Chapter 22: The Awakening of Darkness

Osh’s low, rough voice calling Kebel scattered into the air. Seeing Kebel unconscious, Osh’s eyes trembled faintly. As if to check whether he was still breathing, Osh pressed his ear to Kebel’s chest, then let out a quiet sigh of relief.

Even so, as he looked at Kebel’s pale face, eyes shut, his gaze churned darkly like a storm over a night sea.

He rose and approached Ida, who lay collapsed nearby. Seeing him brought down by such insignificant opponents made Osh’s expression crumple like paper. But he quickly smoothed it out again and nudged Ida with his foot.

“Wake up.”

“Ugh…”

Ida groaned, clearly in pain. His abdomen was soaked with blood, yet Osh only looked down at him without any intention of helping. When their eyes met, Osh slightly narrowed his gaze.

“What happened to the assassins…?”

“They ran away.”

Osh’s shameless lie was accepted without question. Ida seemed to truly believe it. Watching this, Osh clicked his tongue inwardly, displeased. How could someone so simple protect Kebel? Still, Ida staunched his wound and forced himself to stand.

As Ida reached out, seemingly to take Kebel, Osh firmly refused and turned toward the carriage. A chilling aura clung to him, but Ida dismissed it as his imagination. Tearing off part of his coat, he tightly bound his wound and set the carriage in motion.

****

The Crown Prince arrived with a priest. The priest quickly examined Kebel and left after confirming his life was not in danger, placing a small vial of medicine beside him. But Beril found the situation suspicious and summoned Ida privately.

“I heard he was injured on the way to see me.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Explain.”

Ida recounted everything. The more Beryl listened, the more incredulous he became, his lips twisting.

Attacking a carriage of the Ilya family made no sense. It was tantamount to declaring war. Yet the young duke had been attacked, the assassins had fled, and Osh Sulleban had been left alone at the scene?

Beryl let out a dry laugh, rubbing his chin.

The people of the duchy trusted Osh, but Beryl did not. The Count Sulleban was the kind of man who would stab you in the back without hesitation. And Osh, his son, would be no different. Blood would tell. One day, Osh would betray him too.

Before that, Beryl intended to strike first.

If something could not belong to him, it was better destroyed.

“Where is Osh Sulleban?”

“He’s waiting outside Lord Kebel’s room.”

“Bring him.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Soon, Osh entered. He greeted properly, but Beryl ignored it and gestured lazily for him to sit.

“Long time no see, Osh Sulleban.”

“It has been a while, Your Highness.”

Beryl’s tone was cold; Osh’s, flat. Osh’s composed expression only irritated him further.

“The young duke of Ilya was injured.”

“Yes.”

“Don’t you find that strange? Why would assassins appear on his way to meet me?”

His golden eyes sharpened like a hawk’s. Still, Osh remained silent.

“It feels as if someone deliberately interfered.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Your Highness.”

The clean, measured reply grated on Beryl’s nerves.

“Regardless, I’ll overlook it this once. There won’t be a next time.”

“There seems to be a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

Beryl leaned back, staring him down.

Then, abandoning restraint, he spoke plainly.

“I’m very jealous. I don’t like seeing someone promised to me sticking close to another man.”

At that, Osh finally lifted his gaze.

A cold storm raged within his emerald eyes.

Beryl felt a strange thrill.

“Stay in your place. If I get truly angry, I might destroy your entire family.”

“Then allow me to say this,” Osh replied calmly. “The future is unpredictable. So hold on tightly.”

“What?”

Osh smiled faintly.

For a moment, Beryl felt a chill run down his spine.

He stood, deciding to end it there, and left. Osh watched him go with a faint smile before heading back to Kebel’s room.

****

The moment Osh entered, Bill rose and left quietly, as if entrusting the room to him.

Osh frowned slightly.

These people lowered their guard too easily.

He looked at Kebel lying on the bed. Color had returned to his face, but his delicate features only seemed more fragile.

His small nose, his slightly reddened lips… each detail stirred something restless inside him.

Until now, Osh had known only two desires:

To eat.
To sleep.

But Kebel made those feel insufficient.

He wanted more. Something different.

Unable to touch him, and dissatisfied with merely touching, Osh traced Kebel’s face with his eyes, as if caressing something precious.

He sat beside the bed, listening to Kebel’s soft breathing.

At first, it had all been because the count ordered it. He had simply played along like a puppet. Watching Kebel trust him so easily had always stirred something strange within him.

Kebel was bright, innocent, everything Osh was not.

The count had taken Osh from the slums. To cover it up, he married, forced a pregnancy, and abandoned the newborn child in the slums, replacing it with Osh.

To complete the deception, he killed the woman.

Not long after, the experiments began.

Night after night, forbidden black magic, unholy rituals, and Osh, unresponsive beneath it all.

And with it, the count’s abuse never ceased.