Episode 5

“Annoying, truly.”

Russelin had made a critical mistake—she had failed to hide her feelings from Aydin. His eyes flared dangerously, filled with fury.

“I save your life when you were barely hanging on, and now you’re enjoying it, aren’t you?”

“Ugh—!”

“Daring to entertain other thoughts in front of me?”

Aydin’s hand roughly seized her waist, yanking her close as he leaned in, his face inches from hers. His eyes blazed with cruelty, but Russelin’s gaze remained distant, indifferent. Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Aydin, lost in his emotions, didn’t notice her lack of fear.

“What, you think I won’t touch you because we’re at the palace?”

“…Aydin.”

“After all, it’d be a shame to let others see you crying, begging, as you take in my magic.”

His hand slid provocatively over Russelin’s lips, as if savoring the moment.

“I want you to remember I’m barely holding myself back.”

When Aydin “claimed” Russelin, he would release his magic into her—magic that caused her tremendous pain. He knew how much it hurt her, which is why he wielded the threat like a weapon. Russelin, her expression conflicted, finally bowed her head. There was no point in provoking Aydin here; it would only end badly.

“Don’t be angry, Aydin. You know I have no one but you.”

“You always say the right things. Just behave like you usually do.”

“…”

“Unless you want everyone here to see you crying in agony.”

Aydin released her shoulder roughly, making her stagger before she managed to steady herself. He then extended his hand toward her in a haughty, commanding gesture.

“Take it.”

It was an arrogant and cruel order, as if the thought of refusal had never crossed his mind. Russelin stared at his rough hand for a moment, before finally taking it. Her grip was frail and desperate, as if she had nothing else to hold on to.

“…Don’t let me go, Aydin.”

At least not until I find another hand to hold.

Swallowing the rest of her words, Russelin embraced the man who would eventually lead to her death, clinging to a thin, fragile hope. Aydin, holding her possessively, began to move forward, and the attendants watching quickly sprang into action.

“Duke Aydin Bert and Lady Russelin Lavrenti, Count Lavrenti’s daughter!”

The announcement boomed across the room, drawing the attention of all the gathered nobles. It was the first public appearance of the priestess Aydin had so carefully kept hidden. Knowing why Aydin had concealed her, the crowd’s eyes gleamed with cruel curiosity. Feeling the weight of their stares, Russelin clenched her trembling hand into a tight fist.

‘…Disgusting.’

The deliberate, scrutinizing gaze of the crowd was unbearable.

“Hold on tight. Unless you want me to carry you in.”

It was incredibly difficult for Russelin to keep walking, clinging to Aydin. Every fiber of her being screamed to tear away from his grasp and flee from this unbearable scene. For a brief moment, she regretted taking Aydin’s hand in the first place. He pulled her along forcefully, his grip on her waist tightening painfully, as if he was intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable. The way he held her, as if shielding her from view, only drew more dangerous attention from the crowd.

“Stop it, please. Everyone’s staring.”

“So what?”

“W-What?”

While Russelin’s voice was filled with concern, Aydin remained utterly indifferent. His face leaned in toward her with brazen audacity, while the murmurs from the crowd faded into the background. His breath brushed against her skin, leaving her feeling vulnerable and trapped.

“I’m making it clear that you belong to me.”

“…What does that—”

“So no one else dares to touch what’s mine.”

As his grip on her waist tightened, the pain radiated through her body, making her wince. Aydin seemed to enjoy her discomfort, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips.

“So you can’t ever think about running away from me.”

His eyes blazed with a fierce possessiveness, his obsession with ownership clear. Russelin realized once again—what Aydin felt for her was far from love. It was nothing but a twisted fixation on possessing her. It was almost laughable how long it had taken her to fully grasp that.

“…What are you so afraid of?”

“What?”

“Why are you so desperate to hold onto me? What is it that makes you so…”

Russelin’s words trailed off, as if she had been speaking in a daze, but she never finished her thought.

“His Grace, Grand Duke Leonard Estere, has arrived!”

