Regas Vol 3. Chapter 14

With his courage dwindling, Abel’s voice grew quieter. Still, he didn’t forget to gently shake the little beetle off his hand and let it scurry away.

Towering over him, Karas’ gaze lood just above Abel’s head, the height difference between them making Abel appear smaller and more fragile by the second. As Abel’s shoulders continued to hunch, Karas grew more intimidating by contrast.

Unable to withstand the pressure, Abel looked down. He barely dared to raise his eyes again when the silence stretched too long.

He must be really angry this ti... right?

With a fearful heart, he braced himself for a furious, deathly glare—but none ca. Karas’ eyes were closed. He stood utterly still, completely silent.

It looked as if he was suppressing sothing.

Abel stared at him blankly, possessed by the intensity of the mont. His heart pounded uncontrollably, and he held his breath. Slowly, Karas opened his gray eyes again. They were unchanged, as emotionless and cold as always. Whatever strange atmosphere had just filled the room dissipated in an instant.

Then ca the question—flat and devoid of emotion:

“Do you like bugs?”

Did I imagine all of that just now?

Thrown off by the sudden shift in tone, Abel stuttered as he responded, struggling to adapt to Karas’ usual indifference.

“Bu-bugs? Yes, I—I like them. Um, they’re hardworking little creatures. Although... there is one kind I’m really scared of. Haha. Isn’t that funny? Being scared of bugs...”

“......”

“Ahem, well—it’s not because I like them that I let that one go. I figured... Commander-in-Chief probably hates bugs.”

“I do.”

Karas’ voice dropped low, deep enough to make Abel shiver.

“Especially the one behind you.”

Behind ...?

Abel was just about to turn his head when he heard Karas’ whisper in his ear:

“Wolf spider.”

“Ah—AHHH!”

A scream tore from Abel’s throat as his mind crumbled into panic. His heart plumted into the void, and cold sweat drenched him as if he could feel dozens of hairy legs crawling up his back.

He shrieked, completely losing control.

Driven by blind terror, Abel bolted forward—only to crash straight into Karas, who stood directly in ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) front of him. He practically leapt into his arms.

But for Abel, who was practically delirious with fear, there was no one and nothing—only the overwhelming horror of the imagined spider. His heart felt like it would stop at any second.

“W-w-wolf spider!!”

He flailed his uninjured arm wildly, trying to run, trying to escape. But he was caught in a firm embrace. Strong arms locked around him, preventing him from moving, even from breathing.

Then, close to his ear, a voice spoke again. A warm breath accompanied it.

“It’s a lie.”

A lie...? Really...?

But Abel couldn’t process the words. His body was frozen with fear, and his consciousness dimd before relief could even register.

Then he collapsed.

And yet, Karas held his limp form in his arms for a long while—longer than necessary. His face brushed against Abel’s neck, pausing there for a heartbeat. Slowly, he lifted his head—then sank his teeth into Abel’s pale shoulder.

Blood welled from the torn flesh.

Karas’ gray eyes shifted, darkening like a snake’s, glinting with ominous malice.

What’s mine... is back.

****

Outside, lmond was trying to calm the pacing butler.

“It’ll be okay. Just... just sit for a mont.”

Truthfully, lmond wanted nothing more than to storm down the corridor, fling open the door to the single room, and find out what on earth was going on inside.

What in the world is His Majesty thinking, staying in the sa room as Abel?

There was only one bed. That fact alone was bothering him more than it should have.

Karas had never shown any particular interest in Abel—hadn’t even acknowledged him as soone familiar or noteworthy. If anything, he had been utterly indifferent.

And yet... there was still only one bed.

“lmond,” the butler asked, eyes narrowed, “aren’t you... worried about them sharing one bed?”

lmond stiffened. So he wasn’t the only one thinking about it.

“Actually... yeah, I am. I an, if the two of them are in the sa bed, it’s inevitable...”

Unable to speak openly, lmond pressed his hands together as if in silent prayer.

The butler nodded solemnly.

“Indeed. If they share the bed, the space will be tight. I’m worried the young master’s injured arm might get pressed, and the wound could worsen.”

“......”

“So, you had the sa thought too.”

“......Yeah.”

While lmond was reflecting on his increasingly unpure mind, a loud voice echoed through the third-class cabin.

“Ah, what an incredible battle! His Majesty ordered us to annihilate them without rcy, so even the ones who surrendered had their throats slit right there on the spot!”

The voice was slurred, thick with drunken bravado, loud enough to wake even the soundest sleepers.

lmond recognized him imdiately—it was one of the thugs who had boarded earlier. Probably not the leader, just a subordinate. But the arrogance in his tone was every bit as loud as his master's.

The thug group, numbering more than fifteen n, had taken the best spots in the room. They drank and jeered, disturbing everyone else. Their boisterous conversation filled the cabin, but no one dared confront them.

Who would? They were dressed like imperial soldiers.

Everyone else—terrified commoners included—had no choice but to endure the drunken n’s shouting and exaggerated stories.

