Chapter 69: Chapter: 69 Marinate’s Heartbreak. [1]
Where am I? Vivian muttered as he slowly opened his eyes.
His vision was blurry at first, but after a few seconds, things began to clear.
A faint light flickered above him, and he could smell the faint scent of herbs in the air.
The last thing he remembered was collapsing inside the dungeon after fighting the fused Vehemoth pair.
That battle had been brutal, far harder than he had expected.
The creature had reached the peak of five stars, and even with the help of the Black Shadows, it had nearly cost them their lives.
He could still recall the moment he struck the final blow, when the Vehemoth roared in pain and its massive body fell to the ground.
Before it died, he had taken its heart and stored it into the black cube.
As those memories flashed through his mind, he tried to sit up, but his body refused to move.
A sharp pain shot through his chest, and he realized something heavy was pressing down on him.
Looking down slowly, his eyes widened a little.
Something, or someone, was lying across his chest, breathing softly.
"Charlotte....?"
It was Charlotte who was sleeping soundly on his chest, her red hair scattered like threads of flame across him.
Seeing her like that, Vivian’s face turned red.
His hand twitched slightly as he thought of waking her, but then he stopped.
She must have been exhausted too, after everything that happened.
"Haa..."
He let out a quiet breath and stared at the ceiling for a moment, lost in thought.
After a while, he gently slipped his arm under her and carefully lifted her, placing her beside him on the bed.
She shifted slightly but didn’t wake up.
Vivian smiled faintly before stepping down from the bed.
"Haa..." he sighed softly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked at her sleeping face one more time.
He finally had the Vehemoth hearts, but the real challenge still lay ahead, the main part of his plan was far from complete.
"How long has it been..." he muttered to himself as he stepped out of the room.
He had four months left before the midterm exam.
That was what he remembered before entering the dungeon in search of the Vehemoth’s heart.
But after the battle, everything had gone dark.
He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, or how much time he had left now.
When he finally pushed open the door and stepped outside, a cool breeze brushed against his face.
He blinked in surprise. The room behind him wasn’t his, it was Charlotte’s.
The scent of flowers and faint traces of perfume in the air made it clear.
She must have brought him here to take care of him while he was out.
He stood there for a while, gazing up at the bright sky.
The clouds drifted lazily, so calm and ordinary that they felt out of place compared to the chaos still lingering in his mind.
"If I manage to cure the curse," he murmured, almost to himself, "and if I still can’t reach five stars or awaken my intuition... then maybe it’s better not to take any more risks."
His eyes hardened slightly as he continued, "If that happens, I’ll tell Father everything."
Though it would be hard to prove what had happened to anyone besides their parents, he decided that before telling anyone he would kidnap Kafrik, make him pay for what he did, and use him as proof.
The idea tightened his jaw; Kafrik would confess if he had no choice.
But the professor... that was a different problem.
Even if Vivian managed to subdue the professor, getting him to talk without awakening his intuition was impossible, not just for Vivian, but for anyone.
Vivian thought about how close he had come to losing himself.
Kafrik had talked too much while torturing him.
That bastard had boasted, again and again, about how in a few years the Zenithara house and the Empire would kneel before him.
Those words had stuck in Vivian’s mind like a promise, and like a warning.
"Clown..." Vivian muttered, the name stirring something deep and heavy in his chest.
It wasn’t anger exactly, more like a cold, unfamiliar pressure that made it hard to breathe.
He remembered Kafrik’s words from that month of torture, every detail burned into his memory.
Kafrik had said that he’d met someone called Clown, a strange man, unpredictable and eerie, yet terrifyingly powerful.
According to Kafrik, this man could use not just one type of intuition, but as many as he desired.
At that time, he didn’t have the strength to think about it.
His body was broken, his mind barely holding together.
He had already accepted his death.
The only thing that lingered was fear, not for himself, but for his family and for Charlotte.
He had wondered what would happen to them after he was gone, if they would even learn the truth.
But in that cold, dark cell, with pain gnawing at every inch of his body, he hadn’t even had the luxury of worrying.
