To The Eternal Knight (2 Chapters Left to Complete) - Chapter 199

The closer the man extended his arm, the nearer the vial came to Helen.

The drug was potent enough to melt every muscle in Nerea’s body in an instant. The one who concocted it must be Heather Blanche, the apothecary’s descendant whom Helen had seen at the imperial palace—the very bloodline she had tried so desperately to eradicate.

What if that vial shattered right now and touched her? The fear that surged through her vanished in an instant.

For some reason, Alejandro slowly pulled his hand back. As the vial moved away, Helen let out a long, held breath.

Perhaps it was the sudden rush of oxygen. Having narrowly escaped danger, Helen grew optimistic. No, surely not—even a human, at least one capable of empathy, wouldn’t do such a thing. Twenty years!

Helen, forgetting she herself had squandered Nerea’s time, was now filled entirely with injustice. Was this vile, sticky emotion what the author meant to bestow upon her?

The things she had failed to eliminate completely now loomed over her like a towering tidal wave, threatening to overturn her entirely. Helen swallowed a hollow laugh and narrowed her eyes at the man before her.

His face once again came into view through her perpetually dim eyes, now distanced from light. It was a visage so hauntingly alluring it sent chills down her spine.

Yet nowhere on that face—not in those icy black eyes that seemed to freeze her on contact, nor in those elegantly curved lips holding a mocking sneer—was there the slightest trace of the pity or compassion Helen sought.

Confronted with his demeanor, which so chillingly confirmed the horrifying truth of those words—“twenty years”—Helen staggered momentarily. The terror she had tried so hard to suppress now seized her entire body.

It felt as though that transparent liquid would slowly consume her, just as it had once consumed Nerea.

Finding no conflict or hesitation in Alejandro, Helen finally bowed her head.

Alejandro slowly nodded, gazing down at her trembling, pitifully small figure consumed by fear.

From this moment on, Helen Tilesbury would live in the underground dungeon of the Rosa Trading Company.

There, for the rest of her life—except for precisely two occasions: her knight’s departure and triumphant return ceremonies—she wouldn’t even know who was imprisoned in the neighboring cell.

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