I Became a Cat That Sleeps with an Obsessive Tyrant Every Night - Chapter 35

Her lips began to rise as if about to split, and with fierce eyes, she bowed her head toward me.

Her face spinning around wildly came down right in front of my nose, and the woman’s dark hair covered my entire vision.

A piercing sound rang out, and as if someone was squeezing my brain, an intense headache engulfed me.

Raucous laughter echoed all around, and something splattered onto my face.

Something warm, tepid, and thick.

Shocked, I opened my eyes, only to find someone kneeling in front of me, breathing heavily.

‘Heugh…’

With his head bowed, the man’s fingers clasped his throat, and red blood spurted out through the gaps in his fingers, staining the marble floor and even the man’s extravagant jacket.

Beneath the messy black hair, thick blood pooled like a puddle, gradually spreading wide and reaching even under my feet.

Clang.

Something heavy fell from my hand as I stepped back, barely able to keep my eyes open.

It was a dagger soaked in blood.

I was enveloped in an unreal feeling, weakly raising my hand to touch my cheek.

The palm of my hand was streaked with blood in the direction I had wiped my face.

Could it be that the blood splattered on my face was from this man?

In an unbelievably surreal scene, my eyelids trembled, and my lips convulsed.

Did I…… do that?

Someone covered in blood slowly lifted their head to look at me.

Hazy red eyes beneath black hair…….

Prominent nose and pursed lips.

A familiar and beautiful face.

Killian!

Shocked, my heart sank as I tried to approach him, but suddenly, even his breath that followed me felt like Killian’s blood

A chill ran down my spine and screamed up my spine.

Fear that suffocated me, making it impossible to breathe properly, blocked my throat.

At that moment, a faint voice was heard from somewhere.

‘Viv… Vivian…’

Irina?

Hastily turning to look where the voice came from, Irina was approaching in a horrifying state.

‘Aaaah!’

In that moment, a huge flame rushed and engulfed her.

Irina glared at me with a beastly howl of accusation.

‘How… Could you…’

‘!’

Irina fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

‘No, no. It can’t, it can’t be.’

Gradually stepping back, denying the situation, I saw Killian struggling to regain his sword forcibly.

At the same time, against my will, my body moved and pulled a torch sconce mounted on the wall with force.

Before even thinking my arm tossed the torch directly at Killian, who reached out repeatedly to grab the sword.

‘No. No!’

I screamed as if pleading, but there was no sound coming out of my mouth.

Killian, his jacket on fire, fell to the carpet, blood pouring from his mouth.

His eyes, brimming with hatred, stared at me.

‘So, it was you after all…’

As I staggered back, flames began to surge around me, except for the space where I stood.

A sea of flames engulfed the entirety of my great heritage.

‘It was all you… all you!’

Sanua, screaming with a dagger lodged in his chest, yelled at me from a distance.

Barun and Harrid, seemingly already dead, lay sprawled across the stairs.

I did this?

‘You were the child meant to bring down Huppert.’

A sinister whisper, tinged with a wicked laugh, brushed by like a tongue on my ear and gently clasped my ankle.

‘Deep down, you knew, didn’t you?’

The cold fingers that had slithered up my leg were now clutching at it, climbing over it, and slowly tightening around my neck.

‘That you were going to kill everyone.’

In an instant, sharp nails like daggers dug into my entire body.

‘All of them. You killed them.’

* * *

“!”

In a sudden flash, various shapes and colors seemed to crumple together and poured into my view.

My tear-stained eyes cleared up as the dense fog lifted, allowing a clearer vision.

The incessantly flowing tears hinted at the nature of the dream I had just experienced.

I stared at the flower-embroidered canopy in front of me in a daze, slowly realizing that I was now in reality.

I could feel my heart pounding like a runaway train, relieved to be in the present, but still racing from the shock.

Suppressing my breath, I spat out in my parched throat and rose to my feet.

Sweat-drenched skin felt the cool air on my back.

It was a dream.

A profound terror momentarily jolted my head, as if my flesh was shriveling, yet I didn’t lose my senses entirely.

It was a dream.

I closed my eyes and opened them, looking down at a front paw sprouting fur.

A nightmare.

‘You were the child meant to bring down Huppert.’

Suddenly, the wicked laughter from before seemed to echo in my ears.

