Linia Took in a Child - Chapter 8: Ruin (1)

Somewhere, Edwin thought he felt a cool breeze.

It brushed lightly against him, stirring faint sensations in his otherwise numb body. But he didn’t want to open his eyes. For the first time in a long time, he felt… peace. He didn’t want to move, his body sinking deeper into that strange comfort.

Time passed in the darkness—minutes, hours, perhaps longer. Then, faintly, he heard birds chirping.

The sound grew sharper, pulling him out of the hazy stillness. Bit by bit, his senses returned, and with them, his awareness. He stirred, his eyelids feeling unbearably heavy, but he forced them to open.

His vision was blurry at first, bright light spilling over everything. He squinted against the brightness, the hazy outlines of objects slowly coming into focus.

Morning sunlight poured into a small, modest room through a half-open window. Outside, he could hear birds singing, their melody clear and cheerful.

Edwin struggled to sit up, his body stiff as he scanned his surroundings. The room was sparse, with just a bed and a few worn pieces of furniture. It was small, almost claustrophobic.

He looked down at himself, pulling back the blanket. His arms and legs bore no signs of burns or injuries. There was no trace of the horrific pain he had endured—no burns, no scars, nothing.

Was it all a dream?

Before he could dwell on it further, the creak of a door opening drew his attention.

He turned his head sharply, and his eyes locked onto a man stepping into the room. The figure’s dark hair and familiar presence sent a jolt through him.

“…Russell Damon,” Edwin said, his voice rough and cracked. The name carried a weight of hostility, his tone laced with suspicion.

The sight of the count standing there unnerved him. The idea that Russell might have saved him seemed implausible. If anything, Edwin expected him to be here for revenge.

Edwin’s gaze narrowed as he began to pull magic to his fingertips, ready to defend himself.

“Where is Linia?” he demanded, his voice sharp despite its hoarseness. “Tell me where she is.”

“She’s sleeping in another room,” Russell replied coldly, his piercing gaze fixed on the man sitting on the bed. Edwin’s crimson eyes, still glinting with a faint trace of animosity, reminded Russell of that day—the day he had nearly been killed.

As long as she doesn’t find out.

Russell vividly recalled the raw, murderous intent in Edwin’s eyes. He had fully intended to end Russell’s life, and yet, in the end, he hadn’t. Perhaps it was the fear of losing her forgiveness that had stayed Edwin’s hand.

“I have no reason to kill you and invite further resentment.”

Edwin had spoken those words as if sparing a mere insect. It had filled Russell with equal parts fear and fury. He had vowed then and there to protect Linia from that man at any cost.

But when Edwin had spoken the truth about Linia’s heart and magic, his rage had dissolved into dread. Edwin had laid everything bare: the frailty of her heart, the draining magic that threatened her life. It wasn’t just a warning—it was a demand. Cooperate, or risk letting her die.

Russell had been cornered, forced to make a decision: should he send her back to Edwin, or turn to the Empire for aid?

But if Edwin’s words were true, seeking help from the Empire would take too long. She didn’t have time. Reluctantly, Russell had prepared the carriage, watching helplessly as she left with the man he despised.

After they left, Russell had maintained secret contact with Hilton. When Hilton’s apprentice began pursuing Edwin and Linia, Russell felt a measure of relief, though he also feared for Linia’s safety. He begged Hilton to inform him immediately of any new developments.

Two months later, Russell received word that the two had entered the capital. The letter also mentioned that Hilton was planning what would be their final operation.

Fearing the worst, Russell set out for the capital without delay. If Edwin died, Linia would surely follow soon after. Yet he knew that even if he revealed the truth to the Imperial Knights, there was no chance they would spare Edwin’s life.

Russell moved in secret, alone, determined to keep his promise to Linia—the promise he had made when he deceived her into boarding that carriage.

When he finally reached the burning forest, he found them—Linia, unharmed save for a few burns, and Edwin, his body broken and burning, teetering on the edge of death.

Russell had carried Edwin out on his back, with Linia’s help. He sustained severe burns in the process, but there was no other way to save her and the man she refused to leave behind.

Once they escaped the flames and reached the carriage, Linia immediately used her divine power to heal Russell’s burns. Despite her own injuries, she refused to use her power on herself, saving every bit of strength to treat Edwin’s wounds.

