Beast Gacha System: All Mine-Chapter 206: Vanishing Hope

What did it mean?

What did it mean if she returned, but as if nothing had happened?

As if nothing had happened. The courtyard, the accusations, the poison words, his son’s screams, her eyes through the veil—that slow, silent shake of her head—

As if nothing had happened.

Ha.

He was still over.

Arkai paled.

It was subtle. A draining of color beneath his skin, a tightening around his eyes that most would miss. But those who knew how to read a wolf, those who understood the language of ears and tail and posture, saw it clearly.

His tail tucked between his legs.

His ears slowly wilted, flattening against his skull.

Fear.

The Black Wolf King, Lord Alpha of the northern territories, the man who had walked into a volcano and emerged unscathed, stood in the middle of his own celebration, staring at his approaching Luna, and he was afraid.

He was completely over.

He didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to process the impossibility of her presence, her smile, her nothing. As if the world hadn’t cracked open and vomited his filth under the sun for her to see. As if she hadn’t witnessed the ugliest, most shameful corner of his existence.

What was he even hoping for?

That someone would want to have anything to do with him after hearing all that?

That she would still—

But she walked toward him anyway.

His ears flattened more. His pupils contracted to pinpricks. Every instinct screamed at him to flee, to hide, to protect himself from the judgment he was certain was coming.

And everyone noticed.

The guests, who had been watching the Wolf King and his mysterious Luna with barely concealed curiosity all evening, saw the shift immediately. Something had happened when the two left the hall earlier. Something significant. Something that had reduced the most composed ruler on the continent to this.

"What..." someone whispered, a southern lord with sharp eyes and sharper instincts. "Apparently, His Majesty could show that kind of expression in front of his Luna? This is... shocking..."

"Look at his ears..." a lady murmured behind her fan. "Oh, and his tail..."

A low chuckle rippled through those close enough to observe. "Heh. Someone’s in trouble."

It amused them. The mighty Wolf King, reduced to a nervous cub by his woman’s return. There was something about it, something that humanized the legend in a way no amount of storytelling ever could.

But beneath the amusement, a different current ran.

The complicated expression in Arkai’s eyes, very restrained, very controlled, but there, couldn’t be hidden anymore. Not completely.

The guests began to exchange glances. Worry flickered at the edges of their curiosity. This was still the Black Wolf King. Whatever had happened in that short time they were both away, whatever had reduced him to this state, was serious.

Cecilia settled herself beside him.

Smooth. Graceful.

She smiled at the crowd, greeting them again with that same warm, captivating presence. Her red lips curved. Her veiled face tilted. She looked exactly as she had before she left. Nothing changed. Nothing at all.

But Arkai...

Arkai turned cold.

His face, which had been a canvas of barely suppressed emotion moments ago, smoothed into something unreadable. A mask. A wall. Something had become hollow behind his eyes, but they couldn’t see what. Couldn’t guess.

"Could it be... because of the Saintess earlier?" someone whispered, the speculation rippling through the crowd.

"You mean... the Delanivis?" another voice answered, low and careful. "The way she spoke with the Luna, and the way they left earlier...?"

"Hush."

The warning was unnecessary but wise. The feud in the north was still unresolved. The investigation into who attacked Anton Vasiliev was still unannounced. Nothing was clear yet. No one knew which way the wind would blow.

But the speculation continued, silent and swift, passing from eye to eye.

Did the Delanivis anger the Luna somehow?

Is that why Arkai is seething?

They looked at him, at the submissive posture he couldn’t quite hide, the way he stood slightly behind her, the subtle desperation in the way his gaze tracked her movements. Like a demonic guard dog, they thought.

Terrifying.

***

Ruby walked out of the Delanivis residence alone.

The night air wrapped around her, cold and sharp, carrying the distant sounds of the capital. Carriage wheels on stone, the murmur of late-night travelers, the occasional bark of a guard’s command...

She pulled her coat tighter, the fabric a thin barrier against a chill that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than the weather.

She stopped before the waiting carriage.

For a moment, she simply stood there. Then, slowly, she turned.

Her gaze lifted to the residence behind her. The Delanivis manor loomed in the darkness, all sharp angles and imposing stone, a monument to wealth and power and... waste.

Windows glowed with light, Nikolas’s study among them, she knew, though she didn’t look for him specifically.

She looked at the building with subtle scorn.

It was there, in the depth of her eyes. Not on her face. Her expression was composed, tired, appropriately subdued for a woman leaving her husband’s home after a difficult evening.

But beneath the surface, in the part of her that no one else could see, contempt flickered like a banked fire.

So much. So much resource wasted on them.

The prophecies she had given, the ones that weren’t really prophecies at all, but memories. Memories of her previous life, of products that would succeed, businesses that would flourish, mines that would yield fortune beyond imagination. Even Nikolas’ mother’s missing necklace.

She had handed them to the Delanivis like gifts, like offerings, like the tribute of a devoted wife building her husband’s house.

And for what?

To be dragged away from a banquet like a shame? To be looked at with cold eyes and colder silence? To have her efforts, her sacrifices, dismissed because of politics and pride?

Unbelievable.

She felt it now. She had wasted her bond with Nikolas. Wasted years of potential on a man who saw her as a tool rather than a true mate.

She should have just returned to Arzhen. Unbound.

Arzhen understood her. Arzhen valued her. In the previous life, before everything went wrong and the end of everything, he had loved her. Truly loved her.

And now...

She turned away from the residence, her jaw tight. She pulled open the carriage door and climbed inside. The interior was dark, cold, empty. She settled onto the bench, arranging her coat around her, and gave the driver the order through the small window.

"To the temple. I’ll be spending some nights there to focus on the divine."

The words she had spoken to Nikolas and Dorian echoed again. They had accepted them without question. Of course they had. What else could they do? The Saintess needed to commune with the gods. It was reasonable. Expected.

Once the carriage lurched into motion, once the darkness of the interior wrapped around her completely, Ruby let her mask slip.

Her jaw clenched.

Her hands, hidden in the folds of her coat, curled into fists.

Arkai should have died.

He should have perished in that volcano.

Yet here he was. Alive. Married to that woman.

Whatever had caused it, whatever intervention, whatever miracle, whatever variable had inserted itself into the timeline, it was out of her control now. She couldn’t change what had already happened. Couldn’t undo the Wolf King’s survival or the ruin of her plans.

But she still had trump cards.

She still remembered the future. Years of it. Knowledge that no one else possessed, information that could reshape kingdoms and elevate those she chose to heights beyond imagination.

And for now, the most urgent priority was clear.

She needed to confirm that Arzhen had secured the Dragon Lord’s corpse.

Just that corpse was enough to shift the balance of power in ways that made Arkai’s survival irrelevant. Dragon bones. Dragon weapons. Power beyond anything the current players could muster.

Arzhen would have them. And with them, he would prove himself. Prove her.

The carriage rolled on through the night, carrying her away from the Delanivis manor, toward the temple and the solitude she needed to think, to plan, to wait.

Behind her, on the second floor of the residence, a figure stood at a window.

Nikolas watched the carriage disappear into the darkness.

His eyes were cold.