To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 172

Varkan’s words, when he called her “fragile,” had a deeper meaning:

How can you be so small and delicate? I want to touch you, hold you close. But I get anxious, fearing you might wear out or break. So please, become stronger, so I can relax.

This concern had been reflected in how Irel’s clothes grew thicker and heavier as they approached the north. Varkan had been meticulous in ensuring she wouldn’t catch a cold. Even now, her dress sleeves, though appearing ordinary, were long enough to cover her hands entirely, protecting her from the biting wind.

“Ridiculous,” Irel muttered softly. If he’s so worried about me being cold, why doesn’t he just stay by my side? After all, the only advantage Varkan had was that he was warm.

…Well, maybe he had more than just that. He seemed ruthless enough to use anyone and anything to his advantage, yet with her, he never did. And while loyalty wasn’t something you’d expect from him, if anyone dared hurt her, he would hunt them down to the ends of the earth for revenge.

Varkan Ha Mash didn’t know how to tolerate things. Except when it came to her. He even tolerated her family, who didn’t exactly like him.

“So please, just watch over me a bit more carefully,” Irel whispered, brushing away the tears that threatened to spill over. She wanted to stay by his side without being scared or feeling like she had to run away.

Leaving Varkan would be foolish. If she’d never been involved with him in the first place, that would be different, but now it was too late. The king of Phenosos held grudges—he never forgot anyone who had even slightly threatened his throne. Even if she separated from Varkan, her family, the Elorances, had already incurred the king’s wrath.

The smartest choice, practically speaking, was to stick close to Varkan. Together, they could bulldoze over any plot the king might come up with, leaving him no room to act. Besides, the original story favored Varkan, and in the end, he would win this war. That was the inevitable outcome.

But even beyond that… she simply wanted to stay by his side.

Irel enjoyed it when Varkan casually pulled her into his arms, when she fit snugly against his tall frame, half-buried in his embrace. His scent—a mix of cologne and the slightly bitter tang of tobacco—was intoxicating. She felt warm and fluttery inside whenever she was close to him, especially when she sensed his body heat rising, and his steady heartbeat quickening.

‘I miss him,’ she thought wistfully.

Perhaps it was because she was sitting against a tree in the cold that she felt an intense longing for Varkan. She hadn’t even been away from him for long, yet her heart ached to see him.

Pathetic, she scolded herself, sniffing lightly as her thoughts wandered.

“Sorry to interrupt your moment, but…”

A lazy voice suddenly broke the stillness from above her head.

“If you’re done crying, can you leave? I’d like to sleep some more.”

Startled, Irel’s heart leapt in her chest, and her eyes shot wide open. She looked up instinctively, her gaze meeting that of the intruder.

At first, she thought it was a large cat. The way he lay sprawled along a tree branch, utterly relaxed and feline-like, had misled her. But when she blinked and refocused her eyes, she saw a man with purple hair. His large, almond-shaped eyes were half-closed in drowsiness, giving him a sleepy, bored look.

“I don’t know how you found me,” he continued in a voice dripping with annoyance, “but go away. The sweet smell is making me nauseous.”

He waved her off like she was a mere fly.

‘Who does this rude guy think he is?’ Irel’s brow furrowed in irritation.

Did he just… smell me? That must mean he was a Masaka. And considering there wasn’t much need for two Masakas in the northern region, this must be Masaka Sahar.

As she connected the dots, the man’s vivid green eyes glanced down at her, and a system message popped up:

[Sahar Ha Mash: Current Affection Level 20]

She had finally found the man she’d been searching for, though his lack of manners soured the moment. No greeting, no introduction—just a blunt command to leave, and now he was acting like her presence was an unbearable stench.

Most Masakas were naturally drawn to the distinct scent that Rehsebrans like Irel gave off, since it radiated life and purification. It was said to be comforting for those like Sahar, whose existence was steeped in bloodshed and battle.

But, as with anything, there were always outliers.

‘Even mint chocolate has its haters,’ she thought, annoyed.

Though she was displeased, Irel quickly composed herself. She had to be the one to make peace here if she wanted to get any useful information out of him. In this situation, she was the one in need.

Taking a deep breath, Irel forced a polite smile, the kind used by seasoned professionals worn down by years of social etiquette.

“Hello. I’m Irel Elorance.”

