IYAMD: Episode 18

“His Majesty… is very angry…”

At Gerald’s hesitant voice, Jaha lifted his head. He felt like he had heard the exact same thing earlier.

But all he could think was—so what? What did they expect him to do about it? However, it seemed Gerald had failed to notice Jaha’s indifference.

He looked desperate to convince Jaha somehow. But since Jaha didn’t react at all, Gerald eventually grew weary, muttered a few more words, and then returned to his seat.

Perhaps because everyone knew that Jaha’s power had been sealed, even without Marsilia around, the attendants dared to approach him.

They wiped Jaha’s body with scented water and brought him meals. But since Jaha never touched the food, the soup, now thickened from sitting too long, was returned just as it had come.

Even by evening, Marsilia did not return, and Jaha spent his time lying on the bed in a daze.

Memories of his younger sibling and father occasionally surfaced, but they only made his heart stir restlessly. The sealed inner energy showed no response. In a way, it made him feel strangely calm.

Was this how he would fade into oblivion?

Jaha, for the first time in a long while, had the luxury to quietly reflect on his state.

He could feel uncomfortable gazes on him, but if he didn’t look at them, it was no different from them not existing at all. He had never cared much about how others perceived him anyway.

As the night deepened and Gerald retired to bed, Marsilia still did not return. Left alone in the now silent room, Jaha quietly sat up and tugged at his chains.

They seemed to be secured to the bed’s leg, and the chain was longer than he had expected.

He pulled on it a few times, even tried to break it, but of course, it was futile. With his inner force sealed, Jaha was merely a physically resilient person—stronger than most, perhaps, but not by enough to make a difference.

And with his body now weakened from prolonged malnutrition, he likely wasn’t even stronger than an ordinary person anymore.

Back when his inner energy flowed, he at least had the energy to attempt escape. Now, he didn’t even have that.

Jaha struggled for a bit before quickly tiring and lying back down.

Could he not escape? If he wanted to flee, he would have to eat and restore his energy. The idea of eating just to have the strength to die felt ridiculous, but what choice did he have?

Determined to start eating properly from the next day, Jaha closed his eyes again.

Perhaps because he couldn’t circulate his inner energy, sleep came quickly.

It was probably because of the cuffs. As he thought of the man who had locked him up and then left without returning, Jaha let out a bitter smile and curled up.

It would be best if he never came back.

Tomorrow, the day after, and beyond. If only he would forget about him entirely.

That wouldn’t happen, of course—but still, Jaha allowed himself to wish for it.

…

Who had granted Jaha’s wish?

More than three days passed, yet Marsilia did not show even a strand of his hair. The noise outside in the evenings suggested he had returned to the palace, but he never set foot in this room.

Jaha thought it was for the best. It meant that after escaping, he wouldn’t have to face Marsilia.

A man with the obsession to bring the dead back to life would surely be furious about Jaha’s escape attempt. Jaha had no desire to deal with an unpleasant confrontation.

For now, he just wanted to take this time to focus on recovering his body.

So he ate every meal without fail and, when left alone at night, paced around the bed.

The more he did, the more ridiculous he felt.

During the day, he stayed on the bed because Gerald and the attendants were watching. But honestly, staying still for so long was making him restless.

Jaha started to question himself—did he really want to die?

Unlike before, when death was all he thought about, he now found himself feeling bored and fidgety. It was almost laughable.

Was it because he had already died once? The wish he had so desperately clung to felt slightly faded.

Yet, he had no other wish. Nothing else he wanted to do. So Jaha still held onto his desire to die.

Even so, there were moments when that thought would wane.

When he walked barefoot across the thick carpet, he found the soft texture unexpectedly pleasant. Focusing on that sensation emptied his mind, stopping all thoughts.

Was the human heart really so fickle?

While pacing, Jaha opened the large windowed door and stepped outside.

The length of the chain prevented him from reaching the railing, but he could at least step out onto the balcony.

It had been quite some time since the full moon, yet its light remained bright.

Drawn in by the moonlight, Jaha stood outside and closed his eyes, letting the lukewarm wind wash over him.

Was it going to rain? The air was thick with moisture, and his hair fluttered in the heavy breeze.

When he opened his eyes again, the familiar moon greeted him.

That white-glowing moon was the same one he had always seen back in the Eastern Continent.

But everything beneath it was unfamiliar.

The meticulously arranged garden was paved with marble, filled with shadows of unknown flowers and trees.

For someone used to wooden pavilions and rock-stacked ponds, the sight was utterly foreign.

Jaha looked around, his lips trembling.

‘Jaryeon, Father, Mother…’

Even the names of those he longed for couldn’t escape his throat.

