To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 144

Oh, Mother. Father. I guess this is the end. I’m so sorry.

Irel squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself for the death sentence that seemed inevitable.

“Then prove it, son of the Primordial God.”

King Phenosos, lifting his chin, issued an unexpected command.

“Prove your loyalty to the crown.”

For a moment, Varkan was silent. Irel, in her growing panic, feared that he might say something outrageous like “No, thanks” or “Why should I?” The tension gnawed at her, her nerves raw with anxiety.

But when she stole a glance, Varkan had an odd expression on his face, looking briefly in her direction before responding with surprising compliance.

“Of course, Your Majesty. Please tell me what you would have me do.”

When Varkan said this, King Phenosos’ eyes gleamed with interest.

“Go to the western border as soon as possible. They are desperately short-handed. The Masaka who was stationed there, Seraphine, died along with Sir Lut in the recent barbarian attack.”

Masakas were rare and invaluable, yet there was always at least one assigned to defend the borders. After all, the stability of the kingdom relied on the integrity of its frontiers. But during the recent attack, it seemed that even a Masaka had fallen. If a Masaka had died, the situation there must be truly dangerous.

“Duke Varel will provide you with further instructions. Assist him in resolving the issues plaguing the western territories.”

If Varkan were a player in a game, there would probably be a ding as a quest titled Mission: Save the Western Frontier popped up on his screen. But instead, he simply bowed his head, accepting the king’s command without fuss.

“Of course. May the light of Hashiva forever shine upon Your Majesty’s crown.”

Listening beside him, Irel couldn’t help but stifle a sigh. Their plan had changed. Originally, they had intended to leave the capital and head straight to Froust La Hill, but now everything was tangled up.

Paulo Christopher completed his magnum opus and headed there, Irel recalled. She had intended to pursue clues there that would lead her to uncover Bubble’s whereabouts, as the myth of the “Mother” seemed deeply connected to Paulo Christopher’s final work.

I need to retrieve the Breath from Bubble somehow.

In truth, Varkan also needed the Breath. If he were to expose the dark secrets of the crown and the Temple of the Primordial God, the Breath would serve as vital evidence.

Varkan had finally tracked down a lead and had intended to stop by the capital briefly to lay the groundwork for his next move. But now…

We’ve been outmaneuvered.

King Phenosos, like the wily old fox he was, had crafted a situation they couldn’t refuse, forcing Varkan to comply with his plans.

There was little doubt that something significant would be waiting for them in the west. Varkan would need to be thoroughly prepared. He was confident in his ability to tear apart whatever challenges awaited, but now… he had someone he needed to protect.

“I’ll depart for the west as soon as we’re ready,” Varkan said calmly.

“You may leave now,” the king replied, dismissing them with a nod. He treated Irel as though she were just an accessory to Varkan, never even offering her a proper glance.

Because of this, no notification popped up regarding the king’s favorability. Irel had no way of knowing how he truly felt about her or her engagement to Varkan, or what he thought of House Elorance.

But something tells me it’s not good, she thought grimly.

There was no reason to stay in the audience chamber any longer, nor did she wish to linger.

My heart can’t take this.

Irel stood shakily, her face pale. Though her legs wobbled, the fullness of her dress hid the weakness in her stance. She turned to follow Varkan out of the chamber.

As they were about to leave, King Phenosos spoke again from behind them.

“They say nothing is stronger than a mother’s love.”

“However, I see things a little differently. When it comes to the love for one’s child, is there truly a difference between a mother and a father? In my view, a father’s devotion runs just as deep as a mother’s.”

“Is that so?”

Varkan paused in his steps, asking the question. But he didn’t turn around, and King Phenosos didn’t seem to find this impolite.

“Remember this: just as a mother would do anything for her child, so would a father.”

With that ominous remark, the doors to the audience chamber closed behind them. Varkan resumed walking silently, and Irel followed, keeping her mouth shut and quickening her pace to keep up.

This can’t be the end of it.

She recalled how Phillip Alswaiz had ground his teeth earlier, muttering, “Just you wait.” Was it possible that the moment they stepped outside, they’d be arrested?

But to her surprise, there was no one waiting outside.

“See? I told you everything would be fine,” Varkan said.

“But… how?” Irel asked, still baffled by their smooth escape. The answer, however, came from a completely unexpected direction.

“Rebels have broken into the west wing of the palace! They have explosives, so be careful!”

“What? How did rebels make it this far inside?”

“Who cares? Get moving! His Majesty must not be harmed!”

Through the window, a group of royal guards could be seen rushing across the garden, with none other than Phillip Alswaiz leading the charge.

“Rebels…?” Irel murmured in disbelief. Could it be that the people, finally fed up with being ignored while Kitans ravaged them, had risen up in revolt?

As Irel tried to process the unexpected chaos, Varkan, who had been peacefully admiring a vase in the corridor, calmly plucked a flower from it. Wrapping the stem in a handkerchief, he handed it to her with a quiet whisper.

“It was wise not to change your bodyguard.”

What? Irel blinked, bewildered by the sudden, cryptic remark. But as she took the flower, she realized what he meant.

“Jin’s work, right? He did well,” she whispered back.

Goodness, what a scoundrel! Irel couldn’t help but relax, a genuine smile finally breaking the tension that had been gripping her throughout the audience.

Thanks to Jin’s diversion, all eyes were on the rebels, and no one paid attention as Varkan and Irel left the palace unbothered. They smoothly made their way into a carriage and headed home.

Thunk.

