What is... crying?

Anna stretched out her trembling hand, touching the dry corner of her eye.

"Senior, what's wrong?"

Moen looked at Anna nervously, sensing something was off about her.

"Nothing, I'm fine..."

Anna murmured softly. Her gem-like eyes darted around as if searching for something in fear.

Finally, her gaze rested on Moen's face. She stared blankly for a long time, and a certain something slowly emerged from the depths of her heart. Bit by bit, her gaze lowered, stopping at Moen's chest.

At that moment, the sunset entirely dipped below the horizon.

An overwhelming darkness engulfed the entire world, snuffing out even the light in Anna's eyes until it faded completely.

What replaced it was a certain emotion... or rather, a desire.

Hunger.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Anna gulped hungrily. Her eyes fixated on Moen's chest, and everything else in her vision turned black and white. The only living color came from the vibrant beating of the heart within his chest.

So hungry.

So hungry.

So hungry.

She wanted to eat.

She wanted to eat her junior's heart.

Her previously calm stomach suddenly growled loudly in hunger. Strange murmurs echoed in her ears, as if countless whispers surrounded her. An icy will descended upon her again, fighting to take control of her body.

Anna began gasping heavily. Instinctively, she clutched the gemstone hanging from her neck. The warmth emanating from it brought her some clarity.

This is...

Anna looked down at her arm in shock. Upon her pale, white skin, dark scales surfaced once more—and this time, they spread even faster, like a poisonous toxin consuming her entire arm.

"Why..."

Moen saw it too. His expression froze, his entire body feeling like it had been plunged into an arctic abyss.

"Is it not a success?"

But we went on a date.

We even kissed.

And I used those tears infused with love.

The term 'Tear of True Love' can't possibly be wrong. So what's wrong—is it the method? Or... my feelings?

"Wait, Senior, we can still try other ways—"

Moen instinctively reached out his hand, wanting to grasp hers.

But she dodged him effortlessly.

"Enough."

She deftly hid her arm within her sleeve, lowering her head so no one could read her expression.

"You've already done enough. There's no need to waste any more pointless effort."

"This is not pointless! At the very least, we’ve eliminated one incorrect option, haven’t we?"

Moen's voice began quivering:

"For example, we can still... we can still..."

The words circled at the tip of his tongue but refused to come out.

Because after "we can still," there was... nothing.

This had been the most promising plan. If even this failed, then what else could he do?

The most promising plan...

The most promising...

No, it couldn’t be the most promising plan. There must be something he had overlooked!

Yet, deep within the dark god's cryptic hints, he couldn't find that elusive correct choice.

Moen suddenly raised his head, his face twisted in a fierce snarl as he glared at the sky.

Under the now-dim sunset horizon, the sky stretched pure yet bleak, devoid of stars or moon.

And yet, Moen seemed to see, beyond the veil of shadows, a ghostly blue moon gazing back at him. Its presence exuded cruel mockery, laughing at the futility of his struggles.

First, it offers you hope—just a small glimpse. Then, the moment you revel in joy from that hope, it snatches it all away. Until nothing remains... but infinite despair.

This was the cruel amusement Mela once spoke of,

the *dark god's dark humor*.

...

"So it seems this date was never meant to happen in the first place, was it?"

As the numbing cold slowly stole away her body heat, Anna hugged her arms around herself. Her delicate frame trembled, her lips whispering in pain:

"It seems, after all, there’s no such thing as true love, is there?"

"No, that’s wrong, Senior, my feelings are—"

"Enough. Really, enough! You don’t have to say anything more!"

Anna suddenly raised her head. At some point, the ribbon tying her hair had come undone, and her wavy tresses now danced chaotically in the night breeze.

Her icy serpentine eyes locked onto Moen's, as if she had become a completely different person. The only thing Moen could discern in them was cold indifference.

"Leave."

"I'm not leaving. I'm here to save you."

"I don’t need you to save me. I don’t deserve to be saved!"

Anna declared, her voice chilling as frost:

"Go live your own life, Moen Campbell. You shouldn’t be entangled with someone like me. You have a bright, happy future ahead of you."

"A future without you, Senior—how could that ever be happy? I must—"

"Teck Rod. I killed him."

"What?"

At Anna's sudden nonsensical confession, Moen's eyes widened in shock.

"The son of the count—I killed him on the first night of Open Day. I tore him apart and ate his heart."

"No way!"

"How not? I’m a serpentine."

Anna’s gaze once again fell to Moen’s chest. This time, she made no effort to conceal the hunger in her eyes.

"Eating the hearts of men—it's the nature of the serpentines. If not for this gemstone, I would have already torn out your heart by now."

"..." The chilling intent and killing intent radiated so clearly from her that Moen found himself at a loss for words.

"Understand now? I’m a monster who eats people, an executioner. So even if you cure my serpentification—then what? Do you plan to cover up the crimes of a woman who murdered a count’s son?

Not even the son of a duke would have that power!"

