Wrong Script, Right Love Chapter 117: The Devil’s Reflection

[Alvar’s POV—The Second Building—Continuation]

The air thickened.

For a heartbeat, no one dared to breathe. The Crown Prince stood before —rigid, trembling, the blue in his eyes dissolving into black. Ink bled through marble-white, crawling outward like rot beneath glass.

A cold wind licked across the room. The flas along the wall bent backward, drawn toward him instead of away.

And then—

HOOOOOWWWWWWLLLLLLL!!!!!

The Crimson Packs howled in unison, a violent chorus that shattered the fragile silence. Their growls echoed through the hall, low and guttural, vibrating the floor beneath us. Armor rattled. The knights stiffened.

Arden’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t belong on a human face.

"Grand Duke..." his voice stretched thin and serpentine. "Be careful what you summon. So doors aren’t ant to be opened."

The hall went still again.

And in that silence, I saw it—the flicker. That black, wrong shimr behind his pupils. It vanished in an instant, like a shadow rembering it shouldn’t be seen.

But I had seen it. And once you’ve seen corruption, you can never unsee it.

I took one deliberate step forward. My voice ca out steady, sharp, and low enough to slice.

"Renold. Haldor."

Both straightened imdiately. "Yes, my lord?"

"Ensure no imperial leaves their chambers," I said coldly. "Until we find where the corruption ca from."

Haldor hesitated. "Even the royals, my lord?"

"Especially the royals."

They bowed once and turned sharply. The Crimson knights fanned out like blood-red shadows, stepping past the imperial guards, who suddenly didn’t look so confident in their polished armor.

Arden’s face twisted, the fake nobility slipping for half a breath. "You’ll regret this, Grand Duke."

I looked at him—no emotion, no warmth. Just frost.

"No," I said quietly. "I don’t think I will."

He frowned, caught off guard by the calm.

"Because it won’t be who regrets anything, Your Highness." I let my voice drop lower, each word deliberate, heavy enough to shake the air. "It’ll be you. When you realize you’re nothing more than a puppet wearing borrowed bones."

A silence heavier than anger followed. For a mont, Arden’s expression cracked—his smile faltered, his hand trembled again—and then the mask snapped back into place.

I turned from him, cloak sweeping across the marble like a closing curtain.

And then—"Do you really doubt us, Grand Duke?"

The voice was soft. Controlled.

I stopped.

Princess Sirella stood at the far end of the hallway, light pooling behind her like she carried dawn on her shoulders. She looked regal, untouched—yet her eyes betrayed exhaustion, the kind that ca from knowing too much.

I t her gaze. "Until we find the source of corruption, everyone is under suspicion, Your Highness."

She exhaled slowly, fingers tightening around the hem of her gown. "Then let assure you of one thing, Grand Duke."

Her tone sharpened—quiet steel wrapped in velvet. "Neither I nor the second prince had any hand in this."

. . .

My brow furrowed. "Strange. It’s the first ti I’ve seen you defend the second prince you hated."

Her eyes flickered—toward Arden, standing behind —and for a second, sothing fractured in her expression.

"I’m not taking sides," she said finally, her voice shaking just enough for to notice. "I just know... he isn’t strong enough to do sothing like this."

"Strong enough?" I asked softly. "Or clever enough?"

She flinched—barely. But it was enough.

I took a step toward her. "Your Highness, I don’t doubt that you an well. But I’ve seen corruption before. It doesn’t ask for strength or cleverness. It only needs willingness. And your brother..."

I glanced back toward Arden, whose eyes still glimred faintly with that sick hue.

"...looks far too willing."

Sirella’s face went pale. Her lips parted and then closed again. Sothing in her gaze flickered—fear, maybe. Or guilt.

And for a mont, I realized—she knew. Not everything, but sothing.

Sothing she couldn’t say aloud.

Her voice broke the silence, low and trembling. "Be careful, Grand Duke. There are powers in this empire that even kings cannot chain."

I stepped closer, eyes cold as the frost creeping up the glass windows. "I don’t chain anyone, Your Highness," I said. "I bury them. No matter who they are. I will crush that beast...if he dares to touch sothing precious to ."

Her breath caught.

And as I turned away, I added, "If I were you, I’d start praying. Because when the truth rises, it won’t co for rcy. It’ll co for those who let it in."

The Crimson Packs began to move again, their howls fading into the corridors. Behind , Sirella stood frozen beside her brother, her eyes burning with the weight of secrets she couldn’t hide much longer.

The sound wasn’t just a click—it was a pulse. A heartbeat. The heartbeat of sothing listening.

Even now, I could feel it—that invisible pressure crawling at the edge of my mind. The devil wasn’t just hiding inside Arden.

It was awake.It was watching.It had heard .

I exhaled sharply through my nose, my gloved fingers brushing the frost from my sleeve. The corridor stretched ahead, empty and cold, but my thoughts wouldn’t be still.

Why him?

Of all people—why Arden?

A man born into everything—power, blood, gold, glory. A man who’d never known the word deny. What could he possibly gain from inviting the devil in?

A man who already had everything doesn’t beg for more... He begs for sothing he can’t control.

My boots clicked against the marble as I turned the corner, the sound crisp and too loud in the sleeping estate. The torches along the walls sputtered as I passed, flas twisting as though recoiling from .

"Why would he summon the devil..." I muttered under my breath, "...when he already owns a crown?"

Power? Revenge? Control?

No. Arden was arrogant, not ambitious.

So why summon the devil? Why stir the world? Why invite a curse that devours kingdoms?

My boots echoed against the marble as I walked the empty corridor. The walls of the estate had gone unnervingly quiet—the kind of silence that ant fear had already taken hold.

My mind wouldn’t stop. Every step replayed the flicker in Arden’s eyes, the frost creeping up the marble, and the shadow curling under his skin like smoke.

No mortal should move like that. No human should sound like that.

He didn’t summon a devil to control it. He summoned one to surrender.

And that... that was the most dangerous kind of man.

I stopped at the intersection where moonlight fell through the window, coating the hall in silver and shadow. The faint reflection of my face in the glass looked older and sharper.

"I need to speak with Priest Caldric..." I murmured. My voice fogged the glass, then vanished.

Caldric would know how to trace the corruption’s trail, how to find the link that tethered the Devil to the prince.

Because if Arden was the door—Then I would be the one to close it.

Before it swallowed anyone else. Before it reached him.

Leif.

Before Leif t the angel, before he touched the spirits or the magicians waiting for him, before that divine seal cracked and uncoiled its light—I had to act.

I had to find a way to chain the Devil myself.

Because I knew what he would do otherwise. He’d stand in front of the storm, with that stupid smile and trembling hands, pretending it didn’t terrify him—pretending he wasn’t breaking.

He’d fight for everyone else and forget himself. And that... I could not let happen.

Not him.

"I’m not letting you fight that thing alone," I whispered. "No matter how strong you think you are."

The glass fogged again, catching the faint shimr of my breath before it disappeared into nothing.

"Never," I murmured. "Ever."