The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 105

Even though Islay had listened to every word, his expression remained unchanged. He showed no interest in the news of a message’s arrival, his vacant gaze shifting from the letter to the torch Mikel held in his grasp.

“Why are you carrying a fire?”

“…Ah, you mean the torch?”

Mikel shrugged.

“Because it’s dark in the underground, Captain.”

Only then did Islay let out a faint chuckle. For Northerners who could see clearly even in pitch-black darkness, a torch was utterly unnecessary.

“You’re someone who can throw a dagger and pierce an enemy’s forehead even while blindfolded.”

“That’s true. But don’t ordinary people carry a light when they can’t see in the dark?”

Ordinary people. Something about that phrase bothered him, though it was not incorrect.

If he roamed the darkness, breathing only in ragged gasps, any normal human who encountered him would surely be terrified. It seemed that even Mikel, who had grown used to traveling with an ordinary woman until recently, had picked up certain habits from it.

Lowering his gaze, Islay recalled the first time he had called Stella into the treasury.

Because he had never formed a habit of lighting lamps, the room had remained in complete darkness. Trapped in the pitch-black, she had hesitantly called out his name, fumbling to find him. Her soft voice, unfamiliar and hesitant, had lingered in his mind long after that day.

Memories tied to her began resurfacing one by one. Whenever Stella had been by his side, Islay had always lit a fire—whether in the misty forest, the depths of a cave, or even in his own tower.

Dragging a rough hand down his face, Islay exhaled. Memories of the woman continued to flood his mind, bringing an unbearable sense of longing. Along with them came futile regrets.

If only he had been ordinary. He had never even wished to be like the rest of humanity—just an average Northerner, someone with heightened senses at most. If only the wretched blood coursing through his veins had nothing to do with him.

Looking back, their encounter had been destined for disaster. She had merely been a tool to find the ancient jewel, and yet, he had fallen for her without resistance. If he had wanted to spare himself the agony of losing her, he should never have allowed himself to feel anything from the start.

But who could resist those clear eyes once they gazed into them?

“Are you not going to read it?”

Pulled from his self-reproach and lingering emotions, Islay lifted his head. Mikel extended the letter again.

“Who is it from?”

“Dora. She was Lady Estella’s maid—do you remember her?”

For the first time, something flickered in Islay’s usually vacant gaze. How could he forget? He had tried to suppress every thought related to Stella, yet they refused to leave him.

“It was actually addressed to me, so I read it first.”

Mikel held up the letter with a sheepish shrug.

“But it contains something you should see.”

Without a word, Islay reached out and took the rolled parchment. The handwriting was hurried and messy, as if written in great urgency.

[Mikel, I don’t have time to explain everything in detail.

I left Calis for Her Highness’s safety, but the situation here is also unsettling.

I have a bad feeling that something terrible is about to happen in Largo. Princess Estella may be in danger.]

Islay paused, holding his breath for a moment, before continuing down the hastily scrawled words.

[His Highness plans to reclaim his rightful place and punish the false king.

But he also warned that Pantege is involved, and that we must be cautious.

He swore to keep the Princess safe, but… should anything go wrong, I fear that the very person your master cherished so deeply may be in grave danger.

I have no right to ask this, but please, we need Calis’s help. Please, help us.

The Princess misses him greatly, too…]

“There’s more. A message arrived from a scout stationed in the South.”

Mikel held out another small parchment. Unlike the messenger pigeon carrying Dora’s letter, this one had been delivered swiftly by a falcon.

It was news from an operative Islay had dispatched to monitor the Lassa siblings, just in case of an emergency.

“What does it say?”

“The Queen of Largo has passed away. They plan to hold a national funeral spanning three weeks.”

Her mother had died. Islay’s expression turned frigid.

It was well known that there had never been deep affection between Stella and the deceased queen. Stella had even harbored vague suspicions that the queen might have silently condoned the scheme to sell her off to Pantege. If that were true, Stella could not have been unaware of it.

Even so, concern for Stella was evident in Islay’s downcast eyes. Hardships had begun to befall the siblings the moment they headed south, and death’s shadow loomed over them as if it had been lying in wait.

He had never expected her journey to be peaceful. That was precisely why he had made sure to confirm Alexio’s plan and his military strength before letting her go.

More than anything, it was better for her to live under her brother’s protection than to remain in Calis, suffering by the side of a monster like himself.

Yet, despite all she had endured because of Islay, she had still devised a reckless plan, willing to lay down her life.

“What do you think?”

Mikel cautiously sought his opinion. Islay remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the letter.

The woman he had painstakingly pushed away might now be in danger.

It was not unexpected, yet seeing a direct plea for help in writing made it feel like an entirely different matter. Even though the words came from her maid rather than Stella herself, the impact was no less severe.

“…Ha.”

A dry breath escaped through his clenched teeth.

How long had it been since he had resigned himself to everything? How long had he abandoned life itself, only for his heart to beat wildly like this?

The mere thought of seeing her again had his chest pounding—like a man dying of thirst finally catching sight of water.

His crimson eyes once again fell upon the final words of the letter.

The Princess misses him greatly, too…]

Stella needed his help. She wanted to see him as well.

The moment he repeated those words in his mind, the path he needed to take became clear. The voice of Alexio warning him never to seek her out again no longer mattered.

Yes, perhaps—

Rather than waiting for death like some wretched beast, lurking in damp darkness, if she truly needed him, he could at least offer his final assistance before he died.

“Gather the army.”

Islay, who had been engraving every stroke of the letter into his mind, gave the order.

“We march south to Largo immediately.”

***

At the highest point of Largo Palace, within the king’s chambers, a commotion erupted.

“What nonsense is this?”

King Maurice hurriedly pulled on his trousers, snapping irritably at the knight standing at the door.

“Say that again. Who has come to the palace?”

“It is believed to be His Highness the Prince.”

“Believed? Are you telling me you let an unidentified person into the palace? Speak properly!”

Though barely a week had passed since Queen Aliana’s death, Maurice, who had spent the previous night indulging with his mistress, had been enjoying a leisurely morning nap. Now, he looked as though he had been struck by lightning at the sudden news.

The captain of the royal guard briefly observed his undignified state before continuing, “It is confirmed. His Highness Alexio Lassa de Largo entered the royal capital through the palace gates moments ago.”

Maurice nearly scoffed.

The captain had just spoken the name of a dead man with the nation’s title attached. Was he mocking his king?

Unlike Maurice, who was born of a royal concubine, Alexio had been the legitimate heir. From the moment of his birth, his name had been preceded by the kingdom’s title, a reminder of his superior standing.

‘Damn it…’

Whatever the captain’s intent, there was no reason for Alexio’s name to suddenly resurface.

Judging by the knight’s solemn demeanor, it seemed the prince had truly returned. The half-brother Maurice had so deeply envied, the late king’s rightful son, had brazenly walked back into the palace, unscathed.

Maurice had known something was amiss ever since the knights sent to assassinate Alexio had disappeared without a trace eight years ago. But with no word of his whereabouts, even from men dispatched to the western coast, he had assumed it was over.

As Maurice wrestled with how to process this, reaching for his robe, the captain added one more piece of news.

“Princess Estella is with him.”

Maurice’s eyes widened in disbelief.