Investing in My Yandare Villainess Fiancée:Each Reward Fuels My Growth

Chapter 73: Investment 73: What He Carries Now

Elliot’s eyes snapped open to find Seria’s face inches from his own, both hands gripping his shoulders hard enough to bruise, crystal-blue eyes wide with barely restrained panic.

"—swear to every god in existence, if you don’t wake up right now I will freeze this entire chamber solid and thaw you out myself just so I can strangle you properly—"

"I’m awake," Elliot rasped, voice hoarse. "I’m awake, Seria."

The relief that washed over her face was almost violent in its intensity, her grip on his shoulders loosening only to reform instantly into an embrace so tight it nearly knocked the breath back out of him.

"You were gone for less than a second," Cassian said, voice tight with barely controlled worry, one hand braced against the stone pedestal where the fragment had rested. "Your eyes just—glazed over. Empty. We couldn’t wake you."

"It felt longer," Elliot admitted, easing back from Seria’s grip just enough to sit upright properly. "Much longer."

He became aware, gradually, of a new warmth settled low in his chest—not the familiar hum of his own mana, but something else entirely, ancient and vast and somehow, impossibly, patient, curled quietly alongside his own energy like a second heartbeat that had always belonged there and simply hadn’t announced itself until now.

[Vassal Affinity has undergone a fundamental transformation.]

[The user has bonded with a Fragment of Primordial Authority.]

[New passive ability unlocked: Skion’s Inheritance. Details will unlock progressively as mastery deepens.]

[Warning: This bond is permanent. The Fragment cannot be safely removed or transferred once accepted.]

"Elliot." Seria’s voice pulled him back to the present, her hand still tightly laced with his. "What did you see? What happened?"

He told them—haltingly at first, then more steadily as the pieces settled into something coherent. The farmland dimension. The old man who called himself merely a fragment of a fragment. Skion, Helix, the primordial grief that had shattered worlds, and the choice his ancestors had unknowingly guarded for generations without ever fully understanding what they protected.

By the time he finished, Cassian had gone very quiet, staring at the now-empty pedestal where the crystal shard had been—vanished entirely, its light and weight settled somewhere within Elliot instead.

"So all this time," Cassian said slowly, "the story my father told me as a child bedtime tale was the literal truth."

"Apparently," Elliot said.

"And you’ve bonded yourself to it," Cassian continued, voice tightening. "Permanently. Without knowing the full consequences."

"I didn’t have time to weigh consequences, Father. We have two days left before that mercenary captain returns, possibly with considerably worse than a dozen expendable men."

"That’s precisely my point," Cassian said, frustration and fear tangled together in his voice. "You made an irreversible choice about your own soul in a matter of seconds, in a hidden chamber none of us fully understood, facing pressure none of us should have placed on a seventeen-year-old boy in the first place."

"Cassian." Seria’s voice cut in, sharper than either of them expected. Both men turned toward her. "With respect, Baron Reingard—he didn’t do this recklessly. He did it because the alternative was leaving this family exposed to whatever’s coming next. I watched him make far more dangerous choices in that dungeon with far less certainty behind them, and every single one of them kept the people around him alive."

Cassian’s jaw tightened, some of his frustration visibly deflating under the weight of her words, replaced by something heavier—guilt, perhaps, or grief for a childhood his son had never quite been permitted to fully have.

"You shouldn’t have had to make this choice at all," he said finally, quieter now. "Any of it. The dungeon, this fragment, any of the burdens you’ve been carrying since that system first found you. You’re still my son. You should have had more time to simply be that, before all of this."

Elliot felt something in his chest loosen at those words—not resolution, not really, but the particular relief of being truly seen by a parent who understood exactly what had been asked of him.

"I know," he said quietly. "But it’s already done. And honestly, Father—I don’t regret it. If this is what keeps this family safe, keeps Mira safe, keeps Seria safe, then it was worth whatever it cost."

Cassian studied him for a long moment, something proud and sorrowful warring behind his eyes, before finally nodding once, decisively.

"Then we make the most of the two days we have left," he said, straightening with renewed purpose. "You’ll need to understand what this fragment actually allows you to do before that captain returns. And I intend to make sure this family isn’t caught unprepared a second time."

"There is one more thing," Cassian said, pausing at the base of the stairway, voice suddenly careful in a way that made Elliot’s stomach tighten with fresh unease. "If Entoma’s organization already knew what lay beneath this house, and they’re patient enough to have watched this family for generations without acting—why now? Why your generation, specifically?"

It was a question Elliot hadn’t thought to ask the old man, and one he suspected he should have.

"Maybe they’ve been searching for other fragments too," Seria offered. "And found enough of them recently that this one finally became worth the risk of moving on."

"Or maybe," Elliot said slowly, an uncomfortable thought surfacing, "it’s not a coincidence that they moved now. Right after the dungeon expedition. Right after I became someone Entoma’s masters would have reason to notice."

Cassian’s expression darkened further. "You think you drew this attention to your own family."

"I think it’s possible," Elliot admitted, the guilt of it settling heavy and immediate in his chest. "I think surviving Entoma, killing Geny and Ru, might have made me visible in a way I wasn’t before. And if that’s true, then this isn’t just about an old family secret anymore. It’s about me."

"Elliot." Seria’s hand found his again, grounding him before the thought could spiral further. "Whatever drew their attention, the blame sits with the people sending mercenaries to slaughter groundskeepers and threaten children. Not with you for surviving."

"She’s right," Cassian said firmly, though the worry hadn’t fully left his eyes. "Whatever the reason, we deal with what’s in front of us. Together. As a family."

Elliot nodded slowly, allowing himself, for just a moment, to accept the reassurance even as the guilt lingered beneath it.

As they climbed the long stairway back toward the cellar above, Elliot flexed his fingers experimentally, feeling the faint, unfamiliar hum of primordial energy settle deeper into his bones with every step—patient, vast, and entirely his to learn how to wield.

He hoped, fervently, that two days would be enough time to figure out how.