Chapter 11: Resentment

As Serapha slowly regained consciousness, she opened her eyes to find herself lying in the same familiar room from months ago. The air was thick with the strong scent of medicinal herbs.

"Here, drink this first," Mo handed her a bowl of dark herbal medicine. "I checked your pulse—your heart fire is excessive and harming your spleen and stomach. This will help ease the symptoms."

"But emotional wounds must be healed by the heart itself."

Serapha felt a sudden sting in her nose. In that moment, the image of Mo overlapped with that timid little boy from beside the Pharaoh a thousand years ago.

Why? Why had she just tried to kill someone so kind?

Seeing her fall silent, Mo simply said, "Rest well," and quietly turned to leave.

After drinking the medicine, Serapha fell into a hazy sleep, where countless fragmented memories drifted through her mind. Just when she finally felt a moment of peace, that familiar voice appeared again:

"It's because of them that you've suffered for thousands of years.

It's because of them that you endure the agony of the Heart-Flame Curse.

Was all your suffering in vain? Are you really going to let them win so easily?"

Black flames ignited in Serapha's eyes. She stormed into Mo's room and slapped him awake.

"You sneaky little coward, secretly investigating me—what exactly are your intentions?"

"Thousands of years ago, you were a weakling too. You hid under my protection, only to abandon me in my greatest moment of need! All of you deserve to die!!"

As she spoke, fire suddenly erupted in her hands. Though her powers had weakened after enduring the Flames of the Heart Curse, killing a defenseless mortal was still an easy task.

But Mo only looked at her calmly. "Is this the justice you seek? Don't you realize hatred only consumes yourself?"

His voice sounded distant, as if from another world. As Serapha gathered her energy, countless images flashed through her mind—energies of good and evil collided violently within her, and the familiar burning pain flared up again.

"Shut... up..." she hissed through clenched teeth. Through her sweat-blurred vision, she suddenly lunged forward, gripping Mo's throat. She could feel his fragile Adam's apple trembling beneath her palm. Just a little more force...

"Who the hell do you think you are... here to judge me...?"

The boundary between reality and illusion began to blur. Serapha suddenly realized her own hands were strangling Mo's neck, yet he didn't resist. He simply looked at her with a gaze full of sorrow.

"Kill me... if that will set you free..." Mo gasped painfully. "But before you do... look at the wound in your heart... and ask yourself who truly hurt you..."

At that moment, an unprecedented fury surged through Serapha. She shoved him violently away.

"Why?! Why is it always like this?!" She grabbed his collar. "Stop pretending to be the good guy! You know better than anyone—if I soften for even a second, the only thing waiting for me is a fate worse than death!"

Tears streamed down Mo's face, yet he stubbornly held her trembling hand.

"This time... it's different..."

"What's different?" Serapha sneered. "Just because you're playing the saint now, sacrificing yourself for me?"

A cruel thought suddenly crossed her mind.

"Fine then. Since you're so noble—why don't you suffer the Heart-Flame Curse in my place?"

She summoned every ounce of hellfire within her and forced it through their clasped hands into his body. Instantly, Mo's body arched like a shrimp, and an inhuman scream tore from his throat. Serapha coldly watched him writhe on the floor, the same crimson light glowing beneath his skin as it did in hers.

"How does it feel?" She crouched down and turned his contorted face toward her. "Still want to say those righteous, noble words now?"

Mo's lips were bloodied from biting down, yet his trembling hand still reached up to gently caress her cheek.

"So this is... what you endure... every day..." His broken words carried heartbreaking tenderness. "I'm sorry... I couldn't... find you sooner..."

Serapha lowered her head, shocked to see her own hands gradually returning to their normal luster, while Mo's body rapidly withered. Some pure, radiant energy was flowing from his body into hers through their still-connected fingers.

"You... you're giving me your life?" she asked, disbelief in her voice. "Why?"

Mo gave a weak smile.

"Because... this time... I finally... protected you..."

For a fleeting moment, the Heart-Flame Curse within Serapha's chest extinguished. In that instant of clarity, she saw a terrifying truth—

Mo, in every lifetime, had been protecting her in his own way. But she had been trapped in hatred for so long, too long, that she had mistaken everyone for her enemy.

And even more terrifying—she realized she had been enjoying Mo's suffering.

She had become the very monster she once hated: the kind who preyed on the weak.

This sickening realization made her stomach churn violently. She collapsed to her knees and retched dryly.

The demon of hatred seized this opportunity to lash out:

"See? You've become a monster. No one will ever love you again."

Serapha staggered to her feet, looking at the barely breathing Mo, then at the darkness beyond the doorway.

She knew she was standing at the edge of a cliff. One step forward would plunge her into eternal darkness. If she turned back, there might still be...

"There's no way back," she whispered to herself. The red glow reignited in her eyes.

"Since I'm already a monster..."

Without looking back, she walked into the night.

Behind her, Mo's anguished cries faded into the wind.