The moment the carriage door closed, Varkan tossed the gilded reward box onto the seat without a second thought. Well, “tossed” was putting it lightly—he nearly threw it.

I knew it.

Irel wasn’t surprised. She had expected him to discard the reward, but she was too exhausted to comment. She let out a long, slow breath, leaning back against the seat.

The palace had been just as hellish as she imagined. The only reason she had managed to endure was because she had a devil walking by her side.

“Are you alright?”

The devil, with a smile that could have belonged to an angel, gently pulled her head onto his shoulder.

“Do I look alright right now?” she muttered, frustrated.

After all, this man was the source of it all. He had dragged her into the center of a political storm, yet here he was, smiling as if none of it fazed him.

“I thought I’d lose ten years of my life in there! Seriously!”

“Don’t say such things. It’s bad luck.”

The man who had remained calm even when accused of treason was now frowning at her talk of life expectancy. His usual faint smile disappeared, and his expression turned unexpectedly cold, causing Irel to flinch slightly.

“More importantly… what do you think His Majesty meant by what he said at the end?”

Though she was trying to change the subject, Irel was genuinely curious.

“He suddenly started talking about a father’s love, saying there’s nothing a father wouldn’t do for his son,” Irel said, her wide eyes filled with confusion. Like a curious kitten, she looked up at Varkan, who gave her a slightly awkward smile.

“Well, you see…”

“So, you have some idea? What is it?”

“Do you remember the story I told you about Nashiva?”

“Yes, you said you heard it from Archbishop Ramon, didn’t you?”

Wait a second. Irel, who had been answering absentmindedly, suddenly narrowed her eyes.

Ramon… he’s the king’s illegitimate son, isn’t he?

A bad feeling crept over her. She felt like she already knew why King Phenosos had suddenly brought up sons.

“How did you hear that story from Archbishop Ramon?” Irel’s voice began to waver noticeably. Varkan’s smile faltered along with her tone.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly eager to share it, so…”

“You didn’t… kill him, did you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You killed him, didn’t you? Oh my god.”

“No, I did not.”

“What are we going to do?”

Irel buried her face in her hands, letting out a deep sigh. It was clear she wasn’t even listening to Varkan’s denial.

Of course, Varkan wasn’t offended. Given his past actions, what else could he expect? He had a conscience, but it seemed to only extend to Irel.

“I really didn’t kill him.”

“Really?”

“I swear on all my possessions.”

Varkan solemnly declared this while gently pulling her hands away from her face. If he had sworn on his honor or name, Irel would have ignored it. The fact that he specifically staked his entire fortune was what finally convinced her.

Well, that’s believable.

Coming from a capitalist society, Irel felt somewhat reassured by that. She loved Varkan, but she didn’t exactly trust him.

Then again, Varkan didn’t trust anyone—except himself.

“Wait a minute,” Irel said, suddenly frowning as a thought occurred to her.

“But if you didn’t do anything, why would His Majesty say something like that? Was there some misunderstanding?”

“I said I didn’t kill him, my love.”

Ah… so he really meant that he only spared his life. Only his life.

“I’m doomed.”

It was only then that Irel fully grasped the situation, burying her face in her hands again. She wanted to cry, but she was too overwhelmed to even shed tears.

“It’s fine,” said the main culprit of the whole ordeal, completely unfazed.

“I know this isn’t much comfort, but I promise.”

“Promise what?” she asked, her voice muffled by her hands.

“Even if things aren’t fine now, I’ll make sure they are. I’ll do it myself.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine. This wasn’t romance—it was clearly a horror thriller at this point.

“Varkan Ha Mash,” she sighed, exhausted from worrying and reacting to his every move. The constant anxiety had worn her down.

“I’ll ask just one thing. Please, make sure nothing bad happens to my family. Please.”

Because if something did happen, she didn’t think she could forgive him. She wouldn’t be able to smile at him with the same resigned acceptance as she did now. She’d have to leave his side, even though she had known all along that his destiny was to overthrow the kingdom.

For once, Varkan didn’t brush her off with a clever remark or a mischievous grin. He sat quietly, holding her hands for a long moment. Just when she started to worry that her words had been lost amid the rattling of the carriage, he finally responded, his voice low and steady.

“I will. I promise.”

It was an uncharacteristically simple answer—especially for a man who usually spoke with so much flair. But somehow, that made it more believable.

“…Are we heading west now?” Irel asked after resting her cheek against his shoulder, listening to the rhythmic clattering of the carriage for a while. Varkan gently slid his large hand between her face and his shoulder, cushioning it as he answered.

“We must,” he replied.

As expected. Irel buried her face deeper into his palm, her fingers nervously fidgeting, as she voiced her next concern.

“Then what about finding the Breath? We need to go to Froust La Hill.”

Varkan watched her fingers move, as if they were casting a spell, before answering.

“You’re not familiar with the Ricador Mountains, are you?”

“Uh… no. But don’t misunderstand—I didn’t sleep through my lessons!” she quickly added, flustered. Varkan chuckled softly before explaining.

“The lower part of the Ricador Mountains stretches westward, but the upper range reaches north. In other words, the mountains cut across the northwest of the kingdom.”

“Oh? So that means…”

“If we finish our business in the west quickly, we can follow the mountains north. That’ll take us right to Froust La Hill.”

Varkan smiled, suggesting they could even pick out a gift for her father-in-law on the way. He, of course, left out any mention of the surprise waiting for them from the king—there was no need to scare her now.

After all, his little white rabbit was already plenty skittish.