"Because I hated him," Evin said, voice low and bitter. "I hated that fucker to my core."
It wasn't just the words that stunned Erik and Elsa.
It was the look in Evin's eyes — pure, unfiltered hatred, burning so bright it almost seemed to light him from the inside.
"You're surprised, right?" Evin sneered. "I know what you're thinking."
Then, slipping into a mocking, high-pitched voice, he said,
"Oh my god, how could anyone hate Vince? He was so perfect!"
He took a drag from his cigarette, smoke curling from his nose.
"Yeah. He was a good actor, even as a kid. Good-looking, smart. His dad worked for a noble house. Everyone loved him."
Evin's lips twisted.
"But he always looked down on us. Always thought he was better than the rest of us dirt."
Elsa stood frozen, confusion flickering across her face.
"And when he came back to the village — married — I was surprised," Evin said, voice dropping. "But when I saw you, Elsa... all I felt was pity.
Pity for you.
Caught in the hands of that smug bastard."
He flicked ash onto the ground, eyes hard.
"He had power. He had money. He had everything. And if it came down to it, if it would've helped him even a little, he'd have buried this whole village without a second thought. I know he would've."
Evin's cigarette burned low between his lips.
"I wasn't planning to kill him that day," he said.
"We took him to question him about the letters. But the way he talked... like I was a dog.
And that fucking laugh of his..."
He gritted his teeth, hands flexing uselessly against the rope.
"Oooh," Evin breathed, shaking his head, voice thick with venom.
"How bad I wanted to rip that smirk off his face."
He took another slow drag, exhaled a cloud of smoke toward the sky.
"That's why I killed him," Evin said. "And I didn't do it quick.
I enjoyed it.
Every second of it."
He smiled — not at them, not at anything — just into the empty air.
"Each of us did. But no matter what we did, that cocky little smile never left his face."
His voice dropped lower, almost a whisper.
"That's why I told him... that I was gonna come after you."
A long, heavy silence settled.
Erik broke it, voice calm:
"Did it go away? The smile?"
Evin shook his head slowly. "No."
Elsa didn't move.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't speak.
Evin spit the cigarette into the dirt.
"Never in my life," he said, "have I regretted killing someone quickly."
He looked at Elsa, and for the first time, there was no mockery — just the plain, ugly truth.
"I still think maybe I should've tortured him more. Just to see that smug look finally disappear."
He leaned back against the tree, ropes creaking.
"I know it's hard for you to believe me," he said.
"But I've got no reason to lie to you now."
"So what are we gonna do about him?" Erik asked, glancing at Elsa.
Elsa didn't answer. She just stood there — frozen.
"Huh... this is gonna be a drag," Erik muttered under his breath.
At that moment, Erik realized something.
He held the power to decide how this would end.
Evin stood frozen—powerless, defeated. Elsa was still processing everything she'd just heard, her expression a mixture of shock and quiet rage.
For her, killing Evin in revenge wasn't an option. Even if it sounded justified, she wouldn't do it. She wasn't that kind of person.
But leaving him alive… that could be dangerous.
People like Evin were the worst kind. The kind who twisted jealousy into a noble cause—who wore their hatred like a badge and believed their actions were righteous. He might come after Elsa again. Or Erik. Or worse… he could use Shasa to get to them both.
Erik looked at Evin.
This wasn't just about revenge.
It was about removing a threat before it grew into something worse.
In that moment, Erik knew—he had to be the one to decide. And what he has to do was clear as day.
He turned back toward Evin.
"But we can't trust you, Evin," he said, voice louder now.
"People like you... you always have a reason to lie. Even when you're dying, you cling to it. You don't let others live happily. Not even after you're gone."
Evin stared at him, confused — maybe even a little amused.
Slowly, Erik walked over to Elsa and whispered in her ear:
"Are you gonna let him live?"
Then, without waiting for a response, Erik moved.
There was a loose piece of rope hanging from the bindings on Evin's hand. Erik grabbed it, yanked Evin's head back, and tied it tight across his forehead, forcing his neck to stretch bare and exposed.
He pulled Elsa's knife from her belt and pressed it into her hand.
"Get it over with," Erik said, voice calm. "Finish what you came for. Leave this forest different from the girl who walked into it."
He stepped back, his voice silent now, but the words hung heavy in the air:
This is the only way for her to move forward. She has to destroy everything tied to the tragedy.
Even if it's an illusion I'm forcing on her.
Even if it changes nothing.
This is the only way for Elsa to forgive herself.
Above them, the noon sun broke through the clouds.
For the first time in what felt like years, everything was clear.
Elsa moved forward.
She dropped to one knee, knife trembling in her hand, the blade hovering just over Evin's throat.
Her hands shook violently as she pressed down — but the blade barely broke the skin.
Erik knelt beside Elsa.
He placed one hand at the back of Evin's neck — steady, firm — and with the other, he pushed Elsa's hand down.
The knife pierced through flesh, slow and deliberate.
Blood splattered across Elsa's face.
Evin struggled for a moment, legs kicking weakly, body jerking against the rope.
Erik didn't stop.
Elsa didn't resist.
And then... the struggling stopped.
Evin's body sagged, lifeless, against the tree.
Elsa let go of the knife, her hand falling limp at her side.
Tears spilled down her cheeks — not sobs, not whimpers — just a flood of twenty years' worth of pain and regret pouring out of her.
Erik caught her as she fell forward, letting her head rest against his chest.
He held her there, in the bright, unforgiving light of the forest.
Neither spoke.
There was nothing left to say.