At that moment, Vayne found strength from who-knew-where. Cradled in Frey's arms, she lifted a foot and kicked straight at Luke.
Luke hadn't been on guard, but his reaction was quick—he pulled back and dodged.
At the same time, he saw Vayne forcing her eyes open. In those weak, black eyes fixed on him, there was nothing but disgust and fury—there was even a thin thread of hatred.
"I don't want him to treat me…"
"Master…"
She writhed and struggled in Frey's arms as if trying to escape Luke. Her tone and actions were filled with rejection.
Frey frowned. "What nonsense are you talking? Don't move."
Vayne was extremely weak, her mind unclear. She panted in great gulps of air, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she kept murmuring, "I don't want him…"
And at the same time, she lifted a foot again and stomped toward Luke.
Even with venom in her system, her reactions were violently intense.
Luke dodged again. Seeing the situation, he couldn't even start the detox properly.
He could tell Vayne's consciousness was hazy, but deep down her instincts were spilling hostility toward him, and her current behavior was pure reflex.
With a brief thought, he understood where that hostility came from.
Frey looked apologetically at Luke. "Your Highness, please don't take what she says to heart. The fever's scrambled her head."
She pressed a hand to Vayne's forehead and felt only scorching heat, her expression tightening with pain.
She knew exactly why her apprentice was reacting so strongly, but she couldn't explain it in the moment—she only hoped Luke wouldn't be angry.
And right now, she could see the prince's face showed no anger at all.
Luke said, "Hold her down for me."
With her thrashing around like this, treatment would be impossible.
Frey nodded and forcefully restrained Vayne.
Vayne kept twisting her well-developed, delicate body, struggling nonstop, shouting in resistance, "No… I don't want—"
Because she was weak, even her protests came out with an unsteady, breathy tremble.
Quinn silently looked away, scanning the surroundings.
Even Frey's expression grew a little awkward.
To anyone who didn't know better, it would've looked like they were forcing a young woman to do something she didn't want.
Only Luke remained calm. He grabbed a towel, waited for the right moment, and stuffed it straight into Vayne's mouth, gagging her.
Vayne lifted a powerless hand and slapped at Luke's chest. It didn't hurt in the slightest.
Frey simply pinned her hands down too.
Luke then coolly pulled a small medicine bottle from his pack. He uncorked it and poured the powder directly onto the two puncture wounds.
The moment the powder hit the wounds, it made a sharp sizzling sound.
Vayne's body jerked hard. In her foggy state, she felt a wave of intense pain crash over her. She clenched her teeth, sweat beading across her forehead in an instant.
If not for the towel in her mouth, she might've bitten her tongue clean through.
Luke put the bottle away, took out a prepared silver needle, and without hesitation, drove it in.
The needle pierced a pressure point on Vayne's lower abdomen. Judging by her lack of reaction, it didn't seem especially painful.
Frey stared, stunned—she had no idea what kind of treatment this was.
Luke didn't pause. One after another, he used eight silver needles, placing them into eight separate pressure points, sealing off the venom's spread.
Frey's surprise deepened—because in her eyes, the tattoo-like marks that had been creeping outward actually stopped.
Quinn's eyes widened too as she watched closely. She knew His Highness was skilled—he'd even set a bone perfectly in one go.
But she hadn't expected him to be able to handle snake venom as well.
After the needles went in, Vayne's struggling eased a little. It seemed she wasn't in as much pain anymore, though her expression was still strained.
While the needles were going in, she pushed the towel out with her tongue. It fell to the ground, soaked with saliva.
Luke didn't bother with it. He reached out and placed his hand on Vayne's smooth, fine lower abdomen, feeling a soft warmth beneath his palm.
His expression stayed focused. Without any wandering thoughts, he began pressing down on several pressure points, kneading rhythmically—again and again.
"Mmh…"
Vayne let out a soft moan, as if it actually felt good.
Seeing Vayne's face relax a little, Frey's eyes softened, the way a mother might look at her own daughter.
Then she looked at Luke, gratitude in her gaze. She knew they were at a critical stage, so she didn't dare make a sound to distract him.
"Mmh… it's so itchy…"
Vayne's voice grew louder. She kept panting, her face flushed red as she started squirming, her long legs kicking and tensing repeatedly.
The itch at the wound was maddening—but with her hands pinned, she couldn't scratch it. And it wasn't just the wound. Everywhere Luke pressed brought a strange, unbearable itch.
Her expression turned miserable.
Then, after several more dozen seconds…
As Luke's hands continued pressing, the blocked tattoo-like pattern actually began to recede. And then—splat.
From the two puncture wounds, two spurts of dark, bluish-black blood sprayed out.
Frey's eyes went wide. So this was the real method—forcing the poisoned blood out.
It looked downright miraculous.
"Mmh—!"
As the pattern kept retreating, the poisoned blood continued to seep out. Luke sped up his hands. Vayne threw her head back, her pale neck flushing red as she clamped her thighs tightly together, a muffled sound tearing from her throat—half groan, half moan.
