Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Sian, without arranging an appointment, headed straight to his office. She had been there enough times to know the location precisely. As soon as she spotted the familiar white door at the end of the hall, she lifted her fist.

Thump, thump.

Still shaken by the aftereffects of her nightmare, her knock came out harsher than intended. There was no way he hadn’t heard such a racket, yet the inside remained utterly silent.

Thump, thump, thump!

“High Priest Jerdin.”

She called for the master of the office while pounding the door repeatedly. Is the soundproofing that good? She grew more restless, her knocking noisier.

Thump, thump, thump, thump! Bang!

At last, she sensed movement. Not from inside, but out in the corridor. Footsteps approached with a steady rhythm, and she turned her head.

“You should really make an appointment.”

It was Actarachion. Somehow, he was already right beside her. She flinched at his closeness and instinctively pulled back while he slipped past her, opened the door, and went in without a word. Then he leaned against the wall beside the doorway, watching her in silence.

Does he mean for me to come in?

Naturally, Sian followed him and stepped into his office.

The moment she faced him, her nightmare returned to her in sharp relief.

Was that really a dream… or not…?

She needed certainty. Tightening her grip on the navy coat tucked under her arm, she braced herself.

He shut the door behind her as if deliberately sealing off her escape route.

An uneasy prickle crept over her as she cast him a sidelong glance.

He shrugged off his coat and hung it neatly on the stand before taking his seat at the desk. He didn’t spare her a glance. Instead, his brow twitched faintly at the mountain of papers stacked high before him. But he dismissed them just as quickly, pulling open a drawer. In his hand appeared a twist puzzle, a cube patterned in black and white diamonds.

So that’s what he takes out…

He began to twist and snap the pieces, the once neat cube contorting into grotesque shapes. Work forgotten, he boldly indulged in distraction.

Sian already knew he wasn’t the type to suit the dignity of a High Priest, but now she saw he wasn’t even diligent at the basics. And yet, somehow, he still carried the exhausting double burden of High Priest and Marquis. Surely his subordinates suffered for it. He must be a dreadful superior.

Her silent disapproval must have shown. At that moment his gaze shifted upward.

His eyes, dark gray with a faint spark of life, looked far more human than they had in her nightmare. It eased her fear.

Sian met his eyes squarely and walked up to the desk.

“Was it you?”

No preamble, no explanation. Just the blunt question. But she was certain he already knew what she meant. Facing him, she felt that conviction. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed an answer to the grotesque fear that haunted her.

His gaze fell again.

Click, crack.

The puzzle bent with a snapping sound.

The noise grated on her, and her eyes narrowed.

“The dream… the things I saw.”

“……”

“That was your doing, wasn’t it?”

“You seem fearless, Sister.”

At last he spoke, setting the twisted puzzle before her as if on display. Folding his hands, he lifted his head.

“For a bad dream, you suspect me and even ask me directly.”

“……”

“Weren’t you afraid?”

“It was you, wasn’t it? That was your power.”

Actarachion smiled at her persistence.

“Yes. It was me.”

The answer fell, and the terror that had seeped into her from the unknown vanished. Sian smiled, elated. Contrary to what he intended, she did not tremble with unease. To learn that the one behind those dreamlike horrors was him filled her with a strange exhilaration. For in his ruthless act, she found certainty. Fear was forgotten.

“As I thought… I wasn’t wrong.”

Her voice came out almost entranced as she gazed at him.

Here before her stood a man who could stand against Duke Dion himself, even the Emperor. A formidable ally who could see her divorce through.

“My choice was right.”

Her eyes shone with the radiance of discovery, and her smile bloomed.

Actarachion, however, looked utterly bewildered. An ordeal that might have left another woman traumatized had left her neither shaken nor enraged, but hopeful and almost joyful. She should have been afraid, or furious. Yet she wasn’t.

The red eyes that usually exasperated him with their calm defiance now sparkled at him with something altogether different. The longer he met them, the more an odd tension gripped his chest. Unconsciously, he leaned back and turned his gaze aside.

Too late, he realized that he had been the first to look away.

His pride stung, a beat behind. The strange tension gave way to irritation, and then to displeasure.

“My choice was right.”

He knew what she meant: she had judged him the perfect tool for her annulment.

Leaving aside the insult of being treated as a chess piece, the divorce itself struck him as absurd. To risk entanglement with him over something so trivial. She didn’t even know what he was, yet she dared to get involved. Her audacity was laughable.

Actarachion turned his eyes back to her. Her crimson irises glittered with strange expectation. He longed to crush that spark.

It was the first time in a long time that he’d felt this obsessive thirst for domination.

