I Slept with the Villain Holding My Hand Chapter 109

💫

 

He had always imagined it.  

 

The sight of the current Emperor, stripped of his crown, reduced to a feeble old man in a secluded chamber.  

 

Or perhaps the frail ruler, caught in political strife, withering away like a flower returning to dust.  

 

But this—this was not a scene he had ever envisioned.  

 

The Emperor’s severed right arm rolled limply on the ground like a broken branch. His charred silk robes and the blood trickling from his lifeless lips laid bare Aprion’s condition.  

 

— “Your Majesty! Your Majesty… Ugh—” 

 

Rupert, who had failed to protect his lord, called out to Aprion with a face twisted in guilt and panic.  

 

But even the loyal knight’s cries went unanswered.  

 

Altheon struggled to regain his composure. He knew how difficult it was to think clearly in such a situation, but if he didn’t empty his mind, he wouldn’t be able to endure.  

 

‘The abnormal number of arrows marked with Dominique’s name. The Imperial Consort’s recent, unsettling silence.’ 

 

He had long suspected that woman would pull something during the hunt.  

 

Whether in the imperial palace or on the battlefield, she had always set traps for him—  

 

Like a spider weaving its web, waiting for prey to stumble in.  

 

And this time, it was Altheon’s miscalculation. He had underestimated her schemes, and this was the result.  

 

Through the thinning smoke, Altheon surveyed the fallen assassins.  

 

‘Helena’s subordinates.’

 

But the explosion—whose doing was that?  

 

— “Haa.”

 

A dry laugh escaped him. He swept back his disheveled hair with one hand.  

 

He couldn’t understand this feeling—this turmoil inside him.  

 

Had some remnant of his mother’s love for the Emperor seeped into him?  

 

‘No.’

  

Surely, the blast had rattled his mind.  

 

There was no other explanation for why he would feel even a shred of pity for the man he had despised for over a decade.  

 

‘How pathetic.’  

 

To worry over the man who had once sent him, a child, to the battlefield.  

 

After exhaling a long breath, Altheon lowered the hand that had been covering his face. His eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions.  

 

‘Ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous.’  

 

His fists clenched so hard his knuckles turned white.  

 

— “Helena… You wretched witch.”  

 

Only a true monster would reduce a man who had once cried out his love for her to this state.  

 

The claws of Helena’s malice had finally severed the foolish Aprion’s arm.  

 

‘Or perhaps… even his presence here was part of her scheme.’  

 

The mastermind behind the explosion remained unclear. But one thing was certain—Helena would come to regret this day.  

 

The Emperor, blinded by his consort, had now shattered his own unshakable fortress—by his own folly.  

 

💫

 

Reukis located Altheon through teleportation.  

 

With black smoke rising in the distance and the forest torn apart, it took him a few jumps to reach the Crown Prince.  

 

Altheon stood beneath a tree, slightly removed from the heart of the devastation.  

 

— “Are you unharmed?”  

 

Reukis approached, his voice steady.  

 

From afar, Altheon had appeared no different from the others.  

 

But up close, it was clear—his condition was unnaturally intact for someone caught in an explosion.  

 

His clothes and sword were scorched, yet Altheon himself bore no severe injuries.  

 

Reukis tilted his head slightly, waiting for a response.  

 

But Altheon said nothing, his gaze fixed on the charred remains of the forest.  

 

The magic circle—once spanning the size of two carriages—had vanished without a trace.  

 

— “Your Grace!”

 

A thunderous voice called out.  

 

Rupert, his eyes bloodshot, strode toward them. His expression was one that could kill with a glance, but Reukis didn’t so much as blink.  

 

His loyalty lay with Altheon.  

 

Outwardly, as a citizen of the Tristan Empire, he should wish for the Emperor’s well-being.  

 

But everyone here knew whom he truly served.  

 

Rupert’s lips trembled as he spoke.  

 

— “His Majesty is gravely injured, and there are no mages nearby. I beg you—escort him to where the High Priest resides.”  

 

Instead of answering immediately, Reukis locked eyes with Altheon.  

 

After a moment of contemplation, Altheon spoke.  

 

— “How many can you transport at once?”  

 

— “The farther the distance, the fewer I can take. But to the temple, four would be manageable.”

 

As far as Altheon knew, the High Priest should be at the Bethes Temple now.  

 

Had he been in the imperial palace as usual, the distance would have been short—but the Etowas Forest was on the opposite edge of the capital.  

 

Altheon nodded.  

 

“The Emperor and I will go with you. The rest stay behind to manage the situation.”

