The sound of the horse’s hooves gave Julian hope, bright and desperate hope. It surged in his chest as the thought of someone finally coming this way filled him. The Duke. Did he find me? Amazing how the first person that came to mind regarding his save was the Duke. But how could he not miss the Duke? His affection was less of a deadly poison than the one spreading through his body.

In a situation like this, Julian did not know if the person approaching was friend or foe... but he wished it was at least a friendly person.

He tried to call out, but the poison had turned his throat to sandpaper. He could only manage a raspy, feverish whisper. "Here... help..."

A white horse appeared at the edge of the pit. Julian looked up, his vision swimming in a haze. It wasn’t the Duke’s grey mare, which meant it wasn’t the Duke. This time, it was the Emperor.

Julian’s heart skipped.

Though he knew he wasn’t exactly in the Emperor’s good books, he felt a sudden, profound sense of relief.

Even if the man was a snake in silk, he was still the Emperor, and Julian was one of his subjects. Surely, seeing one of his subjects in such danger during an event he organised, bleeding and poisoned in a hole, would trigger some basic sense of humanity.

It was the only logical outcome.

Julian looked back at him, his dark and exhausted eyes pleading for a rope, a guard, a single word of command, anything that would get him out of this situation.

Emperor Aurelian looked down into the pit. His golden eyes were calm, reflecting the moonlight with a chill.

And then, after he had gotten a good grasp of Julian’s condition, as well as how long he could probably last in that hole, he finally straightened his back. He didn’t call for guards to help, but he did do something. With his lips, that is.

The Emperor’s lips curled up into a slow and delighted smile. It was a smile that sent cold shivers down Julian’s spine, like someone had poured ice. It was unmistakably the look of a man who had just watched a tedious problem solve itself.

Without a word, Aurelian adjusted his grip on the rein, turned his white stallion, and rode back to his company.

He didn’t save Julian. He didn’t even acknowledge that he had seen him in a pit, poisoned and dying.

"Your majesty?" One of his knights called out, wondering why he had ridden his horse off course, and asked, "Did you find something?"

"Only a wounded prey." The Emperor said as he lightly shook his head. "But it is none of our concern. Let us hunt in another area and leave the prey for its hunter to claim." He glanced over his shoulder at the pit and then looked forward.

Julian let out a ragged, broken breath, his head falling back against the dirt as he listened to the distant voice of the Emperor.

This betrayal... It was cold, sharp, and final.

But was it really a betrayal if they had never been anything to each other? He already knew the Emperor saw him as an eyesore, but he never imagined...

It was at this point that all doubt left Julian’s heart, and he had come to realize how far a negative affection level could go—with enough evidence. Now, he knew that the Emperor definitely wanted him dead.

The silence after the Emperor’s departure was louder than any scream Julian could utter. He lay in the mud, the ’Snail-Pace potion’ now a weak dam against the rising tide of the venom.

His vision began to fracture; the edges of the pit seemed to melt into the dark canopy above, and the air felt thick, like he was breathing through wet wool.

Posture, he thought, a dazed, mocking echo of his own voice. Reflect on your posture. A dying man should at least look the part... right? He could no longer deny it. He was going to die.

Despite all he did... Despite his struggles... Despite his wishes... This was where he found himself at last. Dying alone in a cold pit—a powerless mouse fallen before a lion.

Julian tried to shift, but his numb leg kept him in place. Every pulse of his heart sent a fresh wave of fire through his hip. He was so cold—a bitter, hollow chill that started in his bones and seeped outward—yet his skin felt like it could boil an oyster.

He heard the system chime again, but he had lost most of his vision. It was probably telling him he had less than a minute to live. That was fine. He had already succumbed to it.

Though he had his regrets. Not teaching Lucius to the end. If he was going to die, he hoped Lucius was at least warm. He hoped the boy had made it safely to his father’s side. And his second regret was... not being honest in his feelings towards the Duke.

I guess this is it. He thought as his eyes closed slowly, his wet lashes making the final pat. I... don’t want to die. Just then, through the haze, a sound drifted with an echo.

"Astrea!"

It was faint. A distorted, jagged roar that sounded like it was coming from the other side of a mountain.

"Astrea! Answer me! Where are you?" It was the voice of the Duke.

Hallucinations, Julian thought, his head lolling to the side. The brain produces familiar voices to ease the transition into death. How logical. How... kind.

He thought this was his brain manifesting the voice he wanted to hear the most in this dying moment.

The voice grew louder, more frantic. It didn’t just sound like a Duke anymore; it sounded like a man who had lost his soul in the dark, desperately searching for it. There was a heavy, desperate thud of hooves, and then a scream of his name that ripped through the fog.

"JULIAN!!!"

Julian didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

His tongue felt like a lead weight in his mouth. He simply closed his eyes, letting the last tear drop roll down as the darkness swallowed him.

[HOST... YOU HAVE DIED!]