The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 112

“Aha! There you are.”

Hendrick spotted Stella’s terrified face peeking out between people’s shoulders and approached with an overly cheerful expression and light steps.

“How long has it been since we last met?”

“Stay away from the princess!”

Roderick, the only one who had entered the monastery with her, drew his sword fiercely and stepped in front of her. Hendrick Regan held up both palms and took a few exaggerated steps back.

“Oh my! I only wanted to talk, but you’re ready to fight.”

At the same time, Hendrick’s guards drew their swords, pointing their sharp blades at Roderick. Stella gasped and covered her mouth with one hand. Even Roderick, who had survived Calis, was sweating coldly.

“So the soldiers and siege weapons were a diversion.”

“We figured that your ridiculously high castle walls would make it easy to fool you. Took quite the effort because of some stray mongrel you picked up somewhere.”

He was referring to Alexio, who had driven out Maurice, the Pantege puppet.

Sir Elgin gritted his teeth. “So this was your true objective.”

Hendrick spread his arms wide, flashing a leering smile. “As you can see, the most important figure is right here.”

“Calling yourself important? That’s some ego.”

Roderick Elgin gave a small laugh.

“I’ve seen many people far greater than you. One thing they all had in common: they never praised themselves.”

“Who? The cripple with one arm or that Northerner who could turn into a monster at any moment?”

“You who shout only when they’re gone are less than a cripple or a monster.”

“Ah, hold on.”

When Roderick fired back in quick succession, the prince scowled deeply.

“So you were trying to buy time. For someone with such a dull face, you’ve got brains.”

He then gestured to the guards behind him. “Kill this arrogant bastard.”

As if they had been waiting for the order, the Pantege knights clanked forward in their plated armor. Roderick swung his sword, and the weapons clashed in an instant. Screams erupted from all directions, and some people stumbled and fell backward. It was utter chaos.

Roderick swiftly took down three, but the overwhelming numbers were too much. One knight twisted his wrist and struck the back of his knee hard. Roderick collapsed to his knees.

Just as a sharp blade was about to fall upon his neck, Stella, unable to bear it any longer, pushed through the terrified crowd and rushed forward.

“No! Stop…!”

Hendrick turned his head, a vile smile spreading across his face.

“Drop your weapon and back away…!”

“So you come out on your own. Do you want this man to live?”

Her lips trembled involuntarily. Clenching both fists, Stella barely managed to answer.

“…Yes.”

“Mind your tone. What kind of rotten education have you had to speak so rudely?”

Hendrick scolded her like a child. It was a clear insult, especially in front of Largo’s nobles and others present.

Even so, Stella squeezed her eyes shut and forced out her words. Since the other side clearly had the upper hand, there was no choice but to yield.

“Please… spare Sir Elgin.”

“Do as I say, and I will. Come here.”

Hendrick extended his hand, motioning for her to step out of the crowd. With no choice left, Stella slowly moved forward.

Just before her fingertips touched Hendrick’s, Father Gabriel stepped in front of her with an outstretched arm, silently shaking his head at her not to go. There was not even a speck of fear on the priest’s face.

Having failed time and again to seize Stella, Hendrick’s smile vanished. A crimson malice emanated from him and fixed upon Gabriel, twisting his face in fury.

“Some decrepit priest dares to interfere… Guards, cut off that priest’s head immediately!”

“Ah, no—don’t!”

Sensing the danger, Stella stepped in front of the priest. Her long, slender arm trembled miserably.

“I-I’ll do whatever you ask, just please… leave them alone.”

“See? You don’t get it either, do you? It’s not like holding hands will wear you down, so why act so defensive?”

Clicking his tongue, Hendrick grabbed Stella’s wrist and yanked her forward. Dora screamed behind her, but the wrist gripped in pain was not released.

Stella bit her lower lip as Hendrick’s greasy face drew close. She felt sick to her stomach from the sheer revulsion.

“You must be thoroughly worn down already, lying under that Northern beast. What’s so precious that everyone’s trying to protect you?”

“Your Highness.”

A Pantege knight spoke quietly. He wasn’t trying to stop Hendrick from insulting the princess—he was signaling that they shouldn’t delay any longer.

“Tch.”

Clicking his tongue in annoyance, Hendrick pulled Stella into his arms and gestured.

“Before we go, kill that insolent knight and the priest. And her maid, too.”

Stella’s face went deathly pale. Even Dora, her closest handmaid, was now marked. Hendrick gave the most despicable smile.

“Since education seems lacking, I’ll give you a lesson myself. Watch closely.”

The Pantege knights forced Roderick, Father Gabriel, and Dora to their knees. Hendrick dragged Stella in front of them and gripped her face tightly, forcing her to look.

Dora seemed like she might faint at any moment, terrified beyond reason.

“Watch closely. This is the fate of the weak. No matter how much you struggle, reality doesn’t change!”

“No, no…”

Stella thrashed her trembling limbs, but there was no escaping his grip. Tears streamed down her cheeks. The fury and helplessness were unbearable.

If only she had the strength—if she could stab that foul Hendrick in the throat and strike down every knight here. If she could just protect Largo and deliver judgment.

“Present their heads to the princess as a gift. Burn everything else with the building.”

Hendrick’s triumphant laughter stabbed at her ears. Her tear-filled vision blurred like fog. She blinked, and lukewarm tears ran down her cheeks.

And then it happened. A scream rang out behind them, followed by the sound of slicing flesh.

To Stella, lost in despair, the noise felt distant, like a dream. But the sinister sound did not stop. And soon, the expressions of those in her clearing vision had changed entirely.

She couldn’t even wonder what had shocked them so.

“Being weak means I can do whatever I want to you.”

A low voice, deep as if from the earth, landed in both Hendrick and Stella’s ears. It was a voice she knew well—the same one that had so often made her shiver.

Was this a dream, a delusion brought on by despair? It couldn’t be. That man shouldn’t be here…

As Stella, tears staining her face, blinked again—Hendrick Regan was suddenly thrown aside.

A rough hand gripped the prince’s arm and hurled him away like a ragdoll. The once-arrogant Hendrick screamed, clutching his grotesquely twisted arm.

Stella couldn’t even look at his crumpled figure. She didn’t see the Northern warriors who took down the prince’s guards in a flash.

A towering shadow had stepped between her and it all, pulling her into a tight embrace.

A trembling breath escaped her. The broad chest, the cold scent, the low, steady breath—she knew this man better than anyone.

Lifting her head, she looked up at him.

His burning crimson gaze met hers, wrapping around her like flame. His arms, firm around her, held a desperation that said he’d never let her go.

She couldn’t believe it.

Islay had come to Largo.