Try Crying Prettier

“No, Cesare!! Please –don’t – don’t do it!!”

Damia watched the paladin lift his sword and became wildly urgent. If both Akkard and Kael died here, it would destroy her.

Even if her body survived, but her soul broke—could she still be considered alive? Instinctually, Damia sensed a desperate crisis of survival and grabbed the dagger pointed at her neck with her bare hands.

“Please… … !!”

The blade sliced smoothly into her soft, delicate hands. Her blood gushed out. Frowning, Cesare was about to reproach her as if she was being just a stubborn, mischievous little sister.

“Damia—”

With his usual twisted smile and self-satisfied regard, he was about to say something when his gaze took in the view of Damia’s bloodied hands, and he froze.

It looked like she was wearing red gloves. Suddenly, Cesare’s pupils grew huge as if he had received a sudden shock.

“Ah… … .”

For a moment, his attention was distracted. Just then, a glass bottle flew over the broken stained glass.

Crash-!! Shaaaa~! 

Thick smoke poured from the broken glass bottle that hit the floor. Then, abruptly, the entire prayer room was filled with a disorienting fog.

‘Is it the Crown Prince?’

Heinrich planned on taking advantage of Callistea’s absence to investigate her residence and seemed to have finally arrived. With the anticipation of the arrival of allies, Damia’s countenance brightened.

Conversely, Cesare’s smile, which was holding her, froze cold.

“This is —at that time… … !!”

Cesare had already suffered from sleeping gas before. Afterwards he was caught. Upon recalling the torture he had been subject to thereafter, the smile faded from his face

A terrifying agony that left both of his legs thoroughly crushed and crippled. His body reacted before his head when he recalled the most intense physical pain he had ever experienced.

The dagger fell from Cesare’s slack grip, but that was the least of his concerns; he was preoccupied with covering his nose and mouth with his hands instead.

Although he didn’t blink at imposing suffering and death on others, he, like others, hated being in pain and hated dying even more. With no whims, his selfishness never tolerated damage to himself that he didn’t mind inflicting on others.

An alarm blared in Cesare’s mind flashing dark red with an overwhelming sense of crisis. His clasp on Damia grew loose.

“Let go of me!!”

Damia took the opportunity and struggled with all her strength to escape. She pushed and ran away from Cesare as he tried to recapture her with his arm stretched out toward her. But the smoke grew thicker, so he held his breath again.

“Dami!!”

Waiting for the right time, the moment Akkard saw her free, he moved and violently rose up from the floor. Consequently, the paladin trampling him lost his balance and was about to fall backwards.

“Uh, uh!!”

Akkard, bleeding like a dying beast, attacked and subdued the paladin in the blink of an eye. It was truly lightning-fast.

“Come here, Damia!!”

Having knocked out the paladin, he reached out. Although the smoke blurred her vision, Damia stumbled and ran toward his hand.

As soon as their hands touched, Akkard pulled her in and held her in his arms. He put a handkerchief on Damia’s wound on her neck and asked,

“Are you okay?”

Dazed, Damia nodded softly. Although there was some blood, the cut itself wasn’t that deep.

Rather… … .

“Sir Akkard’s legs, are you alright?”

His injuries looked ten times worse after the initial stabbing, the blood wetting his entire leg. The wounds widened further when he quickly and furiously subdued the paladin.