“Fearless, aren’t you. To walk into my chambers so calmly after all that.”

A dry laugh slipped from Shed’s lips.

At that, Liana’s lips trembled.

“Ah… or did you want more?”

His long lashes lowered in mockery.

Slap!

Her small hand struck his cheek.

But Shed did not even turn his head. He only looked down at her.

In her eyes—once so dry—tears now welled.

Strangely, he found that he preferred it this way. It was as though she had shed a layer of her stubborn exterior.

Unable to meet his arrogant gaze, Liana averted her eyes. She had once thought his violet eyes were beautiful and enthralling, but now they seemed only cruel.

“If not that, then speak.”

He took another step closer, pressing down on her with his shadow.

Liana swallowed a bitter laugh.

“What should I say? That His Grace went into rut? Shall I spread the rumor for you?”

His sharp words cut through the air.

His brow furrowed.

He knew she would never start a rumor like that. He didn’t want her to gossip or seek his approval.

“Liana.”

“…I already find it unbearable. Horrible.”

The words slipped from her trembling lips.

That night, she remembered all too vividly the raw, savage emotions that had consumed her.

Beneath his rough thr*sts, she had moaned like a beast herself.

It felt as if her deepest, darkest desires had been dragged out and laid bare.

He had delved into the darkest corners of her soul and exposed the secrets she had tried to forget and the primal urges she had kept hidden for so long.

It had been a shamefully sordid desire.

“I want to forget everything about that night.”

With effort, she raised her lids and met his eyes.

Tears clung stubbornly to her lashes.

And for the first time, his gaze faltered.

“You must feel the same, Your Grace.”

Her voice steadied again, hiding behind a fragile mask of composure as she forced the words out.

“So let’s live as if it never happened.”

As if I had never once loved you.

As if the emotions we felt that night had never existed.

Only then could she truly escape him.

As long as she carried those memories, she would never be free of his shadow.

It was better this way—for both of them.

For Shed as well, last night’s l*st must have been nothing but impulse and mistake.

“Then… I’ll take my leave.”

Liana turned and fled the room.

The door shut with a cold finality, cutting the two of them apart.

Only the sound of rain tapping against the window trembled faintly in the air.

He replayed her words in his mind.

“…I already find it unbearable. Horrible.“

His lips twisted, as though the taste of them was foul.

It was a neat verdict.

A perfect definition of what Shed Lester was, in her eyes.

So flawless he could not even deny it.

A filthy beast, unable to control even his own desire. What description could be truer?

“I want to forget everything about that night.”

If it were possible, he would have cut the memory from her himself.

He would have erased it, set her free, turned back time to the way things were before.

And yet…

At the same time, he wanted her trapped in it forever.

Wanted her bound to the memory of their first night, unable to escape, carrying it all her life.

‘Mad bastard.’

Even he knew he had lost his mind.

He scrubbed a hand down his face and turned his head.

An old mirror hung on the wall.

From its depths, eyes filled with loathing stared back at him.

The contempt in that reflection bore witness to the long, debased history of Lupus slavery.

Even he found himself repulsive—how could others not?

He reached for the jug of water Liana had brought, pouring it into a cup.

The trickle filled the silence, like the endless drizzle outside.

It was all dampness—rain, mist, the heaviness of air that clung like wet cloth.

And perhaps, he thought, the weight of the air was her tears as well.

Surely they, too, had mingled with the storm.

Then—the peal of bells calling the knights.

From the first light of dawn, the bustle of preparations for the heretic hunt rose louder and louder.

Shed turned his gaze toward the sword hanging against the wall.

Soon, it was time to depart for the hunt.

The longsword, its hilt engraved with a wolf’s head, gleamed faintly, awaiting the blood to be spilled.

Shed wrapped his hand around the familiar weapon.

No one knew how many days the heretic hunt would take.

Perhaps it was for the best.

If he spent his days running across killing grounds, tracking prey with his life on the line, perhaps—as she had said—he could carve it all out.

This sickening self-loathing, the memories, the sensations of that night—maybe he could forget them.

No… never truly forget.

But at least, he might learn to pretend he had.

