To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 130

“Is this the place?” Varkan asked as he arrived at the quarry, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. Yan Louis, following closely behind, nodded in affirmation.

“Yes! She was in there earlier,” he replied, clearly worn out from tracking Irel down. He had gotten quite adept at following her trail after so many searches, but this one had been particularly exhausting.

“And yet, we still don’t have the Breath. Useless,” Varkan clicked his tongue, his tone filled with sharp criticism. Yan Louis, feeling wronged, raised his voice in protest.

“Come on, I didn’t expect them to bring a Masaka with teleportation powers!”

Indeed, the royal messenger Huon had come prepared. Anticipating that there might be complications with passing the Breath to Archbishop Ramon, he had enlisted a Masaka from the royal palace named Louisel. Louisel possessed the ability to teleport small objects within a certain radius—an ability that, while seen as “trash” by combat-focused Masaka, was incredibly valuable within the secretive workings of the palace.

Varkan’s group had been aware of Louisel’s abilities but hadn’t considered him a serious threat due to his limited range of three kilometers. If Louisel appeared, it meant that Ramon and the Breath were nearby, and all they had to do was search the area. Simple enough—until it wasn’t.

“Missed it, huh? Not a big deal, unless you’re right there and still don’t notice,” Varkan remarked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Yan Louis grimaced. He had no excuse. But this time, he really felt he wasn’t to blame.

“Come on, chief! Who could’ve guessed Louisel would show up looking like that?” Yan Louis protested again, his frustration evident.

“It’s your job to know, isn’t it?”

“I mean, yeah, but how was I supposed to know he’d show up in drag?!”

Indeed, Louisel had anticipated that his appearance would expose their plan, so he had disguised himself as a woman. Being a pretty, boyish figure already, Louisel used his small stature and delicate features to his advantage. He donned a long black wig, a dress overflowing with frills, and covered his slim figure with layers of makeup. With a wide-brimmed hat shielding part of his face, no one would have guessed he wasn’t a woman.

It had thrown off Varkan and his men completely. While they’d been busy investigating this “new recruit,” Huon had already transferred the Breath and escaped.

“We spent days camping out for this, and we got nothing,” Varkan gritted his teeth. He had been looking forward to spending time with Irel at the romantic beach house he’d secured, even planning to watch the sunrise over the golden sands with her in his arms. Now, instead of a peaceful retreat, he was dealing with a foiled plan, defeated by something as ridiculous as cross-dressing.

Despite his light tone, Varkan was seething. His playful words were underscored by a deadly edge, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“But chief! Even you wouldn’t have known! Louisel looked like—”

“Shut it, Yan,” Varkan’s second-in-command, Phaesus, cut in, elbowing Yan Louis in the side to stop him from making things worse. Yan wisely fell silent, though his frustration was still palpable.

As they reached the entrance of the cave, Varkan turned to Yan.

“Yan Louis.”

“Yes, chief?” Yan responded nervously.

“You see that rock over there?”

He followed Varkan’s finger to a particularly jagged and menacing boulder among the quarry’s stone piles. His gut twisted with a sinking feeling.

“Yes, but… why?”

Varkan turned to him with an unsettlingly calm smile. “Go plant your face in it and stay there until I come back.”

Crap. Yan Louis gave the rock one last forlorn look before trudging toward it. With no choice but to comply, he began his humiliating task. Varkan, on the other hand, moved smoothly into the cave’s entrance.

“Varkan!!”

Irel jumped up from where she had been sitting, rushing toward him as soon as she saw him.

“Oh my god, are you alright? You look so tired! Is it okay for you to be here?”

Despite the fact that she had been the one in danger, Irel immediately fussed over Varkan. He couldn’t help but smile as he pulled her into his arms. Seeing her joy and relief at his arrival softened his anger, her bright expression melting the tension in his chest like sunshine.

“I’m fine. But are you alright? Did you get hurt?” Varkan asked, gently brushing the dirt from her pale cheek. She looked a little rough from her ordeal, but otherwise unharmed.

“I’m fine, really. But Jin…,” Irel trailed off, glancing over at the unconscious Jin lying nearby.

Varkan’s eyes followed her gaze, and his expression tightened slightly, though he kept his voice calm. “What happened to him?”

Irel pointed to Jin, who was slumped in one corner of the cave, but Varkan didn’t even glance in his direction. His gaze remained firmly fixed on Irel, unwavering.