Step after step, Anna backed away. Behind her, the vast expanse of water stretched endlessly, resembling an abyss that swallowed all in its depth.

"And moreover, the only reason I approached you was to use you. Understand?" Anna's voice turned colder. "Now that you’ve lost your value—just leave."

With that, she cast one last indifferent glance at Moen. Without the slightest hesitation, she let herself fall backward toward the cliff behind her.

The passing breeze lifted her skirt, causing the fabric to flutter mid-air like withering petals.

"No—!"

Moen roared, his scarlet-red eyes burning with fury as he lunged forward.

Alchemy Core, activate—time dilation, sixtyfold!

His skin tore open under the pressure, blood blossoms blooming upon his body from the overexertion. Moen didn’t care; all he knew was that he needed to move faster—faster still.

But Anna, anticipating his reaction, summoned fierce gusts of wind before he could even close the distance. Torrential gales formed, creating a ferocious barrier in his path.

No matter the magnitudes of Moen's temporal acceleration, it was impossible to breach this wall of wind instantaneously.

Thus, fingertip to fingertip—they passed by each other, mere inches apart.

Moen could only watch helplessly as her familiar but now-aloof face moved further and further away.

...

...

Amid the deepening night, two successive splashes echoed across the vast waters, startling the boatmen resting on the river.

The time between these falls was no more than a second or two at most.

But by the time Moen opened his eyes underwater, frantically searching for her delicate figure in the endless black liquid... nothing. The pitch-black currents had already erased all trace of her existence.

...

...

Moen had no sense of how long he'd been searching in the water. By the time he lost all strength and was pulled onto a boat by a fisherman, the horizon was already tinged with the pale light of dawn.

He knew all along that his efforts were futile. In this complex web of rivers where the Three Currents converged, trying to find and catch up with a girl who had honed her swimming skills to perfection since childhood… it was nothing short of a fool’s dream.

Three rivers converging, an expert swimmer.

"Senior... you've seen this coming, haven't you?"

Sitting aboard the fishing boat, staring out over the vast expanse of water, Moen murmured softly.

Maybe it was because he’d spent so long submerged in the water, but his head felt muddled and heavy, his thoughts slow and dim.

After tossing an absurd amount of coins to the fisherman out of thanks—enough to frighten the poor man into unconsciousness—Moen staggered step by step back into the dim, secluded streets.

He walked aimlessly, like a soulless shell devoid of purpose.

Finally, something tripped his path, and he fell to the ground, tangling with the scattering autumn leaves all around him.

"Done already, so soon?"

A familiar, aged voice suddenly reached his ears.

Shaking his dizzied head, Moen raised himself from the ground and looked up. At some point, he had wandered back to the small shop, where the old man lay reclined in his rocking chair just outside. One of the aged man’s murky eyes opened slightly, observing Moen.

"I..."

Before Moen could answer, he noticed the elder’s gaze sharpen coldly.

"I see..."

The old man’s skeletal hand tapped lightly on an armrest of the rocking chair.

In the blink of an eye—

It was as if a thunderclap exploded beside Moen's ear!

An enormous force struck his chest, sending him flying backward across the street. He smashed through several walls before he finally came to a stop.

"Cough—cough—"

Dragging himself from the rubble, Moen spat up several mouthfuls of bright red blood.

"Are you sober now?"

Emerging from the haze of dizziness, Moen heard the elder’s calm voice once again.

A bitter smile spread across Moen's face. "Yeah."

"So… you failed, didn’t you?"

"I failed," Moen admitted.

"And then you came slinking back here all by yourself?"

"Senior has fled away..."

"Ah, that does sound like her style."

The elder’s glare darkened, his gaze piercing:

"So what, you’ve given up, then?"

"Given up? Of course not."

Moen lowered his head, staring at his own waterlogged fingers. Thoughts of her face, her words—all of it—made his heart ache. His lips twisted into a pained smile:

"I’ll never give up. I just... don’t know how to save someone who don't want me to save."

"Idiot!"

The old man suddenly slammed his hand against the chair, his voice booming with fury:

"You—you really are *that* Moen Campbell, the notorious charmer from the intelligence?!"

"What?"

Moen looked at him, startled.

"Do you believe everything a woman says, even her lies?"

"Lies?"

Moen’s eyes lit up. "You’re saying Senior was lying?"

"I don’t know."

Moen’s expression froze.

"But what I do know—" The elder’s gaze dropped coldly, as if cutting into Moen’s soul—"is that someone like her, someone who has closed her heart and shut others out her entire life, has likely trained herself to hide her truest feelings as naturally as she breathes."

"Just like a snake… skilled at masking itself," Moen murmured softly.

"Here, take this."

The old man tossed a small piece of paper toward Moen.

"Lotta Orphanage—this is..." Moen glanced at the address scrawled there.

"Go take a look."

The elder adjusted himself on the chair, returning to a relaxed posture with closed eyes.

"You might just find the truth you’re looking for."