Serpent Emperor's Bride-Chapter 106: “Let the Enemy Believe I Am Dying”

[Veyrhold House — Levin’s Chamber — Night]

Night settled slowly over the lands of Thalryn.

Beyond the tall stone walls of Veyrhold House, the northern wind moved across the snow-covered ridges, carrying the long, hollow howl that always came after sunset. Unlike Zahryssar, where nights rested beneath warm desert silence, the north breathed with a cold, restless air that never truly slept.

Inside Levin’s chamber, however, the fire burned steadily in the iron brazier, casting a soft amber glow across the stone walls.

Levin sat against the carved headboard of the bed, wrapped in thick fur blankets. In his hand was a small glass cup filled with light golden syrup—the medicine prepared by Physician Naram after the poison had been discovered.

He lifted it slowly and drank the last of it without complaint; the taste was bitter beneath the sweetness. Iru stepped forward at once, taking the empty glass gently from his hand.

"I will keep it aside, Malika."

Levin nodded faintly, his gaze lowering for a moment as if listening to his body. Physician Naram moved closer, his expression serious as he sat beside the bed and carefully took Levin’s wrist between his fingers.

"I will check the stability, Malika," he said quietly.

Levin allowed his hand to rest in the physician’s grasp. Naram closed his eyes briefly, feeling the pulse beneath the skin. The room fell silent except for the crackling of the fire.

A long moment passed, then another; his brows tightened slightly.

Levin noticed at once. "...Say it."

Naram opened his eyes but did not release his wrist yet.

"The pulse is stronger than before," he said slowly. Iru let out a quiet breath of relief, but Naram did not smile. "The antidote is working... but not as quickly as I hoped."

Levin’s fingers moved lightly over the blanket covering his stomach. "The poison is still there."

It was not a question.

Naram shook his head faintly. "Yes... but weakened."

He placed his other hand gently over Levin’s abdomen, not pressing, only resting, as he murmured a low chant under his breath—the same ancient words he had used on the road.

The air inside the chamber grew faintly colder. The flame in the brazier bent slightly, though no wind entered the room. A faint glow formed beneath Naram’s palm, soft and red like the light of burning coal.

He frowned. "...Still resisting."

Iru stiffened.

"Resisting...?"

Naram removed his hand slowly.

"The poison was made carefully. It was meant to remain hidden until the damage was already done."

Levin’s eyes darkened slightly. "...Then we were right."

Naram nodded.

"Yes."

A heavy silence followed.

Levin leaned back against the pillows, one hand resting protectively over his stomach. "For now... are they safe?"

Naram looked at him directly. They are alive, and their life thread remains intact.

Only then did the tension in Levin’s shoulders loosen slightly, but only slightly. Naram continued, his voice lower now.

"You must not miss a single dose of the antidote, Malika. Not even once."

Iru nodded quickly. "I will make sure of it."

Levin gave a faint, drained breath. "...Good."

Naram hesitated, then spoke again. "There is something else."

Levin looked at him.

"What."

The physician’s gaze lowered for a moment before returning. "The poison reacted when we entered the north."

Levin’s eyes narrowed. Naram continued as he folded his hands, "The cold... the change in air... perhaps even the distance from Zahryssar. Something is disturbing the balance in your body."

Iru looked worried. "Is that dangerous?"

Naram did not answer immediately, then—"It could become dangerous... if the one who made the poison realizes they are still alive."

The room went still. Levin’s gaze turned toward the window, where the dark northern sky stretched beyond the glass.

"...Let him think I am dying," he said quietly.

Iru blinked. "Malika...?"

Levin’s voice lowered, calm and cold. "If the serpent believes his venom is working... he will come closer."

Naram watched him carefully. "You are certain you wish to continue this deception?"

Levin’s fingers tightened slightly over the blanket. "I did not survive Silthara Palace by showing my enemies when I was wounded."

The fire cracked loudly in the brazier. Outside, the wind howled against the stone walls. Levin closed his eyes for a moment, then spoke again, softer now.

"...Give me the next dose tomorrow morning."

Naram bowed his head. "Yes, Malika."

Iru adjusted the blanket around him carefully. "You should rest now."

Levin lay back slowly, his hand still resting over his stomach.

"...Yes."

The lamp beside the bed dimmed. The chamber grew quiet. But long after Iru and Naram stepped away from the bedside, Levin’s eyes opened again in the darkness.

His fingers pressed lightly against his abdomen; the tug was still there.

Small.

Faint.

But not gone.

