Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!! Chapter 160. A Faint Hope

I instinctively slid behind Zyon, Art, and Freya. Cowardly? Maybe. They passed a glance—sowhere between judgnt and amusent—but didn’t comnt. Thankfully.

Freya, ever the polite one, took the initiative. "Aunty," she greeted, "since when were you here? Is this... an illusion? Or are we actually sowhere else?"

Isolde chuckled softly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "No, this is real. The mont the dragon entered Everhart, I had it trapped in here—overlayed on the forest. You were in an illusion before. But now you’re in reality."

She turned to Art. "He knew. Didn’t tell you though."

All eyes locked onto him like a firing squad.

Art raised his hands, laughing nervously. "Haha... I might’ve forgotten. Or, maybe I wanted to see the look on your faces when the truth hit. And trust , I’m not disappointed."

I bit my lower lip to keep from saying sothing unfiltered. My fingers twitched with the urge to smash his nose in.

Zyon groaned. "You really are a trashy bastard."

Art winked. "Yes, sir. That’s . Grade-A certified trash. But now, Cassius~"—he sang my na—"what do you say now, huh? We got backup. Big, scary backup. Weren’t you acting all smug five minutes ago? What now?"

Still hiding behind the others like a professional coward, I lowered my voice to a level only small rodents could hear.

"It’s a good thing you managed to call her. I’m... very impressed. Truly. You’re the crown prince. So smart, so brave. What a legend."

He clicked his tongue. "Tch. Screw you. I wanted a fight, not so sarcastic ass-kissing. Get lost."

I responded with the only universal language I knew—flashing him the middle finger as I stepped past and walked toward Isolde.

I stopped beside her, watching Leon and Alia from a distance. Their hands were still linked, eyes closed, as Leon’s mana flowed into her. The ritual was ongoing. Her palms rested gently on the dragon’s head, and the dragon glowed a steady silver-blue.

I exhaled slowly. "I gave her permission," I said, keeping my voice even. "If this pisses you off... bla , not her."

Isolde’s eyes softened, her mouth tugging up into the faintest smile. "Why would I be mad at her?" she said. "Shouldn’t I be mad at you instead?"

Her tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. It hit where it was ant to.

She placed a hand on my shoulder, then leaned in and whispered, "You’re hurting."

I tensed.

"You said it’s fine. That you gave permission. But deep down, watching the girl who’s been your fiancée for years... holding hands with another man... trusting him with sothing this intimate... it must sting."

I kept my gaze forward. Didn’t flinch.

"She wasn’t mine," I said finally. "And I wasn’t hers. We were engaged because of politics, not love. It was never about us. Alia... she’s strong. I respect her. And I want her to be happy—even if I’m not in the picture."

She was quiet for a mont, then said, "You’ve grown. Your father wouldn’t have let go this easily."

I chuckled without humor. "Yeah, well. I’m not Lucian. Thankfully."

She looked at Alia and Leon again, her voice barely above a murmur. "Lucian will be furious when he finds out. More than I am. That man planned your engagent the mont you two were born. The Everhart-Lancaster union was sothing he considered inevitable. But..."

Her voice trailed off.

"But?" I prompted.

She sighed. "But Alia’s suffered more than most nobles ever will. Her father—dead. Her mother—turned into sothing unrecognizable. Her family is ruined, her legacy in shambles, and this might be the only shot she has at saving what’s left."

"I know."

"And you still let her go."

I smiled faintly. "Because that’s what I would’ve wanted... if I were in her shoes."

She patted my shoulder once again, firm but warm. "Good answer."

I sighed, hands buried in my pockets. "What’s Lucian doing right now? And more importantly... what’s going to happen to Opalcrest? They shouldn’t be forgiven, right? They’re the root cause of all this."

She gave a single nod, arms crossed over her chest. "Lucian’s eting with Heinau—the King of Opalcrest. But don’t mistake it for a peaceful discussion. He’s not there to negotiate. He’s there to eradicate. He already made it clear: if either Everhart or Opalcrest initiates an act of war, he’ll personally wipe Opalcrest off the map."

I finished her sentence. "And now Opalcrest, by attacking Alia’s family, has officially declared war."

I scoffed. "You know, I’m surprised at how shaless Lucian is. He literally said that if either side made a move, only Opalcrest would be punished. That’s so blatantly biased... I like it, though."

