Leave the Villainous Second Male Lead Alone - Chapter 7.9

Unlike Etienne’s composed tone, the woman was visibly flustered. Her eyes darted around in contemplation before she made a firm declaration.

“Then I’ll just rewrite it from the beginning!”

Etienne lowered his gaze and sipped his tea, his expression maddeningly calm.

“Why don’t you have someone else possess the villainous side character instead? If the main character is going to end up with them, it would make sense if their soul were swapped or they were reborn.”

“Are you mocking me?”

As the woman fumed, Etienne added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “When I suddenly disappear, and no one is left to stop you, then you can write a happy ending where Etienne and Callisto are together.”

What? Etienne and me? Callisto’s ears perked up.

“I’m serious! Do you think I can’t do it?” the woman exclaimed, trembling with determination. Callisto couldn’t help but be impressed by her tenacity.

“Haha…”

Etienne burst into laughter, clearly enjoying himself. It seemed he had been teasing her after all.

Seeing that bright smile again after so long, Callisto couldn’t help but stare at him, mesmerized by the sight.

“Admiral, we’ve arrived at Blast Harbor.”

A voice called out, accompanied by a firm shake of his shoulder.

The unfamiliar scenery vanished instantly. Slowly opening his eyes, Callisto rose and glanced around.

It had been ten days since they left the deserted island where they had resupplied after escaping the windless zone. Though thinner than before, the soldiers on deck appeared in good spirits, moving with a lightness that reflected their relief. Below deck, others carefully transported the pots of Echinacea they had painstakingly gathered.

The familiar and cherished air of the Empire brushed against his cheeks. Finally, they had returned. It had been less than three months since their departure.

A few days later, the usually silent Wynyates Estate erupted into a flurry of activity.

The servants, who had been treading on eggshells in the somber atmosphere, turned their anxious gazes toward the second-floor bedroom where the young master lay. The smaller young master had remained by his side, visibly gaunt after the three months of relentless worry.

Ignoring the murmured concerns and glances of the staff, Dr. Woodson hurried toward the bedroom, clutching a beaker filled with a crimson liquid. Opening the door, he was met with the sight of Callisto’s broad back as he sat at Etienne’s bedside. Wynyates Count, his face pale and weary, turned to greet the doctor.

“Count, the treatment is ready.”

Callisto, who had been silently watching the frail and ghostly pale Etienne, immediately looked up, his expression filled with urgency. The Count, just as tense, gestured impatiently for Woodson to proceed.

“Quickly, try it.”

The crimson treatment was carefully poured into Etienne’s mouth.

Warmth cradled his cheeks. Gentle fingers traced his closed eyelids and nose before brushing against his lips. The familiar scent of calendula wafted from the trembling hands, filling him with both comfort and unease.

“Etienne, come back now.”

A tender voice called out to him. It was soft, like a lullaby, and he wanted to stay immersed in it. But the voice, which had been steady, began to waver with emotion. Though his eyes remained closed, his heart ached for the speaker.

“Etienne, wake up. Please.”

The deep slumber was sweet, and his eyelids felt unbearably heavy. Yet, he couldn’t ignore the low, quivering voice that pulled at him. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

Their gazes met midair. His parched lips moved instinctively to call his name.

“Calli.”

Hearing his own hoarse and feeble voice startled him, but Callisto remained frozen, his golden eyes wide with disbelief. They quivered with unshed tears.

Backlit by the sunlight streaming through the window, Callisto looked far thinner than the last time he had seen him. His sharp jawline had grown even more defined, and the depth in his eyes carried a weight of maturity that made Etienne’s chest ache.

“You’ve grown so much.”

Callisto had always grown in ways Etienne couldn’t witness, enduring pain and hardship to mature. He wished he could stop him from growing any further. Reaching out, Etienne thought idly about how he wished for nothing but happiness for both of them.

“Brother.”

The voice that had been faint moments ago now rang with desperate urgency. In one swift motion, Callisto closed the distance, pulling him into a tight embrace. His large, ice-cold hands cradled the back of Etienne’s head. Surprised, Etienne tried to grasp those freezing hands, but Callisto kissed him firmly before he could move.

“Etienne. Brother, brother…”

Callisto’s lips trembled against his. Heart aching for him, Etienne cupped Callisto’s face in his hands. His cheeks, noticeably gaunt, regained a faint hint of color. Callisto’s breath came in quick, shallow bursts as he called out to Etienne in a voice thick with tears.

“Am I too late?”

The memories of the past were hazy, like flickering lights in the distance. Etienne vaguely knew he had spent all that time lying in bed. How long had it been? He hoped Callisto hadn’t waited too long.

Callisto leaned back slightly, his damp lashes trembling as he gazed down at him. His bloodshot eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he shook his head.

“No. Not at all.”

“Then why are you crying so much?”

Etienne brushed Callisto’s black hair away from his forehead, his touch gentle. Callisto chuckled softly, leaning into his hand.

“It’s just…”

Their breaths mingled as Callisto pressed his lips to Etienne’s again, whispering.

“Because I missed you so much.”

His tears fell silently, landing on Etienne’s lips. The deep kiss carried a salty taste, tinged with sorrow. His broken voice poured endlessly into the quiet air.

“So don’t go anywhere. Never again, Etienne… Don’t ever leave me again.”

Unable to respond with words, Etienne merely nodded, his chest tight with emotion, a small smile tugging at his lips.

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