Single for Eternity
Chapter 51: Stranger

Chapter 51: Stranger

Laura’s cries echoed through the castle halls, raw and unfiltered. The sound carried far, bouncing against the cold stone walls. It wasn’t often that she let her emotions spill so freely, but now... now, she couldn’t hold it back.

Hearing the whimpering cries, Olie—the demonic maid—materialized into existence.

Summoning herself from the void, she flickered into reality, her sharp obsidian eyes scanning the room. It didn’t take her long to spot Laura’s trembling figure. Her attention then snapped to the man standing in front of her, his posture unusually still.

Einar.

Olie’s instincts screamed. Her body moved before her thoughts could catch up.

She leaped, her heel cutting through the air like a blade— and slammed into Einar’s back.

The force of the impact sent him crashing forward, face-first into the marble floor. A sickening thud echoed, followed by a slow trickle of crimson spreading beneath him.

For a moment, silence.

Then, movement.

Einar pushed himself up with a measured pace, his fingers brushing against his nose. A wet, warm sensation smeared across his fingertips. He stared at them, his face expressionless.

Blood.

A sluggish, oozing stream dripped down, staining his lips in a dull red.

Olie finally snapped out of her reckless haze. Her own heartbeat thundered in her ears. The realization of what she had done dawned upon her, draining every ounce of color from her face.

’What... have I done?’

Her entire body tensed. Einar wasn’t his previous timid and extremely weak guy. He had beaten her up before. He didn’t care if she was a girl or whatnot, and that was when she was just irritating him. This time she full-fledged kicked the supposed guy.

Olie swallowed hard. ’He would kill me for this.’

She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing for impact. Any second now, she expected the inevitable retaliation—a blow, a command for her punishment, something.

But—

Nothing.

No pain. No shouting.

She hesitantly cracked an eye open.

Einar had already straightened up. He barely spared her a glance.

A disgusting glance.

As if she were beneath his notice.

And then, without a single word, he turned and walked away.

Olie blinked in shock.

What?

Surprised, she turned to Laura. "Sis, what happened to that guy? Is he sick or something?"

Laura, still wiping at her tear-streaked face, exhaled a deep breath of relief. "No," she whispered. "He just... returned to his previous self."

Her voice was filled with joy, as though she had been waiting for this moment.

Olie frowned. "Why are you happy about it then? He returned to being his incompetent self. How did it even happen?"

Laura shot her a sidelong glance. "Shouldn’t you be happy too? Didn’t you always think the previous young master was an imposter?"

Olie chuckled dryly. "Sis, if he was an imposter, I still would’ve preferred him over his past self. Why would anyone like that bastard?"

Laura’s voice turned icy. "Did you forget your responsibilities to House Sanguis?"

Olie furiously waved her hands in dismissal. "No! But still, even for the sake of House Sanguis, it would be better if he changed." She crossed her arms. "The ’imposter’ was a much better candidate."

Laura clicked her tongue but didn’t argue further. Instead, she turned back to cleaning, her expression unreadable.

Olie shook her head, frustrated. Why does she lose her intelligence when it comes to this guy?

With a sigh, she returned to her chores.

...

Tauriel watched everything.

From her position in the shadows, the smart woman’s mind raced.

’Returned? What do they mean by returned?’

The way Laura spoke, the way Einar acted—this wasn’t just some ordinary shift in behavior.

No, it felt like two entirely different people.

Her sharp eyes flickered with intrigue. The way he looked at Laura...

There was no amusement. No hatred. No warmth. Just pure, detached indifference.

It wasn’t the gaze of a person recognizing a person.

It was the gaze of a stranger.

Gaze of someone who didn’t even register the person in front. As if they didn’t matter, there existence didn’t mattered.

Tauriel placed a hand on her chin, her thoughts deepening.

"Interesting..."

A confident smirk formed on her lips.

...

I jerked awake.

A sharp inhale filled my lungs as I shot upright, my body still aching. The sensation of rot, of decay, lingered in my mind like an unpleasant aftertaste.

I had lost consciousness.

The pain had been unbearable. A body breaking down at the cellular level. That bastard’s attack had nearly erased me from existence.

I exhaled sharply.

Turning my head, I spotted the mercenaries sprawled out nearby. Their chests rose and fell in slow, fatigued breaths.

They were exhausted.

First, a brutal fight with me. Then, that gaze.

It must have drained them completely.

I stood, shaking off the lingering dizziness, and took in my surroundings.

The back of this plateau was a sheer drop-off—a boundary marking the end of the mountain. Beyond that, the land was harsh.

Rocky. Barren. Hostile.

Duskholm’s civilization was built in the cracks of canyons, nestled between jagged peaks. A dead land, illuminated only by the dim, eternal twilight overhead.

Now that I was at a higher altitude, I could see more of the surrounding area.

To the bottom right, the abandoned town lay eerily still. Beyond the mountain, on the other side—nothing.

Just a canyon splitting between two mountains.

And ahead?

Five different paths.

Each diverging in distinct directions.

One of them was clearly inhabited by humans.

I could just barely make out rooftops in the distance, nestled in the far-off valley.

Of course, there was a high probability that bastard’s influence had already spread there.

But even so, it was my best shot at getting to the castle.

I clenched my fists.

I was pissed.

That thing had played me twice. It had scared me, tormented me.

It had reduced my body to rotting flesh, nearly killed me, and—

And I had let it happen.

Never again.

I would return the favor. A thousand times over.

Next time I encountered that thing...

I wouldn’t run.

I would return every ounce of pain.

Whatever it took.

Whatever it cost.

That bastard was going to suffer.

I exhaled, forcing my thoughts back into order.

Right now, awakening was my priority.

If I didn’t get stronger, all of this—my anger, my revenge—would be meaningless.

A groggy voice stirred behind me.

"Hey... are you okay?"

I turned to see Flavia, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion.

I nodded. "Yeah, I’m good." I paused. "Are you?"

She rubbed at her face before answering. "Yeah... thanks for asking."

I hesitated. Then, I asked the real question.

"Flavia, how do you ’awaken’ exactly?"

She blinked at me, confused at first. Then she shrugged. "You know, the classic way. In an Aether Crystal Chamber."

I smiled slightly. "Yeah, I know that. But do you have any tips? Anything special?"

That’s when it happened.

Her expression drained.

Every ounce of color left her face.

Her lips parted slightly.

"How... exactly... are you this strong, then?"

I sighed.

Here we fucking go again.