Chapter 6: A Sweet and Bitter Daily Life

I have no thoughts. Because I have no thoughts.

I had a good long sleep, and when I woke up, another two weeks had already flown by. Apparently, I had woken up once in the middle of it, and when I asked what happened, everyone went out of their way to euphemistically tell me it was all Zeimer’s doing.

Hearing that, I gave a bitter smile internally. As the only one who knew the whole truth, I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t Zeimer’s doing; it was the Goddess’s. Thinking of Zeimer, who was likely plagued by guilt, I felt a bit bad for him.

It was the first time in my life I had ever slept this deeply. In my childhood, I lived a bustling life, waking up for dawn prayers under Director Janet’s guidance and starting the day by learning the Goddess’s teachings. Once I grew up a bit, I had to wake up early every morning to work for Uncle Charles’s mercenary group.

Since entering the Imperial Palace, I hadn’t woken up after sunrise even once. Even in the height of summer, I always rose before the sky brightened. I knew my place.

I always had to live with tension in my chest, struggling to survive. The Palace was that kind of place; for someone like me, it wasn’t a place to live, but a place to endure.

Looking back, the five years I spent in the Palace followed by the year on the battlefield were the dark ages of my life. It was maddeningly difficult. Spending six years without letting my guard down for a single moment, I gradually wore out. And as for the hardships on the battlefield? That goes without saying.

I opened my eyes to the sound of birds chirping. Perhaps a window was open, as the air smelled of fallen leaves and autumn. The final battle had also taken place in an autumn that smelled of bitter leaves.

Is this how it feels to wake up after sleeping your fill? For some reason, even though I was definitely awake, I felt groggy. As if I had woken up from a long dream… It felt like I had traveled back through a distant stretch of time and finally returned.

As I blinked dazed, someone approached with an air of delight.

“Ian! Are you awake?”

“…….”

I tried to respond to Claire’s greeting—who was still as handsome as ever—but no voice came out. Perhaps because I hadn’t had water for a long time, my throat felt parched and scratchy. I replaced my greeting with a dry cough, and Claire called a servant to bring water.

My vision was blurry and out of focus, so I slowly closed and opened my eyes. They felt dry and stiff.

Claire slid his hand under my back and supported my body firmly. It was an awkward position—neither lying down nor sitting up. I leaned against Claire’s chest and gulped down the water he held to my lips; only then did I feel like I was truly alive.

News must have spread while I was drinking, as Felix, Ilya, and even Zeimer arrived in an instant.

Perhaps my brain was still soaked in sleep, but I couldn’t quite regain my senses. I just stayed still, dazed, leaving my body to the touch of Claire wiping my mouth and laying me back down.

Felix approached and looked down at me, brushing away the hair that was poking my eyes. I flinched for a moment. His gaze was simply too intense.

I tried to ignore Felix’s lingering gaze—which felt as if a dead friend had come back to life—despite the goosebumps. It was a bit chilling to recall the Monarch of the battlefield, who was kind but would ruthlessly order me to march forward without blood or tears.

“You’ve suffered much.”

“Yo… cough… Your Highness…”

As I opened my mouth, a wheezing sound came out along with a cough. Felix furrowed his brows.

“Shh—save your words. And it is ‘Your Majesty’ now. It has already been a year since the coronation.”

Felix settled into a seat and let out a low laugh. Uh… was it my imagination that his laugh seemed a bit tearful? The way he kept brushing back my bangs felt awkward. So did that longing gaze.

A faint golden light began to spread from Felix’s hand, and I felt my head clear up a bit. It was the power of the Dragon. I could vividly feel the energy moving inside me. He must have thought I was having trouble breathing, as the energy moved along my respiratory path. Only then did it sink in. How I must look to others. To them, I probably looked like a complete wreck.

On the other side of the bed, Ilya approached. Claire was closer, but he stepped back slightly to make room for Ilya.

“Ian, I thought… I thought I would…”

“……Ilya.”

“I thought I would never see you again…….”

Ilya collapsed by my side, clutching my hand and sobbing. Is it weird that I found his reaction extremely… well, uncomfortable and awkward? We were just simple comrades-in-arms, nothing more, nothing less.

