CHAPTER 62: CHAPTER 62: SWEET LORD OF TOXICITY.

The guild of heroes, they said—only a chosen few able to register their name. Not even a ranked adventurer could gain the privilege to step foot within its walls. This guild was not meant for exploration or petty quests. It was created for one reason, and one reason only.

"The dungeons above..." Aiden whispered, voice almost lost to the night.

He raised his eyes. The moon was fuller here, casting its silver glow like a lantern burning holes into the dark. The night was clean, polished, unnervingly quiet, save for the faint rustle of branches and the beat of his own heart. That moonlight spilled over the world and revealed them—massive silhouettes suspended in the sky.

The dungeons.

From the palace they had been faint, hazy—mere suggestions against the clouds. But as he and Amber neared the Slayer Guild, their shapes began to sharpen. Blackened towers, elongated and inverted, descending from the clouds like grotesque chandeliers. Jagged spires dripped downward, some sharp as spears, others bulbous like tumor growths. The clouds themselves seemed carved apart to hold them, as if the heavens had been gutted and left bleeding stone.

Aiden had read about them countless times. In the novel. But seeing them with his own eyes—it was something else entirely. His chest rose and fell slowly, not in fear, not exactly. There was awe there. A wrongness that stirred his incubus blood in ways he did not expect.

Amber, however, shuddered.

Her entire body quaked when the light shifted, showing the faint crimson glow of sealed gates at the bases of those inverted towers.

Chains of light crossed each dungeon, binding them in midair like fettered beasts. The magic hummed faintly, a sound you couldn’t quite hear but felt under your skin. It gnawed at the marrow.

Aiden caught Amber’s hand. Her palm was clammy, trembling, fingers stiff with a child’s fright.

"It’s okay... it’s already locked, don’t worry." He pressed, firm and steady, his grip an anchor.

Amber nodded, though her lips still quivered. She looked small tonight, like her robes had shrunk around her bones. Childhood trauma? he guessed.

If he was right, then it made sense. The dungeons had appeared ten years ago—when Amber was barely a girl. The world had nearly ended then.

Kingdoms rallied, monarchs bled, holy saints burned themselves into ash to forge the chains that bound the horrors above. And in those desperate years, the Church swelled—fear making believers out of every trembling throat.

Issshhh... he thought bitterly. If half the stories are true, the nobles and royalty do deserve their thrones. The horrors they must have faced... the screams, the losses. Only their bloodlines were strong enough to stand against those creatures.

Aiden’s lips tugged faintly. Back then, his incubus bloodline would’ve been useless. What good was seduction against things that wore no skin, that feasted on bone marrow and despair? Yet now—in this fragile, temporary peace—it was a gift. A weapon. A crown invisible but undeniable.

A great skill indeed...

His hand slid from hers, trailing down her wrist, over her forearm, then around her slim waist. Her body jumped slightly at the contact, but the red flush on her cheeks bloomed stronger, pushing back the fear that had clung to her.

"Aiden... we... we are in public." Her protest trembled, stitched with denial, even as she leaned closer, her body betraying her own words.

His grip tightened—not forceful, but hungry. His lips neared her ear, brushing warm breath across the shell of it. "Public or no public," he whispered, voice low and velvet, "I would take you anytime, anywhere."

Amber’s knees nearly buckled. His voice, his scent—heat and smoke and something sinful—it undid her defenses like fire kissing dry paper. Her body had already been walking a thin wire under his waist-grip. Now his words sliced the balance entirely.

She bit her lip, a quiet moan escaping despite herself. "Aiden..." His name dripped from her lips, prayer and sin entangled. She leaned against his chest as they walked, her breathing shallow, heavy. "Why... why do you always make me so....?"

"...It’s just you, Amber." His voice curled around her name, wrapping it tight. "Those retards were wrong, even breathing near you. But they were right about one thing..." He pulled her closer still, until no gap remained, until their shadows fused under the lamplight. Eyes around them lingered, gawking, whispering. He didn’t care. Neither, judging by her dazed expression, did she.

"You do look scrumptious," he murmured, lips grazing her hairline. "And that tight gown isn’t fooling anyone."

Amber’s face turned scarlet. "Noo..." she tried, weakly. But her voice cracked like thin glass. "I just... I just wanted to look good. To show... you."

"...To what?" he teased.

"To show you." Louder now, trembling but firm.

"Can’t hear you."

She stomped lightly, frustration piercing through her embarrassment. "...To show you!"

Heads turned. Conversations paused. Heat flushed up her throat as she ducked against him, hiding her face from the stares.

"You... you did that on purpose," she hissed in a whisper.

"Yeahhh," he chuckled, his smirk audible. "Couldn’t help it."

