The Cursed Beast Caught My Leash - Chapter 86

…No way. How much had he heard?

Stella trembled as she met Islay’s blazing eyes. He stood unmoving, watching her as though he had been silently observing her for an eternity.

“Leave.”

Without sparing Dora so much as a glance, Islay issued the command in a low, emotionless voice.

Dora quickly bowed her head and scurried down the stairs. From far below, the sound of heavy chains and locks being secured echoed upward.

Stella swallowed dryly, the movement of her throat pronounced. The silence between them stretched endlessly, though only seconds passed before Islay broke it, stepping closer with deliberate intent.

“…Ah!”

Reaching out, he grabbed the neckline of her dress, covering the upper part of her chest. The seams tore audibly, exposing her bare chest to the air.

Before she could resist, Islay pulled at the fabric ties, loosening them further. The sight was so explicit that her collarbone and even the area below her sternum were laid bare. This wasn’t his usual touch, laden with tender affection.

“Why, why are you doing this?”

Panicked, Stella grabbed his wrist, but he didn’t budge. His wide eyes scrutinized her body with a cold precision, focusing on the bruises blooming across her skin—marks he had unknowingly left behind. Though only her upper body was partially revealed, the numerous vivid traces were impossible to miss.

Islay, a man who had spent his life battling monsters and wading through pools of blood, immediately understood.

The wounds were from being scraped against something rough and consistent, the bruises from a firm grip. The myriad marks told a story of violence, inflicted with monstrous strength.

“I—I told you, these were from slipping in the bathroom. They’re not as bad as they look… really, I’m fine,” Stella babbled, offering excuses he hadn’t asked for. But Islay didn’t hear a word.

Her skin was delicate, prone to showing even the slightest pressure. Islay had always been conscious of this, deliberately softening his grip to avoid leaving any mark. He’d treated her as if she were a sacred relic, too precious for the world.

But at times, he was keenly aware of the darker urges within him—the desire to grasp her golden hair roughly, to bury himself deeply within her fragile form and leave indelible marks. Those urges conflicted with his rationality, which he trusted to suppress his brutal instincts.

Still, what had once been fleeting fantasies became vividly real after the events of the previous night.

What he had dismissed as a nightmare wasn’t. The more he unearthed the blacked-out fragments of his memory, the more vividly he recalled sensations he’d thought were confined to his unconscious.

The image of her pale body trembling violently under his weight, the twisted satisfaction that filled him as he looked down at her, was no illusion. It had happened.

At that moment, he hadn’t even felt self-loathing. The act of forcing himself on her, pressing into her delicate flesh, had been euphoric. The guttural breaths he exhaled, the relentless motion of his hips, were all driven by primal hunger. Her suffering hadn’t mattered.

Even as a monstrous host, Islay could sire offspring. Looking down at her trembling form, he’d even briefly wondered what it would feel like to take her in his “perfect state.”

Though his body moved like a beast—an entity he despised—his mind was consumed with cruel human fantasies.

As his gaze lingered on the sinful marks he’d left on her pale skin, Islay’s eyes lifted to meet hers. He had hurt her with his own hands. The woman who had offered to sacrifice herself for him, whom he had broken.

She had whispered apologies to him even in her pain. She was the one person he wanted to ask, without the shadow of this curse, if she could have shared her life with him.

Even knowing the truth, he spoke aloud.

“Was it me?”

Stella’s complexion turned ashen. Islay didn’t need the gift of foresight to see her profound distress.

“Answer me, Estella. Did I do this?”

His voice was cold, like a cutting wind in the dead of winter. Stella’s heart sank, and she swallowed hard. Despair clouded the red of his eyes.

“Estella!”

He would accept no lies now. Stella resolved to speak the truth.

“No… it wasn’t you.”

“It wasn’t me?”

“It’s true.”

Stella didn’t even attempt to adjust her disheveled clothing, raising only her forearm to cover her chest. Her trembling hands contrasted sharply with her unwavering gaze as she looked at Islay.

“It wasn’t you. I know it, Islay. Even if no one else can, I can know this for certain.”

“And how can you be so sure with that unstable ability of yours?”

Islay’s sarcastic tone carried a tinge of self-reproach. Still, the ache in Stella’s chest deepened. The pain he felt resonated with her own.

“I… I thought about it. I saw the tiny scratch on your fingertip. Maybe that—just maybe…”

Her already delicate voice cracked as she fought back tears. Stella chose to rely on logic, avoiding any dependence on her unreliable abilities to convince him.

“Could it have been from the Elder’s arrowhead?”

She remembered how upset she had felt seeing the scars left by blades and beast bites on his large hands. While Islay remained indifferent to such marks, they pained her deeply.

His hands, more suited for destruction than delicacy, were still capable of crafting beautiful things and gently caressing her. She had always wished he wouldn’t push himself so hard during his expeditions.

The countless marks left by grueling battles only deepened her fear that Islay might forget his own worth and sink further into self-loathing. But this time, that small scratch might serve to absolve him of guilt.

“It was such a minor wound that you couldn’t even recall where you got it. But to me, it was…”

“No, Estella.”

His eyes, shaded by his slowly moving lashes, were tinged with self-condemnation.

“I… I even thought it might be better to cling to poison, to escape. But it wasn’t the poison.”

“……”

“The one who hurt you was my unrestrained self.”

Stella alternated her gaze between his eyes, her lips slightly parted in disbelief. The stark shadows falling across his defined features mirrored the faint hues of dawn.

“I’ve always wanted to… from the very first moment I saw you until now. There hasn’t been a single moment when I didn’t want you.”

Regret, self-loathing, sorrow, and hatred—emotions so uncharacteristic of him—all twisted within Islay, tormenting him.

“Even without the poison, the cursed body of Peruno grows harder to control as it nears its fate. The vile instincts I’ve harbored overtook me. The one who hurt you, Estella, was none other than me.”

“No.”

Before her thoughts could fully coalesce, Stella stepped closer to him. His chest, rising sharply with each breath, was now right before her.

“It was all my fault.”

“……”

“I told you before, didn’t I? I… I provoked you. Because I wanted to. I asked you to… to put it inside me…”

Islay let out a bitter, hollow laugh, his eyes cast downward.

“You don’t have to cover for someone like me.”

“But…”

“I never intended to embrace you. No matter what you said, I shouldn’t have crossed that line. But my greed overcame me, and I… I…”

The biting guilt in his eyes was chilling. Though Islay stood rooted in place, Stella felt as though he were drifting further and further away from her.

“Islay.”

“Go back to your room, Estella.”

“……!”

“I’ve already told the guards outside to escort you to the inner castle. Please, just leave.”

“No…!”

Almost instinctively, Stella grabbed his hand tightly.

“Can’t we stay together?”

Time was running out for her. The deadline she had promised the priest was only a few days away. The days she had left to stay by Islay’s side were rapidly slipping away.

Soon, she wouldn’t be able to see the face of the man she loved or feel the warmth of his hand beneath her grasp. Tears welled up in her round eyes, glistening like beads.