The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 103

Under Simon’s command to further accumulate divine grace, the journey to evangelize the pagans of the northern frontier had begun.

Everyone had been put in danger by the fierce snowstorm, but how fortunate it was to have met Peruno, the generous lord of the castle.

Yet, once the blizzard subsided, their secret meetings would also come to an end.

Simon had declared that they would soon depart for Nortelli, the holy city, to perform a certain ritual, but Theia felt no inclination toward it. She wished to remain by Peruno’s side. With each passing day, her reluctance only grew stronger.

“Whenever I am with you, I always end up talking too much… I’m sorry. I’ve only spoken about myself, and that too, about such utterly bleak matters.”

“I do not mind. You may continue. I only regret that all I can do is listen.”

“Not at all. I am truly grateful…”

Theia, who had been looking at Peruno’s composed smile, suddenly stopped. It was because she saw an unfamiliar radiance emerging from his face.

Enchanted by that subtle glow, she parted her lips and stared at him.

A rose-tinted aura, like smoke that never dissipated, wavered above his features.

What kind of emotion was this? What was he feeling toward her? As she pondered in a daze, the answer came to her.

An emotion that made a man’s heart race, left him parched as if he had not quenched his thirst for days, and poured a searing heat into his chest—how could she not recognize it?

At the same time, Theia realized why she found herself constantly drawn to him each night. Their hearts bore the same hue.

For a silent moment, their emotions intertwined without words. Then, without hesitation, Theia stepped toward Peruno. And the man did not turn away.

Just as their faces were about to draw close, the vivid scene shattered into fragments.

***

Stella awoke with a start.

“Hah… Hah…”

She gasped for breath as if she had just been pulled from a raging current. Clutching her chest, she looked at the morning sunlight spilling across the inn room. It was that dream again.

However, before she could process the strange vision, a crushing pain overtook her body.

A headache pounded through her skull, and it felt as though thousands of needles were piercing every vein in her body.

Unable to move from her spot, Stella struggled to steady her breathing. The sharp pain that had begun at her fingertips and toes crawled up to her chest, stopping only when it reached her heart. Only after the torment subsided could she regain her composure.

What was that just now? Had she not experienced the same eerie pain the last time she awoke from a dream?

“Princess.”

A knock sounded at the door, followed by Dora’s voice.

“You should come out for a moment. Something doesn’t seem right.”

“Did something happen to my brother?”

“No, but please, come out first. His Highness is outside the inn.”

Still panting, Stella pushed aside the blanket, hastily threw on a robe, and rushed outside.

The party was preparing to depart the inn as planned. Alexio stood by the carriage, and Stella quickly noticed that a message had just arrived for him.

Retrieving the rolled parchment from the messenger bird’s leg, Alexio read the brief line over and over again. His face hardened with cold severity. A sinking feeling told Stella something was wrong.

“Alex.”

She could not help but ask.

“Who is the letter from? Why do you look like that?”

“It’s from my informant inside the royal palace.”

Alexio lifted his sunken eyes to meet hers.

“It’s an obituary, Stella. …Mother has passed away.”

Her steps came to an abrupt halt. Confronted with an unexpected tragedy, Stella was left speechless, her mind going utterly blank as if white paint had been splattered over her thoughts.

“Mother…”

In truth, neither Stella nor Alexio had harbored deep affection for their mother. As children, the siblings had never formed a strong bond with her, and as Stella grew older, she had nearly lost any attachment to her at all—to the point where she had no desire to return to her homeland.

Yet, receiving news of a blood relative’s sudden death was still a shock.

“H-how did it happen…?”

Struggling to form the words, Stella finally asked, and Alexio answered while setting the paper’s edge alight.

“She passed away last night from a heart attack.”

A shallow breath slipped through Stella’s slightly parted lips. Their mother had died in her sleep from heart failure.

Wasn’t that… the same as their father? Hadn’t the late king also passed away in bed…?

Alexio watched as the urgent message crumbled into ashes, his expression unreadable as he stared into the empty space before him.

Regardless of the distant relationship between mother and son, this was, in essence, the final farewell between him and the woman he had been forced to part from at eleven years old. He would never get to show her his grown self, nor the moment he reclaimed the throne stolen by their scheming uncle.

Running a hand through his hair, Alexio’s expression remained impassive, suppressing any emotions stirred by their mother’s passing. It was understandable—now more than ever, they stood on the brink of an immensely critical plan.

“Stella, do you remember when the late king passed away eight years ago?”

Alexio pushed a long-buried memory into the fog of her mind. Reflexively, Stella nodded. How could she forget? The first funeral she had ever attended.

It had been a funeral spanning three weeks. In Largo, the longstanding tradition dictated that when a member of the royal family passed away, the kingdom would observe mourning rites through three full weeks of ceremonies. The late king had been no exception.

During this period, it was an unspoken rule that no blood could be spilled under any circumstances. To violate this decree was to invite disaster or suffer an irreparable loss—this was a belief deeply ingrained in the people of Largo.

Even their uncle, who had desperately wished to eliminate the rightful heir, had waited until the mourning period ended before attempting to assassinate Alexio.

And now, Aliana had been the queen of a nation. As royal descendants, it was customary for the siblings to attend their mother’s funeral. This meant postponing Alexio’s plan to reclaim his throne.

“You will go to the safe house as planned, Stella.”

Alexio’s voice was firm, as if the decision had already been made. Snapping back to her senses, Stella met his gaze.

“There is too high a chance of unforeseen circumstances. Do not attend the funeral. There is no guarantee that they will adhere to the ‘no bloodshed’ custom, which makes it too dangerous.”

“But—”

“Hendrick Regan may be there.”

Stella, about to protest, froze. If she had to name someone she never wished to see again, it would be none other than Pantege’s Second Prince, Hendrick.

“As it is a royal funeral, Pantege will have been notified as well. That is why it is safest for you to stay away.”

Stella lowered her gaze, hesitating.

If she did not attend the funeral, she would not have to face her uncle or Hendrick Regan immediately. The upheaval caused by the royal siblings’ return would settle somewhat before any confrontation took place—assuming Alexio successfully deposed their uncle and reinstated her in the palace.

It was only natural that Alexio saw Stella as someone to be protected. Before they had been separated as children, he had sworn to keep her safe, after all.

But to be protected meant staying within the confines of safety, waiting quietly while others resolved everything.

That was not what Stella wanted—not when she wished to help both her brother and Islay.

‘I can’t just stay hidden forever.’

Her previously limp hands clenched into tight fists. It felt as though, after a long night of struggling for answers, the first glimmer of clarity had finally begun to shine upon her abilities.