The Devil Is The Villainess (✔)

Chapter XXX: Icarus (Part 2)

A few hours earlier, Medea had finally opened her eyes, her consciousness slowly returning. She silently observed the unfamiliar ceiling above her before letting her eyes wander around the room. It wasn't hers. Memories of the poisoning and her near-death experience flooded back. She recalled her arrival at the obsidian tower, the knight she had spared, and Caelus's frantic expression as he caught her dying form.

She furrowed her brows, willing her fingers to move to ensure she wasn't paralyzed. When they did, she pushed herself to sit up, placing a hand on her forehead as she momentarily closed her eyes.

The creak of the door drew her attention, and she turned her head to see who had entered. Her ruby-red eyes met the widened amethyst ones of Caelus, who stood frozen in the doorway. "M-Medea?" he gasped.

Medea took a deep breath, determined to stand. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet touching the cold floor. As she tried to walk towards him, her body felt unnaturally light, her legs wobbling beneath her. She began to collapse, but before she could hit the ground, Caelus rushed forward, catching her with his strong arms. Their eyes met again, her surprise mirrored in his concerned gaze.

Somehow in his arms, she felt a strange mix of vulnerability and security.

As Medea studied Caelus' face, she found herself enveloped in a whirlwind of confusion. His expression was unlike anything she had seen before. A multitude of questions began to flood her mind. 

She vividly remembered the look in his eyes just before she lost consciousness—a look of desperation, almost as if he was on the verge of losing everything. Was it possible that he had been... enraged? She silently admitted to herself that she had never witnessed him acting that way. Typically, he displayed annoyance, but never this intensity. And now, standing before her, his gaze was suffused with an unexpected calm, an unnerving serenity.

Medea was not accustomed to this. She was not used to being treated with such gentleness, as though she were delicate glass that could shatter at the slightest touch. This feeling of fragility was foreign and deeply unsettling.

After what felt like an eternity, Caelus finally broke the silence. He gently guided her back to the bed and sat beside her, his movements careful and deliberate. "You shouldn't move so suddenly. You're still recovering," he said, his voice filled with concern. He reached for the blanket and carefully draped it over her once more.

Medea's brows furrowed, a surge of annoyance bubbling up within her. His actions left an indelible mark on her psyche, a mark she found deeply unsettling. She didn't want this. She didn't want to show any vulnerability in front of him. She detested the idea that he might see her in such a weakened state. Beneath the covers, she clenched her fist tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"I need to plan my next move and—" she began, her voice tinged with irritation, but Caelus interrupted her.

"And what? Hurt yourself again?" he interjected, his tone a mix of frustration and concern.

Medea clicked her tongue in irritation, shooting him a sharp glare. "So? I can heal myself. It doesn't matter."

His frown deepened at her words. How stubborn can she be? he thought, his mind racing for a way to reach her through her obstinacy. His eyes bore into hers, filled with an intensity that matched her own defiance. "It does matter," he retorted, his voice steady but firm. "Your reckless actions have consequences, not just for you but for everyone who cares about you. You can't just throw yourself into danger and expect to come out unscathed every time."

Medea felt a familiar surge of anger bubbling up within her, its intensity almost palpable. Her normally composed face twisted into a darker, more menacing expression. Without a second thought, she reached out and grabbed Caelus's wrist, her grip like iron as she yanked him down with her in one swift, determined motion.