Chapter 37
Elia spoke while staring straight into Cyrone’s darkened eyes, her emotions were tangled. Cyrone staggered, gripping the edge of the desk, struggling to contain the torrent inside him. Veins reddened on his trembling hand.
“Begging.”
Leaning against the desk to catch his breath, Cyrone let out a short, bitter laugh. His eyes twisted with frustration as he looked at Elia.
“Ah…”
Suddenly, the door swung wide open, flooding the room with bright light. Elia, with her sensitive eyes, immediately recognized the familiar silhouette of a woman. Reflexively, she turned her head and let out a short, surprised moan.
“Miss Camille.”
It was none other than Camille. Elia’s gaze wavered like a guilty person upon seeing her. But Camille smiled calmly, as if unfazed.
“So that’s why. Miss Elia was here.”
With a sidelong glance, Camille skillfully scanned Cyrone’s expression. Sensing the sharp tension filling the room, Camille quickly masked her own expression.
* * *
Camille watched Elia leave with a cold expression long after the door shut and Elia’s footsteps faded away. Only then did Camille turn her gaze to Cyrone, her voice flowing with worry.
“What harsh words did you say to the lady this time?”
Leaning back in his chair, Cyrone pressed hard against his increasingly blurred eyes. His hand trembled faintly, showing that he hadn’t regained his composure.
Feeling sorry for him, Camille quietly clicked her tongue.
“How long can you keep it up after turning back time like this…”
The hollow room filled only with Camille’s sigh. She looked up at Cyrone. The boy who turned his back on the world’s sun was breaking down like this.
Having sold his soul to the devil and reversed time, Cyrone’s eyes were growing ever dimmer. His blood would dry up, and eventually even his heart would stop beating.
“You won’t be able to retrieve Raphael’s Holy Sword. You know only Miss Elia can save Your Highness.”
Camille stroked her face. Though publicly known as his fiance, Camille had been secretly Cyrone’s longtime attendant.
For a woman like Camille, few ways existed to protect Cyrone from suspicion and resentment. Playing the part of fiance, a role that did not suit her nature, had been difficult. These days felt the most hopeless.
Camille was determined to protect her lord, but there were few options. In fact, there were only two.
One was Raphael’s Holy Sword, whose omnipotent power could expel the devil’s magic. But that was nearly impossible now.
Since the Great War, not only had Raphael’s Holy Sword disappeared, but so had the very existence capable of manifesting its power.
The last to wield that power was the Great Saint Arina, who vanished without a trace after imprisoning Belial’s soul. Such was the tragic fate of all the saviors.
That left only one final hope, Elia. The one saved by the devil’s power, Elia.
Elia was originally someone who should have died. It was the natural order set by God. But by forcibly reversing time with the devil’s power, she had been granted a new life. Only by stepping before God to atone and offering herself as a sacrifice at the altar could the divine power be harnessed.
In short, Elia would have to give up the life she had reclaimed.
“……”
But now the question was whether Elia could truly relinquish all that for Cyrone. The Elia of the past would have done so without hesitation. But not the Elia of today.
“Do you think she’s doing this on purpose?”
Camille asked in a calm voice.
Since returning time, Cyrone has become almost determined. He grew increasingly cold to Elia, often uttering harsh words. Camille was beginning to understand Cyrone’s heart. Perhaps he was preparing Elia to resolutely abandon him when the final moment came.
“She even told me to beg.”
Today, Cyrone still gave Camille no clear answers. He simply mulled over Elia’s words, as if deliberately deflecting.
“Maybe I should’ve just begged after all.”
Cyrone let out a short, bitter laugh. The scattered mirth in the room soon crumbled into bitterness. Sitting down on the floor, Cyrone gathered the broken pieces of the necklace little by little. Amid the shattered fragments lingered warmth, his fleeting moments. Like the girl who seemed destined to forever smile by his side.
* * *
Gathering the shattered necklace in his palm, Cyrone sank into his seat. His breaths came in uneven gasps. As the darkness deepened, Cyrone appeared increasingly overwhelmed.
“You are destined to become the Emperor of this empire.”
Camille, quietly observing him, finally spoke. She barely hid her troubled expression.
“Beneath your feet lie hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of empire citizens. Your life is not just one life.”
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