To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 141

“We’ll need to conduct a brief body search before you enter the palace, my lady.”

The royal guard standing at the entrance of the audience chamber explained with a polite smile.

“This is a mandatory procedure to ensure His Majesty’s safety. We ask for your understanding.”

The guard’s demeanor was courteous, and Irel knew that even high-ranking nobles underwent these searches, so she accepted it without issue.

“Of course.”

They even assigned a female guard to search her, considering her gender, which was thoughtful.

“Please raise your arms, my lady.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Irel noticed that Varkan was also complying with the search without any resistance. Since he was practically a walking weapon himself, it didn’t seem to bother him in the least.

As Irel stood for the search, she began to notice something odd.

‘…Why is this taking so long?’

Was it just her imagination? The guard kept her smile, but her hands were wandering uncomfortably over Irel’s body, especially around her chest and skirt, as if trying to discreetly tug at her clothing. It felt invasive.

That wasn’t the only strange thing. When a lady was being searched, it was customary for the male guards to avert their gaze out of respect. Yet, all of them were watching Irel intently—too intently.

Their gazes were filled with malice, and some even wore smirks. Their expressions made it obvious they were enjoying her discomfort.

At that moment, Irel understood exactly what was happening.

‘They’re doing this on purpose.’

The fact that they had assigned a female guard to search her was a ploy to lower her guard. Irel wasn’t stupid. She knew full well why they were humiliating her like this, even though she had come here for a reward.

‘So, the mind games have already begun.’

The royal guards were sworn enemies of Varkan. But since they were too afraid to confront him directly, they had chosen to target his fiancée instead.

Irel couldn’t help but wonder if this was a spontaneous act of the guards or if it had been ordered by the king himself. Either way, protesting was out of the question. If she made a scene, they would likely accuse her of refusing a “legitimate” search, labeling her an insolent fool—or worse, a traitor.

‘Just endure it. If I can endure a little more…’

Unfortunately, there was one person who wasn’t inclined to endure: her fiancé.

“AAAH!!”

Suddenly, the smell of searing flesh filled the air, and the female guard touching Irel shrieked.

“Hot! It burns!!”

She was jumping up and down, her hands now bright red from severe burns. Within seconds, blisters were forming, visibly swelling on her scorched skin.

“Gah!”

“What the—?!”

“My eyebrows!!”

It wasn’t just the guard who was burned. The male guards who had been leering at Irel suddenly found their eyebrows catching fire, crackling as they burned away. Chaos erupted in the waiting room.

“Oh dear, my bad,” Varkan said with a grin, raising his hands in mock innocence. “I’ve been having trouble controlling my strength lately. Puberty, you know?”

…He just says whatever comes to mind. Irel found it both hilarious and utterly absurd. Judging by the glares from the royal guards, she wasn’t the only one. After putting out the fires, they all turned their furious eyes on Varkan.

“Are you out of your mind, Ha Mash?”

“How dare you use your abilities within the palace!”

They looked ready to draw their swords and strike him down on the spot. But even under the weight of their hostility, Varkan remained completely unfazed.

“Ah yes, it’s true that attacking the royal guard carries a ten-year prison sentence. But I have immunity as a Masaka.”

Isn’t that right? He mouthed the words without a sound, his grin far more malicious than any glare could be.

“Of course, you are exempt from punishment for attacking the royal guard,” one of the guards acknowledged. But they weren’t about to let it go so easily. There were loopholes in the Masaka immunity laws. While they could escape most consequences, there were certain laws specifically designed for them.

“But according to Special Law 2, Section 8, which applies exclusively to Ha Mashes, it is strictly forbidden to use your abilities within the palace without His Majesty’s permission. Violation of this law means the closest relative of the Ha Mash will face the punishment instead.”

Indeed, that was exactly how Myrdal, despite being a Masaka, had lost all of his family and relatives—because of this very special law.

“Unfortunately, since the Ha Mash has no family, it seems his fiancée will have to take responsibility in his stead.”

All eyes, a cold blue, shifted to Irel. One of the guards even reached for the restraints at his waist, but Irel didn’t panic.

‘As if he’d let them take me away.’

She trusted Varkan completely. There wasn’t even a shadow of doubt in her mind…

“That’s how it is, my love. I’m sorry, but I hope you’ll manage well.”

Has this man gone mad?! Irel stared at him, dumbfounded, mouth agape in disbelief. Only then did Varkan wink and pull something out of his pocket, tossing it through the air with a flick of his wrist.

“This is…”

It was a golden medal adorned with a purple ribbon. The guard who caught it grimaced, his face contorting in frustration, clearly recognizing it as something of great significance.

“The honorary medal I received from His Majesty a while back,” Varkan said with a grin. Unlike Irel, this wasn’t the first time he’d received such an honor. All he had done was thoroughly manage his territory, which had led to the capture of countless Kitan. Medals like these were awarded from time to time, though they hadn’t come in a while.

