CHAPTER 64: CAE’S AARKNESS HITS AGAIN

Cassel — POV

God knows how close my heart came to stopping when I saw that man attacking Rosalia.

Even now, as the memory replays in slow, agonizing detail, I can still feel that frozen second—

the moment the world narrowed into a single point of terror.

I almost lost her.

Those four words alone were enough to fracture something inside me. The thought clawed its way through my chest, its weight so suffocating that breathing felt like a punishment.

I almost lost the only person in this world who loves me.

The only person who looks at me and sees something other than a monster or a weapon.

The only soul who offers me warmth without expecting anything in return.

I almost lost my only salvation.

That truth sank its teeth into me and refused to let go.

It echoed inside my skull with a relentless rhythm.

I couldn’t stop imagining it—

couldn’t stop torturing myself with every possible version of What if?

What if I hadn’t gone to the garden at that exact moment?

What if I had been a second too late?

A single breath slower? A single step weaker?

What if I hadn’t had enough strength or power to save her?

The idea alone made my skin crawl.

What if that sudden attack had succeeded?

The whisper of that possibility wrapped around my spine like ice, sending a chill skittering across every nerve in my body. It was a cold so deep it reached the marrow of my bones.

And yet, after fear—

after that suffocating, paralyzing terror—

came something else.

Anger.

A fierce, scorching anger unlike anything I had ever felt before.

An anger that swallowed the world whole.

A rage that surged through every vein like molten magma, destroying all reason in its path.

A rage that found no outlet except killing the man responsible.

That scum...

That filth...

That insignificant speck of a creature dared to lay a hand on Rosalia.

He dared to attack the light of my eyes, the one person whose existence kept me anchored to this rotten world.

My vision reddened with fury.

Even when I learned the man’s identity—

even when I saw General Zan, the man I had planned to work with, the one who could have made my plans smoother, faster, easier—

I didn’t care.

I didn’t care then.

I don’t care now.

And I never will.

With my strength, even if it takes more time and effort, I will succeed in my plan without General Zan.

There will simply be more bloodshed.

More screams.

More bodies.

And that is nothing I fear committing.

Massacres have always been something I excel at.

I am not someone who fears staining their hands.

My hands...

My hands have been stained long before the world ended.

Long before zombies and monsters and the collapse of everything humans once called civilization.

They were always stained.

And just when I decided—truly decided—to sever that man’s head from his body, to crush his throat beneath my fingers and let his last breath fade into the wind...

I felt a warm embrace.

A soft, fragile warmth that cut straight through my fury like sunlight piercing a raging storm.

She hugged me.

Rosalia’s arms wrapped around me, her lips brushing my skin, her voice trembling as she comforted me.

Comforted me.

Even though she was the one who had been attacked.

Even though she was the one who had almost died.

And then...

She asked me to spare her attacker.

In that moment, I truly wanted to refuse.

Every instinct screamed at me to refuse.

I do not forgive anyone who harms her.

I might forgive someone who tries to hurt me—

But her?

Never.

She is my red line.

My safe haven.

The most precious thing I have in this cruel, decaying world.

I would do anything for her—burn the world, drown it in blood, tear it apart piece by piece—

but to spare the one who tried to kill her...

I wanted to refuse outright.

I wanted to silence that man permanently.

I wanted to end him so completely that even the earth would reject his remains.

And I could have done it.

With a snap of my fingers.

With a single pulse of power.

But—

One look into her eyes.

It was all it took.

One glance into those black, onyx-like eyes—shining with unshed tears—and every shred of my resistance shattered.

How could I refuse when she looked at me like that?

How could I deny her when sorrow weighed heavily in her gaze?

How could I ignore the heartbreak trembling in her voice?

I don’t know anything about her past—

not truly—

But I could feel it.

I felt that she didn’t want the man to die because of the child.

She even said it.

She didn’t want to burden the girl with her father’s death.

I noticed the child too—

how terrified she was, shaking so hard she could barely breathe.

But my heart had turned to stone long ago.

If Rosalia wants me to feel sympathy for an innocent, frightened child...

That is impossible.

No one on this planet can affect me.

No one except Rosalia.

I lost all my humanity and emotions after the countless betrayals I suffered.

After I gained this power—this cursed power—that turned me into a marionette, a puppet forced to dance on the strings of fate.

After everything that happened to me, I no longer consider myself human.

Only when facing Rosalia do I feel my heart beat.

Only when I see her smile, hear her voice, or feel her breath against my skin do I remember how beautiful life can be.

That’s why a child’s tears—or even her death—mean nothing to me.

But the emotions in Rosalia’s eyes told me that she might see herself reflected in that girl.

Maybe she remembered something from her past.

Maybe she saw a shadow of her childhood in those trembling hands.

And that alone...

It was enough for me to relent.

To release my power.

To withdraw my killing intent.

To let the man collapse to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

While old General Zan and his other son rushed to check the injured man’s condition, I didn’t spare them a single glance.

Not one.

All my attention was on Rosalia.

The girl who smiled at me the moment she realized I listened to her request.

A simple smile—nothing more—yet it made me feel like I had accomplished something extraordinary for her.

"Rosalia..." I murmured, the name leaving my lips like a prayer I didn’t know I knew.

My hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer, as if proximity alone could protect her from every danger in this world.

As if holding her tighter would keep fate itself at bay.

I drew her into me until her breath mingled with mine.

Until I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat—steady, alive, real—against my chest.

Only then did my own breathing begin to calm.

Only then did the storm inside me quiet down.

I pressed my forehead to hers, closing the distance between us with intimate familiarity.

"Rosalia... don’t leave me."

The words were a whisper—fragile, desperate, stripped bare.

But what followed was a vow born of obsession and hunger.

I kissed her soft, pale forehead gently, letting my lips linger on her skin longer than necessary.

"In this life," I breathed against her,

"you are not allowed to leave me alone. Ever."

When her eyes brimmed with tears again—tears filled with guilt, with pain—I knew exactly what she was thinking.

That was why my voice grew firmer.

Harder.

A command wrapped in the shape of a plea.

"Do you understand?" I said, the edge of anger in my tone unmistakable.

"I won’t allow it."

But the anger wasn’t for her.

It was for myself.

For my weakness.

For the fact that I had been unprepared.

For the possibility that I could have lost her simply because I had