Ch. 191 The Price of Freedom
Selvara had been defeated by Ivaline.
Now she lay on the cold stone floor of the alley, a long slash wound crossing her body from shoulder to waist.
The wound was deep.
But surprisingly—
The blood loss was far less than expected.
The muscles around the injury tightened on their own, clenching instinctively to slow the bleeding.
A beastwoman’s body.
Built for survival.
Built for battle.
Perhaps that was why many old combat manuals clearly stated one rule:
If you fight a beastman… finish them cleanly.
Because their bodies were stronger than a human’s.
And their vitality—
Far more relentless.
Yet the one standing above Selvara did not finish her.
Instead, Ivaline slowly sat down beside her.
Then softly patted Selvara’s head.
The gesture was calm.
Gentle.
Almost absurd in the middle of a battlefield.
Selvara’s eyes opened slightly.
“…You really are stupid,” she muttered weakly.
But the insult carried no malice.
Ivaline said nothing.
Her hand continued its quiet rhythm.
Pat.
Pat.
Pat.
The wind drifted through the narrow alley.
Far away, the sounds of battle still echoed through Fort Westmarch.
But here—
Only the two of them remained.
“…You said you’d listen,” Selvara murmured.
“I will,” Ivaline replied simply.
Selvara stared at the sky above the alley.
“…I don’t remember my parents.”
Her voice was quiet.
Flat.
“I was too young.”
“All I remember… are cages.”
Her tail shifted faintly on the ground.
“I was told my parents were sold.”
A bitter smile appeared on her lips.
“Apparently beastmen with good abilities sell for a high price.”
Ivaline’s hand never stopped.
Pat.
Pat.
“They kept us in steel cages,” Selvara continued.
“Like animals.”
Her eyes slowly closed.
“I grew up with other children.”
“Beastfolk.”
“Different tribes.”
“We were all waiting.”
“For buyers.”
Her fingers clenched weakly against the stone.
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“One by one… they disappeared.”
Her voice trembled slightly.
“A trader would come.”
“They’d open the cage.”
“And someone would be taken away.”
Her breathing slowed.
“They never came back.”
Silence lingered.
“Maybe some did…”
“…but never the same.”
“Their minds… were broken.”
“I stopped learning their names,” Selvara whispered.
“It hurt less that way.”
The wind brushed softly through the alley.
“I learned early,” she continued.
“If you’re strong… you get sold faster.”
“So I tried to stay weak.”
A faint laugh escaped her.
“…Didn’t work.”
Her golden eyes opened again.
“I was forced to learn.”
“To fight.”
“And to please men in their beds.”
Her eyes closed once more.
Old memories flickered behind them.
“My master bought me when I was fourteen.”
“A noble-looking man.”
“He liked exotic things.”
“Beast slaves were fashionable.”
Her lips twisted into a cold smile.
“So he trained me.”
“To fight.”
“To kill.”
“To obey.”
Ivaline’s hand slowed slightly.
But she continued listening.
Selvara’s voice grew distant.
“I became useful.”
“A living weapon.”
“A pet assassin.”
“A convenient lover.”
Her gaze drifted back toward the sky.
“That was my cage.”
She sighed softly.
“…Until the day everything changed.”
“There was screaming.”
“Fire.”
“Soldiers.”
“Beasts.”
Her eyes darkened.
“The Beast Army invaded the region.”
“The city burned.”
“My master was an ex-soldier.”
“He was ordered to fight… and he brought me along.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“When he realized the battle was lost…”
“…he ran.”
“And ordered me to die in his place.”
“But they caught him.”
A weak laugh escaped her.
Her eyes turned toward Ivaline.
“And then…”
“They opened my cage.”
Selvara’s voice softened.
“They told me I was free.”
Silence filled the alley.
“Free,” she whispered.
“But I didn’t know what that meant.”
Her fingers curled weakly.
“I had lived my entire life in a cage.”
“So when someone opened the door…”
Her lips trembled.
“…I didn’t know how to walk out.”
Ivaline’s hand rested gently on her head.
Still calm.
Still patient.
Selvara continued.
“…Then I met General Silva.”
A faint smile appeared.
“He gave me a weapon.”
“A purpose.”
“A place to belong.”
“That was my new cage.”
“But at least…”
Her breathing slowed.
“…it was a cage where I could breathe.”
The wind whispered through the alley.
And Ivaline continued to pat her head.
Listening.
“You told me to open my own cage,” Selvara said quietly.
