<Episode 93>

Abellard stared at the blue note in his trembling hands, his anger barely contained.

[Do not anger me further.]

The note shifted into a warning before igniting in blue flames, burning itself away into ash.

Overwhelmed with despair, Abellard buried his face into Eveline’s chest and wept again. The relief of knowing she was alive clashed with the terror of the task he had been given—to kill Elkais within three days. He had no idea how he could possibly go through with it.

Time passed, and the sound of crunching snow drew Abellard’s attention. Someone was approaching the cabin.

Without his divine power, he quickly grabbed a piece of firewood and positioned himself near the door, ready to defend Eveline.

The door creaked open.

“My lord duke?”

Abellard froze mid-swing when he recognized the voice. It was Crown Prince Ferite.

Ferite stepped inside, carrying branches of cornelian cherry and two dead rabbits in his arms.

“Really, you…”

“My lord duke, what are you doing with that?” Ferite asked, smiling as he closed the door behind him.

Abellard let out a long, exasperated sigh and glared at the crown prince. Ferite, oblivious to the tension, set down the branches and attempted to skin the rabbits using a blade of ice he had conjured.

The results were laughable—the blade slid harmlessly over the rabbits’ fur without breaking through. It was clear Ferite had no idea what he was doing.

“Haa…”

Before Abellard could speak, another voice came from the open door.

“What’s going on here?”

Elkais stepped inside, carrying a large stag draped over his shoulders.

“Ah, Duke de Robein. Since you’re here, could you handle this?” Ferite said casually, gesturing to the rabbits.

Elkais didn’t respond immediately, his gaze shifting between the scene before him—Ferite’s calm demeanor, Abellard’s tense state, and Eveline lying unconscious. The chaos left him disoriented.

“How did you catch that thing?” Ferite asked, nodding at the stag.

“Somehow,” Elkais replied tersely, unwilling to elaborate.

Though confused by Ferite’s sudden reappearance and Abellard’s mood, his focus shifted to Eveline. Seeing her still unconscious, he decided to prioritize preparing food for when she woke.

“I’ll handle the meat. Your Highness, please inform me when Eveline wakes.”

“Understood,” Ferite replied lightly, resuming his clumsy efforts to mash the cornelian cherries into a paste.

“Ugh…”

Abellard, meanwhile, looked deeply troubled, his emotions boiling under the surface.

Elkais didn’t miss it. He knew he owed his life to Abellard. The memory of blood gushing from his neck, the sensation of life slipping away, and the divine power that had saved him were still vivid.

“Abellard,” Elkais said.

“What now?” Abellard snapped.

“Thank you. For saving me.”

Abellard’s face twisted, as if he might burst into tears, but instead, he shouted, “I don’t need your thanks! Just die already! You’re driving me insane!”

“Noted. Thank you,” Elkais replied calmly. There was no anger in his voice, only sincerity, which seemed to irritate Abellard even more.

Elkais gathered the animals and headed toward the frozen lake to clean and prepare them.

Once Elkais left, Ferite continued to crush the cherries with surprising focus, humming to himself as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, the outburst seemed to have drained Abellard completely. He collapsed where he stood, unconscious.

* * *

Abellard, regaining his composure briefly, realized Elkais had yet to return. Determined, he made his way toward the cabin door.

“Where are you going, my lord duke?” Ferite’s voice called out behind him.

“Stay out of it,” Abellard snapped, stepping outside.

The cold wind bit at his skin as he exited the cabin, and before him, a blue arrow appeared, pointing the way. Despite his concern for Eveline, he reassured himself—she wouldn’t die within the three days given to him. That certainty allowed him to leave.

His body was in ruins, barely able to keep him upright. Every step felt like a monumental effort, and it seemed as though every ounce of his strength had been drained. Still, he had no regrets about saving Eveline.

If Elkais remained by her side when she woke, maybe she wouldn’t try to take her own life again.

“What am I supposed to do?” he muttered bitterly, overwhelmed by the impossible choice before him. Tears streamed down his face as frustration spilled over.

If Elkais died, Eveline might kill herself again. But if Abellard didn’t kill Elkais, Eveline would die. The weight of the decision suffocated him.

