IYAMD: Episode 16

Marsilia assessed his surroundings, trying to understand why he had suddenly woken up. It didn’t take long for him to realize the reason.

An unfamiliar energy was emanating from somewhere within the bedchamber. There were quite a few sources outside as well. Marsilia sprang to his feet and quickly scanned the area.

Just then, the door burst open, and Darren, who had been standing guard outside, entered. Seeing the urgency on his face, Marsilia immediately asked,

“Report the situation.”

Darren knelt before Marsilia and lowered his head.

“There are intruders, Your Majesty. We have taken down one, but it seems there are more remaining.”

“Bring me my sword. If I assist, we can capture them more quickly.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Marsilia ordered two other knights to guard Jaha’s chamber before following Darren in pursuit. He could sense a total of three presences.

They were concealing themselves, but not well enough—he could faintly perceive their locations.

As he ran down the corridor, Marsilia exchanged silent hand signals with Darren and the knights.

Splitting off from the group, he entered an empty room, threw open the window, and stepped onto the railing before leaping out.

Darren and the other knights would be closing in from the opposite direction.

Landing soundlessly on the ground, Marsilia took a wide path around, heading toward the trees where the intruders were hiding.

Something felt off.

Hidden behind a low hedge, Marsilia bit his lip.

The intruders were positioned near the central hall of the bedchamber. Normally, assassins would target the emperor’s bedroom—so why were they here?

The location was somewhat close to Jaha’s room, but even so, it was an ambiguous distance. More suspiciously, despite being this near, the assassins showed no signs of detecting his presence. They remained motionless in the trees.

Sensing that Darren and the knights were closing in, Marsilia suddenly burst out from behind the hedge, slashing his sword.

A towering tree was cleanly cut, its branches crashing to the ground.

The three clustered assassins scattered in different directions, and Marsilia immediately gave chase after one.

True to their profession, the assassin was light on his feet, but as a Swordmaster, Marsilia had no trouble keeping up. Enveloping his sword in aura, he swung it.

Sensing danger, the assassin turned to block the attack—only for half of his face to be severed along with his weapon.

Clicking his tongue at the unintended kill, Marsilia glanced down at the corpse before turning back toward the bedchamber.

It seemed that Darren and the other knights had also caught the remaining two with little difficulty.

Then, suddenly—

A commotion erupted from inside the bedchamber.

A faint scream. The clash of steel.

Marsilia immediately launched himself toward Jaha’s room with Darren. In a single bound, he smashed through the balcony window—

And was instantly engulfed by the stench of blood.

…

When Jaha regained consciousness, the man who always waited for him was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a knight who usually stood guard outside the room was now inside, on high alert.

Jaha quietly sat up and sensed his surroundings. Extending his qi perception, he felt Marsilia’s presence in the garden and realized a brief skirmish had taken place nearby.

Sensing a strange, foreign energy from somewhere, Jaha slowly gathered his inner qi. Thanks to Marsilia’s abilities, his turbulent meridians had calmed just before he lost consciousness. Now, he carefully drew upon his internal energy, letting it flow from his dantian through his entire body’s meridians.

It was a truly fascinating ability. But there was no time to be amazed. Jaha quickly flicked his fingers, sending out bursts of internal energy. The two knights and the attendants collapsed soundlessly.

At the same time, someone entered the room through the window.

The scent of blood clung thickly to the intruder. Judging by the stench embedded deep in his body, he was someone who made a living out of killing.

Jaha had encountered many such individuals in the Eastern Continent, so it wasn’t difficult for him to guess the man’s identity.

The assassin approached the bed in silence. As he lifted the canopy, his masked face momentarily revealed widened eyes, as if he had found something unexpected.

Jaha closed his eyes.

Behind his shut eyelids, Marsilia’s disappointed face flickered past—but he paid it no mind. After all, he meant nothing to that man.

Jaha merely welcomed the peace that was about to come.

It was a bit regretful that his end would come in such an unexpected place, but given that he lacked the strength to return to the Eastern Continent, perhaps this was for the best.

…

Marsilia quickly scanned the room and rushed toward the bed.

The two knights who had been standing guard lay dead with swords impaled in their necks, and the attendants had met the same fate.

Darren immediately dashed out, chasing after the fleeing assassin, while Marsilia yanked back the canopy.

For some reason, his hands were trembling. The open window had allowed the scent of blood to dissipate slightly, but the moment the canopy was pulled away, an even thicker stench filled the air.

Jaha lay curled up on the bed, his throat slashed.

Blood gushed from his neck, drenching the sheets and pooling into a dark, wet stain.

Marsilia leaped onto the bed and pressed Jaha down, straddling his body. His eyes swept over him in a frantic search.

There were no other injuries. Just that one grievous wound across his neck.

There weren’t even any signs of resistance.

His heart pounded wildly, as if it would burst from his chest.

The moment he brought his hand to Jaha’s nose and realized he wasn’t breathing, his mind went completely blank.

Without hesitation, Marsilia channeled divine power into his hands.

A deep blue light burst forth, radiating so brightly that it illuminated the entire room like the sun.

He muttered feverishly, pouring his divine energy into Jaha’s body as if possessed.

“No… Jaha. No. Come back.”

Not once did it cross his mind that he could simply wait for another soulmate to appear.

All that filled his mind was the single thought that he had to bring this man back to life.

