CHAPTER 39: CAE’S DARK DESIRE & POSSESSIVENESS

Cassel — POV

Whoever dares to desire my riches...

I will end their existence.

I will end their lives in a manner that is excruciating and gradual, ensuring their existence becomes a curse from the moment they enter this world.

They will regret ever being born, never experiencing life, never longing for what they shouldn’t have.

They will lament the moment their avaricious self dared to aspire to own what belongs to me.

Exactly like those individuals.

I severed all their limbs.

Yet I spared their lives.

I held the final drop of their wretched existence hanging between life and death.

The earth under my feet was slick with dense, dark blood steaming into the chilly air.

Their cries surged and receded like tides, colliding in a symphony of suffering that resonated through the barren remnants.

The scent of blood and dread saturated my breath until I could nearly savor it.

They were weeping.

Soliciting.

Moving in circles with the little energy they had remaining.

Their frantic cries for compassion...

Their voices breaking from agony, pleading with me to stop their torment—oh, it was a sound unlike anything else.

A tune of hopelessness.

For me... it was a pleasure.

It was so enjoyable that I grinned.

I remained still, allowing the destruction around me to pulsate and decay. Observing them contort, their expressions transforming into grimaces of fear and astonishment, I said nothing. I didn’t need to. My silence was heavier than any blade.

I declined to show them the compassion they pleaded for.

They were not worthy of it.

Not a single instant of tranquility.

I observed them squirm and flail like fish out of water, struggling to breathe on parched ground. Yet regardless of how thoroughly I searched, I experienced nothing resembling fulfillment. Lack of justice’s warmth. No tranquility from vengeance.

My heart remained hollow.

The fury still burned inside, roaring and raging like a beast that refused to be tamed.

Their pain wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t even close to enough to soothe the storm in my chest.

Because deep down, the real reason for my rage wasn’t them.

It was fear.

What if it had happened?

What if she had been taken from me?

What if she had... left me on her own?

No.

No, I could never allow that.

The thought alone was unbearable—an endless nightmare I would rather die than live through.

Rosalia is mine.

Mine alone.

Mine forever.

And for all eternity.

We will never be apart.

Those phrases echoed in my thoughts, endlessly, resembling a holy promise inscribed in blood.

My mind plunged further into the shadows, causing everything around me to start fading away.

I sensed myself fading—losing the delicate link that connected me to rationale.

I was submerged in my own feelings, descending into that recognizable void.

A deep chasm where not even the slightest light could endure.

The sole glimmer of hope I had ever experienced—the one that had led me through this harsh, distorted reality—was diminishing.

On and on, until finally, it disappeared entirely.

And yet again, I found myself by myself.

Isolated in this infinite emptiness.

Nobody cares for me.

Nobody is concerned.

Nobody would ever cry for me.

That reality—harsh and unyielding—enshrouded me like a fetter

Until...

"Cae..."

A soft voice called out.

It sounded so distant, like the echo of a dream I had long forgotten.

"...Cae."

"Wake up, Cae."

The voice became clearer and gentler—trembling, achingly real.

And for the first time in what felt like eternity, I opened my eyes.

Light.

A warm, golden light poured into my vision, and standing in front of me was her.

Rosalia.

Her face, glowing and painfully lovely, floated above me. Her deep eyes—wide, glowing—were brimming with fear. Not afraid of me, but concerned for me.

Tears adhered to her eyelashes, quivering like crystal in the morning light.

My light had not vanished after all.

It hadn’t left me.

It will never happen.

And I will ensure that.

Her voice quivered as she talked, shattering the quiet that ensnared me.

"Cassel, are you alright? You appeared as if... I can’t quite say, but you certainly didn’t seem well."

Her voice hit me like the initial warmth following a harsh winter, but the softness in her tone caused another feeling within me to contort.

"Cease the tormenting of them."

The serenity in her voice pierced my thoughts like a knife.

I felt annoyance surge within me, crawling under my skin.

I pushed my face into a mask of calm detachment, eliminating any sign of warmth, love, or weakness.