Before long, all the poisoned blood had been driven out. On her lower abdomen, aside from the two punctures, there were only the marks of Luke's hands.
The rest was smooth, pale skin.
Only then did Luke begin removing the needles. As he worked, he said, "That's basically it. What's left is just to give her a tonic—help her recover."
Frey had seen the effect with her own eyes, so she believed him completely. "Thank you, Your Highness, for helping her."
"No need to thank me. Next, I'll still be relying on you to keep me safe."
Luke spoke casually as he pulled out the last needle.
Then he took out another bottle, uncorked it, and sprinkled a fresh dusting of powder onto the puncture wounds.
"Mmh…"
A sudden rush of intense, tingling itch hit again. Vayne's legs, which had finally loosened, snapped tight once more.
The next second, her awareness fully returned. She opened her eyes, glaring at Luke with angry, weakened eyes. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.
Even the leg she'd been about to kick with lowered again.
In truth, she'd been half-awake the entire time. She could feel Luke's detoxing actions throughout it all, and the shame burned in her chest.
As the venom faded, her consciousness cleared completely.
She knew this man had saved her, and even if she hated it, she couldn't repay that by lashing out now.
She turned her head away, refusing to look at Luke, her fists clenching weakly.
Even in her hazy state, Vayne had learned that Luke was royalty—a prince.
And as a Demacian, she carried a strand of hatred toward the royal family.
Back then, the royals had promised they would protect every citizen of Demacia. Yet when her father and mother were murdered by that demon…
Where were the royals then? Where was the royal family that swore to keep its people safe?
She had tried to seek help—sixteen years old, traveling alone through hardship to reach the capital—only to be driven away before she even got close to the palace gates.
People treated her like a madwoman. A girl who'd lost her parents and invented a demon out of grief.
They didn't want her "nonsense" reaching the ears of their wise king.
Ha. Ridiculous.
Those nobles who called themselves heroes, those lofty figures above everyone else—not a single one was willing to lend a hand.
From that moment on, Vayne despised Demacia's nobles, despised the royals… and even hated them.
Yet today, the very royalty she despised had saved her life.
And worse—she'd made a complete fool of herself in front of him.
"Do you still feel cold? Or hot?"
Frey's concerned voice reached her ears.
Vayne didn't want to respond, so she didn't move.
Pain flickered through Frey's eyes. She knew exactly what her apprentice was feeling—but there was no other choice. To keep her alive, she had to ask Luke for help.
Seeing that Vayne's upper body was almost entirely exposed, Frey quickly and carefully pulled her clothes back into place.
Luke sat down by the fire, lost in thought.
Of course he knew why Vayne was so hostile toward him.
Her real name was Shauna Vayne. She was a pitiful—no, a tragic—young woman.
Once, she had been the daughter of a wealthy family.
Not nobles, but still comfortable, carefree, and genuinely happy.
Now she had fallen to the point of sleeping rough in the wild—a monster hunter.
Why had it come to this?
That traced back to a massacre that happened years ago in Andel City.
In the end, the case was labeled as bandits killing for loot.
The culprit was never found.
But in truth, the real killer was a demon.
Back then, Shauna had returned home after attending a banquet and witnessed her parents' bodies—horribly murdered—at the feet of a demon.
For a sixteen-year-old girl, it left a massive psychological scar.
For some reason, the demon spared her.
And the local authorities concluded that the killer must have finished the job and left before she returned.
She tried to explain what she'd seen, but no one believed her.
No one would believe that in a heavily guarded Demacian city—one that loathed dark magic—a demon could be roaming free.
They dismissed her words as the ravings of a girl driven mad by loss.
It was easy to imagine how desperate she must have been.
Most desperate of all—no one reached out to help her.
Later, filled with vengeance, Shauna left Demacia and went to the Freljord.
And Frey was the teacher she found there.
A monster hunter who had spent her entire life fighting the Ice Witch's followers—also driven by revenge for her own family.
That was how the two of them came together.
If Luke put himself in her shoes—if he'd lived through the same thing—his attitude toward Demacia's nobles and royals probably wouldn't be any better.
In reality, the nobles and the authorities had searched for the killer. They'd looked for months without results.
They never once suspected a demon, so the case remained unresolved to this day.
While detoxing Vayne earlier, Luke had studied her features and found the signs of a hard fate—her life would be full of hardship, full of setbacks.
Truly pitiful.
He came back from his thoughts and asked, "Do you still feel uncomfortable anywhere?"
No one answered.
Vayne's attitude was ice-cold. Even though she heard him, she didn't respond.
Frey sighed and nudged her, silently urging her to at least say something.
Vayne still refused.
Luke just smiled.
He wasn't petty. Considering Vayne had shown him quite the "scenery" earlier, he didn't care about her coldness.
Even glaciers melt—if the fire's hot enough.
So he said, "For your safety, if you won't speak, I'll personally check whether there's any venom left inside you."
