The Saint Wants to Rest - vanish into fiction

The surrounding air instantly turned frigid.

It was due to the overwhelming and violent bloodlust emanating from Vermouth, expanding as if to crush the space itself.

“Did you just dare… to compare Ian to a cage?”

A hint of undisguised loathing dripped from the low growl of Vermouth’s voice. His amethyst eyes flashed like those of a predatory beast.

Ian had clearly ordered him. He was not allowed to kill. When Vermouth had asked if it was acceptable to render a part of someone’s body useless instead, Ian had said no to that as well.

“To do that, I need a reason.”

Those were the rules of this world. To Vermouth, they functioned as shackles. Therefore, he did not draw the sword at his waist. Instead, he reached out with his hand that wasn’t gripping the hilt and seized Vladimir by the collar in an instant.

Kwang!

“Ugh!”

With a massive rupturing sound, Vladimir was slammed into the wall. Cracks spiderwebbed across the reinforced concrete wall, which had been specially constructed for durability. It was a terrifying display of speed and physical strength that even Vladimir could not react to.

While pinning Vladimir against the wall by the throat as he struggled, Vermouth issued a chilling warning.

“I only follow the will of Ian. Within the boundaries of not defying his orders, there are countless ways I can break a bastard like you.”

The veins in Vladimir’s neck bulged as he was strangled. Though he gasped and choked, Vladimir stopped struggling. For a normal Awakened, it would be natural to beg for their life in the face of such overwhelming terror.

However, Vladimir’s reaction was bizarre.

“Keu-heuk, keo-eok….”

His blue eyes were not wet with fear, but with an indescribable ecstasy and longing. Even in the pain of being strangled, the corners of his mouth quivered into a strange smile.

The cruel and wild tyrant he had only seen through a screen. The absolute being who devastated everything with peerless might. The fact that he was facing that spirit directly with his entire body made the blood of this fan club branch manager, who was closer to a fanatic, boil over.

“Haah. As expected… you are magnificent. That terrifying strength and bloodlust. You truly are….”

As Vladimir murmured ecstatically while being choked, Vermouth’s face contorted as if he had chewed on a bug.

‘What is this unpleasant human?’

Vermouth had never paid much attention to other people before. This was because he simply had no interest. Of course, there were always humans who crossed the line to approach him regardless. In those cases, he would find a way to deal with them and brush them aside. But now, he couldn’t do that.

Meeting this type of human for the first time in such a situation only heightened his sense of displeasure.

Feeling genuine disgust, Vermouth threw Vladimir to the floor as if he were discarding trash.

Cough, cough!

Vladimir tumbled across the ground, coughing violently while stroking his reddened neck.

“Remember this.”

Vermouth looked down at him with an arrogant gaze and passed sentence.

“If you wag that three inch tongue to insult Ian once more, I will take your head next time.”

With those final words, Vermouth turned his back without a hint of lingering attachment.

While sitting on the floor, Vladimir watched Vermouth retreating back as his cheeks flushed red. Dark greed swirled in his eyes as he breathed heavily.

‘Ah, to think such a perfect beast is wearing a leash under a person like that. It is both pitiful and charming.’

Even if he had to mobilize all his wealth and power, he was determined to bring that knight to his side. Vladimir smiled silently while caressing the red handprints left on his neck.

“Are you back?”

Ian, who was sitting on the sofa sipping tea, turned his head toward Vermouth as he entered the room. Though he appeared calm on the surface, Ian’s gaze was extremely sharp as it scanned Vermouth’s entire body.

There was no scent of blood. Fortunately, it seemed he hadn’t caused a major incident. However, Vermouth’s expression looked incredibly displeased.

Before he could even ask what happened, Vladimir entered the drawing room.

“I am sorry for making you wait, Saint.”

Ian’s gaze shifted to Vladimir. His tidy silver hair was slightly disheveled, and a faint red mark was visible on his neck above his shirt collar. Ian swallowed a sigh internally. It seemed that the fellow had indeed used his hands.

Even after he had requested so earnestly. Just what kind of words did Vladimir say to make him that angry?

“Did Vermouth cause you any trouble?”