To You Who Will Destroy Me - Chapter 239

The first diplomatic discussion of King Varkan went relatively well—at least, that’s how it was from Varkan’s perspective. From the standpoint of Zepen, however, it was a disaster.

Even though it was necessary for national security, Zepen suffered significant trade losses in exchange for borrowing his Masaka warriors. The steep increase in tariffs, especially on Zepen’s specialty textiles, which jumped by six percent, was heartbreaking.

To make matters worse, Princess Shaeli, Zepen’s pride, known as the “Irresistible Enchantress,” didn’t manage to wield her influence effectively, which was a minor shock.

Losses, losses—just losses. Naturally, the shoulders of the Zepen delegation slumped as they exited the audience.

Meanwhile, Varkan, unusually considerate for him, even personally saw them off.

“I shall accompany you to the palace garden.”

“Allow me to do that, Your Majesty,” said Michael, the captain of the guard, who had been waiting outside. But Varkan waved him off with a smile.

“I’ll handle it. Take a rest.”

“Brother.”

He mouthed the last word, so the Zepen delegation behind him didn’t notice. Michael sighed, feeling himself getting used to this title. Never in his life had he imagined that he’d one day have a king as his brother-in-law.

‘Wait.’

He quickly snapped back to reality, realizing they weren’t married yet, so technically, Varkan wasn’t his brother-in-law. However, it didn’t make much difference.

“Well then, I shall be off.”

Varkan leisurely walked ahead to see the delegation off. Of course, it wasn’t out of courtesy; it was more due to his cruel enjoyment of trampling the remnants of the defeated.

Nothing pleased him more than seeing his opponent’s face twisted in misery, much like Munera’s desperate attempts to keep her composure.

“Sire, I’m deeply honored, but you didn’t have to come all the way out here… It’s cold today.”

“That’s why we should hurry. What are you doing? Why aren’t you following?”

Unfortunately, the delegation’s reasonable desire not to spend more time with the tyrant king was ignored. Even Munera, known for her skillful expression management, earning her the nickname “Steel Smile,” couldn’t help but grimace.

At least the Masaka warriors didn’t have eyes on the back of their heads, so the delegation could glare at Varkan’s broad back before grudgingly following him.

The palace garden, which had been engulfed in flames a few months ago, was now perfectly restored, as if nothing had happened. It was even unnecessarily large, which meant that their time with Varkan was unnecessarily extended as well.

“Huff, huff…”

Varkan walked briskly ahead as if he had wings, his long stride only accentuated by his towering height and warrior build.

The Zepen delegation soon resembled sparrows chasing a stork. Dressed in cumbersome formal attire, they struggled to keep up with him.

Of course, they couldn’t dare to ask the king to slow down. They gritted their teeth and followed Varkan with all their might.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally saw the far end of the garden.

To exaggerate a bit, it looked like the exit from hell.

The delegation, filled with renewed hope, quickened their pace. However, they soon found themselves blocked by Varkan’s rigid back.

“Sire?”

Just as they were about to silently scream for mercy, Varkan came to an abrupt halt.

“…Isn’t it beautiful?”

Without turning around, Varkan suddenly asked. Munera, hearing this, thought he must have finally lost it.

Beautiful? After making them walk this far, he was now asking if the garden was beautiful?

Utterly baffled, she turned her head to look in the direction Varkan was facing. What she saw was unexpected.

‘…An angel?’

Yes, there was an angel standing in this wretched den of demons.

For the first time, Munera realized that when something was too beautiful, it made your mind go blank, like standing in front of an oncoming carriage. All sounds disappeared, and only the object before you expanded in your vision.

A woman in a light blue dress stood near the greenhouse with her hands clasped together. Though a white fur shawl covered much of her upper body, it was clear that she was slim and graceful.

The afternoon sunlight, filtered through the glass walls, refracted like a prism, making her platinum blonde hair and fair skin shimmer with iridescence. Perhaps that’s why she seemed so ethereal, almost unreal.

Her slender neck, delicate blue eyes, long lashes, and soft pink lips exuded an otherworldly serenity that made those who looked at her feel a sense of peace and happiness.

“No matter how much I see her, I never tire of it.”

Munera, distracted by the faint sound of Varkan’s voice beside her, nodded absentmindedly. Then she snapped back to reality.

‘Wait a minute. Who is that woman?’