And far away, across the frozen ridges of Thalryn, somewhere in the silent night, something unseen felt the change... and stirred.

*** 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

[Zahryssar Empire — Outer Gate of Silthara — Midnight]

Night lay heavy over Zahryssar.

The desert sky stretched wide and black above the golden walls of the capital, the moon hanging like a pale coin over the towers of Silthara Palace. At this hour, the city slept beneath the silence of the dunes.

Only the outer imperial gate remained awake. Torches burned along the high stone arch, their flames bending in the dry night wind. Rows of armored guards stood on both sides of the road, their spears grounded, their faces expressionless.

In the center of the gate road waited a carriage. The same carriage that had arrived without sigils—now its doors were shut from the outside.

Locked.

Two imperial knights fastened the final iron latch across the handle, the metal clicking loudly in the still night.

Inside—Aelira Veyrhold sat rigidly on the cushioned seat, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. The moment the latch snapped shut, her head jerked toward the door.

"...You dare lock it?"

Her voice trembled, not with fear—with fury. From outside, a guard answered coldly. "By order of the Malik of Zahryssar, you will be escorted to the northern border."

Her nails dug into her palm.

"Escorted...?" she whispered.

The carriage shifted as more guards took position around it. One of them spoke again. "You should be grateful, Lady Aelira. The Malik showed mercy."

The word "mercy" made her laugh.

A sharp, bitter sound that filled the dark carriage.

"...Mercy?" Her eyes burned. "That monster calls this mercy...?"

The horses were brought forward. The driver climbed into his seat without a word. Aelira leaned forward suddenly and struck the door with her fist.

"You cannot send me away like this!"

No answer came.

The whip cracked and the carriage began to move. The wheels rolled over the stone road, carrying her away from the golden gates of Zahryssar.

Slowly.

Relentlessly.

Aelira fell back against the seat, her breathing uneven; for several moments, she said nothing.

Then her lips curled.

"...He did not even doubt him." Her fingers tightened against the folds of her dress. "Not even once. I showed him the letter. I showed him proof that I had hired a professional to write like Brother and copy his writing, yet he still chose him.

The carriage passed through the outer gate, the heavy doors closing behind it with a deep, echoing sound. Aelira’s head tilted back slowly, her gaze fixing on the dark ceiling of the carriage.

"...So this is how it is."

Her breathing steadied, restless, always restless.

Cold.

"If words are not enough..." Her lips curved faintly. "...then I will use something stronger... You should have been mine, Malik."

Her voice softened, almost gentle and affectionate. "The emperor of Zahryssar... was meant to take me as his consort."

Her grip tightened around the pin.

"But Levin stepped in." Her eyes flashed with something dark. "Always Levin."

The carriage rolled deeper into the desert road, its wheels grinding slowly over the cold sand as the golden torches of Zahryssar grew smaller behind her with every passing moment.

Soon the great walls of the serpent empire became nothing more than dark shadows against the horizon.

Inside the locked carriage, the silence felt suffocating. Only the faint creaking of wood and the distant howl of desert wind filled the space.

Aelira leaned back against the seat, her fingers still wrapped tightly around the serpent-shaped hairpin hidden within her sleeve.

Her whisper broke the darkness.

"You think you won... brother." Her lips curved slowly, the smile thin and sharp like the edge of a blade. "You think that because the emperor chose you... the game is over."

She let out a quiet breath, her eyes half-lidded as she stared into the black ceiling of the carriage.

"...Fool."

The carriage jolted slightly as it crossed a rough patch of road, but she did not move. Her voice lowered, softer now, yet far more dangerous.

"But let us see... how long the Serpent Emperor can remain loyal...when the world itself begins to move him away from you."

A slow smirk spread across her face.

"If I could not make him mine in Zahryssar..." She tilted her head slightly, as if already imagining the future she desired.

"...then I will create a reason strong enough to pull him out of it. I will make sure a situation arises... one that the great Zeramet Karash cannot ignore."

Her voice became almost amused, almost playful.

"A situation that will force the Serpent Emperor to leave his golden palace... and step into the lands of the north."

The carriage continued forward, the desert wind growing colder as the distance from the capital widened.

Aelira leaned forward slightly, her smile deepening.

"...And once he comes to Thalryn... He will stand in my land. In my father’s halls...and there...I will make sure Zeramet Karash... I will make him mine..."

A pause.

Then even colder—

"...just mine."

Outside, the desert wind howled across the empty road as the carriage disappeared into the darkness, carrying with it a plan that had already begun to weave itself toward Thalryn.