Rosalia — POV
I could tell that sothing was wrong with Cassel.
It wasn’t just a vague hunch or so fleeting intuition — it was the kind of realization that crawled over your skin and made the air itself feel wrong. Sothing in the way he stood, in the way his eyes refused to focus, in how the silence around him seed to stretch endlessly, suffocating everyone nearby.
Even Henry stepped away from him, wearing a complicated expression that almost looked... afraid.
To say Henry was the last person who could ever fear Cassel would be an understatent. Henry had always been fearless — reckless, even — the kind of man who would walk straight into the jaws of death with a smirk. And Cassel? Cassel was his commander, his confidant, his anchor. The man Henry had followed through storms of blood and chaos.
Henry was Cassel’s most trusted aide — the one who knew his superior as well as he knew himself. He had seen Cassel in every possible state: calm, furious, broken, amused. He had seen him kill, and he had seen him save. He had seen him stand against enemies who could tear the sky apart. Nothing had ever shaken Henry before.
Nothing — until now.
He forgot how to move. His body froze, his shoulders stiff, his face turning pale as his gaze locked on Cassel. It was as though his instincts, the ones honed by countless battles, had scread at him — run.
And to be honest, I felt it too — that sudden, primal chill. That flash of fear that rises uninvited from the pit of your stomach. The kind that makes you want to run without even understanding why.
But I didn’t. I held myself together. Sohow.
Because unlike everyone else here, I couldn’t feel anything negative toward my favorite villain.
Not fear.
Not the desire to run.
Not even the thought of ignoring him.
Those feelings could never exist inside my heart — not toward him.
The one who kept company in my loneliness.
The one I turned to when my family rejected , when I had no one else to lean on.
Following him, loving him — that was what kept alive in my old world.
Every ti I was scolded, beaten, or humiliated by my sisters or my mother, I’d lock myself in my room, trembling, clutching my pillow until my fingers went numb. And then, I would reach for my phone. I would search for him — for Cassel — and read every new update about him.
Every new scene. Every line that ntioned his na.
It beca my ritual. My only escape.
I was always filled with expectation... and prayers.
Prayers for his safety.
For his success.
For his happiness.
So now that he stood before — flesh, blood, and shadow — how could I possibly fear him?
How could I ever move away from him?
I couldn’t. I didn’t even want to. All I wanted was to be closer — closer and closer still.
That had always been my wish. My reason for coming here. Perhaps even the very reason I’d crossed into this world — his world.
To be with him.
Because of my feelings — deep, unending, painful feelings.
Regret for never seeing him in person.
Regret for never being able to help him when he needed soone most.
Because of that endless affection, his dark, terrifying aura didn’t affect at all.
When others saw death, I saw beauty.
When others saw a monster, I saw the man I had loved through pages and pixels — the man whose every wound I knew by heart.
I was about to reach out — to touch him, to ask what had happened — when I realized I was too slow.
Or maybe... he was just too fast.
My hand caught only air.
And in the next instant, I saw him far away — standing amidst the ruins of the shattered city.
The wind howled through broken glass and charred concrete, scattering ash like snow. Flas flickered in the distance, painting his silhouette in a ghostly glow. He looked like a painting—a breathtaking fusion of beauty and destruction.
But the painting quickly turned crimson.
Filled with screams, terror, and the stench of blood.
A scene of violence and death.
Cassel was in a horrible mood.
For a mont, the man before — the one radiating that murderous aura — overlapped with the Cassel I had read about every single day.
For that one mont, I thought the person standing before was him — the Cassel who had been betrayed, beaten, and killed over and over again.
Cassel, the forsaken.
The man who had clawed his way through despair only to be cast back into the darkness.
The man who had always struggled to carve a place for himself in a world that rejected him again and again.
But... that couldn’t be.
And I didn’t want it to be.
Not because I didn’t love that version of him.
Not because I rejected his darkness — that consuming, tragic nature that dragged everyone down with him rather than sink alone.
