Chapter 72
But Elia stood frozen in place. What could be going on inside that small mind? Cyrone spoke impatiently to the knights lined up before him.
“Bring her here.”
The knights swiftly jumped down the cliff. They circled around Elia and restrained her. The knights were tense but firm and carefully guided Elia into the carriage.
“Let’s go, Miss.”
Parus, the commander of the knights leading the way, spoke respectfully to Elia. She glared at the knights surrounding her and twisted her shoulders in defiance.
Cyrone’s eyes narrowed sharply as he watched her.
“Keep it up and see what happens.”
Cyrone’s gaze slowly shifted toward Rias, who stood behind Elia. Their eyes, similar yet different, locked fiercely. The tension between their staring glances was razor-sharp.
“If you want to see that bastard die right before your eyes…”
Cyrone clenched his teeth as he spoke. The last warning stumbled out.
* * *
Rias looked up through the prison bars. It was an oppressive darkness. He could no longer tell if the darkness enveloping him was outside or if he had become the darkness itself. Leaning against the iron bars, his entire body felt cold.
“…Haha.”
Rias laughed, with a crumpled face. No matter how long he thought through the night, he found no answers. What on earth had driven him this far? Had he lived this way just to end up like this? If so, then who exactly was he?
At that moment, footsteps echoed through the silent watchtower. Instinctively sensing the presence’s weight, Rias stiffened.
“…You came all this way in person.”
A shadow loomed in the moonlight.
Rias slowly turned and smiled as he faced Cyrone. The Empire’s Crown Prince soon to be Emperor and his own blood relative. Their faces were eerily alike, yet different enough to feel strange.
Struggling to move his stiff body in the cold, Rias composed himself and bowed respectfully.
“It’s an honor, Crown Prince.”
Rias’ expression was calm, as if he had long expected Cyrone’s arrival. There was not a trace of surprise.
He watched Cyrone quietly. Though they shared half their blood, they occupied completely different places. As he scrutinized every detail, ugly jealousy welled up within him.
“You must have already known about my existence.”
Rias muttered in a dry tone. After being trapped here all night, the only conclusion he could draw was that.
Cyrone already knew everything; who Rias really was and why all these events were unfolding.
Rias let out a long sigh. It seemed he had once again become a puppet in someone else’s play, destined to be discarded.
“Honestly, I’m not surprised. After all, that’s been the story of my entire life…”
Rias spoke in a flat tone. But whether Cyrone was simply too tired of the flood of questions or unwilling to answer, he remained leaning against the bars, silently looking down at Rias.
It was only after a long pause that Cyrone slowly parted his lips.
“I was curious how pitifully you’d die.”
You’re much more miserable than I thought. Cyrone added calmly. Rias let out a dry chuckle. It was just empty in the end.
“I wish dying was at least free. But maybe that’s asking too much.”
After briefly gazing at the drifting moonlight, Rias turned away. Then, perhaps making a decision, he knelt before Cyrone.
“Please, end it now.”
The rebellion was over, and the noble families, including the Reiffers, had completely fallen. Rias had no more reason to live, no purpose left in his existence.
But Cyrone tilted his head slightly at those words, his eyes sharp as if probing his thoughts.
“Why would I? You still have plenty of use left.”
“…!”
At Cyrone’s words, Rias’s eyebrows twitched.
It was a statement he hadn’t expected, one that cut through his entire life in an instant. A life that had been nothing but a tool for someone else from the start. And Cyrone had no intention of letting go of that life until the very end.
“….So you’re saying you’ll keep using me in your little play till the end.”
Rias said bitterly, and Cyrone smiled in response.
“Because that’s the purpose of your life anyway. I’m telling you to hold on and live, even if only like that.”
Unable to endure any longer, Rias clenched the bars, and a roar erupted from him.
“What do you know? How cold and hungry I was! Why did I have to live as their puppet! Do you know? It’s all your fault! Your stupid father’s fault!”
The iron bars rattled fiercely with his outcry. After that furious shout, Rias suddenly laughed as if he was about to choke on his own breath.
Cyrone quietly watched him. Like black and white, light and darkness, too similar yet entirely different. The two faces confronted each other.
“Why would I not know?”
Cyrone smiled faintly. Like a flawlessly crafted mask.
“So what have you done? Have you wallowed in filth and endured like me? Or did you, like me, stab your own mother with your own hands? Did you, with your own hands, offer your heart to the devil?”
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