Like a madman, Marsilia kept murmuring as he pressed his hands over Jaha’s body.

A dense, vivid green light surged from his palms into Jaha, wrapping around him entirely.

The glow grew stronger and stronger, until it became so blinding that nothing else could be seen.

Marsilia had never revived anyone before.

His nerves frayed as he bit down hard on his lips.

“Come back, Jaha. Come back.”

He poured every last bit of divine power he had into him.

The sheer force of expelling so much energy at once made his head spin, but he couldn’t stop. No, he wouldn’t stop.

Ten years.

Ten years was not a short time.

Even before receiving his divine mark, Marsilia had always assumed that his fated partner would appear someday.

After the mark was carved into his chest, he had hoped every single day—only to have that hope crushed over and over again.

Within a few years, that hope had turned into despair, and eventually, even that despair became something he could no longer destroy. Instead, he simply carried it.

He had lived believing that everything would be okay once his fated partner appeared.

So how could this be happening?

“You… how could you…?”

Marsilia’s voice was barely a whisper, breaking apart mid-sentence.

After all those years of waiting, how could this man be so cruel?

The divine power had healed all of Jaha’s wounds, yet he still wasn’t breathing.

Marsilia pressed down hard on his chest, as if trying to force his lifeless heart to beat again.

“Jaha! Come back! Don’t leave me!”

His frantic cries filled the room as he continued his desperate attempts—until suddenly, a mouthful of blood splattered from Jaha’s lips.

Marsilia froze.

At the same time, a shallow breath slipped past Jaha’s parted lips.

A thin stream of blood trickled down his cheek.

Moments later, Marsilia realized—Jaha was breathing on his own.

Only then did he finally climb off his body.

Something warm trickled down the groove of his upper lip.

When he wiped it with the back of his hand, he found fresh blood smeared across his skin.

His vision blurred, his head swam.

He felt as if he might collapse at any moment.

And yet, he forced himself to stay on his knees, refusing to lose consciousness—at least until Darren returned.

As the situation settled, more people rushed into the room.

Attendants moved carefully, draping cloths over the bodies of the dead.

Someone approached him and spoke.

“Your Majesty, you are coughing blood. You must stop using your divine power.”

Marsilia was unaware that he was still using divine power.

He didn’t even realize that a strong wind was blowing inside the room. Marsilia closed his eyes after confirming that the assassin’s head was hanging from Darren’s hand.

And then he fell down like a broken doll.

…

When Marsilia regained consciousness, he found himself in his own bedroom. As he opened his eyes, the palace physician beside him leaned in closer.

“Your Majesty, are you awake?”

As he tried to sit up, a splitting pain shot through his head. Marsilia groaned, clutching his head, and the physician cautiously spoke.

“You overused your divine power. You must let your body rest for the time being.”

The physician knew that Marsilia never took medicine due to the risk of assassination, so he refrained from suggesting it and simply reported his condition.

His nasal passages had ruptured, and the blood vessels in his eyes had burst. No wonder his eyes felt sore.

“I understand. Leave now and have Darren come in on your way out.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Please do not forget to rest well.”

Would he even be able to rest? Marsilia let out a small laugh and nodded before furrowing his brows again as another wave of headache struck.

It felt as if his heart was beating inside his skull, throbbing in time with his pulse, as if his head would split open.

Marsilia gritted his teeth, enduring the pain until Darren arrived. The agony was so intense he felt like he might groan at any moment, so he curled up on the bed, stifling his groans.

When he finally heard a knock, Marsilia wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and straightened his back.

“Come in.”

“It’s Darren, Your Majesty.”

“The situation?”

As soon as Darren entered, he knelt by the bedside and reported.

“There were a total of six intruders. Four are dead, and two… escaped, Your Majesty. It seems they infiltrated in three teams. Three were used as decoys, while one entered Lord Jaha’s bedroom. The other two distracted the knights guarding the other side of the garden and seem to have escaped early.”

“And Jaha?”

“Sasha and Albert are guarding him. He has not regained consciousness yet.”

“Strengthen the palace’s security and investigate how the assassins infiltrated. Identify who they are and report everything you find.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Dismissed.”

Once Darren left, Marsilia collapsed onto the bed as if fainting. It had been a long time since he had experienced such an overload.

Since childhood, he had learned to control his power’s output. But even then, this was the first time he had lost control so completely, pouring out divine power until he lost his senses.

Marsilia raised his hand. The sensation of touching a dead body was still vivid in his mind.

The soft flesh, lifeless without circulating blood. The lingering warmth, yet utterly devoid of Jaha’s presence.

His outstretched fingers trembled. Marsilia clenched his fist in the air and pressed it against his left chest.

He could feel his heart pounding beneath his palm. Only then did the trembling in his hand begin to subside.

“Hah…”

Marsilia let out a bitter chuckle. His body shook with laughter, sending another sharp pain through his head, but he couldn’t stop laughing.

A soulmate was supposed to mean nothing?

Then what was this maddening emotion?

Just a mere mark? What lunatic would say such a thing?

Marsilia clutched his chest, grasping at the soulmate mark inscribed upon him.

This was a curse.

A curse with no way to break free.

What grudge did the goddess hold to cast such a curse?

The sheer injustice of it all overwhelmed him.

Simply because he had been born a prince, he was doomed to bear this curse for the rest of his life.