Episode 122

The dawn was long. Yvonne didn’t dislike Yurian for doing nothing to her. He simply held her in his arms and stayed still. Even though it was so difficult for him that he couldn’t fall asleep.

“Yvonne.”

“Yes.”

“It feels so good being with you.”

“…Alright.”

Yvonne found it strange how he could restrain himself, even after crawling into bed and pressing bare skin to hers. So, intending to tease him, she turned around to face him, breaking away from his arms wrapped around her back.

But the moment she turned, she immediately regretted it.

“Your lips are all chapped.”

Because Yurian had been holding himself back that much.

“Are they?”

“If it’s so hard you’re biting your lips, why did you get in bed?”

“Yvonne.”

Yvonne stared at his lips for a moment, then slowly closed her eyes. And Yurian brought his lips to hers. When she quietly accepted the kiss, he continued, deepening it. As if trying to discover every corner of her, he traced the inside of her mouth intimately.

Yvonne responded to him, because she liked being close to Yurian. She began to move, little by little, as if giving him permission. Sensing her silent signal, he reached deeper, touching her more fully. As if trying to exchange breaths, to know everything about her, he was relentless.

The night was very long—and Yurian was even longer-lasting and more persistent than the night itself.

* * *

Yurian looked at Yvonne, who had fallen asleep in his arms. Seeing the bite marks on her lips, neck, and shoulders reminded him of how he’d lost himself in ecstasy and tormented her.

She’d cried, saying she was too tired to continue—and it had been adorable. Now, her breathing had changed, truly showing how exhausted she was.

He had never felt warmth like this before.

Yvonne, lying with her head on his arm. Yurian realized what he desired now was no longer just her body. He wanted her to be his wife.

One night together made him crave an eternal vow.

He now knew, more than ever, that he could no longer let Yvonne go. Holding her made it certain—he truly couldn’t live without her. Just as she treated him with ease, he too could only find peace by her side.

He gently pulled her closer and fell asleep to the pleasant rhythm of her heartbeat, a gift she gave him.

Yurian dreamed.

Before he met Yvonne.

A dream of his wretched, miserable childhood.

Memories so painful he had wanted to die each time they came, but now he felt relief—because there was someone who dulled even those memories.

“If only it weren’t for you.”

The one speaking was his father. Yurian looked at the man who shared his black hair and gray eyes.

“If only you hadn’t been born…”

He knew those words were directed at him. Yurian had never once thought his father loved him. It was a miracle he wasn’t despised outright.

“I’m sorry.”

“If you’re sorry, don’t even think of going near your mother.”

“…Yes.”

Yurian had been only five years old at the time. His mother, the Duchess of Leonhardt, was often ill. But her position didn’t allow her to show it. Her frailty had begun after giving birth to Yurian.

To the Duke, who loved his wife deeply, Yurian was nothing but an object of resentment.

“Is Mother alright?”

“You think I’d tell you?”

“…I’m sorry.”

Whenever the Duchess fell ill, all the mansion’s servants would avoid Yurian. The Duke would soon summon him for scolding.

Even so, Yurian loved his parents. To a child, parents were everything. No matter how much they hated or resented him, he wanted them to be happy—and never to abandon him.

Yurian truly believed that had he not been born, his mother wouldn’t be sick. Often, he wished that he could disappear if it would restore her health.

“Don’t ever sneak into your mother’s room again.”

“…Yes.”

But Yurian hadn’t been their first child.

Because of a past miscarriage, the Duke, despite his hatred, never physically harmed Yurian. The Duke couldn’t risk taking a concubine to continue the bloodline—it would’ve been unacceptable.

The Duke of Leonhardt loved his wife too much. So much so, he would never even consider the foul, disgraceful act of touching another woman. He was the perfect husband, cherishing and loving his wife more than anything in the world.

And because of that, he hated Yurian all the more. Yurian had hurt the woman he loved above all else—the one he’d give his life for without hesitation.

“Have you… ever had gaps in your memory again?”

“Pardon?”

“Have you ever lost your memory again?”

