CHAPTER 155: 155. TORN BETWEEN CHOICES

I couldn’t help it.

The words slipped out of my mouth before I could think twice.

"You guys knew... didn’t you?"

Silence.

Tense. Hesitant.

Freya was the one to break it. Her smile was tight, strained — not from amusement but from guilt barely disguised.

"We found some evidence," she said, voice brittle. "At a black market. That was... where we found Amelia. She’d been trapped by some real shady bastards."

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

"Wait. She was trapped? Where the hell was I when this was happening?"

Art sighed — long, dramatic, and thoroughly unnecessary. "You’d gone berserk, remember? While you were busy butchering regionalF crime syndicates like a damn possessed executioner... Amelia was kidnapped."

I blinked harder this time. My brow twitched.

Zyon added in, his tone more serious, face dark. "At the same time... Lady Liana was abducted too."

Oh.

I was starting to see the outlines of it now.

"So the whole thing—Amelia’s kidnapping, Lady Liana’s disappearance—it was part of some elaborate setup?"

Art gave a stiff nod.

My gaze turned toward Amelia.

She hadn’t said a word yet, but her fingers were white from how tightly they were clutching the hem of her dress. Her eyes were red, swollen—not crying, but on the edge of it.

Then finally, she spoke.

"We found a document. About... a ritual. Something that could reverse Mom’s dragon transformation. It wasn’t complete, but it gave us hope."

I stared at her flatly.

"A ritual," I echoed. "And you just... believed it? The same ritual that you just so happened to find while kidnapped in a black market operated by god knows who? You don’t think that was a little too convenient?"

Art quickly interjected, placing a hand on my shoulder with a practiced grin that was either fake or too real. "To be fair, I’m the one who found it. It was buried under rubble. Half-burnt. Fragmented. Not exactly the kind of thing someone would use for a clean setup. It wasn’t even labeled clearly—just jumbled references and clues. Took me hours to even piece it together."

I raised a brow, unconvinced. "So... it wasn’t a ritual scroll, but a jigsaw puzzle?"

He nodded like that was a totally rational thing.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. "Brother... you do realize that if someone wanted to trick you, they wouldn’t write it in neon colors and leave a post-it note saying ’Don’t trust this.’ Subtlety is literally how schemes work."

Art looked vaguely offended. "Hey. If it was a real trap, why not make it simpler? Clean. Precise. Like—’chant this under a blood moon with a goat heart’ kind of straightforward. This felt messy. Improvised. Real."

I didn’t even bother responding.

Zyon, Freya, and even Amelia were nodding along like he was some prophetic idiot savant. They were dead serious.

I finally accepted it.

They were all idiots.

"Fine," I muttered. "Whatever. I give up. Let’s say, hypothetically, it’s not a trap. What’s the plan? I assume you’re not planning to stand around and wait for her to come back and finish demolishing the continent."

I saw it. The flicker in Amelia’s expression. The tension in her shoulders. The way she stopped breathing for half a second when I asked the question.

They didn’t answer.

Not immediately.

They looked at each other like children caught with blood on their hands and no excuse rehearsed. Avoiding eye contact. Kicking invisible dust.

I waved a hand in front of their faces. "Hello? We’re talking about a literal dragon on a goddamn rampage and your only hope is a ritual from a suicidal black market reject. You could at least tell me what it is!"

Zyon opened his mouth.

Closed it again.

Freya looked away.

Art suddenly found his boots fascinating.

My patience snapped.

I turned to Amelia, who, despite clearly holding back tears, met my gaze with trembling resolution.

She inhaled deeply, then spoke—quiet, but firm.

"I need to... merge my mana," she said. "With another Ice-type element user. Let it fully flow through me."

The words hung there.

And slowly... my brain processed what she meant.

Mana merge.

An intimate, highly intimate act. Basically on a level of sex. Now, I understood why they weren’t saying anything. It all made sense now.

My gaze drifted to the others.

Zyon cleared his throat and looked away.

Art scratched his cheek and avoided eye contact.

Freya studied the sky like the stars might save her.

Amelia’s body tensed, probably expecting me to shout, protest, rage, or threaten to murder whoever volunteered. But instead—

I smiled.

A slow, lazy grin spread across my lips.

Wasn’t this... a perfect opportunity?

"If it’s so," I said, tone light, "then we should cancel our engagement, no? I mean saving your mother should be our priority."

Her eyes widened.

There it was.

That subtle twitch of her fingers. The flash of something behind her eyes. Confusion. As if she hadn’t expected me to say that.

I shrugged. "I mean, we’ve both been avoiding it. If you’re about to basically have sex with another dude. I’d rather not be the background character in your romance."

