BVIB 33

Chapter 33

“Where on earth have you been all this time?!” Bayan exclaimed, bringing his fist down lightly on Baatar’s head with a thump.

“Do you have any idea how much Mother and I searched for you? How many days we spent looking? And what made you think it was okay to run away and leave nothing but a note?!”

“Ow! That hurts! I’m sorry! I really am!” Baatar whimpered, rubbing his head. “I only meant to be gone for a week—I was going to come home, I swear!”

So, he could use proper language after all. Clearly, it was only around Roselyn that Baatar struggled to speak respectfully.

“But… Uncle—no, that bastard Jamba—he kidnapped me!” Baatar burst out, voice trembling with lingering fear.

“…What?” Bayan’s expression, which had relaxed with relief a moment ago, suddenly hardened.

The young chieftain’s face went grim, and the same tension spread through the other Kaluta tribesmen who had accompanied him. The air grew heavy with their collective anger.

“But who am I? I’m the proud son of the Khan, your little brother!” Baatar declared, pounding his fist against his chest with bravado. “Anyway, I managed to escape partway through, but…”

His confidence faded as he trailed off, his fingers fidgeting nervously under Bayan’s stern gaze. Realizing Bayan’s patience was wearing thin, Baatar swallowed hard.

“It’s just… After that, I got caught by people who were basically imperial slavers. That’s why I couldn’t make it back,” he admitted quietly.

The atmosphere turned ominous in an instant.

Roselyn, for the first time, truly felt what it meant to be in the presence of killing intent—it was almost suffocating.

“At first, they shared food with me, and I was grateful. How was I supposed to know they were villains?” Baatar protested, his voice rising in indignation. “I never dreamed they would turn out to be slavers!”

Realizing the atmosphere had turned dangerous, Baatar quickly waved his hands, trying to calm everyone down.

“A-anyway… I was about to be put up for auction or whatever, but—Roselyn saved me.”

“She… saved you?” Bayan echoed, his voice low and uncertain.

“Yes! She paid a huge sum to buy me out of that filthy place and brought me all the way here. She’s an amazing woman!” Baatar declared earnestly.

“…Wow,” muttered the Second Prince, Yuldian, who’d been silently watching the entire scene unfold. He rubbed his arm anxiously and shot Roselyn a wary look.

“See? I told you it was all planned. She’s just pretending to be innocent,” he grumbled loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Roselyn only shrugged in response.

“…I see,” Bayan murmured, his voice sinking even lower.

“Round up all of Jamba’s people. If any tribe sheltered or cooperated with him, summon them all,” Bayan ordered, his tone sharp with authority.

“Yes, young chieftain,” his followers replied in unison.

“And find Jamba,” Bayan continued.

“Oh, about that—the second gift is actually him,” Roselyn interjected, raising a hand and leaning around Arma, who had instinctively moved to stand protectively in front of her.

“…Second gift?” Bayan’s eyes widened in surprise.

Roselyn nodded. At her signal, a group of imperial knights hauled a pitch-black sphere out of the carriage.

The black sphere hung in midair, suspended by thick chains.

“This,” Roselyn said simply.

“…What is that?” Bayan asked, eyes narrowing.

Without a word, Roselyn pulled something from her pocket and tossed it toward the sphere.

Pop!

In a burst like a soap bubble, the black sphere exploded, and two bodies dropped out, tumbling to the ground.

“He—Help! Aaagh! Ahhh!” one man shrieked, flailing wildly. His eyes were unfocused, and his powerful limbs thrashed in every direction—he was strong, even now, a trait of a true Kaluta tribesman, even in disgrace.

The other man, who had been the one negotiating to buy Baatar from Roselyn, sat slumped on the ground, staring blankly at the sky. His gaze was vacant—one pupil clouded and gray, as if his eye had died.

“Looks like he’s been Abyssed,” Arma muttered.

“It’s as I thought… Abyss,” Bayan murmured under his breath.

As the Kaluta tribesmen easily subdued the middle-aged man, who thrashed about with wild strength, Roselyn spoke up.

“While I was trying to rescue Baatar, these men tried to buy him from me,” she explained.

Bayan’s lifeless, dry gaze turned to her.

“So, with help from someone else at the auction, we managed to capture them. If I’d been even a moment later—”

Boom!

Before Roselyn could finish, Bayan stomped his foot. The ground caved in beneath him with a dull, thunderous crack.