Russell took them to a secluded mansion deep in the forest, a place he had rented in advance. There, he ensured Linia had a place to rest. But rest she did not. Instead, she stayed by Edwin’s side day and night, pouring her strength into healing him.

“…She hardly rested,” Russell said, his voice sharp as he looked at Edwin. “She used her power on you every day while you slept peacefully. Do you know how many times she collapsed from exhaustion?”

Russell ground his teeth, barely restraining the anger simmering beneath the surface. He had hated Edwin from the start, believing him to be someone who manipulated and controlled Linia through fear.

But the truth he had learned from her painted a different picture. She had told him that Edwin had fixed her heart with magic, freeing her from the constant threat of death.

It was hard to believe at first. But when Russell saw Edwin’s body—his arms, legs, and back covered in grotesque burn scars—he understood. Linia had only suffered minor burns on her legs because Edwin had shielded her with his own body.

“I haven’t forgiven you, Edwin Schufenhart,” Russell said icily, his blue eyes piercing the man on the bed. “I helped you this once because she wanted you to live. Nothing more.”

Edwin remained silent, his crimson eyes devoid of their usual fire as they dropped to the floor. The rage and animosity were gone, replaced by a hollow, defeated look. Yet his clenched fists trembled, his knuckles white.

“Live quietly,” Russell continued. “Don’t ever drag her into danger again. If you do…”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a cold, threatening whisper.

“…I’ll make sure the Empire knows you’re alive.”

Russell turned on his heel and left the room without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.

Even after he was gone, Edwin remained motionless, sitting on the bed, staring blankly at his trembling hands. The blood that had drained from them was long gone, but the surge of emotion gripping his chest felt impossible to endure.

The wound on his right chest, which had once poured blood endlessly, was now completely healed. He could vividly imagine Linia pouring her divine power into him, tirelessly working to erase every trace of his injury.

When the world wished for his death, she alone had wanted him to live. She had fought through fire and pain to save him, even as he told her to leave him behind. And what had he said in return? Cold, unkind words to push her away.

He felt a pang of guilt that struck deeper than any wound. He wanted to see her—desperately. He didn’t know what he would say if she came to him, but he couldn’t stop the ache in his chest, the longing to see her face.

The sound of the door opening pulled him from his thoughts. Edwin didn’t lift his head. He assumed Russell had returned with more threats or instructions.

“Ruin…”

That voice.

Edwin’s head snapped up at the sound of her gentle call. His vision blurred, heat prickling at his eyes. He didn’t need a mirror to know they were red, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

But he didn’t look away.

He rose quickly, crossing the room to her. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a firm embrace.

“…Why?” he muttered, his voice strained and raw. “Why did you do that?”

His words came out harsh, unintentionally accusatory, but the overwhelming emotions churned inside him, spilling out as he tightened his grip around her.

“What if… what if you had died?”

He hadn’t meant to reproach her, but the thought of her dying because of him tore at his very being. He clenched his teeth, cursing his inability to express himself properly.

“…I was worried about you. I’m glad you woke up.”

Her soft words cut through his turmoil. They were gentle, free of blame, and filled only with relief. The tension in his arms melted away, and he felt himself falter.

“You should’ve run,” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with helplessness. “Why did you come back, Linia? Why stay by my side when you could’ve escaped?”

For a moment, silence hung between them. Then, her voice, steady and resolute, broke it.

“Because you’re the reason I decided to live.”

Edwin froze. The calm conviction in her words made his mind go blank. Slowly, he loosened his arms, letting them fall to his sides. Linia pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes unwavering as they met his.

“I thought… if I disappeared, you’d fall apart. That’s why I decided I couldn’t die. I had to live. For you.”

He couldn’t speak. His throat felt tight, and his heart ached in ways he couldn’t describe.

“I wanted to be the one to stay by your side,” she continued, her voice soft but steady.

Everyone else might have thought that Edwin deserved nothing but a painful end. But not Linia. She thought it was cruel, too cruel, for him to face such a fate. She believed he deserved warmth, just like anyone else.

Edwin had become the cold, ruthless man he was because the world had been nothing but cold and ruthless to him. But Linia knew the truth. He wasn’t without warmth.

She remembered how kind he had been when he had disguised himself as Russell. The care and tenderness he had shown her weren’t just an act. No one could fake a heart capable of such compassion.

“I loved that kind part of you, Ruin,” she said, her voice tinged with quiet emotion. “No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to hate you.”

