“Ah—”

Morgan clutched her stomach, feeling her small intestines rot as the decay immediately spread through her entire inner organs. Suddenly, a wet, ragged cough wracked her body. Blood splattered onto her hand.

She vomited not only blood this time but also some chunks of her intestines. Burn, who was standing beside her, immediately rubbed her stomach, kissed her temple, and sent her his Force.

“Ohhhh—it hurts so bad—” Morgan gasped. “It doesn’t usually make my intestines fail—”

Burn didn’t speak or do anything other than shush her gently in his embrace. Morgan had experienced lung failure, heart failure, and the collapse of her entire chest cavity before. Now, it was her intestines, liver, and perhaps also her kidneys.

This time, it was ugly and painful. She clenched her jaw, fighting not to let her body betray her further—not to shit herself, not to leak blood from places she shouldn’t. Thankfully, her healing spells and Burn’s Force worked like a charm.

“Feel better?” Burn asked patiently, wiping the blood from her mouth, frowning.

Morgan nodded. “I wish I could control which organs fail after these… loops…”

Burn embraced her tightly. “I couldn’t make it back home. Couldn’t make it…” he whispered in regret. Now, every single one of Morgan’s deaths meant something to him—each one carving deeper wounds into his already battered soul. “You must be in so much pain. I wish I could take it away.”

“Was it bad? Can I read your mind?” Morgan asked, of course unaware of what he was talking about.

The man hauled her into his arms and nodded. “Yes. Later. Let’s get you cleaned and properly healed first.”

Morgan felt something was amiss but decided to hug him tightly. “Are we in a hurry?” She gave him a quick rub behind his shoulders. “I’ll get Nemo to take my memory from the future. Let’s go?”

Burn paused, his face lifting to hers.

These questions… Yes, she was afraid something like the last loop happened again. Trying to keep it together and knowing his wife just wanted to understand what had happened, he tried his best not to yell or shut down. The future was something… he didn’t want to process yet. All he wanted to do right now was tell her to shut the fuck up—no matter how much he loved her—

No, Burn didn’t want to be comforted right now. He also didn’t want to talk about it or let her know yet. He just wanted to lock himself in a room and stare at the ceiling, even though he knew he expected himself to take care of her after another loop had concluded.

Sometimes… he wished he was still alone.

He didn’t know why, but the burden had been lighter when he was alone. Perhaps because he also wanted to protect the people around him from himself.

From his rage and frustration.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Suddenly, Morgan nodded. She smiled gently and kissed his cheek, sliding down from his embrace and rubbing his chest before saying, “Wait in our room. I’ll get Nemo and Yvain.”

She silently left.

At that moment, he realized Morgan had seen his memory from the future. He saw her shoulders shaking as she walked away down the corridor, and when she turned into a branching hall, he could hear her little sobs.

The Absolute Tyrant leaned on a pillar, sliding down to sit on the floor, leaning back. For the first time in his life, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t answer her questions.

Just as he didn’t know whether to comfort the woman whose heart had broken for him after seeing what he saw in the future, he didn’t know how to proceed. Not even when his best friend had died had he fallen, yet he felt like a failure the moment his wife left, hiding her sobs so he could maintain his dignity.

He could have returned to her faster, but he didn’t—

He had wasted too much time just because his best friend’s head had been revived to stop him in his tracks. He could have killed Aroche’s remains with a single strike, but he didn’t—

He couldn’t make it back home.

The man bowed his head. Small drops created traces on the dry marble floor.

Pathetic.

***

After they had Morgan’s memory extracted by Nemo, they delved into plans, turning the night into a sleepless blur. Morgan’s hand never left his, as they sifted through their memories, etching them into hers as if her own.

“We’ve confirmed it was Lance Inkor. We’ve located one of his base operations and glimpsed his activities with the slaves. Not to mention Blair Inkor’s issue,” Morgan summarized.

Yvain let out a relieved sigh before adding, “Also, it seems Lord Mossflower, Lord Padparadscha, Princess Bianca Lumine, and Luminus Kingdom may have no connection to Lance Inkor. We might be able to make some allies here.”

“Not so fast,” Burn interjected, leaning back as he massaged the bridge of his nose. “Send people to observe them closely ever since Lance Inkor’s showed up. And we need to take a look at Lazarus Lumine—the old man’s involved somehow…”

Morgan turned to him, rubbing his fingers gently, her thumbs tracing circles as a quiet gesture of comfort. “Should I delegate it? Master Vlad can’t go near Luminus because of all the religious symbols, and the werewolves are out. Should we ask someone from the Elven or Dwarven Kingdom?”

“It’s fine,” Burn said with a sigh. “We’ll make a quick trip before the weekend. Also, have you figured out what to do about Blair Inkor?”

“We can’t help her without making Lance Inkor notice us,” Morgan replied.

“Master, please…” Yvain stood, his voice a bit desperate. “We can’t let her suffer like this any longer.”

“Calm down,” Burn snapped, though it was more directed at himself. “Calm down.”

Morgan shook her head. “The Demon Lord’s power could make things worse if we confront it too soon.”

“We haven’t even tackled the Demon Lord’s power yet. Thousands of slaves are still depending on it,” Burn said, his eyes closing briefly. “And the return of Locan Inkor and Nahwu Reyrie is too suspicious.”

He paused, visibly frustrated. “I can’t deal with it yet. Same damn reason as before.”

Aroche.

How exactly had the Demon Lord’s power affected him?

Morgan stood up gently, pulling him out of his thoughts by taking his hand. She smiled, letting out a soft, resigned sigh. “There’s a lot to handle,” she said, her voice almost serene. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Burn didn’t move. Those two sentences didn’t match each other.

“Trust me. Let me take care of it,” Morgan said softly. “We’re going to sleep now.”

Yvain, seemingly understanding, quietly excused himself without needing further instructions.

“Ain! That’s not what Master meant, alright?!” Morgan yelled, her face flaming red.

Yvain scoffed as he made his exit, dragging his ouroboros-hourglass sister along with him. “Whatever.”

The door slammed shut.

...

...

...

“Not in the mood?” Morgan asked meekly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Burn looked up at her, his expression deadpan. “You said that’s not what you wanted to do?”

“I mean, I want to, but I know you don’t. But, in case you do, and even if you don’t, let’s just sleep,” Morgan stammered, her words tripping over each other like a badly-timed tongue twister.

“...”

“...”

“Spread your legs.”

“...”

“...”

“Okay.”