong, it could suppress any lesser pheromone in its path.

There was a ten-percent chance it could neutralize a pheromone overload. Looks like Keinhrih was that one lucky guy.

I glanced up at Zerakiel.

Judging from his face, it hadn’t exactly been a rescue mission.

He probably just found Keinhrih annoying and tried to cut him down.

Then Zerakiel smiled brightly—and spoke in a voice colder than death.

“I see. And now you’ve got the guts to go after my wife?”

“Well… I did have those thoughts for a moment, but not anymore.”

“You did?”

His smile deepened.

A black blade formed in his hand, born from his pheromones. It radiated an ominous light.

‘Please. Shut. Your. Mouth, Keinhrih.’

I stared at him hard, silently begging.

But no—he had to press on.

With the most innocent face in the world, he said,

“Yes. I’ve never met a weasel who could kick me in the jaw like that before. It was… unforgettable.”

Rest in peace.

I solemnly bowed my head in advance for the dearly departed.

Before I could even lift my head again, the ground where Keinhrih had been standing exploded in a deep crater.

Zerakiel had swung his sword.

The only lucky part? Keinhrih managed to dodge it.

Even then, he looked back at the hole in awe.

“You’re still as amazing as ever!”

…Okay. Maybe he was missing a few screws.