“You don’t seem alright,” Varkan said softly, his fingers tracing the side of her cheek before sliding down to her neck, where a bright red handprint remained—Ramon’s mark.

“Who did this?”

Varkan’s golden eyes, usually calm and composed, now gleamed like a full moon surveying the scene with cold intensity. There were only two men unconscious in the cave—Archbishop Ramon and Jin.

“There was another man, Drakal, but he escaped at some point,” Irel explained. Drakal’s Masaka nature had granted him quick recovery, and once he realized how dire the situation had become, he abandoned Ramon and fled.

“This mark… did he do this?” Varkan’s eyes briefly flicked to Irel’s bruised arm, his voice dangerously calm.

“No, not him…,” Irel started to say.

“It wasn’t Jin, so it must have been Ramon,” Varkan said, the certainty in his voice chilling. He didn’t raise his voice or lash out, but the fury in his words was palpable. Glancing at Irel’s disheveled state, Varkan simply said, in a level tone, “He needs to be punished.”

Despite his calm tone, the smile that accompanied those words sent a shiver down Irel’s spine. There was something unsettling in the way he casually mentioned it, as if punishment was inevitable and merely a formality. Sensing Irel’s unease, Varkan changed the subject smoothly.

“Your bodyguard doesn’t seem to be doing his job well enough. Perhaps it’s time to replace him?”

Varkan had only appointed Jin as Irel’s protector because of his talent for illusions—his ability to deceive and distract was invaluable. Varkan could handle the real fights and the revenge later, but if anything happened to Irel before he arrived, it would be too late. Still, seeing Jin now, it made Varkan reconsider whether his initial choice had been a mistake.

“Replace him?” Irel echoed, thinking it over. Varkan thought she might refuse, given how close she and Jin had become in such a short time.

“Well, if you think that’s best, go ahead. Honestly, I don’t think it makes much of a difference who it is,” Irel replied thoughtfully. Her response caught Varkan off guard, making him feel a strange sense of amusement.

“No difference? I’m curious. Why do you think that?” he asked.

“The safest approach would be to stay in a secure location, but we both know that’s not possible,” Irel said. “So, the best defense is really myself.”

Varkan considered her words. They made sense. In a world as dangerous as theirs, relying entirely on a protector was a gamble. Then Irel added, “Oh, and I realized something during all this. Battles between Masaka feel a bit like rock-paper-scissors. Strength matters, sure, but matchups—having the right advantage—matter more. Even if I change my bodyguard, who’s to say their abilities will be a better match against the next opponent? It’s all down to luck.”

Irel was spot-on. The mention of Drakal’s name confirmed it for Varkan.

‘She’s right. It was a matter of bad luck,’ Varkan thought.

Masaka abilities had strengths and weaknesses, and Jin’s illusions were nothing more than visual tricks—light-based distractions. Unfortunately, he had gone up against Drakal, whose power was to manipulate light itself. Jin never stood a chance, no matter how hard he tried. Still, looking at Jin’s battered, unconscious body, it was clear he had fought with everything he had.

“I see. For now, I understand,” Varkan said with a slight nod.

Varkan decided, for now, to let Jin stay. If Irel had insisted on keeping him out of sentiment, Varkan would have replaced him without a second thought. That would have meant she was allowing her feelings to cloud her judgment about her safety.

‘I don’t like it anyway,’ Varkan mused. The idea that she had grown close enough to Jin to defend him didn’t sit well with him. He wouldn’t allow such emotional attachments to endanger her. But when Irel had responded with indifference—‘Change him if you want, but does it even matter?’—his mindset shifted.

Objectively, it made sense to keep Jin. His illusions were invaluable, and while this time had been an unfortunate mismatch, his abilities were near-unmatched in most cases.

But then Irel spoke up again, her expression clouded with concern.

“Varkan, there’s something more important,” she said, her voice low. There was something she had to confess before it was too late.

“The Breath… it’s been stolen by a Vlad. Bubble took it from Ramon.”

As a Risevra, she hadn’t been able to do anything—neither stop Bubble nor prevent Drakal’s escape. That helplessness weighed heavily on her, and her shoulders sagged as she admitted the truth.

“It’s alright,” Varkan said softly, his large hand gently resting on her slumped shoulder. He lifted her chin so she could meet his gaze.

“Whatever was taken, we’ll take back. And whatever harm was done, we’ll repay twice over.”

The cold, brilliant expression that usually adorned his face had softened, warming like the first rays of spring.

“What matters is that you’re safe,” he reassured her.

For now.