Unable to hide my discomfort, I put a little strength into the right hand Ilya was holding. I could have gripped it tight, but now I wanted to let go of the tension and live a loose life.

Because I had lived with too much pressure for too long.

Ilya looked up, seemingly a bit calmed down. His eyes were red and swollen. Thinking his turn was over, Ilya called for Zeimer, who was hesitating at the foot of the bed. I felt a bit of pity for Zeimer, who was uncharacteristically acting like a dejected puppy.

“Zei… ahem… mer…….”

My voice cracked again, so I cleared my throat and managed to call his name. Zeimer flinched, then suddenly lunged forward, calling my name and pulling me into a hug.

“Ian!”

It was a careful touch, but I let out a groan, startled by the sudden embrace. Zeimer flinched again and pulled away. I gave him a look of sheer disbelief.

And in the middle of this total chaos, even Claire—the one I believed to be the only sane one—was watching from behind with teary eyes.

Seriously, why is everyone doing this to me?!

I was happy. Every day was so sweet and happy.

Never in my life had I been able to rest, play, and eat with such peace of mind. I never knew that waking up after a deep sleep could feel this good. Lounging and rolling around in a plush bed without any schedule was also wonderful.

Before becoming a Hero, as everyone knows, I was born with black hair, so my life was full of people pointing fingers at me. Even after becoming a Hero and entering the Palace, I lived five years in a state of constant tension. Perhaps that’s why this first-ever taste of rest was so incredibly sweet.

As I rolled around, alternating between sleeping and waking, servants would come in at mealtimes to take care of my food, wipe my body, clean the room, and ventilate the air.

At first, it was very awkward. When I lived in the Palace before being deployed to war, the Emperor kept me under heavy surveillance and provided no such attendants. Since I had grown up with nothing, having someone wait on me was unfamiliar.

Actually, it was even more awkward because the people waiting on me were all high-ranking officials—the Emperor, the Grand Knight Commander, and so on.

If I took a nap after breakfast, someone would inevitably show up at lunchtime to personally serve me. If it were only lunch, it would be fine. Since everyone ate breakfast before going to work, I could fortunately eat alone in the morning. But they came back not only for lunch but for dinner as well, as if they had set up a rotating duty roster.

It was awkward to say I knew how to eat by myself now, especially since just a few days ago, I had started having “seizures” where I vomited blood. Of course, it wasn’t by my own will.

As always, my goal in life was to live a long, thin life. I aimed for a very modest and ordinary life, satisfied just to see Director Janet or Uncle Charles occasionally. But it seemed that “Former Hero” wasn’t a label that dropped off as easily as I thought. I killed the Demon King; whatever happens to this world now is none of my business.

The incident started like this.

A few days ago, after our tearful reunion, Felix made a bombshell announcement while watching Claire feed me honey water.

“Now that you have woken up safely, it seems it’s time to discuss bestowing a title upon Ian.”

And what was even more shocking was that most of the people there nodded in agreement, as if it were a settled matter.

My mouth hung open in betrayal. You guys might have lived as nobles your whole lives, but for me, born a commoner, such a high position is nothing but a burden. I was furious that they didn’t realize that.

I was a person who could live a satisfied life as long as I had a place to lay my body and warm food to fill my stomach.

‘Goddess! This isn’t what we promised! You said you’d let me play and eat for the rest of my life!’

The moment I blasphemously blamed the Goddess, as if in response, a bloody clump surged up my throat and through my mouth and nose. Automatically, my limbs began to shake and stiffen, and tears started to prick my eyes.

Even though I was clearly breathing fine, my breath became labored, and my hand began to claw at my chest—which didn’t even hurt. I let out a hollow laugh of absurdity and opened my mouth wide. Then, blood sprayed out like a fountain.

Since Zeimer had already caused a disaster by putting mana into my body, everyone just panicked and held my body. Claire held me in his arms and tried to calm my trembling frame. Claire’s body felt hotter and hotter, perhaps because my own was growing cold.

“Damn it, the demonic energy……!”

As always when he used the Dragon’s power, Felix’s pupils narrowed into slits before returning to normal. Felix, who shouted urgently, also looked very flustered.

Ilya, thinking that trying to force a calm with divine power (like Zeimer did with mana) would only make the reaction worse, didn’t call a priest but called a doctor instead.