She let out a chuckle. "Of course it is. But that’s Lucian for you. He’s openly supporting Everhart while still pretending to be a neutral enforcer of justice. He couldn’t move unless they gave him an excuse. And now? They’ve given him everything he needed. I doubt Opalcrest will live to see the next sunrise."

I let out a dry laugh. "Lucian, the justice enforcer. That title’s killing . No offense, but he’s not the ’justice’ type. He’s psychotic—like you. I don’t usually associate ’justice’ with psychopaths."

She turned her eyes toward , cool and unbothered. "Cassius, what is justice to you? What does it even an to enforce it? Sure, Lucian’s a psychopath. So am I. And frankly? So are you. But being psychopathic doesn’t automatically an we’re evil. Evil and madness don’t always walk hand-in-hand. So tell —what do you define as evil? What do you think is just?"

The question hit harder than I expected. What did I believe in?

Killing people. Exploiting them. Hurting the innocent. All of that was evil, obviously.

So... by that definition, soone who didn’t do those things was just. Simple.

But here I was. Soone who’d done both. Who’d killed. Who’d manipulated and used others.

So by my own logic... I was evil.

I spoke, voice lacking conviction. "Killing and exploiting people is wrong. So anyone who does that is evil. The opposite would be just."

She observed quietly for a mont. "Not a bad answer," she said. "But what if soone close to you died while you were trying to be ’just’? Would you change sides then?"

I t her gaze, a subtle smile pulling at my lips. "When did I ever say I was just?"

I shrugged. "I’m evil. I’ve accepted that. I’m not trying to act righteous or put on so hero’s mask. I never was that guy. But I do know the difference between right and wrong. I know I’m not innocent—none of us are. Anyone who thinks otherwise is a moron. But I’m not going to delude myself either. Just because I understand the difference... doesn’t an I belong on the good side."

She stared at for a long mont, then gave a small nod. "That’s good," she said. "At least you’re honest about what you are. Most people aren’t."

I shrugged, hands still in my pockets. "What’s the point of lying? I’ve already accepted it. I’m not the hero, and I’m not trying to be one either. I’m just... ."

Her gaze drifted back to the bound dragon. "You say that, but it’s people like you who end up doing what the so-called ’heroes’ can’t."

I scoffed. "Not in this case. That thing—" I gestured at the dragon, still trembling slightly in its chains "—even if I wanted to stop it, I couldn’t. We both know I’m not strong enough for that."

She was silent for a beat before she confird it. "You’re right. You can’t kill it. Neither can I."

I blinked, surprised. "Wait, seriously? I thought you—"

"No," she cut in. "Even with my current strength, I’m only capable of binding it for now. If it regains its full power, these chains will snap like threads. And if that happens, there’s no one here who can stop it. Not you. Not . Not even all of us combined."

That was... comforting.

"So what? We just watch and hope Alia’s little thod works?"

Isolde crossed her arms. "No. We buy ti. That’s what we’re here for."

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling inside. "Buy ti for what?"

"For Lucian," she said flatly. "He’s on his way."

My brow twitched. "Of course he is."

"He is going to be eting Heinau," she continued, "the king of Opalcrest. But if I call him here. He will be here in a monts breath."

I grunted. "And then what? He just vaporizes this thing?"

She didn’t answer at first. Then, "If it cos to that, yes. He will."

I stared at the dragon’s restrained form. The mana in the air was thick and volatile, like an impending storm. Alia and Leon still hadn’t moved—they were pouring their combined mana into the creature, desperately trying to reconnect it to its humanity, or what was left of it.

"They’re running out of ti," I muttered.

Isolde didn’t argue. "She’s trying. But even if she succeeds, that thing isn’t just her mother anymore. It’s sothing else entirely. The pain she must have gone through to be awakened as the dragon would leave her as a husk of her previous self. And if Alia fails, Lucian won’t hesitate."

I stared at them. "She’s not ready for that."

"No, she’s not," Isolde said quietly. "But neither are we."

The weight of her words sank into . For once, I didn’t have a sarcastic coback.

I let out a slow breath. "So we wait, then?"

"We wait," she confird. "We keep the illusion stable, hold the seals, and pray that dragon doesn’t snap. And if it does... we pray Lucian makes her death painless."

I nodded slowly.