As he spoke, he reached out.
Vayne turned her head, watching him warily. Her lips moved, and finally she spoke. "No. I feel fine now."
Her voice was cold.
Not the composed chill of Fiora—it was pure frost, the kind that made you feel unwelcome just hearing it.
Luke lowered his hand and asked, "How does your lower abdomen feel right now?"
Vayne answered blankly, "Warm."
"Press it twice. What do you feel?"
"Itchy."
"What about the wound?"
"Itchy."
"Press around the wound. What do you feel?"
"Pain."
"What about if I touch it?"
"Nothing."
"Press the left side. What do you feel?"
"…Are you done yet?"
Vayne finally snapped, impatience breaking through.
She suddenly felt like this guy was doing it on purpose—asking again and again.
And looking at Luke now, with that casual expression, it was obvious he was doing it deliberately.
A strange anger rose in her, but she had nowhere to vent it, leaving her stifled and miserable.
Luke smiled and stopped.
In truth, he already knew the venom was completely gone—he just didn't like Vayne's icy attitude.
Don't want to talk to me?
Not happening. You're going to talk to me.
If not about venom, then we'll talk about something else.
"What's your name?"
"…"
Vayne decided that question didn't deserve an answer and kept her mouth shut.
Luke sighed, stood up, and spoke to Quinn with a disappointed look. "People are complicated these days. I go through all that effort to save someone, and this is what I get back. In the middle of summer, my hands and feet are freezing—what a cold-hearted world."
Quinn even played along, nodding. "Truly, Your Highness."
Vayne's chest rose and fell twice. Reluctantly, she said, "My name is Shauna Vayne."
If Luke hadn't detoxed her, then even if he were the king himself, she wouldn't spare him a second glance.
Getting her answer, Luke continued, "How old are you?"
The more annoyed she got, the more he asked. Grinding her teeth, she answered, "Nineteen."
"Oh. Nineteen and still cuddling in your teacher's arms like a spoiled kid. Adorable."
Luke said it with a grin.
Vayne froze. When she looked up, she met Frey's indulgent smile.
Only then did she realize—she was still sprawled in Frey's arms in a posture that looked exactly like she was clinging and whining.
She jolted, struggled upright, and stood quickly, glaring at Luke with angry eyes. "I wasn't!"
Luke chuckled. "You know what it looked like."
Vayne's nameless anger flared higher. She raised her voice. "I said I wasn't!"
Luke spread his hands. "See? You're mad."
"You—!"
Vayne felt so furious her chest might explode. She glared at Luke, speechless for a moment.
No matter what she said, it would sound wrong.
She clenched her teeth, thinking this guy was getting more and more unbearable.
He clearly had such a handsome face—so why did everything he said make her want to punch a wall?
Frey watched Vayne fuming, then looked at Luke's calm face.
It felt oddly fresh.
This was the first time she'd ever seen her apprentice get completely shut down like this.
This time, Vayne made up her mind: no matter what Luke said next, she wouldn't respond again.
But she noticed Luke stopped questioning her.
Instead, he walked over to the corpse of the Tattooed Two-Tailed Snake and crouched beside it.
He took out a small empty vial, uncorked it, pinched the snake's head on both sides, and squeezed.
He was collecting its venom.
Seeing that, Vayne badly wanted to ask: You're a prince—what are you doing collecting snake venom?
But she didn't. She just watched coldly.
Luke, for his part, was only doing it out of convenience.
The Tattooed Two-Tailed Snake wasn't easy to run into in the wild. This kind of snake didn't like appearing in human sight, so its venom was especially valuable.
If it could be collected, there was no reason to waste it—maybe it would be useful someday.
When he finished, he stood, noticed Vayne staring, and lifted the vial full of venom. "Want a sip?"
The instant he said it, the anger Vayne had barely suppressed surged up again. She shot him a glare and snapped, "Get lost."
Maybe she'd gotten too worked up—because as soon as the words left her mouth, her vision swam. Her consciousness wavered, and she toppled forward.
Straight toward Luke.
Luke looked at Vayne falling into him like she was trying to "stick" to him. After a brief thought, he opened his arms and caught her, hands steadying her soft upper arms.
Vayne lay weakly against his chest, breathing hard. The flush of anger on her face faded into a pale, fragile color.
"What's wrong with her?"
Frey rushed over, worry in her voice.
Luke glanced at Vayne and said, "Nothing serious. She probably got too angry—blood circulation sped up, and the venom's after-effects hit."
Hearing his voice through the haze, Vayne felt both furious and humiliated.
She could smell a clean, pleasant scent on him—strangely nice—and she also felt warmth radiating from him.
When she snapped back to herself, she suddenly realized the position she was in.
Her pale face flushed red again—whether from anger or embarrassment, even she couldn't tell. She shoved Luke away hard, glaring at him like she was breathing fire.
It was all his fault.
If he hadn't been provoking her on purpose, would she have ended up making such a spectacle of herself?
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