As expected, since this was a “fake illness”—or at least on the surface, a seizure caused by the conflict of demonic energy, mana, and divine power—it seemed there was unfortunately nothing the doctor could do.

After about ten minutes, the trembling subsided, and the guys, who had fallen into a collective panic, calmed down and were massaging my cold body to warm it up.

The Goddess was right. Since I had already made a vast contribution to this continent as a Hero, there was no way left to lead a peaceful daily life other than this “fake illness.” Of course, calling this “peaceful” was a bit of a stretch.

During the war, I told them countless times that I didn’t need a noble title, that I just needed a very small amount of money for independence so I could spend the rest of my life in peace. Despite that, they were thrusting a title at me; everyone, including Felix, wasn’t listening to a word I said.

As expected, even though she was a bit strange, the Goddess was the only one on my side.

Since then, having one or two seizures a day became part of the routine. And on the third day of using that excuse, I held Felix’s hand weakly, acting as sick as possible, and murmured that I couldn’t accept the title of Honorary Duke with a body like this.

Felix’s face stiffened for a moment, but he spoke kindly with a smile, saying we would talk about it later, so I figured there was nothing to worry about. Because my body wasn’t going to “get better.”

And now, I was so immersed in my “fake illness” acting that the side effects were showing up a bit too strongly.

“Ian, it’s lunchtime. You must wake up.”

The guy who’s supposed to be the Prime Minister, as if he isn’t busy at all, came in person and gently shook me awake while I was pretending to sleep. His touch was extremely cautious—as if I would blow away if he breathed on me or break if he held me—but I let out a low groan, acting as if I were in pain, hoping he would just leave me alone. If there’s an aching spot, it’s common for a dull, heavy pain to flare up, just like when you have a cold.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I saw Ilya, whose face had instantly turned grief-stricken at that single groan. I ended up feeling awkward again.

“Pardon me—.” Ilya murmured softly as he very carefully slid his hand behind my back and slowly lifted my body. Taking a pillow from a servant, he tucked it behind my back so I could lean against it. Then he asked if I was uncomfortable and how my condition was today.

Lifting a plate containing very thin rice gruel, Ilya took a tiny bit on a spoon and blew on it. Honestly, I have no idea why he was blowing on gruel that was already cold. As I watched him with a look of disbelief, Ilya—who was delicate even in unnecessary ways—checked the temperature of the gruel against his own lips, as usual, and then held it out to me.

“Even if you have no appetite, you must eat a little. If you slowly and regularly wake up your metabolism, you’ll soon be able to eat normal meals.”

The guys always seemed worried that I wouldn’t like the bland taste of the gruel, but that was unnecessary consideration.

I didn’t particularly like food with flashy flavors. Since Imperial food was usually very stimulating with lots of spices, I actually preferred this bland food over such delicacies.

Perhaps because I had survived on coarse whole-wheat bread, potatoes, and nearly tasteless soup throughout my childhood, I felt a bit of a rejection toward strong flavors. The banquet at the first official appearance I attended after becoming a Hero at seventeen was pure torture.

There wouldn’t be a big problem even if I didn’t eat something regularly, but the palace doctors all insisted that I must eat something to reactivate my metabolism, which had been “dead” for a year. So, I was stuck eating exactly on time.

To me—who would do somersaults and run around the room alone in the middle of the pitch-black night—it was nothing but nonsense that made me snort, but I couldn’t find a reason to refute it. In the first place, this situation was my own fault for not making a specific wish to the Goddess.

Because I was eating very little at a time, it took quite a long time to finish a single plate of bland gruel. Even though it must have been boring, Ilya stayed by my side steadfastly and moved the spoon until I finished the plate.

Ilya cleared the plate and began to stroke my back with a gentle touch. Without anyone specifically deciding it, they all used to stroke my back, saying I shouldn’t lie down right after eating. Whenever that happened, sleep would wash over me like a well-fed cat.

Ilya looked at me with a picture-perfect smile. Through my closing eyes, I could see his lips moving to say “Goodnight.” Feeling the touch of his hand stroking my back, I fell fast asleep in Ilya’s arms. My mind was just a bit uncomfortable, but it was a peaceful daily life.