I stared at the couch through the half-open canopy, trying to compose myself.

Killian, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, appeared to be sleeping.

“….”

What sudden thought had crossed my mind?

Shaking as if to shake off the remaining memories, I tentatively groped under the bed.

Dawn filtered through the closed curtains, and I quickly crossed the vast prince’s chamber towards the sofa.

Amidst the scattered thoughts, warmth was what I needed.

Stepping on the cushion, I pulled myself up onto the sofa as if grasping for something.

Finally, as I settled in, there I saw Killian, deeply asleep or seemingly quietly breathing.

Then-

He turned, lowering the hand that covered his eyes.

It was the first time I saw his sleeping face.

A silent stillness washed over Killian’s face.

I carefully scanned his face, but there was no hint of severity or discomfort in his expression.

He seemed fine.

“….”

Could it be that the nightmare Killian mentioned was this, exactly this kind of nightmare?

‘He must have had them every day.’

I remembered Killian’s cool gaze, often mentioned casually, but it left an impression.

How long had he been tormented by such nightmares?

I went from a deep, dreamless sleep to being pinned to the scissors the day Killian ate Mrs. Gisela’s snack.

In the original, Killian, like the Emperor Adolf, was poisoned by Mrs. Gisela’s black magic potion and often fell prey to illusions and nightmares.

Dreaming of such things every day…

A dream that drove one to madness, trapping them in anxiety and relentless unrest.

The nightmare insidiously exposed the buried fears, and worries I dreaded surfacing and twisting into something grotesque.

Transplanted into this world, I was acutely aware of the existence of the black magic potion, one that seemed to probe my uncertainties.

I recalled Mrs. Gisella, who handed Killian the addictive potion, feigning to exercise her abilities, but in reality, she was a far more malicious person, using Killian’s loneliness and fears to fuel the nightmares.

I forcibly pushed the image of Killian, covered in splattered blood, into the recesses of my memory.

It was just a dream.

That wouldn’t happen.

I pressed my pounding chest firmly.

Knowing about the existence of the black magic potion from reading the original made me wonder how unsettling it would be to dream of such nightmares without any prior knowledge. It could lead to psychological instability.

Although I never once entertained the thought, the covenant’s prophecy to bring down Huppert left me wondering if I could be such a being.

I believed it was impossible, but occasional doubts overwhelmed me, leaving me in an ominous mood.

The black magic potion pierced into these insecurities and unfurled a sight more brutal than I could have ever imagined.

A tragedy I never wished for.

Gruesome and cruel.

I closed my eyes tightly and took a deep breath.

Then, I gazed at Killian’s sleeping face.

The well-defined, strong lines softened into an overall gentle finish, appearing more youthful while asleep than when awake.

Adults, really, can be cruel.

The father who restrained his son as a subject of vigilance, the mother who did not care for him, and the woman, Mrs. Gisela, who was obsessed with subjugating Killian.

If Killian had continued to eat Mrs. Gisela’s food like in the original, I wondered how things might have been now.

Having ingested traumas and fears hidden away every night, it would have undoubtedly led Killian into sharp madness.

Thinking about Killian potentially growing into Prince Guenther Reinhardt, described in the original as an absolute, ruthless dictator, made my body tremble involuntarily.

Yet, thankfully, perhaps Mrs. Gisela hadn’t put an excessive amount in it, for Killian slept after being slightly unnerved.

Struggling, I managed to get up from the sofa and rushed to where the bed was.

While Killian was the one who took the black magic potion, if he had spent a peaceful night without having nightmares, it meant some unknown force within me had taken the place of his nightmares.

Yet, there remained a sense of uncertainty. If I had the power to take on his nightmares, what was the reason I hadn’t dreamt until now?

To ascertain whether I truly managed to prevent or heal his nightmares, I had to wait for Killian to wake up.

* * *

I heard Killian’s footsteps approaching the side of the bed as he woke up.

When I felt him stop walking and plop down on the bed, I sat up and stretched, pretending to wake up late.

Since Killian always wakes up first, I figured I might as well roll over to check on him.

If he could sense that I had woken up from the nightmare before he did, even if he felt unwell, he might not reveal any concern, worrying about others instead.

“Are you okay?”

With one hand on the bed, Killian lowered his head to scrutinize my face and body.