Don't Let Her Die（Nepheia's POV）

Leo's incessant chattering finally ceased, and the room fell silent except for my ragged, uneven breathing and the faint groan of the mattress beneath my curled body.

Seriomel waved his hand dismissively, and Leo bowed before retreating from the room, pulling the door shut behind him. The man didn't approach any closer—he simply stood several paces from the bed, those fathomless eyes observing me with the quiet assessment of someone evaluating a newly acquired antique in less-than-perfect condition. The cold, austere presence that emanated from him was no longer oppressive; instead, it formed an invisible barrier, separating me from the world outside—that world filled with betrayal and malice.

My frenzied emotions gradually subsided, and rationality returned like a fish left stranded on the beach after the tide recedes, flopping weakly against the sand. "Get dressed," he said, his voice resuming that languid detachment, stripped of all emotion. "I'll take you back to the Leneaux estate. Your fiancé should be eager to see you."

Of course he knew whether Koujirius wanted to see me or not. This statement was both a reminder and a test.

Half an hour later, I sat in the back seat of Seriomel's Rolls-Royce, the interior space absurdly spacious. Though only one person's width separated us, it felt like an abyss yawned between us. I wore a black silk gown he'd had someone prepare for me—the fabric soft against my skin, concealing most of the wounds that marked my body. The places on my face where gravel had torn the skin had been dressed with medicine and covered with a thin layer of gauze that burned with a fierce, stinging pain.

I turned my head toward the window, watching the city's neon lights streak past in a dizzying blur of color and light, surreal as a dream. But the steady breathing of the man beside me and that persistent scent of cold fir wood reminded me this was no dream. I had survived, and I was now sitting in the car of the man who truly held power within the Leneaux family.

I stole sidelong glances at him from the corner of my eye. He leaned back against his seat, legs crossed, posture relaxed, fingers tapping idly against his knee as though he were resting with his eyes closed. The dim interior lighting carved out the hard line of his jaw and the sharp bridge of his nose, while that teardrop mole flickered in and out of the shadows, adding an indefinable quality of danger to his features.

This man had been Mina's most solid support in my previous life, an existence I could never shake until the moment I died. And now, he had saved me. Was it pity? No, I didn't believe that. A man like him did everything with clear purpose.

"Seen enough?"

He hadn't opened his eyes, but his fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping. My heart skipped a beat and I immediately averted my gaze, straightening in my seat and nervously twisting my fingers together.

"Understanding your position is more important than studying my face," he said, finally opening his eyes—those pupils sharp as a hawk's in the darkness. "I never perform good deeds without expecting something in return, Nepheia."

It was the first time he'd spoken my name, each syllable enunciated with precision, as though branding a mark directly onto my heart. A chill ran through me, and my fingertips dug into my palms.

Yes, this was who he truly was.

"I understand," I said, suppressing the dryness in my throat and forcing my voice to sound steady. "What do you want?"

He let out a low laugh, the sound especially clear in the confined space. "What I want depends on what you can give me."

He turned his head toward the window and said nothing more. The atmosphere in the car returned to silence, but I could no longer relax. This man had given me an opportunity, a chessboard—but he was also the player who could overturn that board at any moment.

The car glided smoothly into the Leneaux family estate, stopping before a brightly lit villa. This was Koujirius's residence. Seriomel made no move to exit; he merely signaled the driver to open my door.

I took a deep breath, pushed the door open, and stepped out. The familiar scent of this place—a mixture of roses and money—washed over me, turning my stomach. An elderly butler in a tailcoat hurried out to meet me, his face flashing with poorly concealed surprise when he saw me.

"Miss Nepheia? You… you've returned."

His gaze lingered briefly on the gauze covering part of my face before quickly moving away.

"Where's Koujirius?" I asked without preamble.

The butler's expression grew troubled, and he stammered, "Young Master Koujirius, he… he's not here."

"Where did he go?"

"Tonight is Duke Aethel's wedding banquet. The young master attended the celebration with… with Master Jonson."

My brother, Jonson. I had been missing for three days, tortured beyond recognition on a deserted island, and not one of them—not my own brother, not my fiancé—had come looking for me. They had even found it in themselves to attend a party.

A cold wave of humiliation surged from the soles of my feet to the crown of my head, spreading an icy chill through every limb.

"Did he go alone?" My voice trembled with an emotion I hadn't noticed myself.

The butler lowered his head, his voice even softer. "No… not alone. Miss Mina went with him as well."

Mina. Mina again.

They had conspired to abandon me on a deserted island to die, and that woman was now dressed in finery, holding onto my fiancé's arm, appearing in my place at the highest echelons of society. They didn't even have the patience to wait a few days, to let the scandal of my "elopement" spread across the internet before openly being together.

So this was what had happened in my previous life, in moments I'd never known about. The hatred and heartbreak accumulated over two lifetimes completely shattered my pretense in that instant.

Good. Very good.

I turned and pulled the car door open again, sliding back into the seat beside Seriomel. He looked at me, those deep eyes reflecting my pale and haggard face.

"Prepare the car," I said, my voice cold as ice. "We're going to Duke Aethel's wedding banquet."

Seriomel's eyebrow lifted slightly, as though somewhat surprised, but more than that, there was a look of interested appraisal in his gaze. He didn't ask why—he simply instructed Leo in the front seat, "Do as she says."

Then he added, "Send a few people to watch the banquet hall. Don't let her die."

The car started again, turning to head toward another, even more luxurious estate in the city. I clutched the cold pocket watch at my chest, my nails digging deep into the grooves of the metal casing.

I had to make this trip. First, I needed to see my aunt, the only person in the Fatasleigh family who truly cared for me—she was the duke's sister and would certainly be in attendance tonight. Second, I was going to tear off Mina's pitiful facade in front of every aristocrat present. Third, I was going to let everyone see how Koujirius Leneaux had been parading around with a housekeeper's daughter during my "disappearance," laying the groundwork for the eventual dissolution of our engagement.

The car's heating was turned up high, but I still felt cold. I couldn't help but turn my head and glance once more at the man beside me. He maintained that air of detachment, as though what I was about to do wasn't wading into a dragon's den but merely attending some inconsequential party.

Yet I was acutely aware that the only reason I dared to do this, the only reason I had the nerve to upend the table, was because of his presence. This realization set alarm bells ringing in my mind, but at the same time, an indescribable warmth quietly spread through me—like someone frozen too long in an icy wasteland suddenly drawing near a dangerous volcano. Knowing full well they could be consumed at any moment, yet unable to resist coveting that fatal heat.

The car came to a slow stop. We had arrived at Duke Aethel's estate. Through the window, I could see beyond the ornate iron gate—lights blazing, figures moving gracefully. The elegant strains of a waltz drifted on the wind into my ears, mingled with peals of silvery laughter.

That voice—I would never forget it, not even in death. It was Mina.