Chapter 183: Demon. Abomination. Beast.
Isabella never failed to be amazed.
Every damn time, this man found a new way to destroy her logic. The way he stood there, calm and unbothered, like warming that bowl was the most natural thing in the world—like he wasn’t just hanging onto his strength by threads—drove her insane.
He thought the herb was for her. That’s why he warmed it.
So if he were the one drinking it, he’d have left it cold?
What kind of lunatic did something like that?
Her fingers twitched at her side. A soft exhale left her lips, part disbelief, part frustration—mostly directed at herself. Because of course he’d do that. Of course he’d put her first. He’d put anyone first.
He always did.
This sweet, soft-spoken, maddening idiot would probably trade his soul to save a stranger’s shadow if he thought it might make someone’s day a little brighter. It was insane. It was infuriating. It was... him.
And yet, she still couldn’t reconcile this gentle creature in front of her with the man who had, just minutes ago, said—in a voice colder than death itself—that he’d take someone’s head off without blinking. That memory crawled up her spine like a ghost. It hadn’t been a bluff. She knew it. There was nothing performative in that moment.
If someone had told her—pointed at Cyrus and said, "He threatened to kill someone like it was casual conversation"—she would’ve smacked them over the head with the nearest cooking pan. Hard.
Because that wasn’t him. Not the Cyrus she knew. Not the Cyrus who went around silently trying to help everyone without being noticed. Not the Cyrus who gave her the last of his fruit and claimed he "wasn’t hungry." Not the Cyrus who warmed her water because he thought she needed it.