PUBW 52

Chapter 52

“Artif, get up first…”

“I had a dream.”

Kneeling on one knee, Artif pressed his forehead to Charlize’s hand and spoke desperately.

“That man from my last dream—Calix—he appeared again.”

Charlize stiffened, and Artif could feel the sudden halt in her hand.
He closed his eyes.

After a fierce battle, Calix drove his sword into the Demon King’s heart.

The holy power of Eluna, imbued within the blade, made the Demon King cough up bright red blood.

“You’ve used quite an amusing trick,” the Demon King sneered, the corner of his mouth twisting.

Behind Calix, Eluna had collapsed, all her strength spent.
When the Demon King’s gaze shifted toward her, Calix moved to block his view.

“Die.”

“You’ll be hailed as the hero who defeated the Demon King and saved the world,” the Demon King said, his smile widening. “But there’s no human more like a demon than you.”

Calix didn’t answer—he simply drove the sword in deeper.

“I can see it in your eyes. You want the Saintess. Sometimes, you’re overcome by the urge to keep her for yourself, aren’t you? To throw everything away—this war, this duty—and lock her away where only you can have her.”

“Shut up.”

Calix twisted his sword.

The Demon King’s words were true.
If he could, he would have covered her eyes and ears, hidden her somewhere safe and peaceful.

He couldn’t understand why she had to fight on the front lines just because she had holy power.

A battlefield was a place where even knights who’d trained their whole lives could die in an instant.

Had anyone other than Calix been by her side, Eluna would have died long ago.

“Heh… yes. That’s the look. That desperate gaze that’ll cling to her, even into the next life.”

The Demon King grabbed the sword lodged in his chest and pushed it in further himself.
Thick, pitch-black liquid gushed out.

“But you’ll never meet the Saintess again. The moment you set foot in this world once more, you’ll be nothing but a beast. And the first thing you’ll do—”
He coughed blood, grinning—
“—will be to tear out her throat.”

“Ugh!”

Black smoke burst from the Demon King’s core, engulfing Calix.

“Even as a beast, your obsession won’t fade. You’ll keep hunting her.
Let’s hope, for her sake, that your god intervenes.”

Burning himself to ash, the Demon King’s final curse seeped into Calix’s sword.

The day he received Charlize’s holy power—perhaps it had been more than a dream.
Maybe it was a memory.
Artif poured it all out, and then lifted his head.

Charlize, shocked, couldn’t speak.

Artif had believed the curse that had manifested in him was one passed down through Calix’s bloodline.

Calix had never married, so the next head of House Redmond had been his nephew.
But the curse’s nature didn’t match the version passed down—it matched the original.

“The day your blood runs thickest, you will become a beast.”

It wasn’t a curse passed through blood.
It was Calix’s reincarnation itself.

“Eluna absorbed part of the curse before she disappeared, didn’t she?”

Artif’s voice trembled, but he already knew the answer.
Charlize’s clear blue eyes rippled like waves.

“Answer me, Shasha. Is that why you bear the mark of the curse?”

Tears slipped from Charlize’s eyes.

Her knees gave way, and Artif caught her before she fell.

He lifted her and carried her to the sofa, settling her on his lap, holding her close.

“Artif, let go of me…”

“Answer me first.”

“…Yes. Eluna couldn’t lift the curse entirely—she spent all her holy power trying.
She only managed to absorb a portion of it before she vanished.”

Charlize confessed everything she knew, though there wasn’t much.
It didn’t take long.

“So, to break your curse, we’ll need to recover the sword from the Crown Prince.”

Artif pressed his face to her shoulder without replying.

“Now, let me go. I’ve told you everything.”

“No.”

Artif felt like Calix was a completely different man from himself.

Of course he was—he’d only seen snippets of Calix’s memories in a dream.

But somehow, the feelings Calix had felt were exactly his own.

He wanted to take Charlize away—to lock her up somewhere the world couldn’t reach.
To make sure she never met Caius again.

But you’d hate that, wouldn’t you?

Calix had known it too. That’s why he’d suppressed his desire and chosen instead to protect Eluna at her side.

As that despair settled heavy in his chest, warmth spread through him.
It was holy power.

Charlize, still in his arms, was channeling it into him.

After a moment, she pulled back, smiling faintly.
“I was worried your curse might manifest again.”

“…I think I still need a bit more of your holy power,” he said shamelessly, leaning in to hold her again.

Just then, a knock came at the door.

Charlize startled and shoved him away, hastily straightening her posture.

“Strawberry tart and wine are a poor pairing,” came Allen’s voice from beyond the door—his clumsy attempt at a code phrase.

Artif glared murderously at the door, strode over, and yanked it open.

“Brother Arti—ack!”

He grabbed Allen by the collar, flung him aside, and slammed the door shut again.

“What is it,” he growled.

Allen steadied himself, wide-eyed.
“The Crown Prince has returned, and he’s asking for the Lady.”

“What about Marquis Caius?” Charlize asked.

“Why the marquis? He’s not in the hall.”

“He’s a demon,” Artif said flatly.

“…Excuse me?”

Allen blinked at him in confusion, but Artif ignored him, turning to Charlize.

“If we go together, the Crown Prince will just throw another tantrum. I’ll go first—come in after five minutes.”

“You’re going too?”

“Obviously.”

“What if you turn into a wolf again? You should leave the palace before that happens.”

“Then who will protect you if something happens?”

Artif said it as if his own safety didn’t matter at all.
If anyone saw him transform, even if Charlize managed to turn him back, he’d be executed immediately.

“There’s no danger in the banquet hall. The royal knights are there too.”

“The Crown Prince is the danger.”

“He’s dangerous, yes, but he won’t act rashly. Not yet. Now go, before you change.”

“No.”

Artif’s stubborn refusal made Allen speak up anxiously.

“Please, my lady, you must go. The Crown Prince will send knights searching if you don’t.”

“You heard him,” Charlize said softly.

Artif clenched his jaw.
He knew exactly what kind of man the Crown Prince was—and letting Charlize go to him filled him with helpless rage.

“Artif. Nothing will happen tonight. I’ll just greet him and go straight home. You should go first.”

She took his hand—his knuckles were white from tension.

“If you transform here, they’ll kill you on sight. You’ll never see me again.”

Her tone was like that of someone soothing a frightened child.

Artif lifted her small, warm hand and pressed a kiss to it.

“If that’s my master’s order, I have no choice but to obey.”

Their eyes met. Charlize’s face flushed red.

“My lady,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, “you wouldn’t stand by and watch your servant fall to a curse, would you?”

“H-huh?”

“In exchange for leaving now, you’ll have to keep giving me your holy power. Promise me.”

He already knew she wouldn’t abandon him.
Still, he wanted to hear her say it—wanted her promise.
Because to him, that meant permission—to keep coming to her, to keep being near her.

He wouldn’t repeat Calix’s mistake—hiding behind excuses of “for her sake” while losing her all over again.

Artif’s crimson eyes glowed like molten lava, smoldering softly as he gazed at her.

Charlize hesitated, then nodded with resolve.

“I promise. No matter what, I’ll lift your curse.”

Artif smiled, satisfied.

As Charlize left, Allen—who’d been doing his best to pretend he wasn’t there—finally spoke.

“The carriage is ready…”

Watching his superior flirt like that, Allen thought, was far more nauseating than he’d expected.