“If I was willing to die for you, would you believe it?” ,
Kazan asked a question he already knew the answer to.
From the beginning, Yasiris never asked him.
She was only revealing her own thoughts.
And his guess was absolutely correct.
“No.
You only say things that sound good because you need to depend on me.”
“Do you think I would say such empty words?”
“Your Majesty, you are human after all.
Considering the way you treated the Empress, this is not surprising.”
Kazan felt suffocated by Yasiris's indifferent words.
A faint hint of disdain in her endlessly dry eyes scratched his heart.
He couldn't think of a way to change her mind.
Even after risking his life to resolve their relationship through conversation, her reaction made him feel that only his actual death would make her happy.
Does this satisfy you?
If you die.
Can I get your smile back even if it means that?
The image of Yasiris was reflected in his cloudy red eyes.
She was organizing a messy pile of herbs with an expression devoid of any emotion.
“You should regret this.
You were hurt more than I expected.”
“You called me earlier to suggest escaping through the falls, right?”
This was not the case.
Facing endlessly advancing enemies and losing hope, Kazan intended to hand over the Emperor's Seal to Yasiris.
A one-person magical device that teleports through the secret passage of the royal palace.
After giving it to Yasiris, he planned to find a way to survive somehow...
“Yes,” Kazan answered otherwise.
“If you hadn't fallen first, I would be in better shape now.”
Since he couldn't change anything, he decided to become the villain she saw him as.
He hoped that her accumulated resentment and anger would eventually lead to her killing him with her own hands.
If you can't love me again, give me all your hate.
You gave me life, so you must be the one to take it from me.
Because you alone deserve my life.
Kazan curled the corners of his lips in a strange way.
It was hard to tell if he was smiling or in pain.
“I didn't know you loved my body enough to protect me.”
“I said this was your only use.”
“…I will not feel guilty about injuring Your Majesty.”
"I never wanted it.
It was for me."
There was silence again.
Yasiris said no more, and Kazan fought back the searing pain.
And so, the first night of their ordeal arrived.
Yasiris was lying with her back to Kazan, staring blankly into the darkness.
Exhaustion should have made her eyelids heavy, but the last conversation they had kept floating in her mind, preventing her from falling asleep.
Or rather, the resulting temptation was tormenting her.
Should I kill him?
Kazan's body was in such a damaged state that he wouldn't be able to resist if she strangled him.
Yasiris, who had lived her life without blood on her hands, did not hate him enough to kill him herself.
Even though he was her enemy, despite the renewed humiliation, she was too exhausted to hide such an angry murderous intent.
However, Kazan's death would ensure the safety of her and the child inside her.
Safety from direct threats and persecution.
The fact that his motive for saving her was to possess her body left no further reservations.
The red eyes that stirred her conscience faded with her guilt.
“Your Majesty”
Yasiris called out to Kazan while he was still facing the black wall.
If she was going to kill him, she should have moved quietly, but her mouth opened on its own.
To give him one last chance?
Or to check if he is asleep?
As Yasiris paused to discern her intentions, a faint voice returned.
“Oh...”
It wasn't a response, just a groan.
Instinctively, Yasiris sat up and looked at Kazan, dimly lit by the moonlight filtering through the leaves.
His body, burning with high fever, was drenched in cold sweat.
The tightly furrowed brow and the groan escaping through his teeth suggested intense pain.
Has your fever gotten worse?
Yasiris wiped her palm on Kazan's wet forehead.
The heat emanating from his skin was so intense that an ordinary person would have been in serious trouble long before now.
Whoever Tinilath was, and whatever way he survived, it was normal for him to experience the same pain, given his body temperature.
“River water...”
Yasiris suddenly stopped and was about to say that she was going to wet a cloth.
Under her hand, her tired face became clear.
Is it really necessary to make an effort to treat it?
Maybe it would be better to let him die.
“…Your Majesty”
Yasiris stared at Kazan, who was rubbing his face with her relatively cold hand.
