Chapter 228
During the day, she acted cold toward him, but at night, she wandered through her dreams in tears.
Canopus had secretly watched Freesia sleeping several times on the island fortress. He had silently observed as her tears slid down her temples, soaking into her hair, and had once brushed them away with his hand.
The taste of her tears, secretly savored, was so sweet it made the root of his tongue ache. It was sweet enough for him to dream of becoming the perfect savior to this grieving woman.
This desire was different from the lifelong command to avenge his parents or the idea that he had been born a ‘special existence’.
Tasting her tears had awakened his purest first desire.
〈No one can declare themselves my savior and toy with me.〉
Canopus shivered with twisted ecstasy, recalling the woman’s final message—the one who had betrayed him.
‘Freesia, you don’t know, do you?’
Even when she despaired, she was ever so sweet. But when she denied everything that restrained her and lashed out sharply, she was even more captivating.
But in the end, the current him had failed to possess her. He had paid the price for assuming that Freesia was a pitiable, weak woman.
However, at the very least, Izar wouldn’t have her either.
“Hah, but did you know something?”
Canopus smiled bitterly as he watched his brother tremble with rage.
Before the white dove monster—into which he had infused his consciousness—had scattered into petals, he had seen it all from the dark night sky.
“Freesia betrayed you. She set fire to your castle.”
Izar drew a sharp breath, as if his lungs had been punctured.
Freesia betrayed him.
Set fire to the castle…
“Then again, how could anyone stand being around a piece of s**t like you? Even our mother said she went mad just thinking about you!”
Even as he coughed up blood, Canopus burst into laughter. There wasn’t a single lie in his words, and Izar knew that.
“No woman loves you, Izar Arcturus.”
So, even though Canopus had lost this battle, he had won in the end. The one who heard his final words—Izar—was the true loser.
Before Canopus could speak further, Izar’s sword withdrew from his left shoulder and, without hesitation, slashed through his neck.
“That’s not true.”
Instead of blood gushing from the severed neck, black feathers erupted into the air. It wasn’t a normal human death, but Izar didn’t care. He wanted to keep slicing until his hatred was completely extinguished.
“It’s not true. It’s not…!”
Freesia wouldn’t go that far.
But no matter how much he cut, why did it feel like the damage was being done to his own heart instead?
Eventually, black feathers drenched in blood lay scattered around his feet. His knights, who had been waiting for him, had successfully subdued the remaining enemies, but none dared approach him.
“…We’re heading back.”
“Then, shall we return directly to the capital—”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”
Izar, his eyes burning fiercely, turned toward the pale-faced knights.
“We’re going back to the duchy.”
***
All throughout the journey home, Izar clung to one hope.
That everything his half-brother had said was a lie.
After all, what he thought was a trap had turned out to be a victory, thanks to Freesia’s advice.
‘Why would she tell me if she hadn’t forgiven me?’
Surely, she had given him that clue because she intended to live with him from now on.
〈Freesia betrayed you.〉
He refused to believe the filth his half-brother had spewed. But as they drew closer to the ducal estate, reports began pouring in.
Monsters had invaded during the night.
Desperate defense efforts had resulted in numerous injuries.
A fire had broken out, starting in one of the rooms in the castle…
By the time Izar arrived, days had already passed since the fire had been extinguished.
“…Ha.”
He needed to check on the wounded and the dead, but the voices of those reporting to him sounded distant, as though they couldn’t reach his ears.
Although the castle appeared intact on the outside, traces of the fire were still visible in some areas.
Most notably, the room where Freesia had last been—the studio, where the portrait was being painted—was charred black.
They had barely managed to salvage the portrait, but…
“Why…”
Izar exhaled raggedly, his gaze fixed on the painting, as if in a trance.
The section depicting him was still somewhat recognizable, but the most important part had burned away, leaving only a gaping hole.
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