Art choked.

Zyon stared.

Freya looked mildly impressed.

Amelia met my gaze — an odd mix of hesitation, amusement, and something dangerously close to relief. Her lips curved into a soft, almost reluctant smile, like she’d been holding that weight for far too long.

"I guess you’re right..." she murmured. "I need to save my mother. That comes above everything else. We both never really had a say in this engagement to begin with, did we?"

No, we didn’t. That much was true.

She exhaled, the breath shaky but resolute. "And now... our circumstances have made it so that we have to break the engagement."

I smiled. Not the kind one gives in a breakup to lessen the blow, but the kind that came naturally — because I’d been waiting for this exact moment. This entire scenario had been served to me on a silver platter, no—a platinum one, decorated with fireworks and flashing signs saying "Exit Here".

Naturally, I would take it.

Besides, this was how it was supposed to be. She was a heroine — his heroine. Leon Stroud’s path had always included Amelia Everhart. She was meant to be the first domino in his journey toward being the protagonist of the world.

And me?

I was just the extra. A nice little Cuck.

’So, dear protagonist... should I lend you a hand?’

I decided I would. After all, I was sure I would do a lot of shenanigans. Enough to make him loathe me. Enough to turn friends into enemies. At least this one deed... this one good deed... could be a start.

I cleared my throat, gaining the group’s attention. Zyon and Art were still looking around, clearly unsure how to process what had just transpired. Freya looked like she was chewing on a sour mint candy and failing to swallow it.

I ignored them all.

"Right then. We need an ice element user for the mana merge, correct?" I asked, addressing the elephant in the room as casually as one might discuss weather.

Amelia nodded, cautious. "Yeah... but why do you ask?"

I smiled, sharp and toothy. "Well, don’t we already have the perfect candidate for it?"

Her brow creased. "Who?"

"The Number Two in Physical Rankings — Leon Stroud," I said without missing a beat. "He’s an ice-type. We know he’s strong. He’s a great looking dude too. Comes from a decent family. And, most importantly, he’s available. What do you think?"

Amelia’s reaction was subtle. Her lips parted slightly, but no answer came. Her gaze lowered for a second.

"I... I don’t know," she said. "It’s all too sudden."

"Sudden?" I raised a brow. "You’re about to do a ritual that may or may not save your dragon mother, and you’re worried about sudden? Time isn’t a luxury we have anymore, Amelia. That dragon could return at any moment. If we wait, we lose."

She hesitated.

I doubled down.

"And more than that, we don’t even know the exact requirements of the ritual, right? But if it involves mana synchronization with another user, I’d assume the stronger the partner, the higher the chances of success. Right?"

Art, ever the rational one, interjected. "Well... the text wasn’t that specific. All we know is that the mana must flow freely from the other ice-type into Amelia’s body and then both of them should attack."

I shrugged. "That’s my point. If we’re improvising, shouldn’t we stack the deck in our favor? Pick someone strong, reliable, and compatible. Leon’s our best shot."

Freya, ever the emotional lens of the group, raised a brow and gave me a crooked smile. "Isn’t he your rival? You’re really suggesting your fiancée go mana-merge with your rival? That’s not even passive-aggressive anymore — that’s actual character growth."

I snorted. "Please. Leon proclaimed himself as my rival. I never agreed to that nonsense. If he is my rival, then hey — Amelia’s picking someone worthy. Someone on my level."

Zyon sighed, rubbing his temple. "Alright, but we’re ignoring one massive problem here — your parents. The Lancasters. You think they’re going to be fine with this? You know how they are, Cassius. You break the engagement like this, they’re going to flip."

I nodded. "Oh, absolutely. They’ll throw a fit, maybe even break a few priceless vases. But they won’t come after her. I’m here for that. They’ll disown her, blacklist her from marrying into the family again, sure... but they won’t do more."

I paused for effect, locking eyes with each of them.

"I’ll deal with my parents. They’re monsters, but they’re my monsters. And I can tame them when I need to."

Art, Zyon, and Freya all nodded slowly, clearly digesting my reasoning and finding it... unpleasantly sound.

With that, I turned toward Amelia once again. Her gaze met mine, cautious, uncertain, yet searching for something — maybe hope, maybe escape, maybe just permission to choose.

I offered her that, plain and simple.

"So," I said, voice calm, steady, no longer teasing. "Everything comes down to you now, Amelia. This is your decision."

"Do you want to try and save your mother... with Leon?"

She looked down, her fingers trembling slightly. The weight of the world — or at least of her family, her bloodline, and her former engagement — was now resting on her shoulders.