Chapter 615: When Responsibility Turns Dangerous
Before Ethan even opened his eyes, he caught a faint, elegant fragrance in the air. It was refined and floral, the kind of scent that felt clean and calming, almost like it could wash the fog out of his mind.
He inhaled deeply—once, twice—and his head cleared a little more.
Then he froze.
Something soft was pressing against his arm.
He shifted slightly, his other hand moving to check what it was. What he felt was warm, smooth, and incredibly soft—too soft. His fingers brushed over a gentle curve, and his body went rigid.
"This is...?"
His heart jumped to his throat. Every nerve in his body snapped awake, and a cold jolt ran down his spine.
He turned his head—and his blood nearly stopped flowing.
There, resting against his arm, was a woman. Her face was right in front of his, lips slightly parted, breathing slow and steady. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and each breath she exhaled brushed lightly against his neck.
"Amber... Zane..."
Ethan didn’t dare move. Every muscle in his body locked up as if he were facing a live bomb. He could see her eyelashes tremble slightly, like she might wake at any second.
He slowly turned his gaze to the ceiling, mind spinning.
What the hell happened? He was supposed to be immune to poisons. How did this even happen?
Most men would call this a blessing—a stunning woman asleep beside them, close enough to touch. But for Ethan, it was like waking up next to a ticking explosive.
Amber Zane.
The last time they met, she had disguised herself as a man in the Silverwood Hidden Territory, and Ethan had honestly thought "Dominic Zane" was just some delicate-looking boy. Now, seeing her as she truly was, there was no mistaking it. Her beauty was impossible to overlook, her figure elegant and confident.
But attraction wasn’t even on his mind. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, Ethan had always felt she was more of a rival than anything else.
So lying here now, with her pressed close, was a nightmare dressed up as a fantasy. His body was rigid, his thoughts in chaos, sweat beading on his forehead.
"It’s over," he thought miserably. "I’m screwed."
The man who’d faced cosmic storms and life-or-death battles without blinking now found himself on the verge of panic. He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time.
Then, an idea flickered to life.
"Wait... maybe if I just pretend to be unconscious..."
He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, trying to look like he’d passed out from the night before. If she thought he didn’t remember anything, maybe—just maybe—she wouldn’t lose her mind when she woke.
His mind drifted briefly to the hazy dream he’d had earlier. It was confusing, full of flashes and sensations that made no sense. It felt like something had happened... and yet, maybe nothing had.
He sighed inwardly. Whatever it was, he had a bad feeling he’d gotten the short end of it.
A faint sound interrupted his thoughts.
"Mm..."
Amber stirred beside him, letting out a soft noise, almost a sigh. Her head lifted from his arm, and his entire body tensed again.
He counted silently in his head. One second. Two. Ten. Fifteen. Each tick of time stretched endlessly.
Then—
The mattress shifted. He could feel the weight leave his side.
He exhaled quietly. Maybe she’d realized the situation and decided to handle it calmly. Maybe she even understood that they’d both been victims of whatever had happened last night.
But before he could finish that thought, warmth pressed against him again—sudden, close, and unmistakably real.
His eyes flew open in shock, just as their bodies made contact.
"You—!" Ethan’s voice caught halfway between panic and disbelief.
Amber’s gaze met his. Her eyes, still tinged with a faint pink hue, told him what he didn’t want to believe. The poison in her system wasn’t fully gone.
"You’re awake?" she said, her voice soft and strained. She looked as startled as he felt, her expression flickering between pain and confusion.
Amber’s expression flickered for a moment, then cooled into the calm, aloof look she always wore.
"Don’t worry," she said evenly. "I’ll take responsibility for you."
Ethan almost choked. Of all the things she could have said, that was the last he expected.
Take responsibility? For him?
Pain and disbelief flashed through him, quickly replaced by a rush of irritation.
"Take responsibility... my ass."
At that point, no man would’ve stayed still. Her words struck something primal in him, lighting a spark of defiance deep in his chest.
His hands caught her wrists. With a surge from his waist, he pushed up, reversing their positions in one fluid motion.
"Ah—"
Amber gasped softly. Ethan hovered above her, his eyes sharp and unyielding, a trace of grim satisfaction playing at the corner of his mouth. In that moment, his gaze carried the weight of someone looking down upon the world.
Amber’s eyes trembled. The shock in them wasn’t only fear—it was recognition. She had been conscious before, at least partly. Even in her poisoned haze, she remembered what had happened, what she had done.
She had taken the initiative... and every time, she had lost control.
Now, as she met Ethan’s gaze, her thoughts scattered again, her mind tumbling into confusion. Whatever resistance she might have had dissolved into the haze left behind by the venom still lingering in her veins.
...
At the bow of the Flying Dragon, two figures stood beneath the night sky—one plump, one thin.
"We’re almost there, right?" the fat man asked, his voice muffled by the wind.
"Just about. We’ll reach the dock by dawn," replied the thinner one, glancing at his watch. The glowing digits read 1:00 a.m.
"So it’s been, what... three days now?"
"Exactly seventy-two hours," the thin man answered in his usual flat tone.
The fat man hesitated, scratching his neck. "You think anyone’s dead in there?"
"Probably not. Alen Voss said the Lust Serpent’s core can be absorbed directly," the thin man said, eyes fixed on the horizon. "But if it passes through a woman’s body as a catalyst, then the mist she exhales makes the effect ten times stronger."
He was Emery Shaw, and despite his calm voice, his gaze was uneasy, drifting into the dark stretch of sky ahead.
"I wasn’t talking about that," the fat man grumbled. "I meant the woman. I’ve had her soul sealed for almost three days. No food, no water. Think she’s starved to death?"
Emery sighed. "Then why don’t you just check with your Soul Sense?"
"Soul Sense, my ass," the fat man muttered, rubbing his temples.
His name was Varric Stone, though he hated anyone using his full name. Emery had learned that over the past two days and just called him Fatso.
Fatso winced at the memory. A day earlier, curiosity had gotten the better of him. He’d used his Soul Power to peek into the room where Ethan and Amber were.
He never made that mistake twice.
The instant his Soul Sense brushed against that place, a terrifying force struck back—shattering his perception and nearly tearing apart his mindscape. Even now, his head throbbed faintly at the thought.
For the past two days, he hadn’t dared to use his Soul Power at all. He didn’t even think about it. Whatever had struck him wasn’t normal. It wasn’t Ethan’s doing, either—or at least, it shouldn’t have been. Sure, Ethan was a Soul-Wielder, but there was no way his strength reached that level.
If Ethan could have heard Fatso’s thoughts, he would’ve been just as baffled. He had been unconscious the whole time. When had he ever launched a Soul counterattack?
Of course, that power hadn’t come from him.
It belonged to Morzan—the entity who had sealed Ethan’s consciousness earlier and left behind a remnant of his Soul Power to guard the room.
Even the little fragments of consciousness that lived in Ethan’s mind had been cut off completely by Morzan’s barrier.