Chapter 350: The Disease of Love and Hate

"I apologize, but Her Highness has instructed me to let no one pass through this door."

"But—"

"Lumine, it’s alright; we can come back another time."

"...Still, I really wanted to thank him—and talk to him a bit..."

With a dejected look, Lumine’s shoulders slumped. Yelena, in a gown, looked in far higher spirits as she held his arm for support.

’I wanted to ask him so many questions...’

Lumine sighed.

"Fine, let’s go back to your room. We’ve walked enough, and you need more rest."

Yelena frowned.

"I can walk more. In fact, I’m full of energy!"

But Lumine shook his head and looked at her seriously.

"You could barely stand without falling out of bed this morning. The count’s physician also said not to overdo it and to get plenty of rest."

"But all we did was walk a bit; how is that exercise at all?"

"Still no. It’s only the first day since you woke up."

"...How come you’ve turned into an overprotective mother? Fine... let’s go back."

She glared at him, then turned away, annoyed. Lumine smiled—guiltily, for a heartbeat—then masked it as they moved slowly down the corridor, his arm steadying her. Even so, he couldn’t help a final glance at the knight standing before Azriel’s bedroom.

’Sir Felix, a Crimson Knight. To have a Master guarding their door... The great clans truly are amazing...’

With that thought, Lumine and Yelena—who brightened again, and was super energetic—continued through the halls. Maids bowed as they passed, to the princess of the estate and even to Lumine.

By now, everyone knew the story: Lumine, a servant who had barely left his princess, Yelena’s side since the plague attacked her. To the maids, it looked like a familiar romance between the butler and his lady. But the count, the countess, and the inner circle of the estate knew better—Lumine was no ordinary servant; he belonged to the "Inverse Creed."

As Yelena took the lead, her hand in his, Lumine watched the back of her head and pressed his lips together, a shadow crossing his face.

"Hey, Yelena."

"Mhm?"

Yelena kept walking.

"...I’m sorry."

She stopped, and Lumine did too. Without turning, she asked,

"For what?"

Lumine opened his mouth and found no words. He stared at the floor, eyes stinging, then bit his lip and forced the sound through a hoarse throat.

"For... because... if I had just listened to you back then, or... let that maid go... you wouldn’t—wouldn’t have fallen into a... coma..."

"..."

"It’s... it’s all my fault."

He wanted to cry, yet no tears would come.

"...Do you remember the first time we met, Lumine?"

Her question was soft and sweet, but he still wouldn’t look at her—afraid of her expression, ashamed to face it at all. Even so, he answered,

"No."

"..."

"No... I don’t remember. It’s... it’s been too long."

Lumine heard a lighthearted giggle.

"Exactly. We’ve been together so long we can’t even recall our memories from when we were babies."

For some reason, Lumine’s heart felt heavy.

"But," she went on, her voice dropping gentler still, "it’s precisely because we’ve known each other so long that I know how you think, how you feel—and how much you’re hating yourself right now."

He flinched.

"If you could go back," she asked, "would you have saved me and sacrificed that maid?"

Lumine clenched his fists, still staring at the floor.

"No... yes... I... I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do."

"You’d probably make the same decision," she said.

"Because you’re so, so kind that you’ll hurt yourself—and hurt those around you. That’s both your blessing and your curse."

He flinched again. She was right. In the end, he would hurt everyone arou—

"And yet it’s my choice to stay with someone like that."

"What?"

This time, Lumine finally looked at her—and found the most heartfelt smile he had ever seen on Yelena. He felt as if he’d turned to stone.

"Your kindness is simply one of the many things I like about you."

The smile bloomed into something breathtaking.

"I know you’ll never forgive yourself... so I’ll do it for you. I forgive you, Lumine."

Before Lumine knew it, he was crying—tears spilling down his face. Yelena stepped into him and wrapped her arms around him. Without realizing it, his own arms folded around her, holding tight.

’Why did it take me so long to realize...?’

He hadn’t understood how empty the hole inside him was without Yelena.

’...My chest feels weird...’

It was strange—tingly—yet pleasant.

An alien sensation.

A conversation with Azriel surfaced:

———"If I were you, I would have done everything I had to do to save the one I love."

———"I... I don’t love her."

———"Sure you do. There’s no point hiding it."

’Oh...’

Azriel had known all along, it seemed.

’After all these years... how blind could I have been?’

It had been there all along—before his very eyes, waiting in silence. Bathed in plain sight, breathing softly before him. She never hid it, and yet, he never saw it.

’Now I understand...’

’I am scared.’

’I am scared for Yelena.’

’I am scared for myself.’

’Because...’

’...I love her.’

