The dry winds of Zalthor's wastelands howled across the desolate desert, swirling dust and sand around them as Rebecca, still shaking from the Gaze of Agony, sohow forced herself to stand.
Her legs felt like lead, her breath ragged, yet she refused to collapse. Not in front of him. Not in front of the man she once saw as nothing but a discarded shell, a plaything for her son's frustrations.
And now?
Now he was the one looking at her like this.
Like she was sothing fragile. Sothing pitiful.
Her chilling red eyes flared with anger, even as a deep, unspoken pain curled in the pit of her stomach.
"Don't look at like that…" Her voice ca through gritted teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. "As if I am so sort of pitiful creature. I endured everything and ca this far so that I could be the one to give people such looks. Not the other way around."
Asher tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. But his piercing gaze cut into her like a blade, heavy and knowing.
Then, his voice ca, calm and sharp, slicing through the tense air.
"Then tell , Rebecca—has it made you happy?"
Rebecca stiffened, her lips pressing together into a thin line.
But Asher wasn't done.
He took a slow, deliberate step forward, his eyes locking onto hers.
"Becoming the one who gives those looks? Like the way you looked at during those years as your son tortured my helpless self?"
His words struck like a fist to the gut.
"You beca the very thing you despised."
Her breath hitched.
She gritted her teeth, swallowing the lump in her throat.
But still—she forced herself to glare at him, to keep her voice steady.
"Maybe I did beco the thing I hated." Her hands trembled, but she balled them into fists. "But it kept alive. And I sure as hell wasn't going to die a victim, especially at the hands of my House."
A bitter scoff left her lips, her tone dripping with resentnt.
"I proved to them I don't need them or anyone to beco stronger than they could imagine without following their stupid ways."
Asher studied her for a long mont before narrowing his eyes slightly.
Then, he spoke again.
"Is that why you desperately wanted a son of your own?"
Rebecca froze.
A faint tremor ran down her spine, but Asher continued, his voice steady, unyielding.
"Soone who would love you for who you are, and not look at you the way your family did?"
Rebecca's eyes flickered with sothing unreadable.
Asher's voice dipped lower, his tone laced with a knowing finality.
"Because he ca from you alone, he is almost like your twin. You two resemble each other so much that you were confident he would be able to connect with you the most. Maybe that is another reason why you never wanted to use a man to birth a child."
She let out a sharp scoff—but her breath hitched halfway through.
A crack. A slight crack in the mask she had worn for years.
"Tch. So what if you're right?" Her voice wasn't as sharp anymore, "It doesn't change anything."
Her arms crossed tightly against her chest, as if shielding herself.
"I made sure he'd never have to go through what I did. That's why I…" She swallowed hard.
And then—
She admitted it.
"That's why I let him torture you."
The desert wind seed to howl louder, as if reacting to her words.
"You were the only obstacle in his path to fulfilling all our wishes. But we couldn't get rid of you because of that bastard Zane, who, for so strange reason, let people torture you. Nevertheless, I wanted Oberon to vent his frustration and mine on you."
Her eyes glimred with sothing fragile—sothing almost broken.
"All you did was sleep like a prince, and yet you got everything my son ever wanted without lifting a finger. I didn't know what else to do to make my son feel better. That's why I even considered having you silently assassinated."
Silence.
A silence so heavy it felt suffocating.
For the longest ti, Asher used to feel nothing but boiling resentnt whenever he rembered those mories—the pain, the helplessness, the mockery, the cruel laughter of Oberon, and the sadistic smile of this woman as she watched it all.
But now?
Now, as he looked at her—he felt nothing but pity.
He could see it now.
The way she fought, not just against others, but against herself. The way she had lived her entire life feeling unloved, unwanted.
It was not worth it to vent any more of his anger on her.
His voice was quiet, but it carried a weight that crushed her deeper than any blade could.
"You spent all that ti making sure he never felt weak, but in the end, the only thing you taught him was how to bla others for what he lacked."
Rebecca's throat tightened.
"And now?" Asher continued, his gaze sharp as daggers.
"He's weaker than ever, and because of you, he now shares the emptiness and helplessness you feel."
Her breath shook.
"Good luck living with that."
He turned away.
And walked.
Rebecca stared at his back, her eyes quivering, her chest tightening.
His words cut deeper than she thought possible.
Her lips parted, as if to say sothing—but nothing ca out.
The weight in her heart crushed her from the inside.
She had known.
Deep down, she had always known.
A shaky breath left her lips as she clenched her fists.
A quiet, almost broken whisper escaped her throat.
"…Damn you."
She ant to sound angry.
She ant to sound defiant.
But all she heard was defeat.
And it terrified her.
She watched him walk away, his figure growing smaller in the distance.
Her chest felt tight. Too tight.
Why?
Why did it feel like if she let him walk away now—
She would be alone again?
Her teeth clenched, her nails digging into her palms.
She forced herself to stay still.
To not call out.
To not—
Her lips trembled.
And then—
She broke.
"Wait! Y-You promised you will let follow you after this!"
Her voice cut through the wind, almost desperate, though she reeled it in at the last second.
"I still have to make sure you won't slack off!"
Asher stopped.
Just briefly.
Then—
"I never promised you anything." His voice was calm, indifferent. "But I also didn't tell you not to follow . But if you do…I won't let you leave until I feel like it."
And then he kept walking.
Rebecca blinked.
And then—a tiny exhale slipped past her lips.
It wasn't much.
But it was enough.
Her feet moved before she could stop them.
She took a deep breath—
And followed.
Asher felt her presence trailing after him, but he didn't stop her.
He knew he should.
He knew he should have shut her down completely, left her behind in the desert where she could fend for herself.
She was dangerous. A woman like Rebecca could never be fully trusted.
And yet…
For so reason, he allowed it.
His fingers twitched slightly, his mind running through every possibility, every reason why he hadn't cut her off completely.
Was it just that she could still prove useful?
That was the most logical explanation.
He couldn't deny that she was powerful, cunning, and resourceful. She had endured years of pain and suffering, and yet she still stood tall, her willpower unshaken.
Even though he wasn't trying to kill her, she was willing and still endured his Gaze of Agony—a feat that would have left most minds shattered beyond repair.
She was strong. And he needed strong people, especially for what was to co.
Or…
Had he been moved by sothing else?
By the way she had exposed her vulnerability and sincerity to him, if only for monts?
Why was he feeling bad for what happened to her?
No.
That thought irritated him. He wasn't the type to sympathize with soone like her.
He had no reason to.
And yet, here she was, walking behind him, still refusing to leave his side.
He let out a silent exhale, shaking his head slightly.
Maybe keeping her close was the best way to ensure she wouldn't stab him in the back.
Or maybe—
He was just waiting for the right mont to see what she was truly after.
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