Her chest heaved. She grabbed his hand boldly, placing it back on her waist, firmer this time. Her gaze flicked up, green eyes glossy yet determined. "Aiden..."

"Yes?"

"...I know, you already live in the big mansion, with your own room... but, if you want, you can live with me, you know..." Amber whispered, her voice trembling at first, then steadying into something bolder, braver—too bold.

Even Aiden, who thought himself immune to surprises, froze for a heartbeat at the sheer innocence of it.

"...like couples do..."

The words hung between them like a forbidden prayer.

Aiden stopped walking, his boot scraping against the cobblestones, halting so abruptly she nearly bumped into him. Oh Amber, oh my dear Amber... you are so naïve. Naïve indeed. His thought was neither cruel nor mocking—just drenched in the heavy ache of inevitability.

Amber’s heart skipped. The silence that followed her daring words seemed unbearable. She tightened her grip on his hand, her palm slick with fear. Was she too fast? Too shameless? Had she just shattered whatever fragile bond they had built? Her breath caught, her throat closing, but she held on. She had to.

Aiden, however, felt something entirely different. Amusement flickered through him first, followed by a dark kind of joy. He was pleased—no, more than pleased.

After everything, after how many times he had twisted her trust, bent her to his will, she still shone with this ridiculous purity. She still believed in something good between them. Something better.

Yes. He could live with her. Yes, they could play at happiness. For a while.

But he knew too much of himself to let the lie last. His body might be young, but his soul carried the ruin of another lifetime. And ruin always, always spread.

So many wrong turns. So many poisoned words. So many sins he had scattered like broken glass behind him. Some wounds were forgiven. Others still stabbed at his chest like daggers he could never pull free.

But above all else, there was one truth he could not shake.

"Amber..." His voice softened, dropping to a fragile murmur that almost didn’t sound like him. "You are young, and you are kind—immensely kind. Kind enough to let a stranger like me into your home, even after I forced myself into your life."

Her green eyes widened, and for a moment her lips parted as though his gentleness might open a door.

"But..." He drew in a sharp breath, the word cutting like a blade. "...you don’t know me. And gods, I wish—I wholeheartedly wish—that you never will."

Because he didn’t even know himself.

Because he feared what she would see if she truly did.

His mind was a tangle of shadows he never dared unravel. He had tried before, in weaker moments, tried to understand why he craved despair in others, why love slipped off his skin like water, why he crushed what adored him and seethed when they bled him in return.

Chaos. That was all he was. A storm that lashed everything close. That was why he had chosen solitude in his past life—better to rot alone than to spread his ruin.

His heart was a puzzle, and he never tried to solve it. Because he was terrified the finished picture would be exactly what he feared—disgusting, unlovable, monstrous.

"...I know you like me, Amber," he said finally, his tone barely more than a whisper. "...but."

He pulled away. Her fingers slid from his grip. His warmth vanished from her waist.

Amber’s heart clenched at the sudden absence, her breath faltering. The loss of his touch left her cold, aching. But she didn’t step back. No—she leaned forward instead, pressed her trembling hands against his chest, her body pressing to his, desperate to hold on.

"But what, Aiden?" Her voice cracked, but her courage held. "Is it because I am a nun? If it’s for you, then I will leave it. The church, the vows, all of it—here and now. Please..." Her eyes burned, water gathering at the corners. "Please, don’t say such words to me..."

He looked at her—really looked—and saw the raw desperation swimming in her eyes. And gods help him, it sparked something sharp and sweet inside. A terrible thrill.

Yes. That was it. That was his sickness.

Her love was not enough for him. Her tenderness could never fill the abyss in his chest. What he wanted was this—the pain in her eyes, the anguish in her trembling voice. To him, her despair was sweeter than her devotion.

And the realization made him loathe himself all the more.

"...Maybe," he said at last, pushing her back with cold hands, "...maybe it’s too soon, Amber."

His voice was distant, sharp with frost.

Her world shattered in an instant. He saw the quiver of her lips, the stumble in her breath, the despair sinking claws into her heart. He left her there, standing in ruins of hope, as he stepped away. Step by step, he widened the space until she looked small, fragile, abandoned.

"Aiden..." Her voice was a whisper cracked with grief. A single tear slipped free, trailing down her cheek, shining in the dim light. Her boldness, her confession—everything now felt like a mistake.

But it wasn’t her he hated in that moment.

It was himself.

Because his heart had thundered with excitement at her words. Because for one instant, he had wanted it—wanted her. And that made him despise himself all the more.

The looming tower of the Slayer Guild came into sight, dark and sharp against the skyline.

So he walked away.

Each step dragged like a chain.

Each step left her behind.

’Haaa... I will never change, will I,’ he thought bitterly, as the guild’s shadow swallowed him whole.