 

“Your Highness, allow me to accompany you as well!”  

 

Rupert stepped forward urgently.  

 

Altheon’s gaze turned icy as he shook his head.  

 

“And what exactly would you do if you came?”  

 

“That’s—” 

 

“You’d only drain the Grand Duke’s mana. Is the captain of the Elexis Knights truly such a fool that he can’t grasp the situation?”  

 

Rupert, burdened by guilt for failing his lord, had been acting on desperation.  

Now, under Altheon’s scathing words, he stiffened and bowed his head.  

 

“My thoughts were shortsighted. Forgive me.” 

 

Just then, Leon and the knights who had pursued the assassins returned.  

 

“Your Highness.”

 

At Altheon’s nod, Leon lowered his voice.  

 

“We captured one of the assassins alive. He’s being transported to your palace as we speak.”  

 

“Good.”

 

Altheon gave a short nod before raising his voice to call Reukis.  

 

“Ready?”

 

“We can leave immediately.”

 

Reukis stood beside the unconscious Emperor, summoning dark energy. A black wind swirled around him, emanating from his body.  

 

Rupert handed over the Emperor’s severed arm, wrapped in his own cloak, to Altheon. His eyes were heavy with concern.  

 

“Focus on your duties. Don’t you have news to deliver to everyone here?”  

 

Altheon’s brow furrowed sharply, his lips twisting into a sardonic smirk—a subtle mockery of the situation.  

 

“This pitiful hunting event is over. Take command of all attendees and reorganize the forest’s perimeter.” 

 

With those final words, Altheon vanished into the darkness with Reukis.  

 

💫

 

The White Sanctuary. 

 

The midday sun poured through the towering ceilings of the Bethes Temple like divine grace, illuminating walls and pillars so pristine that even a speck of dust would stand out.  

 

Though there were no special ceremonies today, the temple hummed with quiet urgency—preparations were underway for next month’s grand event, ‘The High Priest’s Imperial Tour.’ 

 

It was the only time of year when the High Priest, who usually remained at Bethes, would leave her post.  

 

Priests bustled about, ensuring everything was in order.  

 

And then—someone came running frantically toward the innermost chamber of the temple.  

 

BANG BANG BANG!

 

A series of knocks—more like pounding—shattered the room’s silence.  

 

“Lady Nethesia! It’s me! Are you inside?” 

 

The figure sprawled across the bed jolted awake.  

 

Thud—

 

Before she could even respond, the person barged in.  

 

Nethesia, the High Priest, lifted her head slightly from the sheets and blinked at the intruder.  

 

It was Zen, her secretary and bodyguard. She swept her deep violet hair back and sat up.  

 

“Were you asleep again? Shouldn’t you be offering prayers right now?”

 

Zen scolded her while rubbing his temples in exasperation.  

 

Nethesia stared at him in confusion before grimacing at the inevitable lecture.  

 

Normally, this was Zen’s time for personal training.  

 

Nethesia, on the other hand, was supposed to be in a dawn meeting with the elder priests—a tedious affair they insisted on calling Morning Assembly—followed by solitary prayers in her private chapel.  

 

Though she possessed the strongest divine power in the temple, that didn’t necessarily correlate with piety.  

 

‘The gods will adore me no matter what I do anyway.’  

 

No divine punishment had ever struck her, nor had her holy power waned, no matter how lazily she behaved.  

 

So she was confident.  

 

Even if she skipped prayers once or twice, the gods would still find her charming.  

 

But that was a conclusion Nethesia had drawn alone—one Zen guarded like a state secret.  

 

Zen came from a noble family known for producing exceptional priests and paladins.  

 

At first, she assumed his disciplined, mature demeanor was just aristocratic upbringing—unlike her, an orphan raised in a temple nursery.  

 

Now older, she knew not all nobles were like Zen.  

 

And this Zen would never tolerate her skipping prayers to catch up on lost sleep.  

 

It was fine when she secretly bribed other knights to cover for him during his training.  

 

But for him to break his own routine and seek her out—even barging into her bedroom—was unheard of.  

 

The Zen she knew would never be so rude as to invade his superior’s private quarters, especially a woman’s.  

 

So instead of anger, bewilderment took over.  

 

“Zen. Did a monster attack the temple or something?”  

 

Her tone was playful—last night’s book had been an adventure tale about a wandering hero, and the childish question slipped out.  

 

But even at her lighthearted joke, Zen’s expression remained grim. He shook his head and urged her to hurry.  

 

In the end, Nethesia left her room without even knowing why.