**Stalker Duchess Episode 12**
The next day, after packing three days' worth of usable rations and planning to supplement the rest from within the forest, the subjugation unit finally entered the forest.
The forest rumored to house non-human creatures was filled with an eerie chill. As I unusually scanned our surroundings with an anxious expression, one of the soldiers nearby spoke to me.
"What's wrong? You look unwell."
"...Truth be told, non-humans kind of..."
At that moment, I felt something wrap around my ankle.
The sensation clinging to my leg sent chills down my entire body. No way, no way...
I froze stiff, unable to even scream.
With a pale face, I scanned the surroundings and accidentally locked eyes with the Crown Prince.
"...?"
The Crown Prince, meeting my gaze, wore a peculiar expression.
I, who never flinched at most things, was frozen like this—he seemed to sense something was off.
This sensation was definitely that of the non-human from the novel.
Non-humans had the habit of dragging prey back to their nests before devouring them.
Bracing for the shock ahead, I bit my lip hard to stifle any scream.
"You..."
As the Crown Prince opened his mouth to say something to me, the tentacle around my ankle yanked me backward.
I opened my eyes to someone roughly shaking me.
Thankfully, it wasn't a non-human but the Crown Prince's face.
No, maybe not thankfully. A non-human might've been preferable.
As I came to, the Crown Prince, glaring at me with an angry expression, scolded me in a growling voice.
"Idiot! If something happened, you should've screamed! Why just let it happen? You were so expressionless, I didn't even realize you were caught!"
The Crown Prince's furious voice echoed loudly.
Are we... in a cave?
There had been many Distian soldiers around before, but now only the Crown Prince and I remained.
As I blinked dazedly, he grabbed both my shoulders as if to snap me out of it.
"Agh!"
The sudden stabbing pain made me scream and reflexively swat his hands away.
He seemed even more startled by my reaction.
He stared blankly at his pushed-away hands before quickly regaining his composure and asking urgently,
"What? Are you hurt? Let me see. I'm not as good as a priest, but I can use Divine Power too."
"N-no. I'm fine."
The Crown Prince reached out toward me.
Pretending it was nothing, I clutched my shoulder and subtly backed away from his approaching hand.
Seeing my blatant rejection, he looked somewhat dazed.
As if he couldn't believe I was the first to dodge his touch.
The wound on my shoulder wasn't from the non-human—it was from the Crown Prince.
I'd suspected he didn't know about the injury from when he'd gripped my shoulder too hard last time, and sure enough, he seemed oblivious.
Or maybe he never imagined grabbing a shoulder could cause injury.
But that was him underestimating his own grip strength.
He was only 14, surrounded by burly male soldiers—did he not know to be gentler with women?
For whatever reason, he had no doubt the wound was from the non-human.
So he stared at me, inching back while hiding my shoulder, with utter incomprehension.
Every step he took forward, I retreated two.
No matter what, I couldn't let him see the wound.
That evening, checking the injury in my bathroom mirror, it was worse than I'd thought.
It had started as bruises matching his handprints, but soon the entire shoulder turned a ghastly blue.
Better if he stayed ignorant.
If he learned it was his doing—and that I'd lost use of one arm because of him—that guy's personality would make my life hell.
Bound by responsibility, he'd probably insist on lifelong rehab or compensation.
The latter I'd accept, but the former? Trouble.
Of course, he still hated me enough to kill, but given his nosy nature and aversion to harming others, it wasn't impossible.
"I-it's, it's fine. D-don't touch."
"What? You'd think I was going to devour you. I've seen your naked body since we were kids, so no need to be shy now. Show me the wound."
He thought I was embarrassed.
Why couldn't he realize I truly hated it?
Maybe because Duchess Serabi had been so aggressively forward.
As I kept retreating from him, his patience finally snapped. Ruffling his hair in frustration, he snapped irritably,
"Hey! I don't particularly want to see your bare skin either! I need to check how deep the wound is! You grew up pampered, so you don't grasp the severity—if it hurts just from a touch, the bone might be fractured! If you don't want to lose your arm forever, come here now!"
It wasn't pain from a mere touch—it specifically hurt when he touched it.
After treatment from a skilled physician, my shoulder could handle daily life.
But if he grabbed it like last time, it'd be irreparable.
Unaware of his strength, he might dislocate it entirely.
Lost in those thoughts, he suddenly strode toward me.
"Hoo..."
Ah, that face—he only made it when truly pissed.
I'd provoked his temper countless times, but never seen him this furious.
He exhaled to barely calm his rage.
With a twisted smile and murderous glare, he looked down at me and said,
"Shall I undress you?"
His words about stripping me held no sweetness, unlike Duchess Serabi's fantasies.
To my ears, it sounded like 'I'll kill you.'
No choice.
Against his unyielding stance, resistance was futile.
Swallowing dryly in tension, I turned my back to him and lowered my top to my shoulders.
"What is this... handprints?"
"...?"
"What the hell..."
Examining the wound spreading from shoulder to back, he froze speechless for a while.
Partly because it was worse than imagined.
But no way a non-human left such marks.
He'd realized it was human-inflicted.
No helping it now. Go all in.
Demand treatment fees boldly. Say I won't hold him responsible...
As I mulled my prepared response,
"...?!"
Sudden chills ran through my body.
The cave's warmth turned to midwinter blizzard cold.
Only one possible cause.
Behind me, the Crown Prince emanated massive killing intent.
What? Why was he suddenly directing murderous aura at my back?
Had he reached mind-reading? Did he sense I planned to extort him? Would he kill me if I turned?
Hesitating, I glanced back—and met eyes with him radiating unprecedented killing intent.
I'd grown used to his anger, but this intensity was different.
His usually warm golden eyes now gleamed blood-red cruelty.
Meeting those crimson eyes, I flinched and whipped my head away.
Crimson eyes...
His rampage state, appearing only once in the novel.
Judging by the sudden crimson eyes, he was in blind rage—but why?
His abnormally vast magic, absorbed from the dragon he slew, was inherently dark.
Usually submissive, it revealed its ferocity when he lost reason or filled with fury.
Too immense and savage to control, it rampaged until all was destroyed.
Aware, he never lost control—and hadn't until now.
Innate kind Raven rarely even got angry, but in the novel, he'd rampaged once: when his beloved Elf Queen was kidnapped by non-humans, nearly killed.
Shocking then, but inversely, nothing short of that triggered him.
So what about me had incensed him this much?
No clue whatsoever.