All he could do was endure, counting the seconds between Kafrik’s laughter and his next scream, waiting for the moment it would finally end.
However, after regressing, Kafrik’s endless blabbering now felt like an unexpected blessing.
Back then, it had only been noise between waves of pain, but now those words gave him clues, small, hidden threads leading toward something far larger than he had imagined.
Something moving quietly behind everything that once seemed normal.
And this Clown... whoever he was, Vivian had never written about him. Not a single line, not even a passing mention.
In his story, things had been simple, Kafrik and the heroine were supposed to face the villainess, Charlotte.
That was the main plot, the core of the world he’d created.
But this "Clown" and the professor didn’t belong there at all.
He felt it deep in his gut, if he didn’t get answers from the professor soon, something disastrous would happen.
The uncertainty gnawed at him, whispering that every moment he delayed brought the future closer to ruin.
He let out a long sigh. "If only I knew what was coming..." he muttered under his breath.
Just as he began to sink into his thoughts, a soft voice called out behind him.
"Viv."
He turned around, startled from his thoughts. Marinate was walking toward him, her snow white hair catching the sunlight, a gentle smile resting on her face.
"Marinate?" he blinked, "why are you here?" he asked.
"Why, am I not allowed?" she teased, stepping up beside him with that same playful tone she always used to disarm people.
Vivian shook his head lightly and turned his gaze away.
His expression stayed calm, almost indifferent. "No, I didn’t mean it like that," he said quietly. "It was just... a way of speaking."
During the month after his regression, he had only seen Marinate a handful of times, and they’d spoken even less.
Although she had tried many times to approach him, he felt that it was unnecessary because of how she looked at him, with eyes filled with tenderness.
Marinate followed his line of sight, watching the same stretch of open sky he had been staring at.
A small smile curved her lips. "You know, Viv... you seem kinda different lately."
Vivian blinked, his brows twitching slightly.
"Different?" he asked, though his tone held no denial, just quiet curiosity.
"Yeah... you seem somehow different since last month," Marinate said softly.
"You were always carefree, and, well..." She hesitated, biting her lip before continuing, "you were a little timid too."
The word hung in the air between them, fragile but honest.
Still, she went on, her voice trembling slightly. "But now you seem... distant. And I feel like you’re avoiding me."
Her tone carried a hint of sadness, and when Vivian turned to look at her, he saw her eyes wavering, unable to hold his for long.
He didn’t answer. His lips parted slightly, but no words came out.
The silence stretched, heavy and uneasy.
It wasn’t because he disliked her, far from it.
Marinate was kind, thoughtful, and gentle in a way few people were.
She had always treated him warmly, without judgment or expectation.
But that was exactly the problem.
The tenderness in her gaze, the quiet affection she held in her eyes, it made his chest heavy in a way that felt like a burden.
It wasn’t that he doubted her feelings, no, far from it.
Vivian knew that the look in Marinate’s eyes was genuine.
There was no pretending in that gentle warmth she always showed him.
Her gaze held the same kind of tenderness he’d seen before... the same kind that reminded him of Charlotte’s.
Though, Charlotte’s was different, sharper, deeper, almost frightening in its intensity.
She was the kind of person who would follow him into death if he asked, who would turn against her own blood if it meant helping him.
Her devotion wasn’t soft; it burned, fierce and absolute.
And that feeling, her quiet, honest affection, felt like a weight pressing on his chest.
Not because it was unwelcome, but because he knew he couldn’t return it.
Before he had been kidnapped, he might have dreamed about things like this.
Back then, he had been naive enough to think love was simple, something warm and easy.
But after everything that happened, after seeing how cruel the world could be, he understood that it wasn’t something he could afford anymore.
He drew in a slow breath, steadying himself. "Look, Marinate," he said softly.
"I’m grateful... truly. That you care for me so deeply." His voice was calm, stripped of hesitation. "But I can not return those feelings."
The words were sincere, every syllable heavy with the quiet resolve of someone who had already seen too much.
There was no trace of the old, uncertain Vivian in that tone, only the clarity of a man who knew the hardships and difficulty of life.