Adopt 171

Episode 171

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Night descended upon the Enchanted Forest, without exception.

Belinda and Cesare sat side by side, conserving their energy by speaking little.

Cesare reassured her, insisting that if northern knights were on their trail, they would surely find them.

For those knights, the forest was an ancient enemy—sometimes, they could see through its secrets even better than an old friend.

The only problem was time.

‘They must find us before the poison reaches Sir Cherry’s heart.’

Belinda, her forehead pressed to her knees, trembled with anxiety.

She had no way of knowing how many days had passed, or how much longer it would be until Cesare’s heart hardened to stone; nothing was clear, and that made her fretful.

And above all else—

‘Is Leo all right?’

A white plume escaped Belinda’s lips with a sigh.

She had left the castle in such haste that all she’d managed was a promise to return soon, never properly explaining the situation to Leo.

At the time, she truly thought everything would be over in a day—a few hours, even.

If Cesare’s transformation into a beast progressed, she would tame him and prevent him from succumbing to madness, harming others.

Afterward, she planned to keep him asleep for a long time, until he could purify the curse with the power of the Valuashuten family.

That had been Belinda’s plan, and it seemed she had succeeded.

—If only they had not set foot in the forest.

‘I should have held on, no matter what.’

She slammed her forehead against her knees a few times in self-reproach, and then lifted her head.

“Sir, what are you doing?”

Moonlight crept its way between the densely intertwined trees, just barely illuminating their surroundings.

At her question, Cesare, who had been about to take off his cloak and drape it over her shoulders, paused.

“You seem to feel the cold, so I wanted to cover you with my cloak.”

Unlike the day, the nighttime forest grew considerably colder, and the aura of ice Cesare spread around them to sense approaching beasts sent up a chill like thin frost.

He had thought she might be cold.

But suddenly, Belinda cast a fierce look at her own bundle of thick fur garments, then at Cesare, who wore little more than light indoor clothes under his cloak, and retorted coldly.

“What, you northerners don’t feel the cold or something? Do you people stroll around in nothing but thin shirts in the dead of winter?”

“That’s not it. I simply do not feel the cold now, since my body grows numb from the poison. So you have more need of it than I.”

Hearing this, Belinda took a deep breath, looking as if she had much to say but was holding back.

Then she snatched the cloak from Cesare’s hand, pressed herself against him, and pulled it around them both.

“Stop saying rock-headed things and save your strength. Take care of yourself. Who are you to be worrying about someone else?”

She grumbled on, oblivious to Cesare’s gaze drifting to the point where their shoulders met.

He forced his eyes away and flexed his hand, now slowly stiffening.

He could feel the poison spreading.

He would likely lose consciousness soon.

As these thoughts circled in his mind, he looked at Belinda with growing concern.

The knights who had ever found themselves isolated in the Enchanted Forest all said the same.

The most terrifying thing was not the hidden beasts or the forest’s illusions, but the aching, suffocating silence that threatened to render them deaf.

So—

“Lady Blanche.”

“Yes?”

“May I hold your hand?”

This is not selfishness. This is for her.

Even as the thought formed, Cesare hurried to add a justification before she could answer.

“If I lose consciousness due to the poison, it will surely help you.”

Belinda, eyeing him with evident skepticism, nonetheless stretched out the hand that had been clutching the cloak, almost carelessly.

Cesare took her hand as if cradling a wounded bird, his hold gentle.

Then, for the first time, he spoke of a story he had never shared with anyone.

“We were returning to the castle after camping near the forest. I saw smoke rising from Valuashuten Castle in the distance.”

Belinda sensed immediately that he was telling her the truth of six years before.

When Cesare had hurried to the castle that day, it was already too late.

The bodies of the duke, duchess, and young mistress told the tale: Theodore had crossed a bridge that could never be crossed back.

The beautiful tapestries that once adorned the castle walls were in tatters, stained with bloody handprints and screams.

No one in Star Castle survived.

But nowhere could he find the body of Endymion.

While Cesare tore through the castle, desperately searching for the small child who might have survived, the flames grew out of control.

It was Fenadel’s idea to lock Theodore—turned beast—inside the castle and burn it down with him.

