Survival Guide After Accidentally Kissing a Demon - Chapter 357

Chapter 357

According to the customs of the Sainthos Royal Family, once a Prince had undergone his Coming-of-Age Ceremony, the person betrothed to him would become his Princess Consort.

So from a young age, Cyril had naturally regarded Bartholomew as his.

But because of the prophecy, the king had killed Bartholomew. His father had killed his future Princess Consort.

That knowledge had cast a shadow over Cyril’s heart and shackled him to this day.

There had been no need for investigation or careful probing. As soon as Cyril was old enough to think for himself, the king had revealed every secret of Sainthos without reservation.

“According to the prophecy,” the king had said, “when the Immortal Butterfly appears, the Heart of Sainthos will be stolen. If Bartholomew of the Butterfly Family does not die, she will become the bane of Sainthos. Cyril, this is a very serious matter. Although the facts have since proven that she isn’t… In any case, we must find the Immortal Butterfly.”

“You killed my Princess Consort!”

Cyril had been furious.

“All I see is that you’ve succumbed to your fear of the Swan Family Prophecy, Father.”

He had added disdainfully, “I also refuse to accept that Sainthos owes all its strength to a single heart!”

“How childish, Cyril.”

The king motioned for him to rein in his emotions before continuing.

“The heart keeps the Royal Family’s bloodline pure and powerful. You yourself are proof of that.”

The king looked at Cyril as if admiring a flawless piece in his collection.

“I became who I am today through years of relentless effort. It has nothing to do with the heart!”

Cyril shot back at once, sneering inwardly.

“But Cyril, the world has no shortage of hardworking people. What it lacks are people with talent.”

“And where does talent come from?”

Placing a hand over his chest, the king told Cyril,

“Bloodline.”

Was that really true?

Then what did all Cyril’s tireless effort and perseverance amount to?

Cyril questioned his father, yet he also doubted himself.

Conflict and rebellion consumed him.

They made his childhood an ordeal.

…

Many years later, something happened that took Cyril completely by surprise.

Bartholomew appeared again.

Yet after her return, Cyril found himself inexplicably agitated.

Bartholomew had returned from the dead. Then there was the Heart of Sainthos, the prophecy of Sainthos, and the inescapable fate awaiting Sainthos…

He was caught in the middle, unable to advance or retreat.

Perhaps because of their betrothal, Cyril had always instinctively felt that they should be closer to each other than they were to anyone else.

But she was the person whose image had appeared in his mind on that rainy day and left him unable to breathe.

The person who had haunted his nightmares countless times.

And yet when they finally met inside the carriage, their conversation had felt more like one between… strangers.

…

The night by the sea was slightly chilly.

The wheels slowly rolled to a stop.

Eric, the servant, reined in the horses.

“Your Highness-”

He had barely begun when the Prince’s cold warning came from inside the carriage.

“Quiet.”

Oh.

Eric was long accustomed to their Prince’s aloof, no-nonsense manner.

He also knew perfectly well that their Prince was only cold on the surface. Spend a few patient years around him, and one was bound to glimpse the gentleness hidden within his heart through certain small details.

Even if those glimpses lasted only an instant.

“Your Highness…”

Eric immediately lowered his voice and whispered,

“We’ve reached the docks… This is rather inconvenient, but… we have to transfer to a ship to reach Holy Island…”

“You and Miss Bartholomew should board first… The boatman and I will carry the luggage aboard… It may take a while…”

After all, the Prince had brought an extraordinary amount of luggage. It would take at least three or four trips to move it all. That was absolutely not a complaint.

Then the carriage door opened.

Eric’s mouth fell open in shock, and his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

As their Prince stepped down from the carriage, he was actually carrying the sleeping Miss Bartholomew of the Constance Family in his arms!

This had to be an illusion! There was no way the Prince could be this gentlemanly and tender!

Eric rubbed his eyes and looked three times before he was finally certain.

“This really isn’t an illusion…”

“Quiet.”
Oh.