Her gentle gaze settled on him, her sincerity wrapping around him like a blanket. Edwin’s eyes burned as he looked down at her, his emotions threatening to spill over.

“I want to be your warm world, Ruin,” she said softly. “You might not live as the heir to the duchy anymore, but… will you stay with me? Will you stay as Ruin?”

Her question lingered in the air, and for a long moment, Edwin didn’t answer. His crimson eyes flickered with emotion as he tried to keep himself composed.

Finally, the faint crease in his brow softened, and he exhaled deeply.

“…Yes,” he whispered. “I’m your Ruin. Always.”

His lips curled into a faint smile, as if the answer had been the easiest thing in the world. Closing his eyes, he rested his face against the crook of her neck, letting his arms encircle her waist once more. Slowly, he pulled her closer, his grip firm but comforting.

“…I’ll make sure you never regret saving me. I’ll follow you, Linia. Always.”

He should’ve been on the verge of tears, but instead, he felt a strange lightness in his chest, as if laughter might bubble up from his lips at any moment.

“Thank you for giving me a new life.”

Hearing his voice, thick with emotion, Linia thought to herself that perhaps those were the words she should be saying to him.

The next day, the three of them boarded a carriage headed for the Damon County. As the carriage began its journey, a heavy silence filled the interior, broken only by the rhythmic clatter of wheels and the sound of horses’ hooves against the ground.

Linia glanced at the two men. Ruin, seated beside her, gazed out the window. Russell, seated across from them, did the same.

From the moment they had boarded the carriage, the two men hadn’t exchanged so much as a glance. They maintained a precise distance from each other, the air between them thick with unspoken tension. Even now, sharing the confined space, their mutual disregard for one another was palpable, creating an oppressive silence that even made Linia uncomfortable.

She didn’t expect them to become friends—she understood why Russell might find Ruin’s presence unsettling and why Ruin might not be keen to make amends.

Still, Linia wished the two could at least acknowledge one another. Russell was a benefactor, after all, and it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Ruin owed his life to his intervention.

The night before, Linia had told Ruin how Russell had carried him out of the burning forest, enduring his own burns in the process. She had urged him to express his gratitude to Russell, reminding him of how much he owed to the man.

“Ruin, have you thanked him yet?” she asked, turning to look at him.

Ruin tore his gaze from the window and looked at her, a quiet ah escaping his lips. It was clear he hadn’t done so yet.

“Now that you mention it, I haven’t,” he murmured, almost as if the thought had only just occurred to him. He turned his attention to Russell, his crimson eyes meeting the other man’s cool blue ones.

“Thanks for saving me,” Ruin said, his lips curving into a slight, almost lazy smile.

Russell thought the gratitude sounded empty—more a formality for Linia’s sake than a genuine sentiment.

“…As I said yesterday, I didn’t do it for you,” Russell replied curtly.

“I know,” Ruin said, his tone light. “I just wanted to thank you, as her lover, for saving her.”

Russell’s brow furrowed ever so slightly, though he quickly forced his expression to smooth out. He had suspected the nature of their relationship from the way Linia had stayed by Ruin’s side, but hearing it confirmed made him bristle.

“Hmm? Lover?”

The sudden interjection came from Linia, her voice filled with curiosity. She tilted her head, covering her mouth with her hand as if this were the first she’d heard of it.

“What do you mean, ‘lover’? I don’t recall us being lovers,” she said innocently, blinking at Ruin.

Ruin’s expression froze. He turned to her, visibly flustered, his confidence unraveling in an instant.

“W-What are you talking about? Of course we’re partners—starting now, obviously!” he stammered, his usual composure slipping.

Russell, watching the scene unfold, saw something he’d never thought he’d witness: Ruin, utterly thrown off balance. He almost smirked but managed to restrain himself.

“I’m sorry,” Linia said, her tone gentle but teasing, “but I haven’t really thought about whether we should be lovers yet. Give me a little time to consider it, will you?”

“…Linia.”

Her name fell from Ruin’s lips in a low, defeated groan, the sound of a man who had just been bested. Russell couldn’t help but notice the faint curve of Linia’s lips as she turned her head toward the window, a subtle but unmistakable smile playing on her face.

Russell was caught off guard. He hadn’t imagined this playful side of her.

Serves him right… he thought, though the faint pang of envy in his chest couldn’t be ignored.

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