Chapter 506: The Price of Seeing It Yourself

Sleep never came back.

Even after the frantic pounding in his chest slowed down and the phantom coldness around his throat melted away, Cherion lay wide awake in the dark. He remained tucked small against Zarius’s chest, staring with dry eyes at the faint orange embers dying out inside the stone hearth.

The fire gave a few quiet crackles in the dim room, but Cherion barely noticed them. His mind was still running in circles, refusing to settle down no matter how hard he tried.

Geez, Cherion thought, letting out a breath so quiet it didn’t even disturb the silent air of the bedroom. It really is true. Until you actually experience something firsthand, you can never truly put yourself in someone else’s shoes.

Back when he had first awakened in this world, reading about the OG Cherion’s villainous deeds had felt like reading a distant historical account. In the grand narrative, the OG Cherion was the antagonist, the arrogant, jealous noble who poisoned rivals, plotted schemes, and brought about his own bloody ruin. It was easy to label his execution as simple karma or deserved retribution when viewing it through the detached lens of a reader turning pages.

Yes, he did terrible things, Cherion admitted internally, his mind churning over the dark memories from the execution platform. He was selfish, obsessive, and cruel to everyone around him. Logically, I shouldn’t pity him at all. It was the natural consequence of his own choices.

Yet, having felt the weight of those iron cuffs, the damp filth of the deep dungeon, and the utter, soul-crushing madness of being cast aside like trash... Cherion couldn’t help but feel a heavy, lingering pit of pity in his stomach.

To give everything to a person, your devotion, your whole life, only to be met with cold, disgusted indifference while watching them hand all their affection to a complete stranger who walked in out of nowhere. It didn’t excuse the original Cherion’s crimes, but experiencing that suffocating despair made Cherion understand how someone could be driven completely out of their mind. The sheer, sickening humiliation of realizing you meant less than nothing to the person who was your entire world... it was enough to break anyone, twisting love into a toxic, festering hatred until there was nothing left inside but ruin.

A warm arm tightened slightly around his waist, bringing Cherion’s thoughts back to the reality of the room.

"You didn’t go back to sleep, did you?"

Zarius’s voice was rough with sleep, low and husky against the top of Cherion’s head. Outside the window, the darkness had slowly faded into the pale grey of early morning.

Cherion didn’t move his head from Zarius’s chest, though his fingers loosened their tight grip on Zarius’s shirt. "No," he admitted softly, his voice muffled against the fabric. "I didn’t want to go back to sleep."

Zarius let out a slow, quiet breath that vibrated through his ribs. "Still scared of the nightmare?"

"A little," Cherion admitted. "Mostly, I just don’t want to close my eyes and get dragged straight back into Execution Square: The Sequel. Maybe I’ll try sleeping tonight. Or tomorrow. Or sometime next week, once my brain stops replaying the decapitation like it’s a favorite scene."

He recalled how, hours earlier, after Zarius had comforted him, wiped his tears, and given him water, Zarius had urged him to rest while promising to stay right beside him. In the end, it was Zarius who had eventually drifted off into a deep, steady sleep, his rhythmic breathing filling the dark room.

Cherion had seriously considered poking him awake and demanding, Hey, remember how you said you’d stay with me?

But one look at Zarius’s sleepy face made Cherion lose his nerve. He just couldn’t bring himself to wake him up.

Cherion had stayed wide awake the entire time, keeping his eyes open while tucked securely inside Zarius’s broad, warm embrace until the first rays of morning light filtered through the curtains. Watching the room slowly come back into view as the sky brightened was enough to keep his mind from wandering back to that nightmare.

Zarius shifted, pushing himself up on one elbow to look down at Cherion.

"Now I feel bad," Zarius said softly, running his thumb over Cherion’s temple to trace the faint shadow under his eye. "I was supposed to keep watch and comfort you, but I ended up falling asleep while you stayed awake all night. It was supposed to be the other way around."

Cherion offered a small, exhausted smile, reaching up to gently pat Zarius’s cheek. "It’s fine, Zarius. Really. You stayed with me when I was losing my mind. I’m not going to complain because you eventually fell asleep. Honestly, you looked so peaceful that I would’ve felt like a criminal waking you up"

Cherion took a slow breath, feeling the mattress beneath him and Zarius’s warm body right beside him. The execution block, the sawdust, the screaming crowd, his brain was finally filing all of that under Absolutely Horrifying, But Not Happening Right Now, which was honestly good enough for him.

"Like you said last night," Cherion added, his tone lighter and more grounded, "that was what happened to the OG Cherion. It’s not me. I’m right here. I have a life here, and people who actually care about me."

Zarius stared at him for a long moment, his dark eyes searching Cherion’s face, making sure the fear had truly receded before he leaned down and pressed a long, firm kiss against Cherion’s forehead. "Good. Don’t ever forget it."

Cherion eased himself out from under the heavy wool blankets, sitting up on the edge of the bed and running his hands through his messy, sleep-disheveled hair. The chill of the early morning air hit his bare shoulders, fully snapping his mind out of its lingering haze.

"I should start getting ready," Cherion said, stretching his arms above his head as he looked toward the wooden wardrobe standing across the room. "My private meeting with Derrick Avery is scheduled for this noon, and I can’t afford to look like a ghost in front of him."

Zarius sat up behind him, resting his hand firmly on the small of Cherion’s back, his expression turning sharp and watchful once more. The softness of the bed was gone, replaced instantly by the calculating instinct of a commander.

"I’ll have the carriage prepared and assign two silent guards to follow at a distance," Zarius instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. "If Derrick steps out of line, acts suspiciously, or tries anything questionable during your outing, you signal them immediately. We don’t know yet if we can trust him."

"I know," Cherion replied with a quiet, resolute nod, pushing himself up to stand on his own two feet, feeling a strange new resolve settling over his heart. "Don’t worry. I’m not going to let anyone catch me off guard. I won’t let them rewrite my story."