Eric shut his mouth.

…

Perhaps it was guilt. Perhaps it was because she had rejected him so many times. Perhaps it was simply her natural allure… Whatever the reason,

he had fallen in love with the nemesis of Sainthos.

Even though she was slowly falling for someone else.

But that was all right.

“Your relationship is built on mutual interests. You could never expect her to love only you.”

“Besides, a marriage between the Royal Family and a Noble ensures a strong and lasting bond.”

“At the very least, Bartholomew will belong to you, Cyril Elvis.”

Cyril had told himself that after the Coming-of-Age Ceremony.

…

Holy Island.

In the Graveyard adorned with Black Rose blooms and white candles,

Cyril exchanged a glance with Bartholomew. The next second, he felt something fall from the storage pouch hanging from his belt.

He instinctively looked down and saw the Fire Seed come surging out like blood, flooding over the black gauze on the ground.

In the blink of an eye, it swallowed Bartholomew and that person along with her.

Cyril hurriedly cast Defensive Magic on Bartholomew, but before the streak of Light from the spell could reach her, the flames devoured it as well.

Nearly everyone fled the Graveyard. Only a handful remained behind.

“Your Highness!”

Clarence turned to him.

“Please take out the Magic Carpet. I’m going in to save Miss Bartholomew.”

“It’s useless,” Cyril refused calmly. “Every trace of Mana I sent into those flames vanished the instant it touched them…”

“…You’re right, Your Highness!”

Clarence had already taken a Heat-Resistant Magic Cloak from his Spatial Artifact. As he pulled it around himself, he spoke quickly.

“Then please maneuver the Magic Carpet above them, as close as you can! If I manage to save Miss Bartholomew, I’ll jump onto the carpet.”

The plan was crude, but it was the best they could come up with on such short notice.

With that, Clarence wrapped the cloak tightly around himself and crouched slightly, seemingly ready to use Beast Transformation, become a wolf, and charge straight into the flames.

“You…!”

Before Clarence could begin his Beast Transformation, Cyril rushed forward and blocked his path.

His violet eyes widened, filled with utter disbelief.

“Have you lost your mind?”

Cyril pointed at the blood-red flames behind him and snapped, “Those flames are powerful enough to burn a Demon to death! Going in there now is suicide!”

In Cyril’s eyes, Clarence possessed a precious bloodline, came from a family of Knights loyal to the Royal Family, and had a pure and righteous nature.

He was the ideal future leader of the Knight Order.

Cyril could never allow Clarence to throw his life away.

“As for Bartholomew…”

At the name, Cyril recalled the wedding dress she wore, and a surge of irritation rose within him. He spat out the next few words. “That was her choice.”

“I know. But if I run fast enough, I might still have a chance to save Miss Bartholomew.”

Cyril’s words seemed to have lost all authority. Clarence gave the hand clutching his cloak a reassuring pat and said lightly, “And if I don’t, then let me be buried here.”

“…”

Cyril hated to admit it.

But at that moment, his heart was consumed by jealousy.

Why could Clarence say something like that without the slightest hesitation?

Why could Clarence simply do whatever he wanted?

Why did Clarence have nothing to fear?

Coward.

His father was right. He truly was a coward…

“But when it comes to speed, who can outrun a Leopard?”

Cyril did not know what gave him the courage to say it. By the time the words left his mouth, he had already pulled a Heat-Resistant Magic Cloak from his storage pouch and draped it over himself.

At the same time, he took out the Magic Carpet and sent it into the air. The instant he turned around, he activated Beast Transformation.

But something moved even faster than he did. A bolt of Immobilization Magic struck him.

Cyril froze in place.

“Take the Prince somewhere safe first,” someone said.

As Cyril watched the Grey Wolf leap into the flames without looking back, he clenched his teeth so hard they nearly shattered.

Cyril was jealous. He was jealous of every man who surrounded Bartholomew.

But most of all, he envied the man who had pulled her into the sea of flames.

Why couldn’t he be the one…?