Chapter 14

Isaac’s heart dropped. He did not want to know what those narrowing blue eyes were thinking. Truly, desperately, he did not want to know.

As Isaac immediately went limp and pretended to be dead, the prince looked down at him, then shifted his gaze to his own body. Slowly, as if amazed that the terrible pain had vanished as cleanly as if washed away, he tested his movements. Something almost like a smile appeared on his face, a light close to rapture.

The prince rose and sat comfortably in a chair. After coldly surveying the luxurious room, he turned his gaze toward the beasts. Even faced with three enormous predators, he showed no sign of fear or pressure as he spoke.

“You lot seem to know something. Answer me. Does witch blood have an actual effect on my pain?”

「Rather than saying it has an effect on pain, you should say it can offset the curse.」

“Aha… Witch blood offsets the witches’ curse. I wish I had known that sooner. Very well, then. If I kill this creature now and drink every drop of his blood, I can finally bid farewell to this damned new-moon curse.”

The prince rose without hesitation and seized Isaac by the collar. Even though Isaac was a grown man, Kaiyan lifted him lightly, as if his weight meant nothing. Shocked by that monstrous strength, Isaac felt sorrow, fear, and relief all at once.

So death had finally come.

But once again—

「No, it doesn’t work that way. It only works for one night, the day you drink the fresh blood.」

「If I were you, I’d keep him alive and suck his blood every new moon.」

The cats whispered among themselves, loudly enough for everyone to hear. The prince, who had been about to snap Isaac’s neck, stopped.

I swear, if I survive this, I’m throwing those cat bastards into a water barrel.

After scrutinizing Isaac with piercing intent, the prince shifted his gaze toward the beasts. “What are you creatures? Are you of witch-kind as well?”

「No. We are merely ordinary tigers,」 the cats replied in unison.

「Of course, of course. The witch is the one you are currently restraining,」 another cat added.

「To be precise, he is a witch’s child, yet he remains far closer to a witch than a human. His witch blood holds dominance over his human heritage.」

As Isaac listened to the cats whispering amongst themselves, a wave of despair nearly moved him to tears. Had he been capable of projecting his voice, he would have shrieked the truth—that these bastards were, in fact, pure-blood witches from a prestigious lineage. The frustration of his silence forced him into ragged, frantic panting.

The prince watched him with narrowed, calculating eyes, then discarded him with a sudden, careless shove, sending Isaac sprawling across the floor.

“I shall ask you once more, little witch-child. Why did you summon me?”

Isaac remained mute. Though the bite wound was shallow—the bleeding already sluggish—his throat was so parched that speech was impossible.

Noticing this, the prince clicked his tongue in annoyance. He snatched a water pitcher from the nearby table and upended it over Isaac’s face. As the water cascaded down and Isaac gagged, a few desperate mouthfuls managed to seep into his desiccated throat.

“Speak.”

Without hesitation, the prince ground his heel into Isaac’s broken arm. Isaac writhed in agony, forcing the words through a shattered, rasping throat. “I did not… intend to call you… Something… went horribly wrong…”

「Why! You demanded the greatest beauty in the kingdom, and I delivered exactly that! I do not commit errors!」

Ah, those cat bastards. Isaac no longer possessed the vitality even to curse them. Drained of both spirit and strength, he collapsed limply against the floor.

“Aha… A beauty, you say?”

The prince nodded as if the pieces had finally clicked into place, then swept his gaze over Isaac with a look that clearly communicated, You? He inhaled deeply, testing his newly restored condition, and slowly rotated his limbs. For a fleeting second, his lips curved into a faint, predatory smile before he returned his attention to Isaac.

“It is unfortunate for you, though a divine stroke of luck for me. I shall bring you back to the palace. I will inter you in the dungeon beneath my estate and consume your blood under every new moon.”

Isaac’s hope withered. The cats’ earlier prattle about him being nothing more than a human painkiller was rapidly becoming his terminal reality—a life of eternal servitude in a subterranean cage.

But then—

「That will not work. Tonight’s magic is valid only for this single night.」

「His wish expires with the dawn. When the sun rises, everything will revert to its original state.」

「Naturally, the beauty will be returned to his place of origin, exactly as he was when first retrieved.」

Isaac pricked up his ears. For the first time all day, the cats had offered something of substance—a faint, glimmering hope.

The prince’s brow twitched. He cast a frigid glare toward the beasts, then toward Isaac, before striding to the window. Faint, diffuse light bled through the heavy, immovable curtains. Dawn was approaching.

If the cats were correct, everything would reset. The prince, the feast, and this grotesque, nightmare scenario would vanish.

A small spark of hope ignited in Isaac’s chest, only to be snuffed out moments later. Reality was never so convenient. Who was this man?

Kaiyan.

Prince Kaiyan—a monster draped in human skin, a man who would annihilate an entire battalion of magical beasts if the wind blew in a way he disliked. If he could not possess what he desired, he would undoubtedly slaughter everyone present.

