To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 173

It was the first time a woman had ever cornered Sahar Ha Mash like this.

Despite his annoyance, Sahar hesitated. Irel’s persistent questioning was infuriating, but he couldn’t just strike her. And arguing back with reason would feel like admitting defeat, something he wasn’t willing to do.

He didn’t want to discuss the subject at all.

“Nice try, but it won’t work,” Sahar said with a cold smile. He had the power to end this conversation whenever he wanted. Reaching out his hand toward Irel, his eyes darkened.

Whoosh—

A fierce wind suddenly howled from nowhere, growing stronger and battering Irel from all sides. What started as a gust quickly escalated into a violent whirlwind that buffeted her with enough force to knock her off balance.

“Ahh!” she cried out, instinctively curling up against the storm. It was a terrifying force, one that could have easily swept her away if Sahar wished it. Laughing, he called out, “This conversation is over. Go back!”

Like hell I will! Irel thought, bracing herself. She struggled against the wind, desperate to stay grounded, but Sahar wasn’t using his full strength. He was holding back, probably worried that the fragile “mistletoe branch” before him would snap if he pushed too hard.

Still, this was a Masaka’s power, and no matter how hard Irel fought, she couldn’t stand against him.

How is this wind so strong? she thought, her feet slipping. Despite her heavy winter dress, her body was slowly being pushed backward as if she were standing on ice.

Before she could stop herself, she was blown straight into the fortress, practically flung inside by the sheer force of the wind.

Sahar, still reclining on the branch, didn’t even bother to stand. He simply cast her away like an annoying fly.

Unbelievable, how rude! Irel’s face flushed with anger as she caught her breath. Inside the stone fortress, the wind had been blocked by the solid walls, and the violent gusts had subsided.

Just as she regained her footing and prepared to run back outside, she heard a thunderous bang.

Bam!

The massive iron door slammed shut right in front of her, the sound echoing through the hallway. It was a door so heavy that it would take several strong men to close it, yet Sahar had done so effortlessly.

The deafening noise and the sudden gust of wind had startled Irel to her core. If she’d been just a second faster, she could have been crushed.

He won’t even acknowledge me, she thought, staring at the firmly shut door. Something inside her felt like it had snapped, a sharp crack deep within her heart.

“Lady Irel!!”

Jin appeared at the end of the corridor, rushing toward her in alarm.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

His eyes darted around the area, scanning for any threats, and when he noticed the tightly shut iron door, he frowned.

“Who’s behind that door?”

Irel didn’t answer. Instead, she slumped to the ground, feeling utterly defeated. The cold air seeping through the cracks of the door seemed to freeze her from the inside out.

I’m powerless. There’s nothing I can do on my own.

No matter how hard she thought or how passionately she argued, all her efforts amounted to little more than tricks. In this world ruled by the law of the strong, her clever words were nothing against the overwhelming force of power.

I need to find out who hurt my father…

I’m sorry, Father, she thought, tears welling up in her eyes. I’m too weak to protect you.

Just as the tears were about to fall, something unexpected happened. A sudden warmth, completely out of place in the cold hall, wafted through the cracks of the iron door. At first, Irel thought she was imagining it, but the heat only grew stronger.

“Huh?”

Jin’s voice sounded equally confused as he stared at the door, and Irel looked up, her heart racing.

The door—solid, cold iron—was slowly melting. The metal sagged and dripped like wax, oozing toward the floor.

“What in the world…?” Irel gasped, backing away as the molten metal pooled at her feet. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, a dry, familiar voice spoke behind her.

“What’s this?”

Before she could even turn to look, cold fingers gripped her chin, tilting her head up. Her tear-streaked face met a pair of steely eyes, and a familiar tongue clicked in disapproval.

“Who made you cry again?”

There was no smile on his face this time. Instead, Varkan’s expression was icy, his voice colder still.

“…Varkan,” Irel murmured, staring up at him. He was already a towering figure, but from this angle, he seemed even larger, like an unmovable mountain standing before her.

His expression was unusually serious, and the coldness in his demeanor made her want to cry even more. Perhaps it was because their last conversation had ended awkwardly, or perhaps it was the sight of him after everything she’d been through, but seeing Varkan now brought all her emotions to the surface.

“Sniff… H-hic…”

Tears spilled down Irel’s cheeks, her body trembling as she tried to hold them back. She felt so small, so helpless, and all the frustration, fear, and sorrow she had been holding in came pouring out.