The announcement that followed silenced Aydin, but it seemed to be a more fitting response than anything he could have said. The sound of Leonard’s heavy footsteps echoed through the vast banquet hall, a clear testament to the weight of his presence. His entrance made the previous commotion caused by Aydin fade into insignificance. Even Russelin, who had been locked in Aydin’s grip, found herself turning toward Leonard as if drawn by an invisible force.

‘Leonard Estere.’

He was there. The man who might save her—a ruthless, terrifying savior. A flicker of hope shone in her once lifeless eyes. But despite the surge of emotion, Russelin couldn’t bring herself to take a step toward him.

‘Just as they say…’

There was an intimidating aura around Leonard, one that made it hard to approach him. On the surface, he was a cold, sharply handsome man whose sheer beauty could make one forget the danger radiating from him.

‘He seems incredibly dangerous.’

Aydin was sharp and emotionally volatile, making him easier to handle. Leonard, on the other hand, hid his feelings behind an impenetrable gaze, making him all the more difficult to read. Yet, Russelin couldn’t tear her eyes away from him.

‘If I can’t grasp him… I…’

A primal fear stirred within her, but Russelin pushed it down with all her might. As Leonard strode into the hall with commanding presence, a few bold nobles, oblivious to his nature, dared to approach him.

“Your Grace, it’s an honor to meet you! I am—”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“…Pardon?”

“You dare block my path?”

Leonard Estere was not a man to be trifled with. Words were unnecessary. With a single, ruthless motion, Leonard twisted the noble’s wrist, cutting off his introduction with a cry of pain. As the atmosphere in the banquet hall turned icy, another noble—a marquis—approached Leonard, his gaze filled with pride. Despite the clear warning signs, he seemed to think himself an exception.

“Your Grace, I’ve heard of your great deeds on the battlefield. Even His Majesty has praised your efforts. Truly, you are—”

“Is that something for a man who’s never set foot on a battlefield to say?”

“Your Grace, I…!”

“Pathetic.”

Leonard, without so much as a flicker of emotion, brought his sword to the marquis’s throat. A single drop of blood stained the blade.

“You must know my sword draws blood, whether in the battlefield or the imperial court.”

“Please, Your Grace… spare me!”

As the marquis begged for his life, Leonard only pressed the blade deeper into his neck. Blood soaked the marquis’s white uniform, and he collapsed in a faint. The once lively banquet had descended into chaos, some nobles trembling at the sight of blood, others weeping in fear. Despite the disorder, Leonard remained calm, completely unbothered by the havoc around him.

“…The Blood Tyrant.”

Someone whispered the name, breaking the silence. Everyone knew it. Leonard Estere, the empire’s protector and the only grand duke of Tristan, was also known as the Blood Tyrant, a title that sent chills through the empire. Though his title suggested loyalty to the empire, Leonard was feared for his ruthless nature. It was said that during the empire’s wars, nothing remained where Leonard had passed, not even a blade of grass. Rumors claimed that at least one person was executed every day at his manor, leaving a permanent stench of blood. His intense gaze could tear a person apart, leaving few brave enough to meet his eyes.

Yet, what was most terrifying wasn’t the gruesome rumors themselves but the fact that Leonard, in the midst of them, remained emotionless and indifferent. He was the demon protector of the empire.

“Get him out of my sight.”

Leonard commanded coldly, not sparing the marquis a single glance as he instructed his knight.

Russelin, watching Leonard for the first time, finally understood the reality of his infamous reputation. She could feel her entire body tensing in response to his presence. But even as fear coursed through her, there was an undeniable sense of excitement.

‘He’s the only one who can stand against Aydin…’

There was no time for hesitation. Only a force as overwhelming as Leonard Estere’s could challenge Aydin Bert. If she wanted to escape Aydin’s clutches, she would first need to win Leonard over. As Russelin strengthened her resolve, her body froze in place.

‘Did… did our eyes just meet?’

Leonard’s cold, cynical gaze had settled on her, if only for a moment. As their eyes met, Russelin felt a shiver run down her spine. But it wasn’t quite fear. There was something familiar about the sensation, something she couldn’t place. Why did she feel this way when looking at him?