No.
It was because I didn’t want him to suffer anymore.
I knew his pain too well.
I knew how it felt — how his heart had been torn apart, how hope had slowly died in his eyes until nothing was left but that endless blackness.
A darkness deeper than a starless night.
And because I knew, I wanted this Cassel to know nothing of it.
Let bear that pain.
Let suffer in his place.
I wanted him to be happy — blissfully ignorant of the tragedy once written for him.
Because I was here now.
And I would change his fate.
Even if it ant changing the fate of everyone in this world.
Even if it ant tearing apart the laws of this fictional universe itself.
None of that mattered — as long as my beloved villain remained safe and happy.
When I finally managed to tear myself away from those thoughts that had swallowed whole, I saw Frederick and Henry fighting off a horde of zombies.
Even Alex was using his fire abilities — though not strong enough to kill them in one strike — to protect the three children and their father.
Despite Henry and Frederick’s power, numbers were never sothing to underestimate. The ground shook with the weight of the horde, the air thick with decay and screams.
I turned my head toward Cassel.
He was still standing there... admiring his "artwork."
I an — sure, killing those bastards was fine. But playing with them like this?
We didn’t have the ti for that!
Without thinking, I ran toward him. My boots crushed broken glass beneath , the echo of my heartbeat blending with the chaos.
He seed oblivious to my presence, his gaze fixed on his prey. His expression was unreadable — calm, detached, terrifying.
"Cae..."
"Cae!"
"Cassel, wake up!"
At last, my voice reached him. His dark eyes slowly opened, turning toward .
"Are you okay?" I asked, breathless. His face looked shadowed — sad, and almost... afraid?
No. That couldn’t be right. Cassel wasn’t the kind of man who knew fear. Not even when he’d been assassinated multiple tis. Not even in the face of death.
Whatever I’d seen vanished so quickly I almost thought I imagined it.
But there was no ti to think or analyze it now.
Henry and Frederick were on their last breath, exhausted from fighting. Using their powers too much might make them stronger over ti, but it drained them too quickly — soon, they wouldn’t even be able to stand.
"Stop torturing them—"
I didn’t finish my sentence before Cassel’s eyes turned pitch-black again.
What? Was he seriously asking if I wanted to beg for their lives?
Was he insane? Did he think I was so saint like the heroine, Mary?
(Well, Mary was a fake saint anyway.)
But then—
When he laughed—
Oh, God. When I heard that deep, raspy laugh—
I almost lost consciousness.
That low, rich laughter echoed in the air like a bell — deep, resonant, overflowing with masculine beauty. It rolled over like velvet smoke, dark and intoxicating.
I couldn’t help but stare.
I had never seen Cassel laugh before. Not really. The most he’d ever done was curve his lips faintly, maybe allow a small smirk.
But now—he was laughing.
My heart pounded violently in my chest. It felt like every beat echoed through my bones.
I forgot my hands were still on his cheeks. I froze where I stood.
My mind went blank.
God, this man.
I love him.
I really, truly love him.
So much that I can hardly control myself.
I want him to see only .
To love only .
To never look at anyone else.
As Cassel’s face drew closer, ti seed to slow — seconds stretching into hours.
I could have pulled away.
I could have turned my head so his breath wouldn’t brush against my skin, warm and gentle.
But I didn’t.
Because inside burned a desire — fierce, uncontrollable, buried deep — to be close to him.
A desire I had ignored and suppressed for so long. But being this near to him, feeling the rush of comfort and bliss that ca with his presence... I couldn’t hold it back anymore.
Cassel, you’re like an addiction.
The more I try to stay away, the more I crave you.
And when I’m close, even a little, my addiction only gets worse.
Either way, I lose.
So why fight it?
If it’s you, I’ll accept losing everything.
Gladly.
I closed my eyes.
And surrendered myself to the man towering above — ready to receive whatever he wished to give.
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