When the Villains Unite - Chapter 17: Promise (1)

Suddenly, Damian tried to sit up despite his injuries. Almost instinctively, my body moved forward toward him.

I knew all too well what he meant by his “choice.” I understood how natural that choice might seem to us, and I also knew how deeply it could wound us both.

Without hesitation, I climbed onto the bed and wrapped my arms around Damian. His body, weakened from the blood he had lost earlier, crumpled helplessly under my weight.

The blood still seeping from his wounds slowly stained my white indoor dress. Damian’s trembling hands reached up to my rigid shoulders, trying to push me away, but I only held him tighter.

Even though my eyes were wide open, it felt like I couldn’t see anything. An ominous thought consumed me, a fear so overwhelming it made me dizzy: if I let go now, he might disappear for real.

Before Damian could hurt me with his words, I struck first.

“I’ll leave. I’ll go,” I whispered.

It didn’t matter who spoke the words—they would feel like a dagger regardless. I realized that this was just as true for Damian as it was for me.

Yet, the words I uttered—offering to leave instead—were absurd. Utterly nonsensical. It was the wrong solution, one born of a broken state of mind.

Perhaps, though, it was the logical conclusion on some primal level. I was, after all, the outsider in this world, and Damian was the one who truly belonged in the Orca duchy.

“…What are you saying?” Damian asked, his voice low and tense.

“I can’t take this anymore… sniff… You don’t have to leave because of me. Just let everything go… and…”

In my near-panicked state, I mumbled fragments of my chaotic thoughts, struggling to piece together a coherent sentence.

Then, I felt the air in the room shift. It grew heavier, denser, as though filled with something volatile and unresolved.

Damian, though clearly bewildered by my jumbled words, understood the core of what I was saying. His expression twisted in frustration, pain, and anger as he suddenly lashed out.

“Get a hold of yourself and speak clearly!”

Damian grabbed my shoulders and forcibly pulled me out of his embrace, staring down at me with desperation. His blurry face barely came into focus through my tear-filled eyes, and I couldn’t tell if the droplets running down his face were his tears or a reflection of my own.

My head throbbed as if it were about to split open, but I could still clearly read the emotions on his face.

His eyes, wide with shock, were fixated solely on me, as if I were the only thing in his fractured world. Those golden eyes, which I once thought would always shine brightly, were now shadowed with an ominous darkness.

“Sis, look at me. Please, really look at me,” Damian said, his voice trembling.

“…Hic… sob…”

“It’s all my fault… I know it is… Please, just…”

His voice, initially filled with anger, had softened into a desperate plea. It sent a wave of dizziness through me, making my vision spin. But I couldn’t afford to lose consciousness, not now.

I raised my hand and gently removed his from my shoulders. He didn’t resist—he simply let his hands fall, seemingly too stunned to act. He stared at me blankly, as if he’d been struck in the back of the head, his wide eyes glued to my face.

Without a word, I moved to get off the bed. My body, however, betrayed me—my legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the floor.

Before I could even process what had happened, Damian’s arms shot out to catch me. In the confusion, we both ended up sprawled awkwardly on the ground together.

It was absurd, like a tragic farce neither of us could escape.

My mind raced with a single, overwhelming thought: I need to get out of here. I have to leave this house.

But Damian, acting purely on instinct, clung to me, as if letting go would mean losing me forever.

Then, unexpectedly, words tumbled out of my mouth, low and uneven:

“…It was all a misunderstanding…”

“…I know,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“I… hic… I pretended not to see it… ignored it…”

“It’s okay. Please don’t cry, sis. Please…”

“I love you… sob… I love you, Damian.”

As my voice cracked with the confession, I couldn’t tell who was more overwhelmed—me or Damian. Tears streamed freely down my face, and when I looked at him, I saw that he, too, was crying.

The Damian I knew, the strong and unyielding Damian, was breaking apart right before my eyes. His tears fell just as freely as mine, and in that moment, we were both a mess of raw, unrestrained emotion.

When I came to my senses, I noticed Damian’s red lips trembling uncontrollably, as though he was struggling to suppress his emotions.

He held me gently, as if I were a delicate, finely crafted glass sculpture, and pulled me close, letting my head rest against his shoulder.

“Don’t cry. Please don’t cry, sis. I’m the one who messed up,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“…I’m scared. I’m so scared that it’ll happen again… that you’ll break yourself again…”

“I won’t… I swear I won’t ever act like that pathetic idiot again… Just… please…”

I couldn’t tell if the sound in his voice was from physical pain or emotions spilling over, but his torment was clear. Even so, his hand moved gently across my back, stroking it softly, as though comforting me took precedence over his own suffering.

I took a few shaky breaths, forcing my lungs to steady themselves as my overwhelming emotions began to settle.

“…I didn’t come to make you cry,” he murmured. “I just… I couldn’t bring myself to face you properly. After the way I acted… how could I even look you in the eye?”

“…….”

“But I should’ve been shameless. I should’ve just come to you without overthinking it.”

Damian slowly pulled me back and reached out, his fingers brushing over my tear-streaked face, wiping away the mess.

“If I had known that seeing you cry would hurt more than any physical pain… I would have done things differently.”

“…Damian…”

“So please…” he said, his voice steady yet trembling slightly with intensity. “Tie me down. Keep me close to you so I don’t lose my grip again.”

