Sea Monster Stew Chapter 45

He crumpled the scroll, feeling a disgust that scraped at the very bottom of his heart. 

 

Along with the anger that bored into his bones, the hatred he had suppressed since Biche’s disappearance boiled up again like blood.

“…A man? A man?”

That assistant of Moose, the one with the grey hair, should be dead. Who the hell is it? Could it be the very same man she fled with to Mint Beach? Did she go all the way to the Helio Empire with that man?

 

Pacing the balcony with restless steps for a moment, Hildert grabbed the balcony railing and bowed his head deeply.

“Ha…”

 

He let out a trembling breath and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

Anger and contempt stabbed his entire body like sharp needles. 

 

His breathing grew increasingly ragged.

She was a child who had lived under his thorough protection for the past five years. 

 

A hybrid whose identity remained hidden thanks to the layers of Hildert’s magic enveloping her.

She, who had almost become prey to beasts like Admiral Kisa… Despite being led by mere sentiment, he had somehow prevented her miserable death…

“A man…”

Whose hand did she take, other than that grey-haired man? Hildert stared at his own hand gripping the railing, his eyes bloodshot.

He should have killed that hybrid with these very hands, right there in her bed that day.

“How dare you…”

Betrayal, humiliation, and a strangely lonely emptiness clawed at his chest. 

 

As he exhaled a rough breath, he slowly rolled his eyes. 

 

Unbeknownst to him, a twitching heart now lay on one of his hands.

If he crushed it now, he could easily end that hybrid’s life. It was a heart he had already crushed countless times in his imagination.

The only connection between him and that repulsive, beautiful creature.

 

‘You dare, you worthless thing, to burrow back among the humans so brazenly? When I, who protected you most safely, am right here…’

 

Vivid desire and malice shone brightly in his eyes. He ground his teeth until they grated, then swiftly turned to look at the birdcage.

“…I’m revising the plan.”

 

The parrot familiar, which had been diligently preening its feathers, jerked its head up.

“Send a message to the Imperial forces. Tell them we’re moving up the ‘Sea Cleaning’ schedule.”

The familiar nodded and soared powerfully into the high sky. Hildert leaned against the railing, quietly gazing at the heart clutched in his hand.

 

The time had finally come. This life trapped in a filthy fortress, merely a Vice-Captain in name, was now over.

Hildert stared at the heart with bloodshot eyes and let out a long breath. 

 

The sun was slowly rising between the buildings, but an even deeper darkness shrouded his interior.

Holding blade-cool ambition and flame-like anger, he gently closed his eyes. He could feel the heart pulsating in his hand.

The sound of Biche’s laughter from long ago, by the pond, overlapped with the heartbeat.

 

* * *

 

Biche was already curled up in the darkness of the carriage for the second day. 

 

Each time the wheels rumbled over the gravel road, her body tilted sharply.

At first, she tensed up with every jolt, straining to hear the sounds outside. But now, she doesn’t even have the energy for that.

The carriage was dark and damp. 

 

Sitting on the hard seat without even a blanket made her hips and lower back ache.

The only window connecting to the driver’s seat was blocked by a thick cover from the outside, and the door was firmly locked.

 

At mealtimes, the hatch would open, and a water canteen and bread would be thrown in. 

 

Each time, Biche could barely finish half the bread and only just managed to empty the canteen.

 

Occasionally, faint noises from outside reached her. 

 

The drivers chatting, the knights quietly guiding the horses, the sound of footsteps stopping to inspect the carriage.

“Young lady. You’re still alive there, I presume?”

Sometimes, voices laced with mockery would seep in. 

 

The knight’s voice, feigning kindness, clung stickily to Biche’s ears.

“Don’t you need water to wash up? Even so, to make a good impression on the Duke, you should clean your face before going.”

A somewhat ridiculous kindness. But the contempt underlying it was clear.

Biche was certain they knew she was a half-breed. 

 

Otherwise, mere knights would never be so rude to the Duke’s granddaughter.

