Chapter 5: The Fragile Anchor

< Ilya >

A week has already passed since Ian returned to the Imperial Palace. For seven days, Ian has slept quietly without so much as a twitch. Fortunately, because Felix had ordered that Ian’s old room be kept perfectly clean, we were able to move him in immediately.

Felix carried Ian carefully in his arms the entire way to the palace. It was only natural. I understood him. A monarch who wields the power of a dragon is destined to be lonely.

I have known Felix since we were children, but I have never seen him look as lonely as he has this past year. It makes sense, as he had finally found the first person who truly understood him.

I pitied them. It brought tears to my eyes to see them side by side, shoulder to shoulder, bearing a massive burden that an ordinary person like me could never even imagine.

In this vast, cruel, and beautiful world, Felix had lost the only person who understood him—the only comrade he could truly walk beside.

During that year of agonizing over whether Ian was alive or dead, I prayed desperately just to see him again. Yet, seeing him now with his eyes closed as if dead, a part of me wondered if we should have simply let him go into the Goddess’s embrace.

I looked down at Ian lying on the bed. His face, once calm and firm, was now settled with a deep sickly pallor. There were dark shadows under his eyes, his lips were pale and bloodless, and white flakes of dry skin had formed.

Though I opened the windows wide every day to ventilate the room, the clear sunlight carried the scent of autumn, leaving a lingering bitterness in the air. It felt almost like the scent of death.

I placed a finger beneath Ian’s nose. I could barely feel an inhalation against my fingertip. Only that faint sound of breathing signaled that he still existed here.

Divine power originating from the Goddess is a force that washes away all negativity in the world. For Ian, who received the Goddess’s blessing, the act of “washing away” should have been unnecessary. Nevertheless, Ian used to wash his body almost out of habit. Knowing this, we wiped his unconscious body with warm wet towels every morning and evening.

Ian always had a low body temperature, but now he felt so cold it was as if his body were chilled to the bone. After Ian’s return, I became incredibly busy with various matters to process, but I managed to carve out a little time this evening to stop by.

The position of Prime Minister, attained at the young age of thirty, often felt overwhelming, but I endured it without a word of complaint. Felix became the Commander-in-Chief of the war at twenty and sat on the throne at twenty-nine.

Ian became a Hero at seventeen and risked his life to protect the continent at twenty-three. Though he has weathered all the storms of the world, the Hero is still young. I, now, was slightly firmer than they had been in the past, and much more of an adult.

Taking my seat in the chair next to the bed, I meticulously wiped each of his stiff, unconscious knuckles. He didn’t have the large, sturdy build of someone like Claire, but seeing Ian—who used to unleash sword aura and magic with a solid body and broad shoulders—lying there like a withered leaf made my mouth go dry with bitterness.

As I brushed back Ian’s hair, his white forehead was revealed. Watching his black hair scatter through my fingers, I thought back on the state affairs that had been a chaotic mess over the past week. I thought we had dealt with the former Emperor—Felix’s uncle—and all his cronies after the war, but to think some still remained.

Because the cabinet was composed primarily of those who had performed great feats in the war, there were many deficiencies administratively and politically. My head throbbed at the thought, and I pressed my hand to my brow. I was an administrator. Trying to handle politics as well felt like my head might explode.

Ian held a politically vital position. Like a symbol, he was regarded as the salvation from the bottom that opened the door to a new era. And there were many who sought to exploit him in his worn and sickly state.

Did Ian truly want this? He was a Hero who gave everything for peace and the final love sent down by the Goddess. I looked again at his bloodless face, which lacked any sense of life.

I quietly stroked Ian’s cheek with the back of my hand and then happened to notice his hands. His fingernails had grown quite long. I lightly flicked his fingertip with mine. The overgrown nail caught against my skin.

Snip, snip—

In the quiet room, only the sound of a small pair of scissors clipping nails echoed. I had finished the right hand and was moving to clip the left when the door opened quietly and Zeimer walked in.

“Ilya.”

“You’ve come?”

“Yeah.”

As usual, Zeimer showed little interest in me and went straight to Ian. He looked accustomed to it, as if he visited often.

The silver-white hair of Zeimer glowed blue in the dim light. Like Ian’s black hair, white hair was a color that could never occur naturally unless grayed by age, but nothing was impossible with magic.

Unlike me, who held the position of Prime Minister, Zeimer’s roles at the palace were merely Library Director and Magic Consultant for the administration, so he had relatively more free time. It seemed even more so because the reconstruction of the North and East, led by mages, was mostly organized and in the final stages.

“Scissors?”

He tilted his head, looking at the nail-clipping scissors in my hand.

“Yes. Ian’s nails had grown quite a bit.”

“Put them down. I’ll do the left hand.”

I offered him the scissors, but he shook his head. Instead, Zeimer sat next to Ian and lifted his left hand. In an instant, a small blue sphere of light attached itself to Ian’s fingertips and neatly trimmed the nails.

My eyes felt dry. It was likely because I had been looking at text all day. The work, which was already plentiful, had been pouring in since Ian’s return a week ago. I pressed down on my stiff eyelids with my fingertips.

Whoosh—

Along with a refreshing sound like a wave crashing somewhere, a blue light shone against my closed eyes. My dry eyes were instantly moisturized. When I opened them, I saw Zeimer, his brow furrowed as if he were in a bad mood. Did he recognize me as someone close enough to help? I let out a hollow laugh at the silly thought.

“Why don’t you do it while getting some rest?”

“Haha, I’m still alright.”

