Love Across the Light Years -The Devil CEO Indulges My Lies.-Chapter 36: Some debts … are not meant to be paid twice.

Chapter 36: Some debts ... are not meant to be paid twice.

Dylan’s dark abyssal eyes deepened further, the shadows within them thickening into something almost tangible.

His fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles almost paling —as if he already knew what he was placing on the scale.

His own life.

"I know what I am doing," he said, rising to his full height. His voice was calm, but there was a cold finality beneath it. "My condition cannot worsen more than it already has."

Asher’s expression tightened. The concern he had been holding back finally surfaced, heavy and unrestrained.

His brows drew together, and the words slipped out before he could stop himself.

"But it can improve," he said quietly. "All we need is the essence of her blood. We only have to find her and —"

The air turned sharp.

Dylan’s gaze snapped toward him —cold, cutting, absolute.

The unfinished sentence died in Asher’s throat. He immediately lowered his head, shoulders stiffening, not daring to let another word escape.

Silence settled between them —heavy, suffocating.

After a long moment, Dylan spoke again —slower this time, each word measured.

"That option," he said, "does not exist."

His tone carried the certainty —the kind that came not from impulse, but from a decision made long ago.

He turned away, walking toward the tall window. Outside stretched nothing but dense darkness —one he had chosen ... and built himself. Light glowed faintly all around, not to dispel the night ... only to make it feel less lonely.

His hand pressed lightly against the glass.

"Prepare everything," he ordered quietly. "We proceed as planned."

Asher hesitated. "Even if the cost —"

"Everything has a cost," Dylan interrupted.

A pause.

Then, softer —almost inaudible —

"But some debts ... are not meant to be paid twice."

Asher’s eyes flickered, but he did not argue further. Not like he held the position anyway.

He bowed his head.

"Understood, Boss."

Then he turned and left.

Even after he was gone, Dylan remained by the window for a long time, his gaze distant —as though carrying the loneliness of eternity within it.

Eventually, he moved.

Turning toward the staircase, he walked up slowly. Buy he did not head to his room.

Instead, he stopped before Eira’s room on the opposite side of the corridor.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The room was dim. A small bunny lamp glowed softly, casting just enough light to keep a child from fearing the dark.

Dylan walked closer, stopping beside her bed.

His eyes lingered on her small, peaceful face —eyes closed, lips faintly curved, as if she were having the sweetest dream in the world.

Seeing her like that ... his gaze shifted downward.

She was hugging the scarf even in her sleep.

Her small arms clung to it as though she was not holding fabric ... but embracing the warmth of the person it belonged to.

"The more I see her like this ... he murmured quietly, no longer restraining the emotions slipping past his lips, "... the more tempted I am to break the promise I made to you."

His voice lowered further.

"The more I see her longing for you ... the more I want to tear this world apart just to bring you back to us ... so you can never escape again."

Carefully —gently —he leaned forward and loosened her grip, slowly pulling the scarf free from her fingers.

For a moment, he simply held it.

His thumb brushed across the silk ... as if tracing something unseen.

Then he lifted it slightly ... closer to himself, his fingers tightening around the fabric

"Don’t tempt me more than I am already tempted ... because even I don’t know how long I can keep holding back ... and stay away from you."

He paused and then lowered his forehead slightly ... the scarf still in his grasp ... as though speaking directly to the one who once wore it.

"You are just making it too difficult for me. Don’t blame me if I catch and chain you back."

—————

On the other side —

Adelyn had just closed the door after Nigel had left when her steps suddenly faltered.

Her hand rose to press against the chest, her brows drawing together in faint discomfort.

There was no pain. No fear —yet something inside her felt ... unsettled.

Like a ripple spreading through still water.

Like someone had just called her name —without sound.

Her fingers curled slightly against her clothes as a strange nervousness spread through her —not sharp, not unbearable —just there. Persistent. Lingering.

"Why do I feel ..."

Before she could follow the feeling further, the doorbell rang.

The sensation snapped —like a thread pulled too tight and suddenly breaking.

Her frown deepened, and she turned to open the door.

As she did, Nigel stepped back inside in a rush.

"Oh — I forgot my phone," he said, walking straight to the table to grab it.

When he turned again to leave, he noticed the lingering expression on her face.

"What’s wrong?" he asked.

Adelyn shook her head. "Nothing," she replied, then added, "It’s just that after you left, I suddenly felt a little ... different."

"Different?" he repeated, confused.

She nodded. "Yes, it felt like someone called me, and —"

Before she could continue further, Nigel abruptly took a step back, crossing his arms and rubbing them dramatically.

"Eh ... don’t scare me," he said, glancing around the house. "I know I told you about this place being rumored as haunted, but you don’t have to make it sound real just to freak me out."

She looked at him and pursed her lips.

Pointing at herself, she asked flatly, "I ... I am scaring you?"

He nodded. "Who else? It’s just the two of us. I left. So how could anyone call your name?"

Adelyn opened her mouth to explain —then closed it again, shaking her head.

It would be useless.

Even if she tried, with his brain, he wouldn’t understand. So why waste the effort?

Rubbing her temple lightly, she shifted her weight. "Did you take your phone?" she asked.

He raised it. "Yes."

"Good."

Then she stepped closer, grabbed his arm and began dragging him toward the door.

"Since you’ve got it, you should hurry home."

She pushed him outside and forced a smile onto her lips.

"My humble abode can’t host you any longer than it already has."

And without waiting for a reply, she shut the door in his face.

"You —" Nigel started, but the door closed before he could finish. And just as it did, his expression shifted —hardening into something hard to decipher.