Biche hugged her knees without responding. She even breathed quietly, afraid her breathing might leak outside.

‘Calante… Fui…’

Each time tears welled up, Biche desperately gritted her teeth. 

 

If she cried here, she felt all her weakness would be exposed when the knights dragged her out.

 

It was better to swallow the tears. 

 

Shedding them in this darkness wouldn’t change anything.

But she couldn’t help her eyelashes getting wet. 

 

Biche hurriedly bowed her head and pressed the back of her hand against her burning eyelids.

 

At that moment, the memory of someone’s warm touch came to mind. 

 

It dug into her heart clearly, like a fragment of a long-lost memory.

The sensation of a large hand covering and stroking her head. An indescribable warmth.

The memory was so vivid that Biche unconsciously raised her hand and rubbed her own head.

‘Arco.’

Hearing a man’s low voice, she jerked her head up. But only the familiar darkness filled her vision.

‘What was that just now…?’ Biche blinked slowly. Perhaps a childhood illusion had briefly appeared before her eyes.

But no matter how she searched her memory, no such scene existed anywhere. 

 

No one, except her parents, had ever warmly stroked her head like that.

 

Yet, the voice she just heard wasn’t her father’s.

Nevertheless, the warm sensation remained, deceptively vivid. 

 

The warmth that had seeped through her hair, and the warm breath.

It was confusing. She didn’t know why she was haunted by these sensations.

 

Just then, the carriage shook violently and came to an abrupt halt. 

 

The faint sound of knights pulling reins to stop the horses could be heard.

Biche instinctively shrank back. Without any warning, the carriage door swung open.

Startled by the murky light that instantly swallowed the darkness, Biche buried her face in her knees and squeezed her eyes shut. 

 

The smell of grassy earth and cool morning air rushed into the carriage.

“Get out now.”

 

The knight’s blunt voice struck her ears. A coercive urgency tinged his words.

Biche slowly raised her head. She could only look at the knight after blinking dazedly to adjust to the light.

The expressions of the knights standing before the door were still cold. 

 

Biche blinked and looked outside.

Beyond the towering castle gates, a majestic castle came into view. 

 

The dazzling castle of the Duke of Akstain, gleaming with golden decorations and white marble.

The spacious central courtyard held ornate fountains and statues placed here and there, with low cloister-style buildings surrounding the castle.

“What are you dawdling for?”

Urged on by the knights, Biche stepped out of the carriage. 

 

Instead of the familiar carriage smell, the cold morning air penetrated deep into her lungs.

 

She looked around with a dazed expression. 

 

The knights and drivers were openly scrutinizing her body. 

 

Their gazes seemed to be assessing whether the woman before them was human or monster.

“Where are my friends?” Biche asked in a trembling voice.

None of the knights answered. Her voice simply scattered into the air like dust.

“Hey…” As Biche opened her mouth in frustration, a knight approached and grabbed her arm.

“Let’s go.”

He led her forward with a cold grip. Biche forced her feet to move.

As they walked along the cloister, passing servants openly glanced at her. 

 

Their gazes held a mixture of fear, curiosity, and contempt.

Biche felt like a rare animal in a cage, made into a spectacle.

As they advanced towards the center of the castle and reached under a large arch, the knight quietly released Biche’s arm.

From that moment on, the knights adjusted their attitudes carefully, as if by prior agreement. 

 

Their voices, once sarcastic, had now become low and respectful.

 

“Wait here for a moment.”

The large door slowly opened, revealing a great hall bathed in bright white sunlight. 

 

Brilliant light poured from the domed ceiling, and the sparkling marble floor was impeccably polished, without a speck of dust.

Servants and maids stood in rows on either side of the central staircase that stretched to the second floor. 

 

Among them, the restless, pacing figure of an old man was visible.

The old man, leaning on a cane, had hair completely white, and his steps were very unsteady. 

 

He looked around anxiously, constantly badgering the servants.