To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 135

“Mm…” Irel blinked her eyes open, feeling a soft tickling sensation on her face. Rubbing her dry eyes, she realized her cheek was pressed against a white, plush carpet, and she was lying on her side.

It seemed she had fallen asleep right there on the balcony after her intense night with Varkan. As she tried to sit up, her expression shifted, a strange sensation making her pause. There was still a heavy feeling between her legs, as if something remained lodged inside her.

“Awake already?” Varkan’s voice came from nearby, calm but unmistakable.

An arm snaked around her waist from behind, gently pulling her closer as fingers brushed her hair behind her ear. Then, a soft kiss landed tenderly on her neck.

“How are you feeling?” Varkan’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle.

If you’re going to ask that, could you at least pull this out first? she thought, the lingering heaviness still present between her legs.

“I’m fine… ah, cough!” she tried to answer, but the sensation overwhelmed her, causing her voice to catch.

As Irel tried to answer him, her throat, strained from the previous night’s exertions, betrayed her. She had moaned so much that her voice was now hoarse, and she began coughing uncontrollably. Startled, Varkan immediately pulled back, his eyes scanning her with concern.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Are you about to cough up stones again?” he asked, his voice laced with urgency.

No, I don’t cough up stones anymore, she wanted to say, but her throat was too dry, making it difficult to speak.

“Damn it,” Varkan muttered through gritted teeth. His tone was sharp, but Irel quickly realized that his anger wasn’t directed at her.

“I shouldn’t have taken the Sevring,” he muttered bitterly, a look of guilt and frustration clouding his face. His handsome features twisted with conflicting emotions—remorse, gratitude, and an inexplicable despair that seemed to haunt him.

Irel tried to soothe him but could scarcely croak out, “W-water…”

Irel pointed inside, struggling to speak between coughs, unable to bear watching Varkan’s conflicted expression any longer.

“Wait here,” he said, rising quickly. The man who always seemed so languid and indifferent moved without hesitation. A moment later, he returned with water, gently bringing the cup to her lips, letting her drink. Irel eagerly gulped it down, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat, finally giving her some relief.

“Do you need anything else?” Varkan asked, his voice soft but still tinged with concern.

“No, I’m fine,” she said, nodding weakly as she reached out and pulled him down beside her by the hand.

“But more importantly, tell me what you meant earlier. Why did you say you shouldn’t have received the Sevring?”

It was time for an honest conversation.

“Why did you think that way?” she asked calmly. She could see Varkan’s eyes waver, clearly uncomfortable. To him, ‘conversation’ usually meant hiding one’s true feelings and jabbing at the other with sharp words. This direct, open exchange of emotions was unfamiliar to him—almost unsettling.

“You’re too fragile,” he finally muttered. It was the only thing he could bring himself to say. He knew how pathetic it sounded, but he couldn’t keep it inside anymore. He let out a long sigh, as if the confession had been pulled out of him.

“How could I ask you to endure Sevring when your body can scarcely handle it?”

What is he talking about? Irel furrowed her brow and quickly responded.

“I think I’ve shown you my strength enough times, haven’t I? You know, Varkan, I’m not like other Risevras,” she said, quoting something he had once said to her. At that, Varkan fell silent, unable to argue. He was, by nature, a skilled talker, yet found himself losing ground whenever he spoke to her.

“You’re so stubborn, Varkan,” she said with a sigh, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

“I appreciate that you’re worried, but really, I’m fine. I’ve had some setbacks before, sure, but I’m stronger now. Look—last night I performed a Sevring on you, and I didn’t cough up any stones or get sick, right?”

Indeed, she was right. Sitting there in front of him, Irel’s posture was upright, her gaze clear, and her voice steady. There were no signs of fatigue or distress.

“…This time it could have just been luck,” Varkan muttered, still unable to shake his worry. Someone had once told him that love always came with pain. The deeper his feelings for Irel grew, the more the fear that she might die or become gravely ill haunted him.

“I don’t think so,” Irel said with a warm smile. “I’ve mastered how to control my powers now.”

She flipped his hand over and gently placed her slender finger on his large palm.

“Watch.”

As she tapped into her Risevra abilities, Varkan could feel the flow of energy through her fingertip. To his amazement, the energy began to purify his own, spreading from the point of contact. Normally, Sevring was more effective when there was more physical contact, which was why most Masakas and Risevras conducted it in bed. But here, Irel was managing to cleanse nearly his entire arm with just the light touch of a single finger.

“How’s that? Pretty impressive, right?” she asked, smiling at him.

More than impressive—it was astonishing. Her mastery over her power had reached a level far beyond anything Varkan had ever seen from any other Risevra.

But while her abilities were remarkable, Varkan’s focus remained on her well-being. Throughout the entire process, he carefully watched her face, checking for any signs of discomfort or pain.

“I don’t care about your abilities,” he said stubbornly, gripping her hand tightly. His fingers locked with hers as if he never wanted to let go.

“Just don’t get hurt. Don’t die. Stay by my side,” he pleaded, his voice firm but full of vulnerability.

If anyone had to suffer, he would rather it be him. His body had endured pain all his life, ever since his days in the slums. He was used to it—he could handle it.