It was a shocking request. Tie him down? Did he mean it literally, or was it some desperate metaphor? Did he truly want me to chain him to something?

His words felt unreal, yet Damian’s eyes told me he was utterly sincere. His tear-soaked gaze trembled as he stared at me, pleading, vulnerable.

It wasn’t the Damian I knew—the fierce, invincible Sword Master—but a man stripped of all his defenses, asking me to keep him grounded.

Without any further hesitation, I kissed him. Damian, holding me tightly in his arms, pulled me closer by my waist, deepening the kiss.

This wasn’t like the usual expressions of passion—it felt different. It was as if we were making a solemn vow to each other, sealing it with the shared warmth of our breath.

My lips, dry from all the tears I’d shed, quickly softened and grew wet as our kiss deepened. I traced his teeth with my tongue, pressing into his mouth as my hands gripped the back of his neck. By the time we pulled apart, both of us had stopped crying.

As my touch lingered, Damian slowly tilted his head back, breaking the kiss. His eyes remained closed, as though savoring the moment, reluctant to wake from what felt like a fleeting dream.

It struck me that if I didn’t say something, he might stay like this forever, lost in the afterglow of the kiss.

“If I let you go again… I won’t be able to bring you back,” I said softly.

“…No one wants to suffocate themselves when they’re fighting to survive,” he replied, his voice low and trembling.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I reached out and gently touched his face. His golden eyes gazed at me in silence, waiting for my response. Despite his pale complexion, his lips were flushed, parting slightly as if to speak but stopping short.

“This is the last time,” I finally said.

His eyes widened briefly before his expression crumpled. He bowed his head low, unwilling to meet my gaze again.

I pulled him into my arms, letting him lean against me. His shoulders trembled slightly, a clear reflection of the emotions he was struggling to suppress.

Then, in a quiet, strained voice, he murmured, “If I ever try to run away again, you can kill me.”

“…….”

“I love you, sis,” he added, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…….”

I could only reply with a soft “Okay,” repeating the word as though it held all the answers we both needed.

Damian rested his head against my chest for what felt like an eternity. At some point, the blood trickling from his wounds became noticeable, staining his clothes and the bed.

Realizing this, I snapped out of my daze. I should have called for help the moment he opened his eyes, but I had been so caught up in the situation that it had completely slipped my mind.

“Damian, lie down for a moment. I’ll go get someone,” I said, moving to stand.

“Can’t we just stay like this?” he murmured, his voice quiet but pleading.

“No. You’re bleeding,” I replied firmly.

As I untangled myself from him and stood up, a wave of dizziness hit me, making the room spin. Perhaps I was dehydrated, or perhaps it was the toll of everything that had happened.

At that moment, the door opened, and a familiar figure with dark navy-blue hair stepped in.

Belhark, without hesitation, crossed the room in long strides, his sharp eyes scanning my state. Before I could protest, he scooped me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing, holding me securely against his chest.

“I’m fine,” I said weakly, trying to push away from him. But when I stumbled slightly in his arms, he furrowed his brows in disapproval and tightened his hold.

Belhark’s gaze then shifted to Damian, who was still sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath him.

“Brother…” I started softly, sensing the tension in the room.

“There will be no more leniency,” Belhark said coldly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

“…….”

“If there’s another day where you don’t know your limits, it won’t end like this.”

Damian, still lying there, met Belhark’s icy glare with a frosty gaze of his own. Neither of them spoke further, but the air between them grew heavier and colder with each passing second.

Exhausted, I let out a weary sigh and leaned my head against Belhark’s chest, closing my eyes. My headache, which had been a dull throb until now, suddenly worsened, feeling sharp and unrelenting. It was as though I might lose consciousness at any moment—and perhaps I really was.

The last thing I remembered was Belhark carrying me out of the room, his steps steady as he took me away.

After that day, the three of us managed to coexist peacefully within the mansion. With Cain having granted them an unofficial leave of absence, Damian and Belhark were around more often, resulting in frequent, though often tense, interactions. Still, the uneasy truce allowed us to settle into a strange sort of calm, at least for the time being.

It seemed that since Damian’s true identity as the Count had been exposed, a noticeable shift had occurred. He now acted toward me like a child who had done something wrong—constantly apologetic and submissive. Yet, despite his lowered demeanor, he clung to me more than ever, refusing to leave my side.

The most significant change, however, was that the three of us no longer engaged in any physical intimacy together.

As time passed, I tried to return to my usual routines, but I couldn’t help noticing the growing tension between Belhark and Damian. It was as if an invisible wall had formed between them. Though they didn’t seem likely to fight outright, Belhark would occasionally glance at Damian with a look that clearly said, I’d like to kill you right now, while Damian would roll his eyes in response, exuding a barely concealed What a pain in the ass attitude.

They had once appeared to be the picture of an ideal sibling bond. Now, their interactions felt more like petty squabbles between ordinary brothers—like two kids competing over the last slice of cake.

Still, I held onto the hope that their relationship would eventually mend itself. For now, however, I decided to focus on figuring out how to navigate this awkward situation.

Damian’s body recovered remarkably fast—within less than a week, his wounds were nearly healed. I was briefly amazed at how quickly he’d regained his strength, especially without any assistance from Belhark’s magic.

But my admiration for his recovery was short-lived because Damian began showing his remorse in… peculiar ways.

For example:

“Hnn… ah… Damian, why… so early in the morning… ahh!”