“…No…”

Yurian found the question strange. But later in life, he would understand—that this had been a sign of his side effects.

“…Leave me.”

“…Yes.”

Yurian had to walk out.

He thought—if only he’d been hit or scolded, then maybe… maybe he could’ve mistaken that for love.

* * *

At eleven years old, Yurian had a hunch that his ability was probably physical enhancement. From a young age, body-enhancement ability users developed slightly differently. Compared to other ability users, they grew stronger, more muscular, and their physical capabilities began to advance rapidly.

Unlike mental or nature types, where one might not discover their ability until the age of twenty, physical enhancement types usually showed signs early on.

“You’re like a monster. Your mother grows weaker by the day because of you.”

“I apologize.”

Despite those words, Yurian couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope because the Duke had come to see him at the training ground. He wondered if perhaps his father had truly come to see him.

“Did you sneak into your mother’s room again yesterday?”

“…No.”

“Then why is she ill again?”

“…I don’t know.”

“Where were you at dawn?”

“I was sleeping.”

“Is there anyone who can prove that?”

“Jartan was standing guard outside my room last night.”

“…”

The Duke of Leonhardt was relying more and more on the words of seers.

“The Duchess is sick because of the young master. He is draining her lifespan.”

There was no such thing as draining someone’s lifespan. The words of seers were often nonsense, best taken with a grain of salt—or not at all.

But the Duke truly believed them. When he first separated Yurian from the Duchess, her condition had seemed to improve, if only slightly.

It had been pure coincidence—but the Duke didn’t see it that way. Worse still, he forced that belief onto Yurian.

Even Yurian had begun to think it might be true.

“Can you swear to it?”

“Yes.”

Whenever the Duchess’s health worsened, the Duke would come to confront Yurian.

Just like now.

“Have you ever had memory loss?”

“…No.”

“Alright. Then get back to training.”

“…Yes.”

Yurian watched his father’s back as he turned and left, as if he’d finished all he needed to say. He had never once looked back at Yurian—but Yurian kept watching, hoping that just once, he would.

But that day never came. It never would.

* * *

Yurian was eighteen.

His body had grown massive, as if he would truly awaken as a body-enhancement ability user. But Yurian hated his own body.

“….”

The reflection in the mirror felt like a stranger’s body.

He didn’t want to awaken as a body-enhancement type. The larger his body grew, the more he felt like a terminal patient—someone whose time was running out. Someone cursed.

Ability users live with side effects. His own side effects would manifest in proportion to the amount of mana he possessed. Yurian already knew that his mana volume and density were on par with top-tier ability users.

And because he knew what kind of side effects plagued those of top-tier, he grew all the more reluctant.

He would sometimes lose time. Come back to himself, only to find the training ground turned to ruins.

Fortunately, no one had witnessed it yet.

“Disgusting…”

That was still how he felt about the reflection in the mirror. He was the one who had weakened his mother, made his father uneasy, and continued to grow—this monstrous thing.

A monster.

He was repulsed by himself. If only he hadn’t been born, his mother and father could have been happy. They could have lived peaceful lives, without fearing when the woman they loved would fall ill or die.

Yurian dragged his nails across his chest, over his heart. Four long gashes bloomed like crimson flowers on his skin.

He didn’t want to stay in that room. In the mirror stood a stranger—a monster. And in the mansion, no one welcomed him. Worse, his side effects had begun even before his ability had fully awakened.

Of course they would see it as an omen, a harbinger of something dark. It wasn’t normal.

So he headed to the training grounds. At night, no one would be there, and he could push his body to its limits and collapse into sleep.

“Ah, Young Master?”

Unfortunately, someone he knew was already training there that night.

“Sir Arcad.”

“Are you here to train as well, Young Master?”

“…Yes.”

“Then I’ll take that side. Please use this side, my lord.”

“…Alright.”

Yurian felt uneasy. The moment he saw him, the mana inside him stirred uncontrollably.

As though the blood dripping from the cut on Arcad’s cheek…

…was controlling him.

Stirring a thirst for more blood.