“I did.”
“…How?”
Selvara turned and looked into Ivaline’s eyes.
The girl was far younger than her.
Yet those eyes felt deeper than those of most adults.
“Easy,” Ivaline said.
“Easy?”
“You just do whatever you want.”
“Without anyone ordering you.”
“That’s simple?”
“Un.”
Selvara stared silently.
If it was truly that simple…
Then maybe—
Just maybe—
She could also step out of her cage.
Just as that thought formed—
Selvara’s eyes suddenly widened.
On the roof of a nearby building—
An assassin.
Bow drawn.
Arrow ready.
He stood beyond Ivaline’s [Perception] range.
There was no time.
Selvara moved.
She threw herself forward and wrapped her arms around Ivaline.
THUNK.
The arrow pierced her back.
And burst through the front of her chest.
Blood spilled from her lips.
“Kuh—”
Poison.
Ivaline’s eyes widened.
Selvara smiled faintly.
“You’re safe.”
“…Why?” Ivaline whispered.
Selvara’s voice weakened.
“Because… this is my… free… dom…”
Her body collapsed.
Thud.
The assassin on the roof drew another arrow.
But Ivaline—
Vanished.
“Wha—”
Two mismatched eyes appeared in front of him.
One sapphire.
One ash-grey.
A sword flashed once.
The assassin fell from the roof.
Selvara lay on the ground.
Her life slowly fading.
Yet she felt strangely light.
Liberated.
For the first time—
She had chosen something herself.
“Haha…”
Her voice trembled.
“I never knew…”
“…freedom tastes like blood…”
Ivaline rushed back to her side.
Her face went pale.
Blackened blood seeped from the wound.
Poison.
“Chronicle… how do I cure poison?”
The familiar voice answered in her mind.
‘Her wound is too close to the heart. Normal treatment will not save her in time.’
“How do I save her?”
‘first. You have an antidote that could cure the poisons, in this case you must know what’s the poison used first.’
‘I… don’t know’
‘then you need a cure all antidote.’
“…Ah!”
Ivaline pulled a small crystal bottle from the thread around her neck.
A birthday gift.
From one of her adoptive fathers.
Doctor Suniel.
Inside was a clear, viscous liquid.
[Elven Tears]
Her father’s words echoed in her memory.
“One drop can pull someone back from death.”
“It neutralizes most toxins.”
“Unless fate itself has already claimed them.”
Only ten drops remained.
Chronicle spoke again.
‘It contains only ten uses. Are you sure?’
‘She tried to kill you.’
“I know,” Ivaline replied.
“But she has no one.”
“And I refuse to let her die alone in the dark.”
Silence.
Then—
‘…Very well.’
Ivaline removed the arrow.
Then carefully let a single drop fall onto the wound.
Light spread across the injury.
The poison hissed and vanished.
Flesh knitted together.
Muscle reformed.
Skin sealed as if time reversed.
Within seconds—
The wound was gone.
But the lost blood remained lost.
Selvara’s breathing stayed weak.
Slowly—
Her eyes opened.
She touched her chest.
“…What?”
Her gaze lifted.
“…Why?”
“Why did you save me?”
Ivaline shrugged.
“You saved me first.”
“Now we’re even.”
Selvara stared.
Then laughed weakly.
Tears filled her eyes.
“…You really are ridiculous.”
Suddenly she hugged Ivaline tightly.
“…Hey.”
“Hm?”
“Can I become your wife?”
Inside her mind—
Chronicle sighed.
‘Not again…’
‘How should I answer?’ Ivaline asked.
‘Tell her the truth.’
‘You already have a wife… and two more waiting.’
‘…Okay.’
Ivaline gently pushed Selvara back.
“You remember I have a wife.”
“Un.”
“And two more want to become my mistresses.”
“I know.”
“…And you still want to apply?”
Selvara nodded.
“I can be the third.”
Silence.
‘Chronicle…’
‘……’
Even Chronicle had no answer.
Finally—
‘Tell her to ask Seraphine.’
“If you want to be my wife,” Ivaline said, “ask Seraphine.”
“Head wife permission?”
“Understood.”
Selvara hugged her again.
Quietly.
Holding her tightly.
Sniffling softly.
Ivaline slowly hugged her back.
Patting her head once more.
While the distant sounds of war continued beyond the alley.
And somewhere inside Ivaline’s mind—
Chronicle sighed.
Sorry, Seraphine.
Your family matter.
You deal with it.
