CHAPTER 43: ROSALIA AWAKING HEALING POWERS.

Rosalia — POV

Seeing Henry like this—without humor, without confidence, without control—

It terrified me more than any monster outside.

Without giving him time to resist, I shoved his hand away and, in one sharp movement, pulled up his shirt.

My breath stopped.

His struggle halted.

For a second—just one desperate second—

I wished, prayed, begged that I was wrong.

That my instincts were lying.

That the story wasn’t repeating.

But...

Henry’s honey-toned skin—

his strong abs—

his warm body that always radiated confidence—

They were marred by bleeding claw marks.

Rotten.

Blackened.

Deep purple swallowing the edges.

The infection spread like poison, creeping across his abdomen like veins of death.

It was alive.

Growing.

Expanding.

Spreading too fast.

Henry was...

He was—

Turning into a zombie.

My throat tightened.

My knees trembled.

My fingers curled around his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me grounded.

Henry stared at me—silent, unreadable.

His breath is shaky.

His eyes flickered between pain and something else... something like fear.

For the first time since I met him—

Henry looked afraid.

And that...

That terrified me more than anything.

Because the story said he would die.

Because the Chapter said he wouldn’t make it.

Because the world itself seemed to be whispering that this was fate.

But I refused.

I refused.

I refused to let this be the end.

Not for Cassel.

Not for Henry.

Not for anyone around me.

Not again.

Not while I was still breathing.

And as the infection pulsed under his skin—

as the darkness crawled like a living curse—

as his eyes closed in pain—

Henry’s voice trembled—fragile, hollow, soaked with guilt so heavy it seemed to bend his shoulders.

"I’m... sorry. I never wanted to tell you."

His jaw tightened until it looked almost painful, and when he finally spoke again, his tone had shrunk into something resigned, quiet... like a man who had already reached the end of his road.

"I was planning to say goodbye... to you, to Liz, to everyone... before I left."

"Left?"

A thunderous voice—deep, resonant, devastating—cut through the space like a blade.

"...Were you planning to run the moment we reunited with the others?

Run—and kill yourself afterward?"

Cassel.

The force of his presence hit me before I even turned. I had forgotten about him entirely, too consumed by Henry’s broken state, too shaken to sense anything else.

I slowly lifted my gaze, turning just enough to meet the pair of eyes fixed on us.

Cassel’s stare was dark, unreadable, but burning with something fierce beneath the surface. I didn’t know how long he had been standing there—but from the hard line of his jaw, the shadow in his gaze... he had heard it all.

Every word.

Every apology.

Every confession.

"I’m sorry, Boss." Henry breathed out shakily when his eyes finally met Cassel’s. Anger radiated from Cassel so strongly that it was almost physical.

"Turning into a zombie doesn’t happen immediately. I still have a few hours... enough to stay conscious."

"You—idiot."

My voice cracked with fury and something else—something dangerously close to fear.

"Do you think you’re fine? Do you think that makes sense? ’I still have some time’? What kind of self-sacrificing garbage is that? You should have told us earlier so we could do something—look for a cure, a way to save you. Why do you always do this? Why do you always decide everything alone? Do you think it makes you strong? Because it doesn’t. It just makes you the stupidest man I’ve ever met."

I didn’t realize when silence engulfed the car—thick, suffocating, almost physical.

I didn’t realize when my vision blurred—when my lashes grew heavy.

I only realized the moment a burning tear fell... then another... then another.

Something inside me cracked open violently—my fears, my memories, my family, my past life, the impossible situation Henry was in... everything crushed me at once.

My tears didn’t just fall.

They collapsed out of me.

Hard.

Harsh.

Uncontrollable.

Like every emotion I had been holding back finally broke free.

"Why... why does this have to happen? Why must this occur? Why must you die? Why must you all suffer?"

My voice cracked—raw, trembling, torn apart by everything I refused to accept.

Hatred surged through me like venom.

Hatred for this world and its merciless cruelty.

Hatred for those zombies that tore into Henry without remorse.

Hatred for Henry himself, for surrendering to death so easily, so quietly.

And most of all... hatred for myself—for being weak, helpless, and utterly useless in the face of it all.

"I hate this... I hate it, I hate it, I HATE IT!"

The scream ripped out of me like something feral—like a dam collapsing under the weight of years.

All my life, I had swallowed every word I wanted to say.

I never had the strength to tell my mother I hated her favoritism toward my brother.

I never dared to face my siblings and say I hated how they treated me—

as if I were a burden, a mistake, an unwanted piece of the family they had to drag behind them.

I never had the courage in that world...

Had never dared to stand up for myself.

But here—here everything was different.

From the moment I opened my eyes in this world, one reason anchored me to existence:

To protect Cassel.

To protect everything and everyone connected to him.

To guard the things that warmed his heart, the people he loved—even if they never knew it.

I refused to let the same tragedies from the novel unfold before me.

I refused to let anyone close to Cassel die—not the people I’d met, not the ones fate had placed in my path.

And now, with Henry’s life hanging on a single frayed thread, a fierce, desperate unwillingness rose inside me—stronger than anything I had ever felt.

When my scream echoed across the air—when those broken, desperate words tore their way out—

Something inside me snapped.

It was as if a chain binding my soul shattered.

As if something deep, ancient, forgotten within me stirred and stretched... and began to grow, pulsing with power.

Then—

light.

A sudden, searing white light burst forth, engulfing everything.

I could barely see through the blur of tears and my half-shut eyes...

But I saw enough to recognize where it came from:

My hand.

My trembling hand, still knotted in Henry’s wrinkled shirt, refuses to let go.

The light intensified—blinding, overwhelming—

And with every growing wave of it, I felt my strength siphon out of me, as if something were draining my very soul.

The sensation was indescribable.

It felt like something was eating me alive from the inside—consuming everything I had, everything I was.

The pain was excruciating.

Unbearable.

Terrifying.

So terrifying that, for a single cowardly heartbeat, I thought of letting Henry go.

Of stepping back.

Of escaping the agony tearing through my limbs and bones, because it felt like he was the one causing it.

But then—through the glare, through the pain—

Something caught the corner of my eye.

Something that froze me still.

Henry’s wound... was closing.

It was healing.

Actually healing.

Slowly, the rotting black flesh peeled away, dissolving.

The raw, bloody marks receded.

And in their place bloomed smooth, honey-colored skin—new, fragile, alive.

And in that moment... I understood.

Somehow—

for some reason—

I possessed the same ability as the heroine of the story.

I remembered how the novel described the heroine collapsing from agony every time she used her power—

how that unbearable pain forced her to use it only a handful of times.

But I was different.

If pain was the price I had to pay to save Henry—

Then I accepted it.

If agony was the cost of protecting Cassel’s life and happiness—

Then I welcomed it.

If my suffering meant someone else could live, smile, breathe—

Then I wanted nothing else.

Pain was nothing—

nothing compared to the miracle of life blooming in front of me.

Nothing compared to the warmth of a saved soul, pulled back from the brink of death.