*****

"This isn’t good..."

"Be a bit more descriptive about what that means—and quickly."

"Jasmine, calm down. The poor doctor’s already wetting the floor with his sweat alone."

The count’s physician, trembling under Jasmine’s cold, razor gaze—as if a single mistake might cost him his head—felt a flicker of gratitude toward Azriel, who kept her from doing exactly what he feared. Celestina was here too—called by Jasmine to tend Azriel’s fever—which, for the record, hadn’t yielded to healing and had only broken on its own when he woke. Now she stood silently, watching.

"So? Speak," Jasmine said.

The physician flinched, coughed twice, and forced his face into a mask of seriousness before it darkened.

"From what I can tell—and it’s only a theory, of course—he appears to have... Mana Core Syndrome."

Jasmine’s brows knit. Celestina’s eyes widened.

"I can’t be certain," the physician went on. "There are only a few references in the archives. But the symptoms... the fever, the imbalance in the mana running your veins—and since you’re only sixteen and already at Expert rank... Either your talent rivals anything seen in this world, or you’ve been consuming a great many, many mana cores. If it’s the latter, it fits."

Azriel sighed.

"Of course... So the terminology’s the same in both worlds. And here I thought I’d walked away scot-free after consuming her mana core... I was wrong, huh... That’s on me... I should’ve known better."

Jasmine looked at him, frowning at his mutter.

"I still don’t understand."

"It’s an illness," Celestina said quietly.

Jasmine turned to her. Celestina’s expression had gone pale and complicated.

"...Which is something you can only get in rare cases—when you overconsume too many mana cores, or when you absorb cores far above your rank. Doing either is dangerous, but doing both in a short span of time..." Celestina paused.

"Both can kill you instantly if your body’s too weak—or leave permanent damage. You could say Mana Core Syndrome is... well, a mix of both."

Slowly, Jasmine’s eyes widened as Celestina kept going.

"Basically, the soul veins become... overloaded with what you could imagine as

foreign mana particles

—energy that hasn’t been refined by the body’s own rhythm. These particles ’vibrate’ at incompatible frequencies, disrupting the natural flow. And... because there’s too much of it, the body’s immune system becomes confused. It starts attacking everything—even itself—like how white blood cells destroy anything foreign in the body. But when they can’t tell what’s foreign and what’s their own anymore... that’s when it turns into... self-destruction. An autoimmune collapse."

She drew a breath.

"...Which is why drawing mana from the air is safest. It’s slower, but it doesn’t risk foreign mana tearing the body apart."

Jasmine swallowed.

"Then... what’s the cure?"

Celestina opened her mouth, closed it, and looked down.

"Celestina?" Jasmine pressed.

Seeing that, Jasmine’s jaw tightened. Anger rose—until Azriel answered, calmly.

"There isn’t one."

"Huh?"

All eyes turned to him. He lay on the bed in a simple black shirt at last covering his bare chest.

"It’s considered chronic. Progressive. Terminal. And the more mana I use, the worse it gets."

Of course he knew. He knew all of it—because in

Path of Heroes

, Liliane would one day fall to Mana Core Syndrome. This time, it was Azriel.

Jasmine lowered her gaze to the floorboards. In a soft voice that hid whatever storm she held off her face, she said,

"Thank you both. I need to speak with my little brother alone. Please leave the room—and tell Sir Felix not to enter."

"O-of course," the physician stammered. He nodded over and over and hurried out. Celestina glanced at Azriel, then at Jasmine with sad eyes, as if she wanted to speak, but in the end she said nothing and followed him out.

The door shut. They were alone again. The window was still open from Lucifer’s departure. Sunlight lay warm across the floor.

"Jasmine, I—"

"Was it because of that woman you killed—the one in the Forest of Eternity? You consumed her mana core. And the cores of everything living inside."

Her voice was cold; she cut him off before he could say more.

"...Yes, but—"

"Did you know?"

She still didn’t raise her head.

"Did I know what...?"

"Did you know the risks before you consumed her core?"

"...Yes."

"Even knowing you could easily die from them?"

"...Yes. But I did it anyway because I have a certain skill that left me no choice, and because the odds of survival—being an apo—"

"Liar."

She cut him off again.

"Just listen to me, Jasmine. I know you have many questions, but if you’d let me expl—"

"No."

Azriel’s hands clenched. Frustration flickered across his face.

"I just have one more question," she said.

At last, she lifted her head. Tears traced the curve of her cheeks, and her eyes met his—burning with anger, and beneath it, with fear, sorrow, and love. Azriel’s breath caught as his eyes widened.

"Why... why is it that you hate yourself so much..?"