“Hic… Eveline…”

He wiped his tears with trembling hands, forcing himself to follow the glowing arrow.

The situation felt utterly hopeless. Abellard hated himself for being powerless, for being led around like a pawn in someone else’s game. He had agreed to this pact for her sake, but his love for Eveline made him resent his own actions.

<I chose you as my piece. What benefit will I gain?>

He remembered begging Yulias, offering himself up as her pawn when he learned that Dekarv had chosen Eveline as his. Abellard had known she would inevitably become a sacrifice in the gods’ wager.

The gods often used humans as tools in their games, and those tools always died.

Abellard had wished, in that moment, that he could be a machine. Machines followed orders without thought or hesitation. If he were one, he wouldn’t have made the foolish decision to save Elkais.

Yet, at the same time, he didn’t regret saving him. That paradox only deepened his self-loathing.

The thought of Eveline surviving in a broken state terrified him, but the thought of her dying scared him even more.

“Ahh…”

Unable to hold back, he sobbed uncontrollably, his cries echoing into the cold.

Eventually, the blue arrow reappeared, guiding him onward. His nose stung from the cold, his eyelashes frosted over, and his swollen eyes throbbed from crying so much.

He welcomed the physical pain. It dulled the overwhelming thoughts of Eveline and her future, providing a momentary reprieve.

If only he had married her before they arrived here, even if it had been forced. If he were an omega, they couldn’t imprint, but they could have married. They could have adopted a royal-grade alpha child or raised one themselves.

“Hic…”

Realizing how late he had come to understand his feelings for Eveline, he cursed himself, hating his own foolishness.

<If Eveline Wilden’s survival is your goal, then you must be prepared to take your own life as well.>

<I understand.>

<Are you truly prepared for that?>

“Ahh…”

Remembering that conversation with Yulias, the thought crossed his mind: Would his death carry the same weight to Eveline as Elkais’s?

Tears welled up again as he doubted it. His death would probably mean little to her.

But even knowing that, he still wanted Eveline to live. He couldn’t imagine a life without her. He had known that for a long time—it was an undeniable, painful truth.

“Eveline, please, cry for me when I die…!”

He sobbed even harder, his cries filled with despair.

At that moment, the arrow guiding him disappeared.

Abellard eventually exhausted himself, his tears ceasing only when he was on the verge of collapse.

A glowing blue inscription appeared before him.

[Oleander.]

The surrounding snow began to melt, and from the bare earth, a small plant sprouted, blossoming into a pink flower. Within moments, the flower withered and turned to dust, leaving behind a small crystal vial.

Abellard didn’t need an explanation to know what it was. Yulias had given him oleander poison.

Wiping his tear-streaked face, he picked up the vial.

“I’ll kill him where Eveline won’t see,” he muttered, his frozen breath visible in the air.

“That way, she’ll have hope to live.”

He clenched the vial tightly, as if making a solemn vow, and turned back toward the cabin.

Eveline found herself sandwiched between the two men, both vying for her attention in their own distinct ways.

“Wait! Listen to me first—ugh, no, not like this!” Eveline protested, her voice rising in a mix of embarrassment and frustration as Elkais pressed his face against her chest, his firm hold unrelenting.

“Elkais, get off her!” Abellard barked, moving behind Eveline and wrapping his arms around her waist in a possessive gesture.

“Stop fighting!” Eveline exclaimed, wriggling between the two of them. The entire situation was spiraling out of control.

“Elkais, let her go. I’m warning you,” Abellard growled, his grip tightening protectively.

“I’ll let her go when you let her go,” Elkais retorted, lifting his face from Eveline’s chest but still holding her shoulders. “She’s not yours to keep, Abellard.”

“And she’s not yours either,” Abellard snapped back, his anger boiling over.

Eveline, flustered beyond belief, shouted over the rising tension. “Both of you, stop acting like children!” She pried herself free, stepping away from both men. “We’re not getting anywhere like this!”

Both men looked at her, startled by her outburst. Eveline took a deep breath, composing herself.

“We can’t afford to fight each other,” she said firmly, her voice steady. “If we don’t find a way to work together, none of us will survive.”

Elkais frowned but nodded reluctantly, stepping back to give her space. Abellard, however, still looked unconvinced, his jaw clenched tightly.

 

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