Escape - Chapter 35.2
Chapter 35.2
Her voice, though hoarse, was firm. Rain streamed down her pale face, her eyes, clenched against tears, the only spots of color.
“I despise them. Those monsters that took my family, one by one. I despise them with every fiber of my being.”
His golden eyes turned cold at her sharp tone. He asked quietly, “Is that so?”
He was so close he could almost touch her. He gazed into her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, reflecting his own image. The surface of those eyes rippled, then slowly, very slowly, calmed.
He suddenly wondered. If that were the case, would she hate him, a Serpiente? If he was curious, he could simply find out. He tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. And without warning, he devoured her mouth.
She didn’t even have time to close her eyes. Her hazel eyes widened slightly, and as her waist gave way, a strong arm steadied her.
He sucked hard on her lower lip, parting her mouth. His hot tongue slipped inside, wet and insistent, exploring her with a rough, possessive urgency. Unlike Damian, who had always been careful and tender. This was a raw, hungry act, like a starved beast devouring its prey while still alive.
The rain poured down, a torrent of water cascading over them, leaving no trace.
Hot saliva mingled and exploded, her fingers curling with the intensity. Adeline clenched her fists, then, unable to bear it any longer, wrapped her arms around his neck. As if in response, his hand, which had found its way to her hair, stroked her ear ceaselessly.
Their lips parted, then met again and again. Gasps mingled with the sound of the downpour. Like monsters consuming and growing from each other. A destructive affection, endlessly breaking, crushing, and tearing at each other.
“Haah…haah…”
Her eyes burned. Her vision blurred, but his piercing golden gaze remained sharp. Finally, between ragged breaths, as if he had just run a race, he said, “He’s dead.”
The clipped declaration landed coldly in her ear.
“You don’t have to cry over him anymore.”
Only then did Adeline realize she was crying. Mixed with the rain, the tears on her cheeks were imperceptible.
It was probably guilt. The belief that she was the cause of his death. The thought that it was her fault, her whispers every night about the world above, about the sky outside, about wanting to leave the Labyrinth.
“Hic,”
That’s why she had been so afraid when he asked about the cause of Damian’s death.
She had stammered that he had been killed by a Serpiente, but inside, a confession of guilt echoed.
‘I killed you.’
“Huu, ugh.”
The tears she had been holding back finally broke free, a hot lump rising in her chest.
He was dead. She didn’t have to cry over him anymore. His words were both absolution and a death sentence. Absolution because they came from Damian’s lips, a death sentence because they came from Damian’s lips.
They could never truly be the same, no matter how much she tried to define him by her memories. No matter how desperately she tried to build a new bridge between them.
The boy who skipped class with her at fifteen to explore the lower levels was gone. The seventeen-year-old friend who got into fights every day, oblivious to her feelings, was gone. The nineteen-year-old who clumsily kissed her was gone.
The twenty-six-year-old lover who whispered promises of forever was gone. That man had been left alone in the darkness, torn to pieces and killed.
It was irreversible. That was death, an immutable truth. A sharp blade severing time, making it impossible to reweave the threads.
As she gasped for breath, her soul, like a breath, spread out, taking on substance and heat. Farther and farther away…. Something fading from sight as it receded into the distance.
“It’s too late for regrets.”
He collapsed against her, his head resting on her shoulder, his voice laced with mockery.
“You promised to stay by my side.”
Every time she cried, his entire body ached. Her sobs, mingled with the rain, were louder than anything else. His face, once burning with heat, now cooled as if doused with cold water. He fought to control his ragged breathing.
He, too, knew that the love in those hazel eyes wasn’t meant for him. It was for someone else. Someone he couldn’t even hope to emulate, just by taking his name.
He was destined for a tragic end. Because he couldn’t become Damian, because he couldn’t kill Damian.
He had known this from the beginning, yet he had followed her. Her promise to stay by his side had been irresistibly intriguing.
Even if she wanted to leave now, it was too late.
She should have left before she gave him Damian’s name. Before she spent three days nestled in his arms, learning his warmth. Before she whispered, so possessively, that he was hers.
Her gentle voice. Their affectionate bond. Her small, soft body. He had witnessed it all, every detail. There was no going back. He had already become curious about her.
The wind howled, driving the rain before it. Despite the storm, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, a habit formed over the past three days.
Feeling his short hair against her neck, Adeline silently hugged him tightly. His broad back stiffened slightly. As if reading his mind, she spoke, her voice thick with tears.
“I won’t leave you. Not unless you leave me first.”
She didn’t remember, but that was a promise Damian had made to her. A promise he hadn’t kept.
Now, she was repeating that same promise. He felt a strange ache in his chest, as if a hole had been torn through him. Something was leaking out, uncontrollably, through that gaping wound. It was strange. He was back on the seesaw, yet why did he still feel like he was sinking in quicksand?
How lonely it was to remember memories alone, and how ironic it was that a name could create an existence.
Whether intentionally or not, they were wounding each other simply by existing.
