Content Warning: [18+]

When Yusha left the palace, he saw Hans.

The man stood near the gates, leaning casually as if he had been waiting all along. Perhaps for him?

Why is he there?... Strange

Yusha thought.

Unease crawled up his spine, but exhaustion dulled his instincts. When Hans suggested staying at an inn for the night, Yusha hesitated—then nodded.

He knew his body was fragile now. The thin clothes, the cold, the snow... getting sick would only slow him down. And if something happened to the baby—

He shook his head. He couldn’t let that happen.

At the inn, Hans rented a single room.

Yusha noticed immediately.

"There aren’t any others available," Hans said, shrugging when questioned, his tone too smooth, his smile striking a nerve.

Yusha told himself not to overthink it.

He was tired. So tired. He just wanted to lay on the bed and sleep for a few hours.

In peace.

When Hans suggested he take a bath first, Yusha agreed, hoping the warmth would calm the shaking in his limbs.

Steam soon filled the washroom, fogging the mirrors as he carefully undressed, keeping one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach.

Then—the door creaked open.

Yusha froze, his breath caught in his throat.

No one was supposed to come in.

A figure stepped in. Unmistakably—Hans.

Panic seized Yusha instantly. His pulse quickened. His body reacted before his mind could catch up, trembling violently as he backed away.

"Get out," Yusha whispered, his voice barely audible.

Hans didn’t listen, approaching the omega with a grin on his face.

A creepy smile.

When the man reached for him, something inside Yusha snapped.

Fear turned into terror. Terror into instinct.

My baby.

The physician’s warning rang in his ears: "Intercourse could kill the child."

"Go away!" Yusha cried out.

But the man in front of him didn’t step back. He raised his hand, landing it on the omega’s thin shoulders, fingertips brushing against warm skin.

"How pretty... I knew it. You are an omega," the corner of his lips almost reached his ears. "I have heard a lot about your kind. Pretty little fuckers."

Chills ran down Yusha’s spine. His mouth filled with a sour taste, his stomach turning.

Disgusting.

Just when Hans took off his clothes, the omega trembled in horror. Memories of his time as a servant flashed before his eyes. The pain he felt every time those guards used him like a mere toy, throwing him away like a rag the moment they were done.

A sudden light flickered around Yusha. Magic surged before he could stop it.

Raw.

Untrained.

Uncontrolled.

Flames erupted from his hands, spreading like wildfire.

Within a second, they crawled over Hans’s naked body. He screamed, the burning sensation unbearable.

The sound was horrific—burning flesh, terror, agony. Yusha stumbled back, slipping against the tiles, staring in horror as the fire consumed the man alive.

The heat scorched his skin, the smell making his stomach twist violently.

When it was over, silence filled the room. The fire had vanished as if it had never been there. Whether it was from his hands or from the room.

Yusha stared at his shaking hands in horror.

"Wh-What did I do...?"

His chest tightened painfully. Tears spilled freely as he sank to the floor, sobbing into his palms.

"I-I killed him?..." he said, in disbelief.

"I-I killed him," he echoed, voice cracking.

The weight of those words crashed down on him.

He felt no different from them now. No different from the men who hurt slaves, who laughed as they broke bodies and souls. The thought made him sick, shame curling around his heart like poison.

"So when they used to say I am a monster... this is what they meant?..." he whispered.

Then his hand fell to his stomach again.

"But... he tried to hurt you," Yusha murmured, voice breaking. "He tried to hurt my baby."

The words didn’t erase the guilt—but they gave it meaning.

He hadn’t done it out of cruelty.

He had done it to protect.

Still, the tears didn’t stop. They fell harder when his gaze landed on the ashes of the stranger.

But now... he had to escape. Again. Before anyone noticed what had happened here.

Or else, he would be brought to court, condemned as a murderer. No one was present to witness the horror he had almost experienced—all over again.

Without wasting another moment, he crawled out of the washroom. He simply couldn’t stand—whether from fear or from the memories surging up from his past, he didn’t know.

Once outside, he leaned against the wall and slowly pushed himself upright. He stumbled, but managed to make his way to the wardrobe. Inside were plain white robes, worn and far from elegant.

But slaves never had the privilege to complain. They made do with whatever they were given. And this was far more than what he had worn back when he was still a slave.

Grabbing one of the robes, he slipped it on. Just as he was about to leave, his steps faltered when his gaze landed on Hans’ belongings—his jacket, boots, hat, and muffler.

Yusha hesitated only for a second. Then, a heartbeat later, he reached for them.

The jacket felt heavy when he lifted it, still warm from its previous owner. His fingers trembled as he slipped it over his shoulders, the fabric swallowing his thin frame.

The scent clung to it—foreign, unpleasant—but it was better than freezing, better than getting sick.

He wrapped the muffler loosely around his neck. Then came the boots. They were a little too big, but they fit well enough. Enough not to fall. The hat came last, pulled low to hide his face.

He didn’t want these things. But he needed them.

Standing there, dressed in another man’s clothes, Yusha felt strange—as if he were stealing a life that wasn’t his.

The weight of what had happened clung to him.

Guilt.

Fear.

He had never killed a living being. Whenever servants spoke about their hunting experiences with each other, Yusha was always the one who couldn’t say a word.

"I’m sorry," he whispered, unsure who the words were meant for.

For the dead man?

For himself?

Or for the child growing inside him, who now had a father who was a murderer?

His hand drifted to his stomach again.

"Worry not. I will keep you safe," he said softly. "No matter what."

Straightening his back, Yusha took one last look at the room. Thin white smoke still curled upward from the washroom. He knew, however, that the man inside had turned to ashes.

Magic.

He knew he had it. But he had never trained. Nor had Liam ever allowed him to. Unlike General Zayden, who made sure Ren grew strong, Liam had kept Yusha as he was—weak, frail, obedient... and kind.

Untrained magic was the most dangerous kind. Still, he didn’t understand how he had done it.

But now wasn’t the time to think.

Liam could return to the capital at any moment, searching for him.

He needed to leave. Turning away, Yusha didn’t look back.

Not this time.