Across Ian’s bed, Zeimer clicked his tongue.

“This guy, that guy. I’ve decided not to believe the word ‘alright’ anymore.”

Perhaps due to his face becoming even sharper over the past week, Zeimer looked extremely sensitive. He was naturally a sensitive and violent man, but today he looked exceptionally sharp—wait! It wasn’t an illusion.

Zeimer’s eyes were burning blue, just as they did when he fully unleashed his mana. As his eyes glowed bright blue, deep shadows naturally fell across his face.

Zeimer reached out toward Ian, his eyes glowing. A faint blue light was also gathered at his fingertips. An ominous feeling washed over my body. Suddenly, Zeimer stopped his reaching hand.

“Hey, you. Get out.”

“What? Zeimer, what are you…?”

Zeimer, who had been looking down at Ian, slowly raised his head. In the dark room, as my gaze met those two blue lights that looked like will-o’-the-wisps, my skin crawled. It felt as if my body had frozen. My reason, telling me to stop him, fought with my instinct, telling me to run. Everything happened in an instant.

“I said, get out.”

Blue flames billowed. I had the illusion that those flames were reflecting behind Zeimer as well.

Get out.

Before I could even process the thought, I was suddenly pushed out the door by magic. My instinct was screaming. I didn’t know what Zeimer was planning, but this was dangerous.

“Zeimer!”

I pounded on the closed door and called Zeimer’s name as loud as I could, but no matter how much I shouted, the door did not open. He was a difficult man to predict, but he was always extremely cautious when it came to Ian, so I was incredibly flustered.

I quickly told a servant in the hallway to fetch Felix. Felix would likely feel this terrifying surge of mana and come running even before the message reached him. The mana currently radiating from Zeimer was so strong that even I, who cannot feel mana at all, could sense it.

While I continued to pound on the door, a blue light flashed through the crack. A blue light so bright it was blinding illuminated the dim hallway. Felix, appearing as if rising from the ground—likely having moved the moment he felt the fluctuating mana—tore the door off with his bare hands.

As the door was ripped away, the blue light of mana poured out. A frantic Felix rushed inside immediately, and I followed right behind him.

“Cough—.”

And there was Ian, covered in blood.

< Zeimer >

It has already been four days since I hurt Ian with my own hands.

What I discovered that day was that one must not force physical external power into Ian.

Because the purity of Ian’s mana and divine power was so high and dense, and because he was already sensitized from fighting demonic energy, he suffered a rejection reaction. Unless it was the Goddess’s divine power, external mana and divinity were actually poison to Ian.

As if possessed by something, I had hurriedly sent Ilya out and ruthlessly pushed my mana into Ian’s body. Was it because I felt Ian’s mana struggling against the demonic power at that very moment? My mana…

But there was something I overlooked.

That was now Ian’s mana. Something that belonged to Ian, which I could no longer interfere with. We had already failed once, and it had gone too far to set right now. No matter how much I tried to return the twisted thing to its original state, it only became more distorted.

Yet, I could not blame him.

It was only now starting to feel real. In the end, I hadn’t changed. Once again, I only realized my mistake after hurting him.

As my alien mana wedged itself between Ian’s quiet mana and the Demon King’s power, the two energies that had been probing each other suddenly turned ferocious and began to tear through Ian’s body. I tried to stop urgently, but I had already increased the output to the maximum, so it was not easy.

The one who stopped me was Felix, who tore down the door and entered with a menacing aura. The dragon power he possessed was absolute; he immediately suppressed me and succeeded in surrounding Ian with a massive protective barrier.

The massive force pressed me down, slamming me into the floor, but at that moment, I was so insanely grateful for that power that I felt like I would burst into tears.

Perhaps due to the shock, Ian coughed violently and vomited blood, but he did not seem to have regained consciousness. My vision was tinted with dark red blood. The traces of the mana I had forced inside were so close to death that it felt like my insides were turning over.

Hearing the horrified screams of the people who entered afterward, I hurriedly left the place. As soon as I arrived in my room via teleportation, curses spilled out along with a rising nausea. I should not have been by Ian’s side. It was something I had vowed countless times, so how… how could I have forgotten this?

I ran away like that.

Ilya, Felix, and even Claire knocked on my door, but I did not open it. I knew they wouldn’t blame me. But I could not leave the room because I could not forgive myself.

I kept the curtains drawn and the door locked, huddling there for three days. I didn’t even think about eating or sleeping. I just hurt like that.

On the fourth day, in the deep hours of the dawn, I quietly headed to Ian’s side. It was because I felt I had to confess to Ian first before facing the others. Of course, Ian would likely forgive me even if I shattered his body, but that was all the more reason I had to confess to him.

I knelt by his bedside throughout the dawn until daybreak, holding his hand and whispering to him.

How my arrogance and momentary impulse had wounded him, how the thing I desired to protect had returned to haunt us, and how my meaningless life had been saved by him.

It was Ian who tamed me when I was acting like a colt on a hot iron plate. My life existed solely for him. I had handed my heart to him, and he had accepted it with a sad smile.

I had placed the noose around my own neck and handed the end of the reigns to Ian, and because of that, I could be freer. Because Ian was there to willingly tighten that noose, that restraint was like a lifeline to the world for me. The world held by his “final love” was just that wide.

The purple twilight that resembled Ian slowly illuminated the room. But there was not enough light to illuminate me as I knelt, kissing the back of his hand and confessing endlessly to my master. I hoped that he would soon open his eyes and illuminate me once more.

Ian. My master.

The one to whom my soul shall eternally return.