He tightened the belt around his waist, feeling the weight of the sword at his side.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

“It—it’s good weather for a heretic hunt.”

Dietrich pulled the white hood of his clerical robe up over his head and gazed at the damp, grey landscape.

The priests following him stood ready at the gates of the Faradel estate.

So too did the knights of House Lester.

The dreary weather seemed only to deepen the solemn grandeur of the occasion.

Yet amidst them all, Shed Lester’s presence alone was overwhelming.

He stood silently, his long black cloak draped around him and a longsword at his hip. His expression was blank.

But in that simple stillness, Dietrich saw it — victory, as though it had already been won.

‘So this… this must be the strength of Shed Lester.’

At last, he began to understand why soldiers and knights alike had spoken of his presence with awe.

Why the words Undefeated Hero clung so naturally to his name.

Clutching down his nerves—fearful of what might go wrong—Dietrich steeled himself and turned.

And there, as always, stood the beautiful High Priestess, Giselle Marlheine.

“Th-thank you for looking after Faradel Castle while we’re gone, High Priestess Giselle Marlheine.”

The heretic hunt would be led by Shed and Dietrich. Giselle was to remain behind, guarding against unforeseen dangers.

Yet today, unlike usual, there was no gentle voice, no radiant smile to bless them, no warmth to lift spirits.

Her expression was cold.

“May the Lord be with you always.”

The blessing was perfunctory, stripped of its grace.

Dietrich told himself it was only the gloomy weather.

“And may He be with you.”

He replied, bowing his head.

Shed, beside him, gave only a silent nod of acknowledgment.

Still, a chill ran down Dietrich’s spine.

‘It’s the weather. Nothing more.’

“Shall… shall we depart then, Commander?”

His tentative voice reached the man with the hardened face.

Shed’s gaze drifted slowly back to the manor, then dipped once in a short nod.

At the faintest signal, the thunder of black hooves struck the rain-soaked mud.

It was dawn, and the hunt for heretics—the salvation of Faradel—had begun.

🌺⟡───⟡🌺 🌺⟡───⟡🌺

Liana stood at the window, watching the long procession depart from the estate.

Through the heavy fog, only dark silhouettes flickered against the pale backdrop.

And yet, amidst them all, she could recognize Shed without doubt.

That singular shadow—taller, straighter, unwavering.

She gazed at the black figure until it vanished into the dim, smoky veil.

She had thought that his departure would bring her a sense of release. Instead, however, she felt an unbearable pressure in her chest.

Perhaps it was the grim weather, but unease spread through her.

They had said all preparations were complete, but would they truly return safely from the hunt?

Would he return safely?

Tok—

The soft sound of fingers tapping against the window startled her.

Greeta.

The tall woman gave a single nod toward the distant march. It was the signal: everything was ready.

Eclace was waiting at the port city of Hellingern, with a ship prepared.

Forged documents, spare clothes and shoes for disguise—even two pairs in different sizes, lest their footprints in the rain-soaked earth betray them.

Gatekeepers, guides, and mercenaries had already been bribed. Decoys were prepared, ready to masquerade as Liana Serpens if the worst came.

Under the meticulous hand of Eclace Vitel, every detail had been arranged with precision.

“Even if you run again, I’ll burn this whole land to find you.”

Did those words still hold true?

Would they still mean something when he returned, with his fiancée at his side?

The memory of Eclace’s vow surfaced in her mind.

With his wealth and network, unmatched by any, he had promised to erase both Liana Serpens and Luise Ideana completely from the world.

With his help, even Shed Lester would never find her again.

“When do we leave?”

At her question, Greeta pointed to the line of riders.

They would depart as soon as Shed left the castle.

Liana nodded.

‘No need to worry, Liana.’

It was already over.

The heretic was not her responsibility; Dietrich would complete the task.

Did he not stand firm against the heretic when they first arrived in Faradel, even when Shed himself faltered?

Turning away from the window, Liana left her lingering regret behind.

“I’ll get ready.”

Stepping away from the light, she stood firm.

Meanwhile, Shed Lester, who had already ridden into the fog, was unaware of any of this.

He would regret leaving for the hunt for a very long time.