Before Munera’s reason, dulled by the overwhelming beauty before her, could fully process it, an inner voice warned her: you already know someone who matches that description—someone you should be cautious of.

But before Munera’s memory could fully catch up, Varkan spoke first.

“I’ll cancel the textile tariffs.”

“What? Is that really true?”

While this was incredibly fortunate for her side, Munera felt uneasy. Why? Why was he suddenly offering to lift the tariffs?

“Even I feel the need to show some gratitude to the world every now and then.”

Varkan felt that he had received more than enough. Occasionally, he thought, giving a little back to the world might spare him from divine retribution.

It might have been a foolish superstition, but he couldn’t help it. After all, this was a man who once thought even love was just a superstition.

“Rel!”

With a smile Munera had never seen before, Varkan rushed toward his “superstition.” Hearing him call out to the beauty ahead, Munera felt a chill down her spine.

Yes, that woman was surely Irel Elorance, Varkan’s fiancée and the future queen.

However, it wasn’t Irel’s identity that sent shivers down Munera’s spine—it was the way Varkan called her name.

During the diplomatic negotiations, all Munera had heard from Varkan was his sarcastic tone and cold voice. Though he hadn’t been overtly rude, it had been a distant, transactional exchange, treating her less as a person and more as a bargaining tool.

But now, the same man’s voice was filled with warmth—so gentle, it felt like the voice of someone madly in love, unable to contain his feelings.

“Rel, were you here?”

Irel turned her head at his call. Upon seeing Varkan approach, she smiled radiantly, like a blossoming flower.

“What brings you here, Varkan? I thought you’d be tied up with the diplomatic delegation all day.”

She had no idea that her smile alone had just slashed Zepen’s tariffs by six percent.

The way she naturally extended her arm toward him was endearing. Varkan, with a broad smile, took her hand and pulled her into his embrace, planting a kiss on her cheek.

“If I said I came early because I missed you, would you scold me?”

“And if I did, would you obediently accept your punishment?”

“If it’s in bed, as much as you want.”

His last words were whispered low, only for Irel to hear. She giggled, playfully tapping his shoulder.

“You’re impossible.”

“By the way, I noticed earlier—you were touching your stomach.”

Varkan, offering his shoulder for her playful taps, asked with a smile on his lips but sharp observation in his eyes.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. I just ate a bit too much at lunch and was checking if I’d gained weight.”

“Let me see.”

“No way! It won’t end with just looking.”

Irel dodged his hand with a playful glance.

Lately, she’d been losing sleep due to Varkan’s nightly attentions. She really needed a break—especially today.

“The sun’s about to set. Don’t stay outside too long; it’s getting cold.”

Varkan, withdrawing his hand, gently advised.

“Of course. But what are you doing out here at this hour—?”

That’s when Irel noticed them. Far off in the distance, standing awkwardly, was the Zepen delegation.

“Varkan, are those people…?”

“Oh.”

Tch. They hadn’t left yet. Varkan clicked his tongue in annoyance at the oblivious group.

“Hurry up and see them off. You need to leave a good first impression as their king.”

Irel, understanding the situation, gave him a little push. It seemed the good impression had already been made, but the proper conclusion still needed tending to.

Varkan was an expert at managing subordinates and running dangerous enterprises. He knew that, sometimes, acting like a difficult brute was the best way to tame someone.

Judging by the somber faces of the delegation, it seemed Varkan had managed to thoroughly frustrate them.

‘Did they say something unnecessary?’

Either way, Irel trusted Varkan to handle it. He was a man who could be relied on to do things well, even on his own.

“I’ll send them off quickly, and then let’s have dinner together.”

Before returning to the delegation, Varkan whispered in a suggestive tone. His eyes said he wanted her as dessert after dinner.

That was fine with Irel. There was something she wanted to talk to him about anyway.

“See you later. Do a good job.”

Smiling brightly, Irel fixed Varkan’s collar. He, enchanted by her beauty, kissed her cheek several more times before reluctantly turning away.

“Let’s go.”

When Varkan turned back to the delegation, his face was as indifferent as if he’d never smiled at all. His rapid shift in expression was so dramatic, he could’ve been a successful stage actor.

Sigh.

One of the delegation members quietly exhaled.

It seemed that the chance for anyone from Zepen to become part of the royal family next door had vanished forever.