“You shouldn’t be the one in pain,” Irel replied, her voice gentle but firm, echoing his sentiment right back to him.

It was hard to believe that the woman in front of him, who seemed as if she had been surrounded by silk and flowers her entire life, was saying such words. Yet, here she was, holding his scarred hand, not adorned with jewels but with marks of his past, and speaking with unwavering resolve.

“I’ll make sure you don’t hurt anymore. Do you know how hard I’ve worked for that?”

Ah, how could I not love you? Varkan thought, overwhelmed by the depth of her words. Instead of replying, he pulled her toward him, enveloping her in a fierce embrace. His breath quickened, his heart swelling with emotion that he could no longer contain.

“Oh!” Irel gasped in surprise, but she quickly relaxed into his arms.

Irel let out a small sound of surprise, but soon laughed softly and wrapped her arms around him in return. The tender sensation of her arms circling his waist tugged gently at his heart, filling him with a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Look! Varkan, over there!” Irel exclaimed, rubbing her cheek against his chest before pointing excitedly at something beyond the balcony. Varkan didn’t want to take his eyes off her, but his body instinctively followed her gesture, turning toward where she pointed.

“It’s the sunrise over Al Los Condes,” she said, her voice filled with awe.

The sky was painted with the soft hues of dawn, the first light stretching over the horizon, casting a golden glow over the city. For a moment, even Varkan was struck by the beauty of it, though nothing could rival the way Irel’s eyes lit up as she gazed at the scene.

As Irel had said, the sunrise was breathtaking. Beyond the vast stretch of sand, the sun began its slow climb over the steep cliffs, gradually brightening the horizon. At first, it peeked shyly, casting a soft glow, but soon the sky was flooded with light. The once-dark waves, black in the early hours, were now transforming into a vibrant, shimmering blue. By the end, the sea took on a bright turquoise hue, sparkling under the full warmth of the sun, showing off its beauty.

The soft crash of the waves accompanied the gentle morning breeze, the sound soothing as it echoed along the coastline. The sunlight reflected off the golden sand, which sparkled like gold dust scattered across the shore.

“Look, Varkan. The sand really does shine like gold,” Irel murmured, squinting in awe at the stunning scene. It was a sight that could only be witnessed for a short time during sunrise, a natural wonder unique to Al Los Condes.

For Irel, this was the first time she had shared the experience with Varkan. A smile of admiration spread across her face as she turned to look at him, only to find him gazing back at her instead of the sunrise. He alternated between looking at the glowing beach and Irel, his expression hard to read.

“…?”

What Irel didn’t know was that Varkan had seen the sunrise over Al Los Condes many times before. He had often caught glimpses of it while conducting covert operations or resting briefly during grueling missions. But back then, he had been too exhausted to appreciate the view. To him, the sea was just salty water, and the beach nothing more than a dusty, wind-swept pile of sand.

But now, with Irel by his side, everything looked different. Just having her there made the same view feel entirely new, and somehow more beautiful.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Irel asked, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze. Her chest tightened as she felt the weight of his deep, soulful eyes. Varkan smiled gently, then whispered,

“It’s nothing.”

You’re my world. My one and only sunrise. With you here, there’s nothing I can’t face.

Varkan leaned down and reverently kissed her head, his lips brushing against her platinum hair now glowing in the sunrise. The scent of her hair—soap, sunshine, and the warmth of her body—was sweet and comforting.

If love had a scent, he thought, it would smell like this.

***

“Hm…”

Later, sitting at her desk with a quill in hand, Irel furrowed her brow in thought.

“So… what’s next on the list?” she muttered.

The hidden quest to find the sculptor’s final work had been completed. She had met Bubble and received her reward, the Blessing of Blood, which now made her akin to a Vlad, protecting her from Keaton’s threat.

Not that it matters much, Irel thought with a sigh. After all, the real danger wasn’t Keaton, but the Masakas. With them always hovering around her, Keaton had never posed a direct threat.

She sighed again, looking down at her list, then wrote two key tasks:

First, The Heart of Avihushan.

She had been told to place the complete heart on the “Idol of the Forgotten God,” which would open a hidden passage to the sanctuary.

I guess once I get there, the quest will update… Irel briefly prayed that there would be nothing more to do once she reached the sanctuary. She was growing weary of endless quests. Folding her hands together, she whispered a quick prayer before moving on to the next item.

Second, The Breath.

She needed to meet Bubble again to retrieve the breath and ask the lingering questions.

How did I end up split between ‘Lee Raeyeon’ and ‘Irel Elorance,’ living in different worlds? And why does Bubble call me ‘sister’? What is the true purpose of the Breath?

After jotting down these thoughts, Irel put her quill down with a small clatter. She stared at the parchment, lost in thought, before letting out yet another sigh.

What do I do now? she wondered.

She knew what needed to be done, but had no idea where to start. The location of the Idol of the Forgotten God was a mystery, and finding the elusive Bubble seemed even more impossible.

When in doubt, she thought, the best thing to do is retrace your steps.

Her mind returned to Paulo Christopher.

A master sculptor known for his work with idols. Toward the end of his life, he had turned his back on everything, creating blasphemous murals that mocked the gods. He held the key to all of this.

But where did he go after finishing his final work?