The tears ran down her face, dropping onto Varkan’s hand. Each warm drop seemed to make his brow furrow more deeply.

The lukewarm tears burned against his skin, as if they were molten lava instead of water. Each drop felt like it was scalding him, eating away at the hardness in his heart.

Varkan’s hand trembled slightly, and he found himself utterly unable to move.

“Why are you crying?” Varkan sighed as if dealing with a child, gently rubbing Irel’s cheeks to wipe away her tears. But it was futile. The moment he did, she threw her arms around his waist and burst into even louder sobs.

“Whuahh… I’m just so upset…” she wailed.

“What for? Is it because of that door?” he asked, patting her back soothingly. He knew full well it wasn’t just the door, but he needed to say something, anything, to calm her down. If it meant stopping even one more tear from falling from her pretty eyes, melting an iron door was hardly a big deal.

“Look, it’s gone now,” he said, nodding toward the empty space where the iron door once stood.

Irel lifted her head and looked at the now-vanished door, and then—started crying even louder.

“Wuahhh!!”

Sure, must be nice being so strong! she thought bitterly, her emotions spiraling out of control. Why now? How long have I been waiting?

Overwhelmed with feelings she couldn’t fully explain, she sobbed incoherently, but still managed to get a few words out through her tears.

“Hic, that Masaka Sahar… on top of the tree…”

As always, Varkan immediately understood her.

“Wait here for a moment. I’ll bring him to you,” he said, offering her a scented handkerchief as he spoke softly, like a wolf reassuring his mate before heading out on the hunt.

Irel took the handkerchief and nodded, feeling unexpectedly secure. Despite her tears, she felt more reassured than ever. In that moment, she knew without a doubt that Varkan was on her side, unwaveringly.

“Good girl,” he said, smiling as her tears finally stopped. He gently stroked her cheek one last time before turning and heading toward the garden.

“Who the hell are y—?”

Boom!

“Wait, why are you—?”

Bang! Crash!

“Hold on! Can’t we just talk this ou—?”

Not a chance. Irel calmly wiped her face with the handkerchief, listening leisurely to the sound of screams and explosions coming from the garden. Today, the noise was oddly pleasant.

A few minutes ago, Sahar had scoffed at the idea of talking, yet here he was, now the one pleading for a conversation. The irony was both ridiculous and deeply satisfying.

As she fanned her now tear-free face, something was hurled out of the garden, tumbling across the ground.

“Ugh!”

Sahar, now in complete disarray, rolled to a stop, colliding with a wall. His once shiny purple hair was singed at the ends, and his clothes looked as though they had just survived a blazing inferno.

Did he… die?

Irel clutched the handkerchief, silently watching Sahar’s pitiful form sprawled on the ground, his limbs stretched out and red from the heat. He wasn’t moving, looking quite pathetic in his current state.

“Stop playing dead and get up,” Varkan ordered, emerging from the garden and promptly kicking Sahar. Irel shook her head but couldn’t help thinking, That’s my man. His ruthless demeanor was oddly… attractive.

“Ugh! Ack!” Sahar coughed and choked like a cat with a hairball, his face scrunched in pain. It was a pitiful sight, but it seemed Varkan wasn’t finished yet—he raised his foot to kick Sahar again.

“Why—why are you doing this to me?” Sahar scrambled to his feet, his expression a mix of fear and confusion as he glared at Varkan.

“Why?” Varkan scoffed, tilting his head and looking down at him with a mocking smile.

“Don’t waste my time. You know exactly why.”

It was almost dinner time, and Varkan had a strict rule: never miss Irel’s meals. He was fiercely protective of her well-being, and right now, his impatience was clear. He wasn’t about to let anything delay her next meal.

As Varkan’s gaze bore into him, Sahar’s face grew paler by the second.

“What do you want to know?” Sahar finally relented, his voice shaky.

“Everything that happened that day. Every detail. Leave out anything, and I’ll snap a finger for each omission,” Varkan threatened, his voice dripping with menace. The threat was so vicious that Sahar’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Why me…,” Sahar muttered under his breath, clearly bitter about his situation.

Whoosh

A flame flared in Varkan’s hand, showing his unwillingness to tolerate any complaints or delays. He didn’t even need to speak—the silent threat was enough.

“Fine, fine! I’ll tell you!” Sahar spat, teeth clenched, finally giving in to the overwhelming pressure.