“If I remember correctly, each medal grants immunity from one misstep. Isn’t that right?”

Good grief. Irel had suspected it from the moment she saw his flashy peacock-like outfit, but Varkan had clearly come prepared. There was no way someone like him would have bothered to bring such a trivial thing unless he had a plan.

And indeed, Varkan’s thorough planning had paid off. The guard holding the medal gritted his teeth, unable to offer a retort.

Grrr…

His pride kept him from backing down easily, but Varkan sneered at him, egging him on.

“Are you going to keep standing there like that? My poor little fiancée is quite easily frightened, you know. If you keep glaring with those burnt-off eyebrows, she might just have a heart attack.”

Who do you think is responsible for burning off their eyebrows?! Irel, now unfairly cast as the world’s most frightened little rabbit, made a sour face, but at least the incident with the guards was over.

“…Make sure something like this never happens again.”

After all, the medal had been awarded in the name of the king himself. Even the royal guards couldn’t deny its authority. Knowing this well, Varkan doffed his hat with exaggerated courtesy, offering a sarcastically respectful bow.

“I do appreciate your understanding.”

Irel couldn’t believe it. As she took his arm, she gave him a discreet pinch. It didn’t hurt much, thanks to his annoyingly solid muscles, but Varkan dramatically winced and groaned anyway.

“Ouch! Here I thought you were a rabbit, but it turns out you’re a wildcat.”

“Shut up and walk.”

Just then, as they entered the audience chamber, one of the royal guards shouted after them.

“One day, you will pay the price for your arrogance, Ha Mash!”

The voice filled with a simmering threat made Irel hesitate for a moment. But Varkan, unfazed and practiced in such situations, gently guided her forward without even glancing back.

“Don’t let it bother you,” he whispered, his lips curving into a dangerous smile. “They’ll be gone soon enough.”

The menace in his tone sent a shiver down Irel’s spine.

‘What a frightening man,’ she thought.

She had anticipated trouble, but the palace had proven difficult from the very first hurdle. Feeling like she’d aged ten years in just minutes, Irel clutched Varkan’s arm tightly. He looked down at her, amused, and pinched her cheek affectionately.

“Is it tough? Poor thing.”

“I’m fine. It’s passed now, anyway.”

At her reply, Varkan let out a low hum and smiled as if he found the situation slightly awkward.

“Well… how should I put this? We’re just getting started.”

You’ve got to be kidding. Irel looked up at him, waiting for him to retract the statement. But no matter how long she waited, there was no hint of him taking it back.

“Who do we have here?”

Instead of the reassurance she hoped for, the next challenge arrived. A tall man with a sword strapped to his side appeared, smiling smugly at them.

“Varkan Ha Mash. I never expected to run into you in the palace.”

What now? Irel turned her gaze to the unfamiliar man with brown hair. Fortunately, he seemed just as curious about her, and as their eyes met, a notification popped up in her mind.

[Ding! You have encountered a target: Philip Alswaiz Ha Mash.]

[Philip Alswaiz Ha Mash: Current Favorability -30]

Ah, so that’s the famous Philip Alswaiz. Of course, being Seria’s Masaka, his favorability was predictably starting in the negative.

While Irel was busy processing this, Varkan opened his arms wide as if welcoming an old friend, offering his nemesis a deliberately provocative greeting.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Sir Philip! What a surprise. Truly a pleasure to see you.”

“I had hoped we’d cross paths again at some point. Seems the gods themselves wanted us to meet,” Philip replied, flashing a toothy grin.

It was clear why Seria boasted about him—he was the picture of a noble knight. He wore a crisp white uniform adorned with gold embroidery, a deep blue cape draped over his shoulders, and his handsome face radiated dignity. The beautiful platinum sword he carried, a symbol of his rank as the captain of the royal guard, only added to his princely aura.

In contrast, standing next to him, Varkan looked like a menacing crime lord, the complete opposite.

‘Hmm. Still, I prefer this one. He’s way more attractive,’ Irel thought to herself with amusement.

If she had to compare, Philip was like a clean, lean cut of boiled pork—a proper, refined meal. Varkan, on the other hand, was like marinated pork, deep-fried and slathered in spicy sauce, indulgent and addictive.

You only live once. Irel had no hesitation in choosing the marinated, spicy option.

“Hello. I’m Irel from the House of Elorance. I’m here for an audience regarding the honorary medal.”

She had expected to encounter Philip sooner or later. As such, she managed to address him calmly, even naturally, holding her skirt and offering a polite bow. Philip looked down at her, his eyes evaluating.

‘Come at me, then,’ she thought, her pulse quickening with an odd anticipation.

What would he take issue with this time?