Chapter 8: The Masterless Beast (4)
“The Queen… of Molvian?”
To be honest, Ariana had expected Rashan to laugh in her face after hearing her answer.
After all, she was nothing more than the youngest princess—the one who knew how to do nothing except smile sweetly and look pretty.
She had been prepared for him to ridicule her, even dismiss her as insane.
Instead, his reaction was completely different.
“Do you really think that’s possible?”
There wasn’t a trace of amusement in his voice.
Nor was there any mockery.
He sounded completely serious.
“If you help me kill every last Clayton, the odds will increase.”
“You’re a Clayton yourself.”
“Ah, speaking of that… could you kill me last?”
“…What?”
So that’s what he looks like when he’s surprised.
She had only ever seen him stare blankly as though looking at an object or glare at people with murderous intent. Because of that, the tiny shift in his expression—something most people would never notice—felt remarkably obvious to her.
“I mean exactly what I said. I’ll help you wipe out every member of the Clayton bloodline. In return, I want to be the very last one you kill… after I’ve become queen.”
“…You’ve lost your mind.”
Listening to Rashan’s quiet mutter, Ariana barely managed to suppress the laughter threatening to escape.
Yes. I have.
A powerless youngest princess challenging for the throne wasn’t something any sane person would attempt.
But Ariana had already decided.
She would become queen.
And if she couldn’t…
Then I’ll die.
She had no desire to return to that miserable existence.
She didn’t care if people called her cowardly for making that choice.
Ariana wanted to live.
Just as she had before her regression—when she had desperately clung to life despite wishing she could die.
But I don’t want a life where I’m merely breathing… existing only because I’m still alive.
If that was all life had to offer…
She would rather die cleanly.
That was the resolve she had made the moment she decided to become queen.
“You really think I’ll accept this deal?”
“And if you don’t?”
“I could kill you where you stand.”
“You absolutely could. But you won’t.”
“What makes you so certain?”
“Because you’ve been handed a far more reliable path to revenge. Why would you choose the uncertain one?”
“So you’re claiming choosing you is the safer option?”
“Of course it is. Don’t overthink it, Rashan. You know I’ve already seen through you.”
“…”
“If you reject my offer, you’ll die. Even if you survive somehow, have you thought about how long it’ll take before another opportunity like this comes along?”
“…”
“And stop thinking about killing me to silence me. That won’t solve anything. The King of Molvian knows I came here. What do you think will happen when he learns that his precious flower has died?”
The first to suffer would be Ruben’s merchant guild.
And there was no guarantee of the safety of the other survivors Ruben had gathered—the “avengers.”
Rashan was the kind of man who would sacrifice anything if it meant avenging his tribe.
But right now…
He hadn’t accomplished anything yet.
There was no real choice for him.
“You shouldn’t be wondering whether to accept my deal. You should be thinking about how much you can gain from it.”
The surest way to put a leash around Rashan’s neck…
Was his thirst for revenge.
A wish so overwhelming that someone would use any means necessary to fulfill it was nothing less than a weakness.
As long as revenge remained his weakness, Rashan had no choice but to accept her offer.
And once he did…
She could make him move exactly as she wished.
“How am I supposed to trust your promise?”
After a long silence, Rashan glared at her.
He clearly hated this situation.
But, just as she had said, he seemed to have accepted that there were no other options left.
“No matter what I say, you won’t believe me, will you?”
“…”
“So why not believe something else instead?”
“Something else?”
“The space over your heart… it’s still empty, isn’t it?”
Rashan’s eyes widened in shock.
A moment later, suspicion filled them even more deeply.
“…What exactly do you know?”
“Quite a lot, actually. For example… that you’re a living gravestone.”
Before her regression, Ariana had investigated Rashan extensively.
She had been curious about the barbarian who had nearly killed the Second Prince.
Even after escaping the royal palace, she continued gathering information about him.
Learning about Rashan had been one of the few things that allowed her to forget her own miserable life.