"Why is that?" "Are you pleading with me to save them?"

Rosalia took a moment before responding. She just stared at me—with eyes that contained no fear or anger, only pity. Sorrow that hurt deeper than any insult.

Like she was staring at a fool.

Did she really want me to let them live?

The same scum who had dared to hurt her—who had tried to destroy what was mine?

Did she want to play the saint again, forgiving those who didn’t deserve forgiveness?

The thought made bile rise in my throat.

I have never been the kind of man to spare an enemy just because they’re broken.

A fallen enemy is not a harmless one.

They crawl back. They heal. They grow stronger—and next time, they strike from the shadows.

That’s why I always prefer to kill problems before they grow.

Mercy is a weakness that breeds betrayal.

And I will never forgive anyone who wrongs me.

Especially not those who dared to touch what’s mine.

Those thoughts clawed and spiraled inside my head—until something soft and warm cut through them.

Rosalia’s hands.

They cupped my cheeks, her palms trembling slightly, forcing my face toward hers.

Her touch burned through the storm like sunlight piercing through dark clouds.

Our eyes met—her dark gaze locking onto mine.

And my heart... melted.

That gaze. That look of hers—it screamed that I was her everything. It whispered, without words, that she couldn’t live without me.

I could see myself reflected in her eyes.

Only me.

For a moment, I almost believed it.

Almost believed I was worthy of such devotion.

But then she turned my head aside, forcing me to look at something else.

"Look—Henry and the others are fighting the zombies! You’re over here playing around, leaving us surrounded! Shouldn’t we be running? Or do you plan to stay and have a nice chat with the undead?"

Her tone snapped me out of the trance.

She was right.

The groans of the undead echoed from every corner—their shadows lurching closer, dragging their half-rotten bodies through the rubble. The air reeked of death and decay.

"I told you to finish it quickly so we can go, or we’ll end up as zombie dinner!"

Her irritation was palpable.

"You didn’t mean for me to spare them, then?"

She blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

"What? Are you crazy? Why would I forgive people who tried to make me a whore—and kill you?"

Her words hung between us, raw and burning with truth.

"..."

"Cassel? Cassel?"

And then, just like that—something inside me snapped.

"Hahaha..."

I laughed.

A low, quiet laugh at first, then louder—spilling from my chest until it filled the air, echoing through the chaos.

"Are you laughing at me?"

Her cheeks puffed up, her lips curving in that adorable, fishlike pout that I could never resist. Her face flushed with frustration, her brows furrowed most endearingly.

She was so beautiful it hurt.

So beautiful I could barely breathe.

I wanted to kiss her.

To taste the warmth of her lips, to feel her melt against me, to make the world disappear until there was nothing but us.

Maybe the atmosphere had grown too hazy—too heavy.

Rosalia was still holding my face in both hands, and her touch... God, her touch burned straight into my soul.

I leaned in, slowly, deliberately.

My head tilted toward her, the space between us shrinking until I could feel her breath brushing against my skin.

My eyes were locked on her lips—soft, crimson, trembling ever so slightly.

Her breathing quickened.

I could hear it. Feel it.

Her chest rose and fell faster, her pulse beating visibly against the pale skin of her throat.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, painting her face like a blooming rose.

She didn’t pull away.

And that was all the permission I needed.

I wanted to kiss her until she forgot her name.

To bite those lips until she remembered she belonged to me.

I wanted it so badly it drove me insane.

And that’s exactly what I decided to do—to give in to that madness, to the desire clawing at my chest.

To take what I wanted.

Because she wanted it too.

As I leaned in closer, her glowing face filled my vision—every detail sharpened. The flutter of her lashes, the faint quiver in her breath, the way her lips parted just slightly as if waiting.

Her scent wrapped around me, sweet and intoxicating.

Her face drew nearer and nearer, the world around us fading into nothing.

Until finally—

Our lips almost met.

The moment hung frozen in the air, trembling between reality and dream.

And in that heartbeat, everything—the chaos, the blood, the pain—ceased to exist.

There was only her.

Only Rosalia.

Only us.