Chapter 2 Part 3

Without thinking, Melissa threw herself forward.

She didn’t even know what she was doing. Her whole body was soaked in sweat, her heart ready to burst with fear.

But Philip, frozen in fear and staring upward, reminded her too much of herself.

And so she couldn’t stop.

Just before the ghost’s razor-sharp arm struck Philip, Melissa drew the sword from his waist. She pressed the pommel against her belly and just barely managed to raise the blade.

The white phantom lunged—mere inches away.

As the sword pierced its body, a crushing weight slammed into her abdomen.

A sharp groan escaped her lips.

“Ugh.”

“Lady Gallandia! Are you all right?”

Philip flailed behind her, his hands clumsily gripping her shoulders.

Melissa’s fingers, reddened from clutching the unfamiliar weapon, trembled violently.

Slowly, she raised her eyes—

The ghost, impaled clean through, hung limp on the blade.

Her breath came in ragged gasps.

She had killed it.

A phantom.

She, who had never once held a sword before.

A strange euphoria bubbled up in her chest.

It must’ve been the leader—

All the other ghosts began dissipating, their forms scattering like smoke.

Even the blood that had splattered on her and the others faded away like ash.

So that’s why he said to kill the leader first.

Her thoughts, oddly calm for the moment, were cut short—

A sword pierced clean through the phantom’s remaining throat, twisting the flesh open.

Through the disappearing corpse, she saw him.

Alexander.

Wind tore through the trees, rustling his dark hair.

His golden eyes, unblinking, gleamed beneath dappled light.

He looked down at her for a long while.

Then his pupils narrowed.

“More than I expected.”

***

Alexander remembered the day he first met Melissa.

She had chased after him like a fool, beaming endlessly.

That radiant face.

A girl with silver-white hair and clear blue eyes—perfectly dressed, stunning enough to leave him speechless.

He had been the son of a blacksmith mere days before.

She was a glittering jewel he dared not touch.

With a giddy voice, she had timidly approached him.

Perfect posture. A bright gaze.

She was his opposite in every conceivable way.

And yet she babbled on with whimsical fantasies—

How giving names to wildflowers helped them grow. How wonderful her grandfather was, though she had never seen him.

“Actually, I’m an illegitimate child too.”

She had said it as if they were the same.

But to Alexander, it was laughable.

She was only about thirteen back then—taller than him, straighter in posture, her voice always gentle.

True, she was a bastard just like him.

On paper, their circumstances weren’t that different.

But she still felt infinitely distant.

Trying to bond over something as paltry as shared misfortune—

He found it insulting.

A joke.

Especially when that overly pretty face was the one saying it.

He remembered it now.

She wasn’t someone he thought of often.

But on days she wasn’t around, the space she left behind felt oddly empty.

When she didn’t appear, his gaze would wander without reason.

Still, what truly angered him was when she mentioned love.

“You should think of someone you love. It’ll make you smile.”

He had instantly thought of his real parents.

And he had smiled.

Because it was laughable—

The hypocrisy of poor, stern people claiming to love him.

He remembered it vividly—

His adoptive parents screaming “I love you” in bed with their lovers.

It was laughable.

So he let the thoughts spiral:

Crushing his adoptive father beneath his heel for raising a hand to him.

Slitting the belly of his cousin who spat in his face.

Tearing out the eyes of the woman who looked at him like filth.

One thought led to another.

And somewhere in those cruel fantasies—

Melissa Gallandia was there, too.

A faint, hazy image now, but not unimportant.

Alexander had reached for the dragon.

And in the end, he had succeeded.

***

Alexander stepped over the ghost’s corpse and approached Melissa.

The ambush had been expected.

He already knew Bright had started dabbling in forbidden magic.

All that remained was confirming the spell’s purpose.

Savage sorcery was taboo, yes—

But more importantly, its applications were limited.

Still, there was one particular spell Bright might have used:

A forbidden rite known as Jeonhoe—Transfer of Legacy.

A ritual that could steal extraordinary powers from the dead.

And that included the power to command dragons.

Here lies the real question:

If Melissa truly possessed the power of the Bergritz bloodline—why hadn’t Bright simply killed her and taken it through the rite?

The answer was clear now.

Bright hadn’t refused to kill Melissa—she couldn’t.

Melissa couldn’t be easily killed.

And even if she were, her power wouldn’t transfer.

That power had to be taken by someone worthy of it.

Someone like him.

“L-Lord Bergritz…”

Her trembling gaze clung to him—

As if he were her only salvation.

And perhaps, in that moment, he was.

He could have reached out.

Could have reassured her.

But she was still his brother’s fiancée.

And worse, she saw herself as that.

Melissa Gallandia loved Alexander Bergritz.

But did she love him enough—

Enough to cast off the label of his brother’s bride?

Enough to accept the shame of chasing after her fiancé’s younger brother?

The love Alexander knew had always been shallow, self-serving, defensive.

Everyone who’d claimed to love him had only ever wanted to use or deceive him.

Now they were all beneath his heel.

His adoptive parents were exiles.

His birth parents still rotted in their squalor.

And Melissa Gallandia—

The girl who couldn’t even hide her feelings—

Sat there with trembling hands, a leash still tied around her neck, waiting for scraps from his brother’s table.

A dog would have been easier.

You just pet it, toss it food, and that was that.

But Melissa was human.

A contradiction—

One who looked at him with pleading eyes

yet willingly accepted a marriage to another man.

The discomfort tightened in his chest.

If she couldn’t choose to break free of that leash—

Then he’d just have to tie a stronger one around her neck.

And there was one obvious answer.

Marriage.

To him, marriage was nothing more than a merger—

A fusion of wealth and power.