His voice caught, and soon, something hot surged up inside him.

It was tears.

It was sorrow.

It was longing.

Jaha stared up at the blurring moon and kept calling out to his beloved family.

Were they still together? Were they gazing at this same moon, just as they had before?

Were they watching over him, lost in a land more distant than any horizon?

Before he knew it, Jaha was silently crying. Tears poured down his face.

He wanted to open his mouth and sob aloud. He wanted to wail, to cry until his heart shattered.

He wanted to see his gentle parents. He wanted to see his cherished sister.

He had avenged them all—so why couldn’t he go to them now?

Why was it so hard to fulfill such a simple wish?

…

After meeting Uncle Song, the first thing Jaha did was hunt down those who had destroyed the Yu household.

Upon discovering that the rival escort agency, which had competed against his father’s, was behind it, he massacred them alone.

Then, he beheaded the local magistrate who had turned a blind eye and covered up the incident.

Killing a government official put a bounty on his head, and pursuers came after him.

Jaha killed them all without hesitation. The number of people chasing him only grew, but his sword never faltered.

Eventually, he traced his sister’s trail to the Western Continent.

Two years passed as he pursued the girls trafficked from the Eastern Continent.

It was nearly impossible to find his sister. Too much time had passed, and too few remembered.

But after a relentless search, he finally arrived at the Setora Viscount’s estate.

Just before he climbed the wall, all he had prayed for was that she had survived. When Viscount Setora saw Jaha’s face, he remembered his younger sister Jaryeon

But then—

“Aah, that frail little wench’s brother? I paid a fortune for her, but she barely lasted and died! What a loss. But you can make up for it, can’t you?”

His six-year-old baby sister had died long ago.

And when the man mocked her even in death, Jaha lost his mind.

He didn’t stop killing until nothing moved anymore.

His vision burned red from twisted blood vessels and surging energy.

Many died from qi deviation—yet he, inexplicably, had survived.

Was it bad luck, or good?

…

Jaha collapsed where he stood and sobbed.

Even after vengeance, the tears wouldn’t stop.

His cries were ragged, almost like a wounded beast’s, his breath hitching between sobs. He didn’t even think to wipe away the tears soaking his cheeks or the snot running down his philtrum.

He pounded his fists—against the ground, against his chest. The clanking of the chains around his wrists only made the grief swell inside him.

He didn’t know why.

The tears just wouldn’t stop, so he let them flow until they did.

At some point, he found himself lying face-down on the cold floor, sobbing uncontrollably. When he finally sensed someone’s presence, he lifted his head.

A familiar blond-haired man was leaping over the railing beside him.

Whether it was the moonlight shining down on him or the blur in Jaha’s tear-filled vision, the man’s figure seemed to glow.

Like the fireflies of summer, specks of green light flickered and drifted toward Jaha, surrounding him. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing out the tears pooled on his lashes, then looked up.

The man frowned in irritation as he gazed down at Jaha and muttered,

“You’re really making things difficult for me.”

His face looked utterly exhausted. Unlike Jaha, who had rested for days, he seemed as if he hadn’t slept at all—his sunken eyes and weary expression made that clear.

“Jaha.”

The man lowered himself and crouched beside him, arms resting on his knees as he let out a deep sigh.

“Do you want to go back?”

Jaha’s eyes widened. He couldn’t nod, nor could he shake his head.

If asked whether he wanted to go back—yes, he did.

But where?

His home had long since become a haunted ruin. His family was gone.

There was nowhere to return to.

Tears welled up again, blurring his vision. Jaha hung his head low, staring at the droplets that fell onto the marble floor.

I want to go back. I want to see Mother, Father, and Jaryeon…

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Grief surged up again, making his back tremble.

As his shoulders shook with sobs, something warm pressed against his head.

Even without looking, he knew.

The man had placed his burning-hot palm on Jaha’s crown, quietly murmuring his name.

“Jaha, Don’t cry.”

In awkward, halting pronunciation, he kept repeating the same words.

“Don’t cry, Jaha.”

Was he trying to comfort him, or was he simply commanding him?

Each time those clumsy words reached his ears, Jaha sobbed harder, to the point of suffocation.

The man slowly ran his hand down Jaha’s trembling back, as if trying to soothe him.

Even though his body heat seeped through the thin fabric, Jaha still felt unbearably cold.

Only when the man’s warmth fully enveloped him did his shivering subside.

“Stop crying, please. You’re driving me insane.”

Marsilia pulled Jaha into his arms and whispered.

His voice, weighed down with helpless sorrow, reached Jaha’s ears.

Before he even realized it, Jaha’s fingers clutched desperately at the fabric of his clothes.