His labored breaths were hot, and he looked as if he had lost his mind.
Naturally, there was no response, and her failed call dispersed into the air.
If she was going to kill him, she had to act now.
This moment, when he couldn't even regain his senses despite repeated pleas, was the best opportunity to kill the formidable knight.
Yasiris swallowed dryly and took a deep breath.
She wrapped her hands around Kazan's neck but hesitated to apply pressure.
Murder is murder, and he is who he is.
The weight of killing her husband, the ruler of the continent, was making her hands tremble.
What if you didn't kill him all at once?
What if Tinilath's blood saved him?
What if the knights found this place?
What if it's revealed that she killed him?
What if…
“Yes…sa…”
Yasiris was surprised by Kazan's call.
She froze, her breath hitching, and she was about to pull her hands away when he grabbed her.
With his barely moving right arm, he grabbed her left arm.
“Your Majesty.
This, that…”
“Sa…”
Yasiris hurriedly tried to explain, and noticed something strange.
He called her Sari, not Empress.
His eyes were unfocused and blank.
He wasn't wondering about the situation.
It was as if Kazan wasn't fully awake.
Or maybe it wasn't.
“Fuh”
Yasiris exhaled deeply to calm her anxious heart.
As her beating heart calmed down, a feeling of unease surfaced.
Until now, her husband had never called her by her surname, let alone her name.
Considering he did it when they fell off the cliff was one thing, but hearing him call her by her nickname even while waking up sparked feelings of resentment.
“I never gave you permission to call me by my nickname.”
Only two people were allowed to call her Sari.
Cain and baritone.
The first died, and the second was killed by Kazan.
So it was only natural that she hated hearing her nickname from Kazan's mouth.
“Sari...”
But, as if he had heard nothing, he made the same mistake again.
Even in his foggy state, acting contrary to Yasiris's wishes bothered her.
The long-simmering anger, which had unconsciously contributed to her decision to kill Kazan, burned red and hot.
Her slightly withdrawn hands wrapped around his neck again.
“Your Majesty, you have always done this.
You have never responded to a request for me.
You took my people, my rights, and my dignity, and now you still have something to trample on?”
Kazan remained silent.
He just looked at her with a dazed face, trapped between reality and dream.
“If you loved my body so much, you should have made a doll like my appearance.
If it had no life, it would have always clung to you obediently, never resisting.”
Kazan still didn't say anything.
Yasiris's upper body bent, shifting her weight onto her hands.
“Oh...”
"I hate you, Your Majesty.
I hate you.
You always force yourself on me, use hostages to threaten me, despise and humiliate me, and yet you cherish my body!
The one who will kill me in the end, I hate you!
Do you understand?"
Kazan nodded slowly with his eyes at Yasiris's unusually loud voice.
His ears were ringing and his head was buzzing, he heard her voice but did not understand the words.
Like being submerged under water, everything was drained, including the feeling of suffocation.
The only thing he can perceive is the vision of Yasaris, illuminated by moonlight.
She disappeared into his blurry vision, intermingling with the past.
“It was claustrophobic.”
“…beautiful”
“Really, claustrophobic...”
“Beautiful”
He smiled.
“What...”
He extended his hand to Yasiris, who was no longer moving.
His left arm did not obey him, but his right arm was able to move, albeit in excruciating pain.
His fingers, moving slowly, touched the cheek of the woman who was choking him.
The careful caress, the look in his eyes, and the gentle way he called her name were heartbreakingly sweet.
“Yasaris”
Just like Ken Genott once did.
Yasiris held her breath.
Didn't understand why.
She was the one suffocating him, and yet she felt like she was the one being suffocated.
Was it because the red eyes reflecting her image seemed unusually warm?
Or because his voice calling her was unbearably affectionate?
The feeling of déjà vu she had fleetingly felt the night before was gnawing at her mind.
It seemed as if her senses had been confused.
She felt that the person dying under her hands was Kane, not Kazan.