* * *
Even as Ranshel entered, he debated how to convince Zavad—but it turned out he didn’t need to.
Zavad was lying down.
No raging fever this time.
Yet, he was unconscious—sleeping like the dead. In broad daylight.
Completely unguarded.
The same room where the physician had just been moments ago.
For an ordinary child, maybe that would make sense.
But for someone as hyper-aware as Zavad?
“What the hell did he do this time…?”
Isn’t a Priest supposed to do more than just purification skills?
Now that he thought about it, they were putting blood into wounds.
There’s no way Zavad would’ve stayed quiet during that.
It was possible the doctor was in on it with the gardener.
Maybe he gave a sedative first to eliminate resistance before using hallucinogens.
And what about the servant guiding the doctor around?
Wasn’t he the one always blocking other staff from entering whenever the doctor came to visit?
Too many people were involved.
There were far too many villains.
They were a group that drugged Zavad without hesitation, just to handle him more easily.
Ranshel felt a creeping disgust.
This place was far too dangerous for Zavad.
Even more so now.
Wrapped in a cloth that covered his face, Ranshel watched the white smoke slowly fill the room.
Zavad, who had been limp, suddenly screamed and bolted upright.
“Stay away!”
Through the smoke, Ranshel could barely see Zavad swinging his arms, desperately fending off imaginary attackers.
Ranshel stayed sharp, all senses focused.
As long as he knew where the target would enter from, there was no chance he’d lose track of them.
And hidden in the haze, there was no way the target could detect Ranshel first.
So it wasn’t difficult for Ranshel to bring Petro down.
He subdued him quickly and murmured quietly:
“Take off the hood. Yourself.”
He’d sacrificed a precious life to get to this point.
But it didn’t feel like a victory.
His insides were boiling too much to call this a win.
Zavad was still trapped in a hallucination.
Until the smoke cleared, he’d be running endlessly from a faceless killer trying to end his life.
How could someone even consider ending such a desperate, fragile life?
How could their grip on that iron chain not loosen at the sound of his pleading voice?
Ranshel couldn’t understand these villains.
Everyone deserves at least one chance.
“That’s right. Uncover your nose and mouth completely.”
Even Zavad deserved a chance for revenge.
Ranshel noticed Petro’s pupils trembling as he gave a small flick of the wrist holding the sickle.
The cold blade fell just above Petro’s eyeball—then returned to its place.
“Don’t hold your breath. Inhale the smoke properly.”
“H-hahk!”
Panting, gasping—the calm rhythm of breath broke apart in an instant.
Tears welled up in Petro’s eyes.
Ranshel raised the blade under his jaw, making sure he couldn’t thrash around.
“What are you so afraid of? Are the hallucinations really that terrifying?”
“Khgh…”
“Are you scared of seeing something you shouldn’t?”
“H-Hurgh, ugh….”
His breathing grew ragged, uneven.
A blurry film began to cloud Petro’s eyes.
Ranshel spoke with chilling calm:
“Weren’t you scared when you did that to a young boy?”
The voice echoing in his ears began to fade and distort.
Petro thrashed violently.
At this point, he didn’t care if he was stabbed.
He knew too well what was more terrifying than death.
But it was too late.
He was already deep in hallucination.
“Father.”
His son was smiling.
Wearing a straw hat pulled low over his face, waving at him.
The image began to blur—
And then, smoke filled his entire vision.
From the other side, heat surged in an instant.
“Father! Help me!”
His son was burning.
He struggled, desperately trying to escape the flames.
This horrific scene once again unfolded before him…
Ranshel bound Petro tightly with iron chains.
He made sure no amount of thrashing would loosen them.
Then, he looked up.
“Stay away!”
A figure struggled and shouted.
Ranshel immediately got up and moved behind Zavad.
He wrapped his arms around him in a firm embrace.
“…You’re safe now.”
No more phantoms would haunt his vision.
No more unseen terrors choking his breath.
“No one can hurt you now.”
To Zavad, every servant who had ever cared for him had come to kill him.
How many of them had attacked him in that hallucination?
This white smoke used a person’s memories to generate nightmare-like visions.
You could even nudge the target’s perception to guide what kind of hallucination they would see.
Zavad saw illusions of his caregivers trying to murder him.
The hallucination Petro had chosen to subject him to.
And why had Petro created that particular illusion?
Because it was an easy scapegoat.
Caregivers were always by Zavad’s side.
There was no better choice when it came to framing someone.
Ranshel tightened his hold on Zavad.
He was still just a child—so small and delicate.
And yet the world around him was far too brutal.
He could no longer act with the complacent thought that Zavad wouldn’t die just because he was a romance target or a member of the imperial bloodline.
This crazy game had no intention of giving Zavad a peaceful life.
Maybe it was a sweet dating sim to the player.
But for Zavad, it was a hellish survival game.
And for Ranshel… it was no different.
He had to complete the quest. Fulfill the objective.
Earn the reward and return to a healthy body.
Even if it cost him several deaths along the way.
The boy in his arms had stopped screaming.
Stopped resisting the invisible enemies.
He slumped in Ranshel’s hold, mumbling softly:
“…They tried to kill me…”
“They won’t.”
Ranshel replied firmly.
That, at least, he could promise.
Even if he became the worst villain in the boy’s life— he would never threaten his life.
“No one can kill you.”
“Me…”
“I’ll make sure of it.”
He probably wouldn’t hear him.
He was still lost in the nightmare.
Still, Ranshel couldn’t stop whispering to calm him.
Something told him there wouldn’t be many moments like this— where he could be this honest with Zavad.
“In the days to come, you’ll hate me a thousand times over…”
“…”
“But I won’t be able to hate you.”
Zavad was clever.
His true self was sharp and sensitive.
He only softened when he had a goal.
Because he had to.
Nothing around him allowed him to grow up innocent.
“…Help me.”
The boy in his arms said.
That one desperate line—the one that had once fractured everything between them—surfaced again.
Ranshel nodded.
“Alright.”
“…”
“I’ll help you.”
So help me too.
Ranshel stroked Zavad’s head and hugged him tighter.
Then, he let go.
The white smoke that had filled the room was slowly fading.
Ranshel dragged the dazed boy over to the bed and laid him down.
Then, he reached for the items he’d packed earlier, back when he’d gone to find Gary.
A clean psalm with a primula bookmark tucked inside.
He placed the carefully flattened book under his pillow.
“…It’s okay to sleep peacefully now.”
Because there’s no one left who would keep him from resting.
* * *
