episode_0126

“You bastard…”

“If I say it was necessary, will you believe me?”

“I’ll never believe you!”

Having learned the full story, Milena understood just how much Arina must have suffered as a woman.

An unprepared, unwanted pregnancy was a terrifying ordeal for any woman.

And worse, a child born from rape by a man she had spent her life despising.

Among the women Milena had seen in the thieves’ guild, many had been ruined or driven to suicide over far less than what Arina had endured as a woman.

Add what she had suffered as a man, and it was a miracle she hadn’t taken her own life. How could anyone do something so cruel—especially to someone who held no grudge against them at all?

Milena’s hatred for the Packbeast grew even fiercer.

“… …”

Though he stayed silent, Ian was far angrier than Milena—if anything, he couldn’t be anything less than furious. But right now, there was a more pressing matter to resolve.

Arina was tormented by the sight of her son approaching her.

Fear, pain, hatred, disgust, guilt.

“Mom. Are you really my mom?”

The child’s innocent eyes—eyes unique to children.

The face of the child she had been forced to bear after being raped was unbearably adorable—and unbearably terrifying.

Proof that she had once belonged to the Packbeast.

For her now, the emotions of her son, excited to meet his mother for the first time, were far too much to bear.

“Don’t… don’t come closer!”

The earth and trees around her were torn apart. Having completely lost control, Arina’s mana ran wild, indiscriminately destroying everything nearby.

And when that mana lashed toward her child—

“Ah, damn it!”

Milena lunged forward, shielding the boy and deflecting the mana.

“I don’t know if this is the right thing…”

The son of the Packbeast—someone Arina loathed. But at the same time, her own son. What must she think of this child?

At the very least, since Arina would never remain calm after harming an innocent child, Milena grabbed the boy and fled toward safety, away from the rampaging mana.

“Noona.”

“What do you want?!”

Distracted by the chaotic storm of mana, Milena snapped at the boy’s voice.

“Does my mom hate me?”

“For both our sakes, could you stop looking at me with those wounded-deer eyes?”

He was making her weak. When she thought about it, what crime had this child even committed?

Just because his conception was vile didn’t mean he was wrong for being born.

“She doesn’t hate you. Your mom’s just in a difficult situation.”

“Then… what can I do to help her feel better?”

“Who knows…”

She doubted there was anything he could do. At the very least, his father would have to die.

“By the way, she’s still not stopping.”

“Stop her. If this keeps up, Arina will hurt herself too.”

Using mana recklessly while already depleted would inevitably lead to a rebound.

“Arina! I get how you feel, but STOP!”

Ian shouted, but this time, his voice didn’t reach her.

Arina, having completely lost herself, couldn’t hear anything. Overwhelmed by the flood of nightmarish memories—and the child before her, born from them, who had unknowingly grown without her—she was utterly consumed.

“No… no way… this can’t be real!”

“No good. She’s not listening at all.”

“We have to pull her back somehow.”

“Through that? We can’t do it alone.”

Arina’s mana storm showed no signs of weakening—if anything, it was growing stronger. Attempting to enter its range now risked fatal injury if luck wasn’t on their side.

To safely retrieve her, someone stronger was needed.

But there’s no one like that here—

Just then.

Someone swept past Ian and Milena like the wind—seizing Arina from behind.

With a chop to the neck, the woman knocked her unconscious and inspected her face.

“I knew it’d come to this.”

“Cecile Astrea!”

The sudden reappearance of a foe they had already defeated once put both of them on edge. Though her motives were unclear, she too had ultimately betrayed and turned against Arina.

Now, this formidable enemy—one too strong for them to handle—held Arina in her grasp.

“Relax. I have no intention of fighting you. It’s already too late anyway.”

“Too late?”

Cecile’s gaze shifted toward the Packbeast and his son. In her eyes was burning resolve… and logic.

“When I woke up in the mansion after losing to Yuria, I met that child.”

Because of that, Cecile had been the first to realize the gaps in Arina’s memory.

“I understood immediately—Arina must never be allowed to face her own son.”

Her reasoning was sound. At the time, Arina hadn’t even known her fellow party members were pregnant—there was no way she could have known she had a child herself. No signs of it, either.

“Why not? If you’d told her sooner, she wouldn’t have been this shocked!”

“You clearly don’t know Arina well enough yet. But your husband would understand, yes?”

“…I do. At least enough to know what kind of person she is.”

Faced with Cecile’s question, Ian nodded.

From what he had seen, Arina was the very embodiment of responsibility. She never fled from her duties, no matter the cost.