“You are the last of the Valuashuten line, my lord. I cannot allow you to stain your hands with your brother’s blood.”

And so, everything was swept away in the fire.

All that remained to Cesare was the duty etched into his bones, his father’s teachings, and the faint hope that his young nephew had survived.

He could not quite let go of that fleeting hope, fragile as the remnants of a shooting star.

And so—

He let it be known that he himself had bloodied his hands with his brother’s life.

“I wanted only your brother’s kindness to reach Endymion. I thought it better that the child, living somewhere in the world, should curse me rather than be crushed by the weight of truth.”

After that, he sent men throughout the domain to search for Endymion, but not a trace of the red-eyed child was found.

Days passed, spent slaying beasts beyond the forest by day, seeking Endymion by night.

Then reports of multiple disappearances began to emerge from the Harrington mines, where magestones were quarried.

At first, he believed it the work of monsters native to the mines.

He hadn’t imagined that Theodore—having survived the inferno—was hiding inside, clawing his way back to strength.

When Cesare set out at once for the mines, Fenadel blocked his way.

“Your Excellency, if you add to your misdeeds, the curse will only deepen. Let me do it. Give me the order.”

“I will not.”

“Withdraw your command, I beg you!”

“Fenadel, would you have me order you to bring me the head of your dearest friend?”

“And would you have me, Your Excellency, watch as a younger brother cuts down his elder?”

Sparks flew from Fenadel’s eyes as he shouted.

Left alone, Cesare feared Fenadel would defy all orders and go to the mines himself to spill Theodore’s blood.

He could not lose Fenadel too.

At last, Cesare ordered the mines sealed and all mining to cease.

How many years, he wondered, until Theodore would starve, living off the flesh and bone of monsters?

It was the best choice for all—yet killing by slow attrition felt as horrific as turning his back on that burning castle.

Dozens of times a day, Cesare was tempted to run to the mine and put Theodore to rest with his own hands.

But the duty to guard the forest held him fast.

Then, last winter—

An unexpected avalanche cracked open the mines, and the starving beast slaughtered the people of the nearest village.

Spring arrived, but Cesare could not return to the capital.

Belinda came north in his stead, and at last Cesare shed his brother’s blood.

“Believe me or not, Lady Blanche. Even so, I am all right.”

Cesare remembered, with searing clarity, the hatred and madness that clouded his reason the moment he plunged his sword into Theodore’s heart.

His rage had cast him as judge and executioner, punishing those who’d driven Theodore to death.

It was Belinda’s words that shattered that deceiving mask.

“Don’t even dream nightmares—rest easy for once, and come back to me, my Cherry Knight.”

In that moment, Cesare Valuashuten was no longer the lord ruling the harsh North, the parricide who had killed his own brother, nor the forest’s guardian willing to lay down his life for duty.

He was only Belinda’s Cherry Knight.

“So if we make it out of this forest, I will return to the capital with you this time. You have my word.”

At those words, Belinda, who had been stubbornly staring ahead, turned to face Cesare.

He had hoped to see his reflection in her violet eyes, but his vision blurred, and he could not.

Through the haze, he heard Belinda’s voice.

“But you’ve never kept a promise to me before.”

Was it only his imagination, or did her voice tremble with tears?

“All you ever do is lie to me—telling me now again that everything’s fine…”

At that moment, as if someone had passed a hand before the moon, Cesare’s world went dark.

He could no longer properly see Belinda, but in his mind, he could recall each of her features, as if tracing them with a pen.

Suddenly, a memory came to him: once, Theodore had told him a story.

Theodore sat young Cesare down and spoke animatedly of the day he first met his wife—and of how great and noble love could be.

But to Cesare, love was never something noble.

It made him endlessly cowardly and selfish—a man capable of nothing but lies.

And yet, he wanted it all the more.

For the first time, he gave in to his desires.

“It is because I love you, my lady.”

Never tell a lie.

Always live in pursuit of justice.

Never seek to name those emotions flowing beneath the surface.

Never, not for a moment, forget your duty.

In that instant, the rules and lessons that had formed Cesare’s life crumbled.

For a man who had thought nothing more important than duty, something had appeared—something he wished to protect, possess, and cherish, even at the cost of his obligations.

In the end, he surrendered to love.