Biting down lightly on his tongue, he savored the violent impulse before speaking, the taste of iron on his lips.

“You’ll soon find out whether choosing me for your annulment was truly the right decision.”

Sian’s joyful expression slowly sank. She realized if he was a man with the temperament  to defy dukes and emperors alike, then she could not expect to handle him easily either.

Her hand clenched tightly around the navy coat she still hadn’t returned.

He had already dragged her into a lake, already forced her into a nightmare that blurred the line between dream and reality.

But it was fine. She could endure that much. It wasn’t forever.

“I made the right choice.”

Because if she hadn’t, there was nowhere left to turn. The choice was already made. She had to believe it was the right one.

“With High Priest Jerdin’s help, I can end this engagement. And stabilize the capital too.”

“Oh? And now I must tend to the capital’s problems as well?”

His tone dripped with sarcasm.

“Sorry. That was too much. Just help me end the engagement. I’ll handle the rest myself. Please… help me, and I’ll prepare a reward worthy of you.”

In the end, it circled back. The engagement was the point all along. Actarachion’s expression soured, almost bored.

A reward. No doubt she meant money or power. Neither tempted him in the slightest. There was nothing he wanted from this princess.

He was growing weary of the thought when suddenly, a different urge tugged at him. He held his breath for a moment. That knee that had brushed his lower body. That insolent, provoking face. He wanted to devour her…

“And this. I came to return it.”

Her timing was impeccable. She set the navy coat on his desk. The very thing that had nearly sent his memory spiraling dangerously.

Like a boulder dropped into still water, the gesture sent waves through his composure.

The room seemed to freeze. Time itself stopped, though only for a moment, so brief she didn’t notice.

When he finally looked down at the coat, the world resumed.

“Sister, what’s the point of bringing back something I’d already discarded?”

His voice carried a note of disarray, subtle yet plain enough to hear. Softer than in the lake, but more emotional than usual.

Quietly, Sian drew the coat back from the desk. Discarded, he said. He had made it perfectly clear how little she pleased him. She had grown used to his unfriendly way of speaking, but the sting was unavoidable. All she could do was swallow it down.

“Then I’ll keep it.”

His brows rose. Either he disliked her taking it, or he was surprised. Either way, his mood worsened.

It was best to leave now.

Straightening from her leaning posture, Sian took a step back.

“Sorry for coming without warning. I’ll go now.”

“I wonder.”

“……”

“I sometimes wonder how long you can keep up this brazen act, Sister.”

Sian studied him with a tense gaze, uncertain of his intent. Those were ominous words. It felt like he was testing her. The only thing she could think of was to retreat quickly.

“I’ll just—”

“Stay.”

His cold command halted her. It left her no choice. If keeping his favor was her safest option, then she had to obey. Whatever he planned, surely it wouldn’t be worse than the lake.

He picked up the twisted puzzle again, snapping it into a triangular form. Balancing it precariously on the desk’s edge, he set it upright. An inverted triangle.

The odd shape drew her gaze.

Sian stared blankly at the puzzle.

“Remember this.”

His voice carried an uncanny familiarity that gave her deja vu.

“Salvation is granted only to those who strive for it.”

The same words, same tone, same voice as in her dream.

Why now, of all times? She wanted to ask, but couldn’t tear her eyes from the puzzle.

The inverted triangle began to shift, tick-tick, twisting of its own accord. Folding, stretching, curling like a snake constricting prey, until it warped into a shape beyond description. Then it suddenly froze.

A hush fell, the kind of silence that comes before a storm.

Blinking free of the trance, Sian turned toward him just in time.

Chrrrrk.

With the noise of falling objects, the puzzle began spilling endlessly like papers unfolding. Black and white diamonds spread across the room, filling her vision until the world was nothing but its pattern.

A wave of dizziness overcame her.

The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was Actarachion’s face disappearing between the shifting diamonds. Darkness swallowed her vision, and the vertigo eased.

When she opened her eyes again, the chessboard-like space was gone. She was in a dim gray chamber.

“…High Priest Jerdin?”

Hesitantly, she called for the man who had just been there.

The air clung damp against her skin, moist enough for droplets to form. Her gaze wandered over brick walls and floor. No windows, only a single wooden door, shut tight.

A basement. Or a prison.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings, then fixed on something slithering along the wall. Dark, crooked tendrils clung between the bricks like roots, or the limbs of a dead tree.

An eerie feeling seeped through her as the damp air pressed in. It felt just like standing in the empty temple. That same haze between dream and reality.

Another nightmare? Or hallucination?

Whatever it was, it was surely Actarachion’s doing.

And it would not be merciful. Sian tightened her grip on his coat still in her hands, bracing herself.

Rustle, scrape….