Even in moments where her own life was in danger, her first worry was whether others would be dragged into her troubles. And yet, she still took on burdens she didn’t need to—always feeling responsible for saving others.

That nature had made her strong—but it was also her weakness.

And when combined with her usual views on women… her reaction had been inevitable.

“She would have tried to take responsibility for the child she bore.”

“Exactly. Even if the father was the man who raped her, Arina would have accepted it. She would’ve thought, ‘If I just endure, it’ll be fine.’”

“Surely you don’t mean—she forced the pregnancy deliberately?”

“That’s likely. In fact, I heard that after learning she was pregnant, Arina gradually began to accept her situation.”

It was tantamount to acknowledging the Packbeast—the man who had tormented her—as her husband. Though her mind had resigned itself, the revulsion buried deep in her heart remained.

In the end, after giving birth, her brain had blocked out her fractured memories—unable to reconcile the endless clash between reason and emotion.

Thus, Arina had done something she would never have done otherwise: abandoned her child and fled.

“I couldn’t stand by and watch that child walk back into misery with his own two feet. That’s why I pretended to cooperate—to send you all away.”

She had purposely concealed the truth and kept mother and son apart. Even if there was good intent behind it, it was hardly an honorable act.

For a knight like Cecile—who had lived her life upholding pride and honor—such deceit was a stain. But she had willingly embraced it.

Because the woman in her arms was someone she treasured that much.

Cecile approached Ian, preparing to hand Arina over—when she suddenly halted and asked:

“Are you sure about this?”

“What do you mean?”

“She bore another man’s child—even if it was against her will. Aren’t men typically sensitive about these things?”

This was one of the reasons Cecile disliked men. Even those who lived unrestrained lives demanded purity in the women they married.

Most men she’d seen belonged to that category—even honor-bound knights were no different.

“If you intend to hurt her over this child… then I won’t hand her over.”

She didn’t say it outright—but her stance was clear in her actions and expression.

Arina would blame herself more than anyone else. If her lover lashed out—or even showed the slightest resentment—it would wound her deeply.

Just this once, Cecile wished she were a man.

Then she would never hurt Arina. She’d stay by her side, whispering reassurances and comforting her.

Would you do the same?

Under Cecile’s questioning gaze, Ian took Arina from her—almost snatching her away—and answered:

“Spare me the pointless concern. This woman is already mine.”

He had known from the start that she wasn’t “pure.”

As for her having a child…

Frankly, it wasn’t easy to accept.

Ian, too, had been just as shocked as Arina. But none of it was her fault—nor was it her responsibility to atone for. He had no intention of abandoning her now.

“…Very well. Then never let her go.”

The remaining issue was the Packbeast’s fate—a matter still difficult to settle.

Ian believed the correct choice was to execute him immediately, but the two women disagreed.

“The child is watching.”

“If we take his life ourselves, Arina loses the chance to face her past on her own terms.”

“But if we let him slip away now—”

“He won’t run.”

Interjecting into their debate, the Packbeast stroked his son’s head.

“Where else would I go? I’m wanted across the entire world anyway.”

After the royal coup, the Hero’s party and the Packbeast had become fugitives in the Kingdom, Holy Nation, and Empire alike.

If he fled the mansion, he’d inevitably be caught sooner or later.

As they hesitated, Cecile stepped forward.

“For now, focus on caring for Arina. If you’re worried, I’ll keep watch over him.”

—

“Gh—ah!”

It felt like she had been trapped in a nightmare. Jolting upright, Arina took in unfamiliar surroundings.

“Where…?”

“The papal chambers. When they heard you’d collapsed, they gladly lent us a room.”

Ian, who had been tending to her from the bedside, answered.

“Ian…”

The moment she saw his face—and the inexplicably somber expression on it—the memories came rushing back.

She looked down at herself.

Her body was covered in wounds; apart from the bandages wrapped hastily around her, the only thing she wore was a single undergarment.

Yet even that couldn’t hide the bruises and burn marks.

It hadn’t been a dream.

Recalling everything, Arina clutched her head in panic.

“Hgh—I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Ian! I—I’m disgusting… My body is filthy—tainted by that bastard’s child!”

She clawed at her own skin like a madwoman, as though trying to scrape off some unseen filth.

Blood trickled from her scratched arms, but it still didn’t feel like enough.

If she could, she would’ve torn out her own womb and scrubbed it clean.

“It’s fine! You’re fine, so STOP!”

Ian desperately grabbed her arms to restrain her—but she was still shaking.