But it was also a legal and physical shackle.

A chain that bound tighter than any leash.

He wanted to reclaim all of Tavalon’s former territories. If licking the king’s feet was what it took to achieve total victory, he would have done it. Then why not marry a hostage? But a simple marriage wouldn’t suffice. He had seen too many people ruin everything by being indiscriminately promiscuous and emotionally swayed—even his foster parents were examples of that. He’d need to use threats, or persuasion at the very least. Until he achieved his goals, he wanted her to be completely consumed by him—emotionally and physically.

“Sister-in-law.”

So if she herself denied that title and came to him of her own will, nothing would be more perfect.

Alexander bent down and lifted Melissa into his arms.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

Unlike his calm heartbeat, her wildly throbbing heart pulsed into his palm. He calmly placed her inside the carriage, gently, as if handling fragile glass.

“No casualties, sir. A few injuries, but…”

Boris’s report came from behind his back. Alexander turned his head slightly, gripping the carriage door frame.

“Prepare to head for the Rune Gate. Send word to the royal palace, and return the critically wounded to the estate for treatment. Only the lightly injured will accompany us to the Rune Gate.”

Melissa’s hope that he would soon step out of the carriage was in vain—Alexander stepped inside instead. Then he even reached over her. It was just to close the window, but the result was a position where he was practically on top of her. As suffocating tension wrapped around her throat, a faint shaft of light from the window cast down on them.

“Sister-in-law.”

In truth, Melissa had wanted to ask why he suddenly decided to head for the Rune Gate right after the ambush, but she was too shaken by everything that had just happened—and his eyes locked on her, making her mind go blank.

“May I confirm something for a moment?”

“…W-what is it?”

His eyes lowered slowly. They were so close she could feel his breath. Just when she was barely holding it together, his ungloved hand touched her blouse. Pressing lightly against her now-flat stomach, his fingers moved to her shirt buttons. Melissa tried to push against his chest, but he didn’t budge. His expressionless face seemed almost ascetic.

He spoke shamelessly.

“I believe you pressed the pommel somewhere around here.”

With a rustling sound, the buttons came undone from the bottom one by one.

Her pale stomach was exposed.

His hand, now warmed by the air, brushed over the bruise near her solar plexus—where she had supported the pommel. Her abdomen twitched and contracted.

“Why did you act so recklessly?”

His tone was quiet—almost dangerously so.

“…Ah.”

“Ah?” He mimicked her gasp with a faint smile. His golden eyes curved gently. Whether it was kindness or chastisement, Melissa suddenly felt like she might faint.

Unconsciously, she tried to push away his wrist, but it stayed rooted over her bruise—solid and immovable. He clearly had no intention of withdrawing until she answered. If he so much as moved his hand a little, it would touch just beneath her chest.

Panicked, she spoke hastily.

“Ah, well… because I was afraid Philip would get hurt.”

“…”

“I could see them, the wraiths… I’m sorry.”

Alexander looked at her expressionlessly.

She knew she’d been reckless, but there was no trace of regret in her face. No remorse either. Shameless little liar. Just where did she get that noble drive to risk herself for some lowly servant she had only just learned the name of?

Whether it was out of genuine goodness or some inflated hero’s instinct didn’t matter to Alexander.

She should not waste that power on such things.

“Melissa.”

It felt like she was being struck by a barrage of arrows as she dazedly looked up at him.

He lowered his voice and asked,

“Aren’t you curious what you really are?”

Melissa frowned. She had never seriously pondered what she was, because the answer had always seemed obvious.

“I’m a hostage.”

“I.”

Though already close, his face drew even nearer—nearly brushing hers. His searching gaze felt like it could pierce right through her.

“You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

She was at a loss for words. In the stifling air still thick with the heat of blood, his question felt like a poisoned apple—sweet, yet something that must never be bitten.

As if sensing her confusion, he reached out and began buttoning up her disheveled shirt himself. From the very bottom, slowly, one by one.

“As you might’ve guessed, the one who tried to kill you was Franz. He’s the only fool who’d pull something this stupid.”

Each time his rough fingers or the back of his hand brushed against her bare skin, Melissa flinched. Clenching her jaw, she muttered,

“If they wanted to kill me, there were plenty of chances. I’m sure they were targeting you—”

“Me? With a mere wraith?”

He spoke with startling calmness, even gentleness.

“No, they were aiming for you. There were likely dozens of attempts. Maybe even hundreds.”

He fastened the last button, then gently pressed over the bruise, careful not to hurt her.

“What if the reason they haven’t killed you isn’t because they didn’t want to—but because they couldn’t?”

“…”

“And what if the reason for that lies in a special power you possess?”

Melissa’s eyelids trembled.

Even if—by some chance—she did possess some kind of special power, it would only mean being used. By Bright. By Alexander. Maybe by both.

All she had ever done was survive—watching the eyes of those above her and playing her role as a dutiful hostage.

If only she could speak openly to Alexander again. But with his true intentions still unclear—and with Bright now wielding forbidden sorcery—she couldn’t risk it.

Not when her grandfather’s life hung in the balance.

She would have to obey Bright’s orders.

She would have to kill a dragon.

She never thought she would succeed. Still, she had to try. There was a chance it could cost her life—but if she couldn’t protect her grandfather, then her life held little meaning to begin with.

“I won’t force you.”

His voice cleanly cut through her spiraling thoughts. The warmth of his breath faded as Alexander drew back, settling into a lopsided posture across from her. Melissa instinctively scooted away, pressing into the corner of the seat. Watching her, Alexander lit a cigarette and spoke calmly.

“When your curiosity finally catches up to your resolve—I’ll answer.”