“Especially in our battalion! By the end, we were so drenched in blood, I couldn’t tell if I was butchering people or pigs! Hahaha!”

His laughter was echoed by his comrades, who continued drinking and chattering behind him. The scrawny man forced to sit through the story, however, couldn’t bring himself to laugh. He simply trembled in fear.

Irritated by the lack of reaction, the drunken soldier suddenly turned hostile.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Don’t you want to hear it? Or are you scared and pissed your pants?”

He shoved the man roughly, scowling.

“What, you either pissed yourself, or you just don’t want to listen. How dare you act like this when I’m sharing my precious battlefield mories?”

Thud! Crash!

The drunken soldier kicked the scrawny man hard, sending him rolling across the floor. The man groaned, clutching his side.

The soldier and his companions burst out laughing.

“Hahaha! Look at that pathetic little bastard. I risked my life for scum like him? I’m a proud soldier of the 1st Battalion! Survived countless brushes with death! I was always the first one charging into enemy lines—, from the 1st Battalion!”

lmond and the butler, watching from a distance, quietly turned to glance toward the far corner of the cabin.

There, a man in his forties sat with a prayer book open, his posture neat and composed. He didn’t react to the noise at all, silently focused on the pages. It was clear this wasn’t the first ti he’d prayed like this.

But his hand—clutching the book—was tense, veins bulging. It looked like the kind of grip that was just as used to holding a sword.

lmond and the butler took a step back simultaneously, cursing the drunkard under their breath.

Why did he have to ntion the 1st Battalion? What about the 2nd or 3rd?

They glared at the soldier, wishing soone would shut him up. Just then, a voice of admiration piped up from another side of the room.

“Wow! So you must know the famous 1st Battalion Commander—the one who never hesitates to swing his sword at enemies!”

“Hmph, of course I do! That man doesn’t hesitate for anything. He’ll cut down anyone who crosses him. Lately, there’ve been fools pretending to be him—scamrs, fakes! But when the real 1st Battalion Commander finds them, he just slaughters them. No rcy. He doesn’t tolerate anyone tarnishing his honor.”

In the corner, the man with the prayer book closed it with a soft thud.

The temperature in the room shifted.

Cold silence spread from one side, while the heat from the drunkard’s boasting only intensified.

The soldier puffed up even more, basking in the attention.

“Moreover, he’s on this ship!”

A ripple of whispers spread instantly.

The man with the sword halfway rose from his seat. lmond and the butler instinctively pressed against the wall, overwheld by the pressure radiating from him.

Whispers filled the cabin.

It was said the 1st Battalion Commander had killed even more people than the King of Slaughter. So even whispered that the Emperor couldn’t fight at all—that he was the real King of Slaughter.

Unwittingly, the crowd began inflating his legend further, their fear rewriting reality.

The man holding the sword cast a long shadow as he stood.

At that mont, he reached for his weapon.

But before he could draw it, the drunk soldier, now riding the high of his performance, added one more nugget of dangerous information:

“And let tell you how prestigious his family is! They’re connected to Duke Truyde’s house—yes, the King’s Heart! The 1st Battalion Commander’s ancestors served as knights for the Duke’s family! Thanks to their help in so very important matters, they were even granted titles and land!”

He suddenly shut his mouth, realizing he’d said too much.

“Ah—no, forget that! I said it wrong! Anyway, our 1st Battalion Commander is so brave—”

He scrambled to change the subject, but it was too late.

So listeners didn’t forget what he had let slip.

The Commander, who had silently lowered his sword and returned to his seat, and lmond, whose expression had darkened, were among them.

Duke Truyde... important matters...

lmond turned over the implications in his mind. When his eyes t the Commander’s, he realized—he knew.

He knows about the black potion.

As soone so close to the Emperor, it would make sense that he knew at least part of the truth.

As lmond speculated, the Commander spoke in a low voice.

“I’ll tell you. In the morning.”

Right... It’s dark now.

lmond glanced toward the closed door of the single room, the room they couldn’t see inside.

And suddenly, the worry that had slipped his mind ca back.

Did those two... sleep together in the sa bed?

****

It was suffocating.

Abel tried to take a deep breath, but sothing heavy pressed down on his chest, making it impossible to fill his lungs. He shifted instinctively to escape the weight—but couldn’t move. It felt like a boulder had pinned him.

Finally, he managed to open his sleepy eyes just a sliver.

Blink. Blink.

Above him was a dirty wooden ceiling, stained with soot and age. The unfamiliar sight only lasted a mont before his mory caught up—he was on the ship. The single room.

Then he looked down.

Or tried to.

That was when he realized sothing was pressing against almost his entire body. Not sothing—soone.

Huh? What is this...?

As he struggled to move his head, his cheek brushed against strands of black hair lying across his neck.

The figure pinning him down was more than twice his size. One arm and one leg had him locked in place, and Abel’s small fra was nearly swallowed under the man’s body.

Only his head remained exposed.

Luckily, his injured arm was untouched.

Relieved, Abel slowly pieced it together—the one lying on top of him...

...was Karas.