So he pulled her into his embrace, sharing his warmth as he reassured her.

Even after calming down slightly, the words that left Arina’s lips remained the same.

“…I’m sorry.”

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

His voice was gentle—unnaturally so for a man who had just learned his lover had borne another man’s child.

That only made her want to cry even more.

But she didn’t deserve to shed tears. Gripping the sheets anxiously, Arina forced herself to ask:

“…What happened to the Packbeast and the child?”

“They’re still at the mansion.”

“I see…”

She didn’t know whether it was unfortunate… or fortunate.

“More importantly, I’m worried about you. Your body and mind are exhausted. Do you know it took you three days to wake up?”

He seemed desperate to change the subject—to distract her from thinking about them.

He was trying to help her feel better, however momentarily.

Even though she didn’t deserve it.

“While you were unconscious, I looked into it—there are plenty of places in the Holy Nation known for easing physical and mental burdens. We could visit somewhere quiet, just the two of us. I’ve made a list—”

“I’m sorry.”

This apology carried a distinctly different weight from before. Ian’s expression stiffened.

“What… now? You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m sorry I’m not the woman you deserve. I’m sorry my running away hurt everyone.”

“It’s fine. None of it was your fault, so—”

As if sensing what she was about to say, Ian hastily tried to cut her off.

She was glad—so glad—he still loved her.

But she couldn’t leave it like this.

As painful as it was, she had to let him go.

Arina clung tightly to that belief as she spoke carefully.

“…It’s for your sake.”

“Like hell it is! —Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap. But no. If you really care about me, stay by my side.”

He grabbed her hand—so tightly it hurt, as if refusing to let go.

She didn’t want to pull away.

Part of her wanted to cling to him and never let go.

But everything pointed to one truth:

“Even so… I have to go.”

“To that bastard?! Don’t be ridiculous!”

“To my son. No matter what kind of man the Packbeast is, that boy is still my child.”

“You never wanted him! You shouldn’t have to take responsibility!”

As Ian desperately tried to convince her otherwise, Arina smiled bitterly.

By conventional standards, he was right. No one could force her to take responsibility for a child conceived against her will.

If she turned away and abandoned that responsibility, no one would blame her.

But she couldn’t. Because she—and no one else—would always know.

“It’s the same for him.”

Just as she had no duty to care for the child,the child had no duty tolive without a mother.

She couldn’t ignore the joy and longing in his eyes when he realized she was his mother.

Especially because she, too, had lost her parents at a young age.

In the end, she had to take responsibility—and that only made her sorrier.

If she hadn’t run away,her son wouldn’t have grown up without a mother.

And Ian wouldn’t be suffering like this now.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Even if she framed it as going to her son, the Packbeast would never let her leave again.

She would become his once more. Perhaps this was the “fate” that Leona had spoken of.

Arina rose from the bed.

She had nothing to take with her.

Among her belongings were many valuables—especially the magic gloves crafted from the Philosopher’s Stone. Selling them could fund a comfortable life for generations.

It wasn’t enough to repay Ian’s kindness, but it wasthe most she could offer.

As she dressed to leave, arms suddenly wrapped around her from behind.

She froze.

She could feel warm tears soaking into her back.

“Don’t go. Please… don’t.”

She couldn’t just abandon him—not when he was crying like this.

So Arina turned back.

Gently, she stroked his cheek—like soothing a child—but her words were cold reality.

“You know I can’t.”

“…Please… I’m begging you—…”

Even now, the man she loved was beautiful beyond words—his tear-streaked face could have been a painting.

His messy golden hair, his reddened eyes brimming with tears, his slightly haggard face—all of it was beautiful enough to stir a woman’s maternal instincts.

A man like him would never lack admirers.

Beautiful, dignified women—pure in both body and heart—would flock to his side.

At least Milena was there. She would surely fill the void Arina left behind.

“Ian. No matter what happens… you’ll always be the one I love most.Even if you forget me and find someone else, I’ll spend my whole life missing you.”

That would be her punishment. Loving him forever—unrequited—until the day she died.

The price for daring to dream of something she never should have.

She would love him more.

Miss him more.

Suffer more than the man weeping before her now.

“So… you’ll understand, right? Even without me, you’ll be happy.”

Perhaps because those words were true even from his perspective, Ian fell silent.

The hands gripping her loosened.

So Arina turned away—only to freeze mid-step.

“[Don’t go.]”

A sinister aura—unnatural from Ian—filled the air as their long-unused soul contract ensnared her once more.