I Will End My 10-Year Unrequited Love - Chapter 88

She could feel the movement of the flesh filing inside, then withdrawing, only to bury himself again.

“Ah! Hah…!”

Their naked bodies tangled, heat radiating between them. When her back arched, her walls fluttering around him, Cyrone finally came.

“…Haah.”

His lips brushed against Elia’s nape. The cold lips against her feverish skin made her flinch. Slowly, he wound a hand in her sweat-damp hair and pulled out.

“Huh!”

The sudden emptiness made Elia groan. Thick warmth spilled down her thighs. Elia panted against the sheets as her chest heaved.

“Do you still love me?”

The very first question Cyrone asked right after they were done. Every day, he would ask Elia this question repeatedly. Only when Elia nodded with resignation did Cyrone get up.

“Yes. You have to love me until the very end.”

Though his voice was dry when he said this, Elia couldn’t hear it. As always, Cyrone left the room immediately after they finished. The hollow wind swept through the restless air.

“…Belial.”

Curled up with her back arched, Elia muttered the name. The moment it passed her lips, a cold shiver ran through her whole body.

“Where is the real Cyrone?”

Had he truly vanished? How deep was the sleep he was trapped in? Shivering with unbearable cold and emptiness, her shoulders trembled. Tears bursting out had become all too familiar.

As Elia quietly let the tears fall, there came a soft knock.

Hurriedly wiping her face, Elia covered her naked body with the robe crumpled on the floor. The maid who entered didn’t flinch at the strong scent filling the room.

Instead, with her usual expressionless gaze, she said.

“Sir Nielsen has sent word that you are to come to the temple briefly.”

“…Sir Nielsen sent for me?”

Elia asked, puzzled, but the maid just nodded. Suddenly, a sense of unease washed over Elia.

It was to the temple, no less. Seeing Elia’s troubled expression, the maid quickly added in a cold tone, as if there was no time to waste.

“His Highness is expected to return this evening. You must leave before then.”

Elia nodded in understanding. The maid glanced at her once more before closing the door. Only then did Elia look around at the chaotic room and at herself. A sigh, heavy with shame, slipped out.

‘But why would Sir Nielsen call for me…?’

Nielsen’s summons were usually about Cyrone. Though she had met him at the Crown Prince’s palace before, being called to the temple like this was a first.

“Ugh!”

Just as Elia stood to quickly fix her appearance, her body suddenly collapsed to the floor with a heavy thud. A sharp pain struck her chest as if it had been split in two.

* * *

“Just as I thought.”

Pope Winter’s face was calmer than expected. The divine energy that had been tense around him gradually subsided.

“But the existence of Raphael’s Holy Sword and the Saint has long since vanished.”

At these words, Nielsen nodded as if he already knew. The Pope silently awaited Nielsen’s next words while making the sign of the cross over his chest. The Holy Sword and the Saint that was long gone, were beyond the reach of human power to recover.

That left only one remaining option.

“…Then light the fire on the temple’s altar.”

The Pope frowned slightly as he looked at Nielsen. Those words implied that there was someone else, besides Cyrone, whose fate had been altered by Belial’s power.

“That sounds like you mean there is a sacrifice.”

Instead of answering, Nielsen let out a low sigh. Then he paused, thinking deeply.

If Cyrone returned, and if it were revealed that Elia had become the altar’s offering in his place… the very thought already gave him a headache.

“Yes, there is. Someone whose fate was changed by that incident.”

“Who might that be?”

The Pope’s and Nielsen’s gazes locked. Nielsen felt as if the Pope’s steady eyes were scolding him. After a long hesitation, Nielsen slowly spoke.

“Lady Elia. Elia Reiffers.”

“Lady Reiffers… That must be related to the Reiffers rebellion.”

The Pope’s voice sounded surprised, he hadn’t expected that name. He then looked at Nielsen and asked again.

“Has the lady consented to this?”

Nielsen couldn’t help but feel guilt at the question. What reason justified sacrificing her?

His head instinctively tilted upward. The temple’s ceiling, adorned with depictions of God and the precious children, was beautiful and peaceful. Yet beneath it lay a hell.

Watching Nielsen’s expression, the Pope muttered quietly.

“God will not forgive His Highness.”

The Pope’s cold voice stopped Nielsen’s wandering thoughts.