Irel’s voice, now calm and composed like an automatic answering service, came out smoothly, as if she hadn’t been on the verge of tears just moments ago.

“As you might have guessed from my name, my father is—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Commander Calver, right?” Sahar interrupted, not even bothering to let her finish. His remark, about recognizing her by their similar looks, was both dismissive and rude. Irel let out a soft, incredulous laugh at his abruptness.

And now he’s telling me to leave? she thought, her patience thinning. This is my father’s fortress, you know?

Despite wanting to throw something at the man lounging in the tree, Irel bit back her frustration. Showing anger would only be playing into his hands. In the adult world, the one who achieves their goal wins, no matter the tactics used.

Irel was prepared to swallow her pride if necessary.

“Please don’t be like that. Just give me a moment of your time. I have something important to ask you,” she said, clasping her hands together in a show of polite sincerity.

Sahar’s brows furrowed in visible annoyance.

[Ding! Sahar’s Affection has increased by 5.]

What? Irel thought, confused. Why does his affection go up when he clearly dislikes me?

It was hard to make sense of the Masakas, with their twisted minds. Despite the increase in affection, Sahar remained uncooperative.

“No.”

“Why not?” Irel asked, maintaining her patience.

“Because I’m not interested in anything you have to say. A fair deal is where both sides benefit, right? Why should I waste my time answering your questions when I get nothing out of it?”

His sheer audacity was unbelievable. Irel quietly prayed to any higher power that might be listening.

Dear gods, if you exist, could you just hit him upside the head for me?

Unfortunately, not being particularly religious, her prayer went unanswered. So, Irel had to come up with another solution.

It seems being polite isn’t going to work.

She realized Sahar was the type who only cared about himself, like most Masakas. He had no interest in duty, rules, or others’ well-being, even if the person involved was his superior, Commander Calver.

If that’s the case, I don’t need to be considerate either.

At moments like this, Irel envied Varkan. He wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble. With him, it would be simple: a smirk, a snap, and—bam!—he’d have all the information in an instant.

But envy wouldn’t help her here, so she straightened her back and prepared for a direct confrontation.

“Really? Are you sure there’s nothing you’re curious about?” Irel pressed.

“What?”

“If I were you, I’d be curious. About why that incident happened, for example.”

Take that! She wasn’t going to let him ignore her. She needed to steer the conversation toward the information she was after, whether he liked it or not.

“Or maybe you’re afraid. Afraid that knowing the truth will hurt you. Isn’t that right?”

Once a woman draws her sword, she might as well cut through something. Irel was determined now, pushing Sahar toward the topic she needed him to face.

“Do you even know what you’re saying right now?” Sahar growled.

“Of course I do. Sahar Ha Mash, son of the god.”

Sahar looked shocked. He clearly hadn’t expected the previously polite and docile Irel to suddenly turn confrontational. With his mouth slightly agape, he stared at her in disbelief.

“Let me ask you this,” Irel continued calmly. “You were sent here to guard the northern border and assist my father, the commander of this fortress. Isn’t that right? Or am I wrong?”

Her unspoken question loomed: Then why are you acting like a spoiled child? Sahar’s expression turned cold, as if he’d been doused with ice water.

[Ding! Sahar’s Affection has decreased by 10.]

Just as expected, Irel wasn’t surprised. Sahar, like most Masakas, was temperamental. She had disrupted his nap and now had the nerve to scold him. Of course he was mad.

“Unbelievable,” Sahar sneered. “What gives you the right to talk like that? You show up here, bother me, and you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“I apologize if I was rude. But you were also quite rude, speaking down to me the moment we met,” Irel replied calmly. “I didn’t come here knowing everything, but I do know that you’re acting cowardly.”

Despite the sharpness of Sahar’s glare, Irel didn’t flinch. It wasn’t because she was fearless; it was because she trusted the hierarchy that governed the military, even here.

He won’t kill me, she reassured herself. No matter how much of a loose cannon he is, he’s still a soldier. He wouldn’t harm his superior’s daughter.

Irel was determined to use that to her advantage. She owed it to her father, who had been injured, to push as hard as she could for answers.

“My father, the commander of this fortress, was ambushed and gravely injured. Sahar Ha Mash, are you seriously going to stand by and pretend you know nothing about it?”

“I—!”

Sahar’s face twisted in anger, his composure cracking under the pressure of her words.