Chapter 72: Chapter: 72 Time will repay everything.

Two weeks had passed, including the days he had been unconscious.

It had already been a week since he rejected Marinate, and since that day, he hadn’t seen her.

Charlotte was the one who told him that Marinate hadn’t stepped out of her room since that day.

Though her words were calm, there was a hint of worry hidden in her tone.

He couldn’t help but feel uneasy.

A part of him wanted to go and check on her, to make sure she was alright.

But Charlotte had told him that Marinate just needed time to sort out her feelings, and that it would be better if he didn’t face her yet.

He agreed, showing up in front of her now might only make things worse.

So, he stayed away, even though her absence lingered in his thoughts like a shadow he couldn’t shake off.

Now, as he walked down the long corridor of the academy, his expression was distant and thoughtful.

The chatter of students around him faded into the background while his mind wandered elsewhere.

Though the guilt he felt toward Marinate grew heavier with each passing day, he couldn’t let it consume him.

There were more pressing matters at hand, ones that were directly tied to his own survival.

Just yesterday, he had suffered a seizure and coughed up blood.

It was the first time this had happened since his regression, but it served as a harsh reminder that his condition was getting worse.

He could no longer afford to postpone the refinement of his heart.

Letting out a quiet sigh, he muttered to himself, "I don’t know if that evolved Vehemoth’s heart will really increase my chances, but there’s no other way. I can’t delay it any longer."

Even as he said those words, a trace of unease flickered in his eyes.

The process was dangerous, perhaps even fatal, but hesitation would only make things worse.

Still, a small part of him hoped that the evolved Vehemoth’s heart might just be the key that tipped the odds in his favor.

At that thought he turned to run for Charlotte, ready to begin his preparations, when a tall figure appeared in the corridor.

The man moved with slow confidence, a cruel smile cutting across his face.

Seeing him sent a cold rage through Vivian.

His vision blurred at the edges, his hands twitched, and every muscle in his body wanted to strike.

Blood rushed to his eyes and a hot, dangerous urge to kill rose up like fire.

"Kafrik," he heard himself say, though the name felt like ash in his mouth.

The man stopped a few paces away and laughed softly.

"Long time no see, Vivian," Kafrik said, flashing that wicked grin.

His voice was low and mocking, as if enjoying the moment already.

Vivian did not answer.

He only stared, bloodshot eyes fixed on Kafrik.

This was the first time he had seen him since the regression, and the sight hit harder than he expected.

He had told himself he could control his anger, but now the urge to tear Kafrik apart rose like a wave.

He forced the rage down until it became a thin, cold thing behind his ribs.

"What do you want?" he said at last, his voice low and steady.

He watched Kafrik closely. Something was different about him.

In the first cycle Kafrik came back after one month and treated Vivian with open disgust; now he had been gone two months and returned smiling, walking up like he belonged.

Someone like Vivian, by nature, wouldn’t normally feel such a deep urge to kill.

In the past, he would’ve trembled at the very sight of Kafrik.

The memories of being tortured by him were carved into his mind, pain, humiliation, helplessness.

For a long time, that fear had ruled him completely.

But everything changed the day he saw Charlotte in that endless white void, slicing into her own flesh as his wounds appeared on her body.

That moment shattered something inside him.

His fear twisted, hardened, and turned into hatred, pure, consuming hatred that burned away the weakness he once had.

Now, even though rage simmered within him, he didn’t let it surface.

His gaze was steady, almost cold, as he looked at Kafrik.

The calm in his eyes was more dangerous than fury, it carried intent.

Kafrik, however, noticed something off.

As Vivian’s were very cold, they could even freeze the surroundings.

’Odd,’ he thought, watching those unflinching eyes. ’Why does he look like that?’

Still, his grin didn’t falter.

He tilted his head slightly and said, with a mock softness, "I know I was wrong during our last spar. That’s why I’m here, to apologize."

The words sounded polite, but they dripped with falsehood.