Because of that…
She knew far more than most people—not only about Rashan, but about his tribe, the Blue Mountain Tribe.
“You… what are you?”
“The youngest princess of Molvian. A descendant of the Claytons—the family you want dead. The foolish Flower of Molvian who wishes to become queen.”
“…”
“If you don’t like that introduction, then how about this one instead?”
“Ariana—the last Queen of Molvian… destined to die by your hand.”
Watching the confusion swirling inside Rashan’s dark eyes, Ariana finally laughed.
“Don’t make this complicated. Just think about your goal. You want to kill the Second Prince. You want to wipe out every Clayton. I’ll help you do exactly that.”
The Flower of Molvian, who had only just begun to grow her thorns, was tempting Rashan with nothing less than her own life.
Left alone in the lavish reception room, Rashan stared at the now-empty seat where Ariana had been sitting.
What exactly… was that princess?
“I’ll come for you soon. And when I do, I’ll carve my name over your heart. You can prepare for that yourself, can’t you?”
After warning him to stay out of the First Princess’s sight, the youngest princess had left with a carefree smile.
As though she had never doubted he would accept her proposal.
“A living gravestone…”
Brushing his disheveled hair back with one hand, Rashan leaned deep into the sofa and stared up at the ceiling.
The name Rashan carried the meaning of mourning the now-vanished Blue Mountain Tribe.
So calling himself a living gravestone wasn’t inaccurate.
The real problem was…
How did a princess who had supposedly never once left Molvian know that?
“How…?”
It wasn’t simply because she knew the hidden meaning behind his name.
It was something else.
“The space over your heart… it’s still empty, isn’t it?”
She had spoken as though she understood a tribal ritual that only shamans and their bloodlines were supposed to know.
There was supposedly a traitor from his tribe inside the royal palace.
But that man served the Second Prince and should have had no connection whatsoever to the youngest princess.
Then how…
“What are you thinking so hard about?”
While Rashan sat lost in thought, Ruben entered the room and took a seat opposite him.
Despite having secretly listened to every word exchanged inside the room, Ruben acted as though he knew nothing.
The pretense irritated Rashan, but he showed none of it.
“It seems everything we’ve investigated so far was wrong.”
“I just finished chewing out my men over that. Starting next week, we’ll make sure to gather much better intelligence.”
Ruben had gathered survivors from various destroyed tribes—including Rashan—to help them seek revenge.
Even so, Rashan didn’t fully trust him.
Nor did Ruben trust Rashan.
They simply used each other.
Perhaps because of that…
They could afford to be honest.
“So, Rashan… what do you want to do?”
“Do you think we still have a choice?”
“You’re seriously going to follow the youngest princess’s plan?”
“I never said I’d follow it blindly.”
As Rashan recalled Ariana smiling brightly while calmly discussing the deaths of her own family, his expression twisted ever so slightly.
He had known she and her siblings from different mothers were on bad terms.
But…
He hadn’t imagined it was this bad.
Judging her by my own standards was a mistake.
Rashan silently admitted his error.
“I need more information on the youngest princess.”
“This time, we’ll do it properly. Don’t worry.”
“And… there are a few things I need prepared.”
“If I can get them, they’re yours.”
“The Grass of the Dead. The jade-green tail feathers of an orphan bird. And the crimson fruit of Achwi.”
They were materials impossible to obtain in Molvian.
But Ruben had enough connections to acquire them.
“How long do I have?”
“Before the youngest princess comes to find me.”
“Then we’d better move quickly.”
Rashan fell silent.
Ruben watched him for a long moment.
The man who had roared like a beast in the arena was gone.
In his place sat someone with cold, calculating eyes—a strategist already planning his next move.
Ariana and Rashan.
A flower.
A beast.
On the surface, they couldn’t have been more different.
Yet they shared one thing in common.
They’re both insane.
The mad flower determined to become queen.
The beast consumed by revenge.
What kind of future would those two create together?
Whatever it was…
Ruben had a feeling it would be extraordinarily entertaining.
