I Will End My 10-Year Unrequited Love - Chapter 15
Elia, trembling as if her body was about to break, leaned against Rias and staggered forward.
“Elli.”
Someone called her name softly. The voice was dry and raspy, barely containing the burst of heat within.
Without even looking, Elia knew who it was. It was the voice she had longed for, even in her dreams.
It was Cyrone. Cyrone was calling her. Elia stopped right in her tracks, held in place by his voice that bound her ankles.
“Cyr…”
Just as Elia barely managed to focus through her blurred vision, she could hardly believe what she saw clearly before her.
“Cyrone… why?”
Cyrone’s beautiful eyes were shattered, the anger and terrible grief that intertwined within them was unmistakable. His fingertips, dripping with blood, were trembling violently.
“El, Elia.”
Cyrone bit through his clenched teeth and called her name again. His voice was sharp and cold, as if his patience was running out.
“I’m calling you.”
In disbelief, Cyrone’s eyes dimmed, unable to bear the nightmare unfolding before him. His gaze was raw with loss and blatant fury.
Rias, watching the scene, instinctively felt a murderous intent. The quiet but deadly malice rose from the heart of hell itself.
“Let’s get out of here, Elia.”
Sensing danger, Rias strengthened his grip on Elia’s trembling shoulders. They had to get out of this place, this hellish scene of corpses. He had to hide her somewhere Cyrone couldn’t find her.
“When did you start turning your back on me?”
Cyrone, still watching the scene, chuckled darkly. He was mocking Elia’s futile attempts to escape him. His gaze slowly shifted from Elia’s form to Rias’s hand, now resting on her.
Cyrone, barely holding back his rising anger, spoke gently.
“Come here.”
Cyrone extended his hand toward Elia. Blood was dripping from his fingers. His lips, darker than the splashed blood, was seeking out Elia.
“Elia.”
Cyrone, with eyes that had lost their focus, gazed at them quietly, before laughing softly.
“Elli, come here.”
Cyrone’s voice was calmer than ever before. But his words were broken, as though each syllable was painfully dragged out. His once serene, glowing blue eyes were now clouded with malice and rage.
Good girl. Elia. Come here. I will forgive you. Just like always, I will have no choice but to forgive you. So…
Cyrone spoke to Elia with quiet, unwavering eyes. Only Elia would understand his true intentions, his heart.
But…
“Elli no longer exists. Your Highness.”
Elia swallowed her tears and spoke firmly.
Elli—the name Cyrone had once used so tenderly. Elia had loved that name so much. Loved it so much that no one else could ever call her by it.
Only Cyrone had the right to call her that. But Elli was no more. No, Cyrone’s Elli was gone.
“Enough with the sweet talk. Stop now.”
With those words, Cyrone’s last shred of reason snapped. The calm, mask-like voice vanished, replaced by a sharp, raw voice. Cyrone’s eyes sank into an abyss, dark and endless, like the stillness before a storm.
This version of Cyrone was unrecognizable to Elia. Why did he have such a sorrowful look in his eyes? Why did he look so wounded?
Looking at Cyrone with an unreadable expression, Elia slowly turned her back. For the first time, she turned her back on him.
“Thank you, Rias. Please take me away from here. Please.”
It was too dangerous now. Elia was barely holding herself back from running toward Cyrone, even as she wanted to push Rias away and rush to him. She couldn’t bear to look at his sad eyes for even a moment longer.
Foolish regret still clung to Elia, like a chain on her ankle.
“Just hold on a little longer.”
As Rias wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders and helped her walk away, he briefly glanced back.
“…”
Cyrone stood amidst the pile of corpses, glaring relentlessly at Rias. Rias felt as though Cyrone could slice through his limbs with one swipe if he wished.
‘Cyrone. You’ll understand how I feel once you’ve lost the most important thing.’
With a smile that held unspoken words, Rias tightened his grip on Elia’s shoulder and turned away. Their shadows grew distant, sinking into the sunset between them.
“Elli.”
Cyrone felt an unsettling deja vu in that moment. It was as though he had seen this scene in a dream once before. Elia, the Elia who had given her heart to him, turning away from him like this.
“You turned your back on me.”
Cyrone muttered to himself, alone in the darkness. His eyes, once deep and sunken, suddenly flashed.
“Elia…”
Cyrone crushed the blade that had been discarded on the ground beneath his feet, grinding it into the dirt. The poison-laced blade let out a sharp screech as it was crushed by his weight.
“Elia Reiffers.”