Even his apology felt like another game.

Vivian’s eyes grew colder. "You don’t need to apologise. Time will repay everything," he said, and started to turn away.

With each step, the urge to kill tightened like a knot in his chest.

Kafrik didn’t move. He watched Vivian go, then called after him with a false sweet tone, " Wait, after the midterms I wanted to give you a gift."

He continued, "It’s my way of apologising for what I said about your mother." A wicked light flashed in his eyes that made the smile feel dangerous.

Vivian stopped, though his face did not change.

Inside he sneered, without turning around he said, "I’ve already received your gift," he thought, ’Wait for the gift I’ll send you.’

He walked away without looking back, each step steady and quiet.

The unspoken words hung in the air like a promise and a threat at once.

If a sane person heard the conversation between the two, they would probably think what kind of bullshit they were spouting but they both knew what they were talking about in a different sense each.

Kafrik watched his back until Vivian turned a corner.

A slow smile grew on his face, not kind but eager. "Say whatever you want," he muttered to himself, feeling a rush of triumph.

"In a few months you’ll be receiving the gift whether you want it or not." The thought made his joy almost feverish.

Muttering those words under his breath, Kafrik finally turned and left.

Today, he hadn’t come to fight, he just wanted to see that look of confidence on the cripple’s face, so that when the time came, breaking that arrogance would feel all the sweeter.

Meanwhile, Vivian kept walking, his expression unreadable.

The burning urge to kill still pulsed faintly beneath his calm surface, but it began to fade as he neared the place where Charlotte should be waiting.

Ahead, he spotted Charlotte waiting, her long hair catching the light as she waved at him with a small smile.

The sight of her softened the tension in his chest.

The bloodlust that had been twisting through him slowly ebbed away, replaced by a quieter focus.

He straightened his posture and walked toward her, the storm inside him settling, at least for now.

"Why were you late?" Charlotte asked, frowning slightly.

Her lips pushed into a pout that, despite her tone, made her look more cute than angry.

Just moments ago, before she saw him, she had been standing there with her usual air of confidence and pride.

But as soon as her eyes met his, that proud mask slipped away, replaced by a softer, almost fragile expression.

Vivian didn’t mention Kafrik. "Nothing," he said quietly. "I was caught up with something."

Charlotte blinked, then let out a small ohh, her voice light but uncertain.

Vivian noticed how she looked at him, longer than usual, her gaze shifting between concern and something else she didn’t quite hide.

Over the past week, she had started acting strangely.

Ever since he’d rejected Marinate and admitted that the only person he could love was Charlotte, something had changed in her.

The once strong and self-assured girl had begun showing small signs of vulnerability, as if she wanted him to see her as fragile, as if she needed his presence to stay steady.

The truth was, Charlotte had always wanted to act that way in front of him, to lean on him, to let herself be soft and cared for.

But back then, Vivian had been timid, unsure of himself, and she’d been the one who had to stand tall, guard him so that no one other than her could approach him.

Now, though, he had changed.

The fear in his eyes was gone, replaced by quiet resolve.

Seeing that, she finally felt like she could lower her guard, like she could be the princess, the one waiting for her knight to protect her.

Vivian, of course, understood.

He wasn’t blind to her behaviour. But he didn’t mention it.

His expression grew serious instead as he said, "Charlotte, we can’t delay any longer."

Hearing his words, the softness that had filled her expression vanished.

The frailty from earlier was replaced by calm determination, the kind she always showed when things turned serious.

"Are you ready," she asked, her voice steady now, "or do you need more time?"

Vivian shook his head. "We don’t have much time left," he said quietly.

"I’ve already prepared myself. If I can’t cure the curse, then... that’s that."

Charlotte’s brows furrowed, and for a moment she looked as if she wanted to argue, to tell him not to talk like that.

But she saw the quiet resolve in his eyes, the kind of acceptance that comes only after someone has already made peace with the worst possible outcome.

So she remained silent.