His eyes blazed with fury, the air thick with menace, but Roselyn didn’t falter.

“If I’d been late, Baatar would already be dead,” she finished.

The words had barely left her lips when Bayan’s figure vanished from in front of her.

“Uncle, why did you do it?” he demanded, his voice cold and sharp.

Bayan’s uncle still looked completely out of his mind, making guttural, incoherent noises as the Kaluta tribesmen held him fast. Bayan grabbed him by the throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air.

“He’s not in his right mind, young chieftain,” one of the tribesmen reported. “No matter what we say, he can’t answer or even focus.”

“I see,” Bayan replied, his smile twisting into something savage.

With that ferocious glint in his eye and lips stretched into a predatory grin, the boy looked more beast than human.

“Then we’ll just have to bring him back to his senses.”

Still gripping the man’s throat with his left hand, Bayan seized the man’s left forearm with his right.

Crunch—

Without a hint of mercy, Bayan twisted.

“Aaaaagh!” the man shrieked, his voice echoing through the air.

The boy—no, the beast—tore the man’s arm clean off with inhuman strength. Blood sprayed high into the air, painting the ground red.

“I’ll report to the Khan. Treat his wounds just enough to keep him alive, then throw all of them in the underground cells,” Bayan ordered, tossing the severed, bloody limb carelessly to the ground.

The Second Prince, Yuldian, stood frozen with terror, sweat pouring down his face, too pale and shaken even to step back.

In the midst of it all, Roselyn stood silent, her gaze fixed on the man now convulsing on the ground—unconscious, unable even to scream.

She couldn’t look away. She knew that if Baatar’s killer was allowed to live, it would one day lead to war between the Empire and Kaluta. In that timeline, this very man had cunningly pinned all the blame for Baatar’s death on the Empire, and the resulting conflict was devastating.

“My apologies for such a gruesome display at our first meeting. Allow me to introduce myself properly later—please, get some rest first,” Bayan said, his voice steady even as he stood before them splattered in his uncle’s blood.

He turned to Roselyn and bowed deeply. “Thank you for saving my brother. Given the circumstances, may I offer a proper expression of gratitude another time?”

“Of course. I understand,” Roselyn replied calmly.

“I’ll send someone to assist you shortly. Please wait here for a moment,” Bayan said, before turning away to deal with the aftermath.

At Roselyn’s response, Bayan laughed heartily—a sound that, given the circumstances and the blood spattering his clothes, struck her as just a bit horrifying.

He led his people away, leaving the delegation to recover from the unsettling scene.

Roselyn turned to Arma, who had stepped in front of her the moment he’d sensed real danger. Now he looked at her with a complicated expression—caught somewhere between concern, confusion, and a hint of awe.

“Ugh, can someone please just show us to our rooms already?!” Yuldian, still pale as a sheet, snapped irritably at the maids.

Suddenly, a whirlwind of motion streaked across the courtyard—so fast it was almost invisible. In a flash, a scantily dressed woman, glittering with gold jewelry, swept Yuldian right off his feet and into her arms. Without missing a beat, she turned and lunged at Arma.

With lightning reflexes, Arma scooped Roselyn into his arms and leapt back, evading the woman’s advance.

“Oooh, the handsome one’s running away! Pretty lady, how about you? Want to be my concubine?” the woman called out, jangling her jewelry as she chased after Arma and Roselyn.

First it was endless personal questions, then family background checks, and now… marriage proposals? Roselyn thought, exasperated.

It was utter chaos.

“I’m Naryan! The Khan’s only daughter and the youngest—Baatar’s twin, the idiot you rescued!” announced the girl, finally giving up on catching Arma. She licked her lips in disappointment, but then promptly took charge, leading the group forward.

“Hey, are you going to put me down or what?!” Yuldian demanded, still cradled like a princess in one of Naryan’s arms.

“Oh, I just love a sharp tongue and a wild temper. That’s exactly my type. And you’re handsome, too…” Naryan cooed, eyeing him with open admiration.

Her long, wavy silver hair cascaded down to her waist, framing bright green eyes that sparkled with mischief. Her skin was a deep, sun-kissed brown, and even as she held a man three times her size effortlessly with one arm, she showed not the slightest sign of strain.

Her lips, slightly pouty, curled with playful defiance.

“And you’re a prince, aren’t you?” she added, blushing as she looked Yuldian up and down.