As the prince attempted to rip the curtains aside, he paused, clearly baffled that the fabric refused to yield, as if fused from solid iron. Behind him, the meddlesome beasts could not resist interjecting.

「This chamber is a sequestered magical space, currently isolated from the physical world. You cannot look out. This place exists entirely apart from the flow of real time.」

“…”

The prince strode back to the cats and grabbed the largest one by the jaw. “Magical beasts are a race defined by their capacity for deception. Swear by the River of the Moon and answer me. Are your current words false?”

As the prince tightened his grip, the beast’s eyes flashed with a metallic hiss, and its fur stood on end, flickering like an igniting torch. The prince’s skin reddened and blistered under the heat, yet he did not so much as blink. “Answer me,” he commanded, his voice devoid of temperature.

「You lawless human scum! How dare you? We do not lie! Lying is the domain of low-born creatures. We are fair-dealing, virtuous, and elegant beings!」

The beast bared its fangs in a frenzy. The prince regarded the flickering crimson tongue with indifference before flinging the creature away.

Isaac watched, dazed, as the prince massaged his scorched hand with chilling casualness. The flesh was cooked and ruined, yet the prince seemed oblivious to the trauma, as if his capacity for pain had been entirely cauterized.

“Your hand… the medicine box…” Isaac rasped, his voice scraping against his vocal cords. The prince turned his gaze toward him, eyes narrowing in confusion. Isaac realized, with a wave of self-loathing, how absurd his comment had been. Who was worrying about whom?

As Isaac bowed his head, defeated, the prince regarded him with open displeasure, then retreated into his own thoughts. Even then, he took rhythmic, deep breaths, clearly savoring the absence of pain in his body.

Finally, the prince raised his head.

“I demand this creature. I will take him with me, even if I have to slaughter every last one of you to secure him.”

When the prince delivered this ultimatum, the cats merely rolled their eyes.

「We have already explained that such a feat is impossible. Regardless of whether we live or die, the terms of this enchantment were absolute: ‘one night with a beautiful beauty.’ It was never ‘bring the beauty here,’ nor was it ‘we depart together.’」

The prince withdrew his attention from the beast and fixed it squarely on Isaac. Under that frigid, heavy scrutiny, Isaac let his body go limp. So, this is how I die, he thought.

Knowing the prince’s temperament, he would surely decide that if the prize was unattainable, the entire endeavor was a failure—and he would kill Isaac alongside the cursed cats. The only reason for the prince’s hesitation was simple regret; witches had been hunted to the brink of extinction, and the prince likely knew how difficult it would be to find another living painkiller.

“You,” the prince said, studying Isaac intently. “I feel as though I have encountered your face somewhere. What is your name?”

Isaac lay amidst the ruin of his body and spirit, shifting only his eyes toward the prince.

He does not remember. Naturally. The palace is overflowing with guards and servants, and this man is not one to take interest in the trivialities of others.

Whether that was a blessing or a curse, Isaac no longer cared. He had reached a point of apathy where he would let destiny take its course. Faced with the immediate prospect of death, his temperament soured.

“If I tell you… do you honestly expect to believe me?”

How would you even know if I were telling the truth? That sullen internal muttering was Isaac’s final act of spite—a reckless, dying courage he would never have entertained under normal circumstances.

The prince’s eyebrow arched. Perhaps surprised that the prey had teeth, he looked at Isaac with a cold, hollow gaze and let out a chilling laugh.

“It seems you are determined to perish in even greater agony.”

“I apologize. I have committed a transgression worthy of death. Please, just finish me.”

Isaac immediately lowered his head in abject submission. The prince narrowed his eyes but nodded, a sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Yes. You are correct. Since I cannot see beyond this room, I have no way to verify this location, and you could easily lie about your identity. Even if you spoke the truth, the moment I depart this room, you could simply vanish into the shadows. Yes… your identity is ultimately irrelevant. What truly matters is—”

The prince trailed off, murmuring to himself, lost in calculation. He licked a smear of blood from his finger, his eyes narrowing. As Isaac watched that expression—a look of hunger, as if he were contemplating the finest wine in existence—a violent shiver raced down his spine.

“I will spare you, little witch-child.”

Isaac blinked, his mind failing to process the demand for a breathless moment. He stammered, “What are you talking about?”

“Just swear it.”

The prince pinned Isaac with a heavy, unyielding stare. As Isaac’s eyes widened in dawning horror, the prince added his condition with chilling clarity. “They say your wish holds power on the nights of the new moon, convenient as that may be. That is precisely why I will spare you. Swear by the River of the Moon that you will come to me every new moon, the moment the night descends.”

“…”

“If you refuse, I will simply endure the agony a little longer, kill you here, and hunt for another witch whose blood might satisfy my thirst. I have suffered this my entire existence. What is a little more time to me?”

The prince reached out and clamped his hand around Isaac’s throat. His grip was absolute—not the tentative touch of a man intending to lift him, but the lethal pressure of someone ready to snap a fragile neck the second the answer proved unsatisfactory. “What will you do?” the prince whispered.