#108

Meanwhile, Victor took advantage of the commotion and slipped out of the wedding hall. With everyone distracted by Cersia, no one noticed him—and for once, luck was on his side.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Victor wore a tense expression.

Getting caught by Keinhrih’s men on the way to the rendezvous point had definitely not been part of the plan.

It was only thanks to Cersia getting captured too that he’d avoided being dragged back to Jabis. If she hadn’t been there, he would’ve been finished.

Victor pulled a communication stone from inside his coat. He hurried to contact his handler, and before the signal could ring twice, the other party picked up.

They must’ve been waiting for his call. The voice that came through was sharp with irritation.

— Hey. Why didn’t you show up at the rendezvous point?

“I’m sorry. Something came up along the way.”

Though the man’s tone was immediately accusatory, Victor bowed his head with a groveling voice.

There was no going back to Jabis now. By this point, they’d definitely figured out he was the one who’d drugged the fox.

And with Ivan and Ayla already on his trail, he needed to meet his contact and get to safety—fast.

— So where are you now?

“Ah, luckily, I’m close to the rendezvous point. I’m at…”

Just as Victor began to describe his location, a masked figure appeared in the distance. His black hood was marked with a single white butterfly.

“Ah! Over here!”

Victor waved in relief.

But the moment his eyes met those cold, glassy silver ones, he froze.

It felt like he’d just locked eyes with a predator. His body went stiff like stone, the chill of death crawling up his spine.

It was like a beast had seized him by the nape of the neck.

He barely managed to stammer,

“Wh-why are you—?”

But he never got to finish.

The masked man passed him silently, almost like a breeze. As he moved past, he murmured low enough for only Victor to hear,

“So troublesome… and yet, you walk right to me.”

His voice was soft, fluttering like a butterfly on the wind.

Victor blinked in confusion, not even realizing what was happening.

A moment later—

“…Huh?”

He felt something warm trickling down his neck. When he reached up to touch it—it was already too late.

Thud.

Victor collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. A pool of blood quickly formed beneath his body.

The masked man looked down at him, flicked the blood from his blade, and muttered coldly,

“You’re no longer needed.”

With that, he disappeared into the mist.

The first to find Victor’s body was Ivan, who arrived moments later.

“Huh.”

He stared at the corpse lying on the ground. It looked very dead—but just in case, Ivan crept up and nudged it with his foot.

“Dead? If you’re dead, could you at least say so?”

Unsurprisingly, the body didn’t answer. Ivan wasn’t dumb enough to expect conversation from a corpse—but still.

He circled the body a few times, then sighed.

“Haah… this is bad.”

He’d been under strict orders to capture Victor alive and bring him in.

‘They even used a scent to block pheromone detection…’

He wrinkled his nose. There was a faint, sweet trace in the air—numbing mist. Whoever the killer was, they were no amateur. A clean, single strike.

Letting his guard down after running into Cersia had been a fatal mistake.

Now, there was no avoiding the consequences.

“What do I do now…”

Ivan ran his hands through his hair, groaning.

Victor had been carrying a drug that triggered pheromone reversal—a berserk effect. Potent enough to work even on a Jabis, who were immune to most poisons. They needed to find out where it came from.

But now their strongest lead… was a corpse.

Returning empty-handed would surely cost him his life.

Determined to find something, he rifled through Victor’s coat—but all he found was the shattered communication stone.

“This is bad.”

‘Running around broke, even as a fugitive. Useless, even in death.’

With no better option, Ivan gathered the broken shards to take with him—when suddenly, a terrifying aura surged toward him from the distance.

Assuming an ambush, Ivan tensed—then blinked, rubbing his eyes.

That silhouette looked awfully familiar.

And then he realized who it was.

“…Young Master?”

Charging straight toward him in beast form was none other than Zerakiel.

On his back was a young female beastkin—her face ghostly pale, clearly nauseous, yet still dutifully pointing the way like a loyal navigator.

“…Okay, who is that?”

Ivan squinted. After the ridiculous wedding drama with Cersia, now Zerakiel was carrying another female beastkin?

‘No way our young master would cheat… right? So who’s this cute herbivore?’

‘Wait—don’t tell me this is a love square?!’

His brain spiraled into nonsense.

In reality, Zerakiel had no choice but to transform. Ella was far too slow on foot, and if he’d matched her pace, they’d have arrived twice as late.

He’d first tried carrying her in his mouth, but the moment she saw his fangs, she fainted—so he had to wake her and let her ride on his back.

He hadn’t realized how horrifying it was for a herbivore to be inside a predator’s jaws.

Not that Zerakiel would’ve cared anyway.

At first, Zerakiel had tried to carry Ella in his mouth—but the moment she saw his fangs, she fainted on the spot. He ended up having to wake her and toss her on his back.

He hadn’t considered just how horrifying it would be for a herbivore beastkin to travel inside the jaws of a carnivore.

Not that he would’ve cared, even if he had.

Just then, in a blink, Zerakiel arrived right in front of Ivan, shifted back to human form, and growled without warning.

“Where is she?”

“Yikes—!”

Caught completely off guard, Ella, still perched on his back, tumbled to the ground and rolled several times. Ivan’s head turned automatically to follow the direction she rolled in.

‘A rabbit beastkin, huh.’

He blinked at the sight of Ella with rabbit ears, clearly brought on by the shock. Her transformation undone, she looked about as pitiful as a cotton ball rolling downhill.

It was the kind of scene that might stir sympathy in others—but not Ivan. Not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

‘If she’s being treated like that, I guess she’s not important.’

Still, he had to admit: for a timid little herbivore, riding a black lion’s back took serious guts.

“Did you not hear me? I said—where is she?”

At Zerakiel’s repeated demand, Ivan quickly bowed and reported.

“Ah—my apologies. Victor, as you can see, is…”

“Have you gone deaf since I last saw you?”

“…Excuse me?”

“I said—where is Chichi.”

Who cared about that guy?

Zerakiel clearly didn’t. It was obvious even at a glance that Victor was long dead.

Ivan had expected to be scolded for failing to capture him alive. Instead, all he saw in Zerakiel’s bloodshot eyes was urgency—desperation to get back to Cersia.

There was a reason he was so worked up. On his way here, he’d heard rumors that some mutt named Keinhrih had been trying to pull something with Cersia.

“Oh—you meant her? Right, um… Lady Chichi is that way…”

Unable to withstand the crushing pressure of Zerakiel’s presence, Ivan pointed toward her location.

Zerakiel vanished in a blink.

Whoosh—!

A gust of wind swept through in his wake.

Left behind with only Ella, Ivan awkwardly rubbed the back of his head.

Seeing she was a rabbit beastkin, he guessed she must be the helper from Hebel—the one who had handed Victor the drug pouch. He hadn’t expected her to be so young.

Meanwhile, Ella stood up and began brushing the dust off her ruined clothes.

Thinking Zerakiel had changed… had been a huge mistake.

The Zerakiel without Cersia was cold and brutal—just like the one from before.

‘If you get in the way, I’ll kick you off.’

‘Then I’ll die!’

‘Then hang on tight. What else can you do?’

She hadn’t thought he was serious when he said that before placing her on his back—but one look in his eyes told her he’d meant every word.

That ruthless aura… it hadn’t changed one bit.

‘He really almost killed me.’