“…What did you say?”
At the deputy’s words, Kyriel, who had been lounging with a book, instantly furrowed his brows.
Deputy Levon’s eyes widened at the savage intensity of Kyriel Yudia’s gaze—a volatile mix of fury and shock. It was a rare sight. Kyriel Yudia was a man who had become the very embodiment of lethargy since the Saint-Devil War and the death of his brother. To the outside world, he was a man who had long ago shed his humanity, leaving behind a hollow shell that drifted through his days with a bleached, deadpan expression, only moving when his deputy pestered him into action.
“Levon.”
As Kyriel urged him on with a scowl, Levon adjusted his slipping glasses, his composure faltering.
“They say Miss Bunny has been poisoned by demonic energy.”
“Then explain to me how a child who went to the market ends up like that.”
“According to the shadows assigned to her, she encountered His Grace the Duke within the duchy grounds upon her return.”
Kyriel rose sharply, his chair scraping against the floor. He threw a coat over his loungewear and strode toward the door. Levon hurried to keep pace.
“Afterward, the young lady expressed a desire to see the Imperial Palace. His Grace could not refuse her.”
“The Imperial Palace.”
Kyriel’s brows knit together. When it came to demonic energy within those walls, there was only one name that came to mind: the Emperor’s only son. The Crown Prince, Roel Labdia Lotis. Cursed at the tender age of four by a demon who had sacrificed its own life for the deed, the boy had spent his entire existence clinging to a brittle, grueling life.
“Did she make contact with the Crown Prince?” Kyriel demanded, his voice sharp with a rare, fierce urgency.
Levon hesitated, shaking his head. “I have no precise information on that yet.”
“And the child?”
“She is in the temple within the duchy. We moved her there immediately.”
Kyriel reached the temple, the air around the entrance thick with an ominous, suffocating aura. He took a steadying breath and stepped inside. A crowd had gathered, but his gaze fell immediately on a solitary figure pacing the perimeter, unable to breach the threshold.
It was Alan, a boy with gray hair and golden eyes—one of the children Kyriel had taken in. The boy looked lost, his pupils constricted in raw terror.
Kyriel halted. “Alan.”
“…Young Master.”
Alan jumped, his eyes wide as saucers. “Bu, Bunny… she said she was going to buy potatoes and didn’t come back. I had lessons, so I couldn’t go with her… and then I heard someone was cursed….”
Kyriel watched the boy stutter, the terror in his eyes a mirror of his own internal turmoil. He knelt on one knee, reaching out to steady himself.
“Alan. Calm down.”
“…But.”
“I am going inside to assess the situation. I will do my best. No one knows the exact circumstances yet, so stay here.”
*Pip!*
A bright red reed warbler suddenly landed on Alan’s shoulder. Kyriel narrowed his eyes, sensing a faint, unfamiliar trace of divine energy.
“What is this?”
Alan squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling. “It was born from Bunny’s egg. She told me to keep it a secret—she was afraid you’d be disappointed that it wasn’t a Heugyeomryong when it hatched.”
Kyriel’s expression turned subtle. There was no reason to be disappointed; whatever had hatched from an egg that had devoured Seongryeokseok was certainly not a Heugyeomryong. He studied the bird—small, seemingly fragile, and absent from any scroll of known summoned beasts.
“…Divine beasts protect their masters,” Alan whispered. “I thought it would be helpful, so I brought it.”
Kyriel looked at the boy in silence. Alan had been slandered and treated like a monster for ten years; the sense of defeat was carved into his bones. He avoided eye contact, shying away from any connection, yet here he was, trying to help.
“Alan.”
“Yes?”
“I will look after that child. You are still young, and your divine power is not yet fully formed. Go back to your room for now.”
Alan hesitated, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face as he lowered his head. He clearly wanted to go inside, but the risk was too great.
“Thank you for bringing the divine beast. Having it by her side will be a help. I will see that it reaches her safely, and I will tell her you were the one who sent it.”
“……!”
Alan’s eyes rounded. *Sister.* The word seemed to anchor him. As he nodded, Kyriel stroked his hair once and rose.
“I will watch over Bunny well. And…”
“Yes?”
Kyriel stared into those golden, beast-like eyes until the boy tried to avert his gaze. “From now on, drop the title ‘Young Master’.”
“Yes?”
“Otherwise, people might mistake you for a stranger rather than my child.”
With that, Kyriel turned sharply on his heel. He cast a chilling look at the gathered crowd—a gaze as cold as a northern wind—before entering the temple.
Alan stood motionless, blinking slowly. *‘My child.’* He had never expected to hear those words from Kyriel Yudia. His face flushed a deep red, and he turned toward the training grounds, his posture hardening with new resolve.
*I must get stronger.*
* * *
“I am surprised,” Levon murmured as they moved through the corridor. “I didn’t think you would say something like that.”
“Something like that?”
“Kind words. I had thought you were made entirely of lethargy, apathy, and ice.”
“That is not for you to say,” Kyriel snapped, though his focus remained on the door ahead.
He pushed open the entrance to the healing room, and his composure shattered.
“It’s no use. Healing power isn’t working at all…”
“Purification isn’t holding, either.”
“Her fever is over 40 degrees. We’ve tried antipyretics, but her system isn’t responding….”
The room was a frantic blur of healing priests and specialists, their voices overlapping in desperate whispers. And in the center of it all lay the child, her face a feverish, vibrant red, her breath coming in ragged, wheezing gasps as she fought for every scrap of air.