The two lay naked in Asher's bed.
He played with her hair absentmindedly while Seraphina rested her head on his chest, clinging to him like a needy child. To him, she was always that childish, spoiled brat only he could unravel.
She had once believed that death could separate them. But Asher had made the impossible... possible.
She murmured, "Tell me the truth... You hate that I died with Dimitry, not you."
Asher, quietly savoring the warmth of her presence, tensed at her words. Without responding, he buried his face in her neck and bit her hard.
"Ah, that hurts," she pouted like a child, but he remained silent, his arms tightening around her.
A hoarse whisper escaped his lips, "Don't leave me. Please."
Seraphina nuzzled closer into his chest.
"So... who was the fourth person?"
Asher didn't reply.
"Ash... come on." She pressed, but as always, he was stubbornly silent.
Still, she continued piecing things together. After a long pause, she finally asked,
"Was it Dimitry?"
Asher sighed. He couldn't avoid it any longer. She was right. He gave a slow nod. "Yeah... That time you touched his face, he wished you were his. Just once. While alive."
He paused, rubbing her hair gently, taking a moment to feel her, and let himself perceive her as well. A glint of moisture shimmered in the corner of his eye. Seraphina didn't dare lift her face from his chest.
What is guilt?
Is it knowing that her destruction had destroyed so many innocent people?
Was it because Asher mattered to her?
Or because she could have stopped Dimitry's collapse?
Was it his pleas? Did they pierce through the spell that sealed her soul?
Her thoughts spiraled.
As she tried to make sense of it all, Asher continued, his voice barely above a whisper,
"He wished—just once—you would live with him... genuinely."
Asher pulled back slightly, cupping her face and making her meet his eyes. There was no escape from the truth now.
"He's the fourth soul," Asher said softly, "whose prayer broke a piece of your seal... and created a path for your return. He's the one truly pained soul who deserves a second chance. His suffering... it burned his soul clean. Pure enough to bring you back."
She sighed. She caught the subtle jealousy in Asher's tone, but underneath it, deep respect for another man.
This is her Asher, who respects the hearts of others.
She finally looked up and asked,
"And you?"
Asher smiled—quiet but confident.
"I won't let go. Even if you die a thousand times."
Seraphina smiled faintly and fell into her thoughts...
Flashback~
(The last scene of the main story~)
(Dark library of her private mansion)
The entire mansion was dancing with silence and shadows. The thick, metallic scent of blood hung in the air, soaking into every inch of space. Yet Seraphina sat quietly on a swing before the glass door that led outside. Beyond it, the forest stretched endlessly into the night—visible only to her, for the door would open only with her touch.
The moonlight spilled across the floor, cold and silver.
Inside, a single green crystal flame flickered dimly in the center of the room.
Seraphina sat motionless. She was twenty-six now. Ten years had passed since she sealed her soul. Though bound to Asher through a soul contract, her powers were nearly gone. She could only use minor domestic magic now.
Her once-vibrant mint hair had faded to a dark forest green—an outward sign of her dying magic. The final seal would activate only with her death. Only then would she finally vanish.
Why had she chosen this?
As a deity, immortal and eternal, this was the only path to peace.
Then, Dimitry entered.
She knew his scent immediately.
Black rose and cedarwood—sharp and wild, like crushed green leaves burning in summer. Sweet strawberries underneath—poisonous, alluring. A hint of bitter coffee made it subtle.
But tonight, blood clung to that scent.
Something inside her long-sealed heart broke.
Is that child wounded...?
Then, the darker thought followed:
Why is he here?
He stood before her, his face stained with blood and tears. Wounds covered his body. Darkness clung to him like a second skin. Even his hair, once the same mint green as hers, had dulled to forest green.
He held a glowing sword in one trembling hand.
Without a word, he stabbed her. Then he fell to his knees and screamed—a sound full of agony and despair.
Dimitry had once loved her. But she had never spared him a glance.
Even now, as blood poured from her, Seraphina showed no emotion. No anger. No pain. Just a faint, nonchalant smile.
Dimitry sobbed.
"Why? Why can't you love me? Why couldn't Elizabeth( The female lead of the main story) love me? Why... is it always me?"
"Why does no one love me?"
"I begged for your love... I begged for hers... Why isn't it me?"
The king of the dark side knelt, crying, broken, holding the woman he had just killed.
Seraphina finally moved. She cupped his face... but said nothing.
She died like that.
And after her, Dimitry plunged the blade into his chest.
Before his final breath, he rested his head in her lap. His heart was heavy with longing.
In quiet desperation, he whispered a prayer:
"I long to share a moment with you... Just once, in a time when you breathe and smile. I yearn for the warmth of your affection. To feel your love, even if just for a fleeting instant. I wish to see you happy... to catch your eyes as they meet mine—only once."
Crimson blood pooled beneath him. His breaths grew weaker, more ragged.
Yet even through the pain and the encroaching dark, his eyes remained locked on her still body.
"If there's a way..." he croaked, "I want time to turn back. I want you to come back."
His voice trembled, drowning in sorrow.
"I ended our pain... both of ours."
Tears fell from his cheeks, mixing with the blood.
"So next time... give yourself a chance to live in this world."
And with that, the story of Nightshade ended.