IYAMD: Episode 3

“Ridiculous.” Seres, who had long been by Marsilia’s side, would have known very well that such a thing was impossible.

“It will take time to get an answer from the temple. For now, we’ll observe the situation and decide later.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Seres’ face turned increasingly pale. The smell of decay filled the cramped carriage, and it seemed he was about to be sick.

“Pathetic.”

Even as Marsilia openly mocked him, Ceres didn’t seem to have the strength to retort.

“I will die, Your Majesty.”

As though he had decided to stop breathing altogether, Seres mumbled in a stuffy voice. Honestly, the smell of rotting flesh was even worse than regular filth.

The wound had been treated, but the stench of death on him was still there. It was so bad that it almost felt as though he had dragged a corpse that had been buried for a month.

“You’re bearing it well, Your Majesty.”

“I’m used to it.”

Marsilia replied shortly to Seres, keeping his eyes locked on the unmoving figure of the man in front of him.

He initially thought that the dim lighting in the cell was the cause of it, but the man’s hair was even darker than the night sky. It couldn’t just be dirt making it that black, could it?

While Marsilia was lost in thought, the carriage jolted again. Both Seres and Marsilia leaned to stabilize themselves, but the man, like a sack of potatoes, collapsed toward the floor.

Had Marsilia not caught him before he hit the ground, he would have slammed his face into the chair next to Ceres.

Marsilia frowned involuntarily at the stench coming from the body in his arms.

“I’ll need a bath as soon as we return.”

Not just because the man was filthy, but because Marsilia himself would likely smell the same. Even if he submerged himself in a tub full of fragrant oils, he doubted that this stench would go away. It was that overpowering.

Still, Marsilia didn’t release the dirty body. The road was rough, and the carriage was shaking with every bump.

Marsilia couldn’t help but stare at the man’s dark, tangled hair. He couldn’t tell whether it had become that black from grime or something else.

As he was thinking, the carriage lurched again. Both Seres and Marsilia steadied themselves, but the man collapsed again, unmoving.

After about three hours, they finally arrived at the Imperial Palace. During the journey, the carriage had been completely silent. Seres didn’t speak as he held his breath, and Marsilia didn’t feel like talking, so he remained silent as well.

The only sounds in the carriage were the rhythmic sound of hooves and the rolling of the wheels.

When the carriage finally stopped at the back entrance of the Imperial Palace, Marsilia once again wrapped the man in his cloak.

As they disembarked, the waiting servants led them inside.

“As per your orders, we’ve prepared a room close to your bedroom.”

Marsilia followed the servants to a room next to his bedroom and reception room. It had been Marsilia’s office in the palace, but it had now been redecorated like a bedroom.

Marsilia immediately gave instructions to the attendants.

“Bring in the bath. Change the water a few times, and make sure it’s warm.”

The attendants brought the man into the room, and Marsilia removed his cloak, tossing it aside. Several attendants gathered to remove the man’s clothes. The clothes were so ragged that it was almost embarrassing to call them clothes.

While they were undressing the man, Marsilia removed his own outer coat and one of the attendants wiped him down with a towel soaked in fragrant water. Once he changed into a tunic, Marsilia turned around to inspect the man’s filthy, thin body.

With a sigh, Marsilia muttered under his breath, “He’s terribly skinny.”

Could someone like this even have children? If he was to father a child, his body would need to gain some weight first. He was tall, but with his emaciated body, it was as if a scarecrow had been placed in front of him.

A filthy scarecrow, abandoned in a barley field, rotting away after standing through wind and rain for months.

The bath was soon ready, and Marsilia stepped back, watching as the attendants bathed the man. The attendants had to bring in fresh water several times as they cleaned him.

As the water gradually became clearer, the man’s dry skin was exposed. Even though he had received brief treatment in prison, there were still numerous scars across his body. The amount of divine energy Marsilia had used wasn’t enough to completely erase them.

However, aside from those, his body wasn’t in too bad of a shape. Unlike people from the Western continent, his skin was pale and smooth, like white porcelain from the Eastern continent.

His delicate features, though malnourished, would be quite beautiful if he gained some weight.

His long, black hair gleamed with a glossy shine, as if it had been oiled and combed many times. It framed his pale face perfectly, complementing his sharp features.

Marsilia observed the man like a work of art, watching as he got out of the bath and dried off. The attendants dressed him, though the clothes they found for him were far too large. The pants didn’t even fit, dragging on the ground. The tunic was the only thing that fit, though it was still too big.

Seeing how awkward the attendants were, Marsilia waved them away.

“We’ll need to have some clothes made for him. Have the tailor come tomorrow.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Suddenly, Ceres’ voice interrupted the silence.

“What’s going on? You haven’t left yet?”

“Yes?”

Marsilia turned toward Ceres and waved his hand.

“Go wash. You smell.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Come to the reception room after.”

Once Ceres left, slumping his shoulders, the attendants quickly got to work cleaning up the room.

In the midst of the bustling servants, the man stood still, not reacting at all.

Marsilia continued to watch him quietly. The attendants, sensing Marsilia’s gaze, didn’t dare approach and stood nervously, unsure of what to do.

The man’s scars were visible beneath the tunic, stretching from his thighs down. The long-healed scars looked uneven and distorted, indicating they hadn’t been treated properly.

Marsilia stepped forward and placed a hand on the man’s thigh. The skin, still damp from the bath, felt cool and moist. His body temperature was slightly higher than before.

“Trust in my power. One day, I will perform a miracle upon you.”

As Marsilia activated his divine power, a faint breeze surrounded the man. The dark green wind gently swirled around him.

His long, unkempt hair shifted slightly, and his drooping eyebrows lifted slowly.

For the first time, their eyes met. His eyes, once lifeless, now glistened with sharpness, surrounded by a green glow. They resembled the color of dandelions, filled with intent.

As the divine energy faded, the breeze disappeared, and his hair slowly settled. His eyes, now that the light had dimmed, took on an even deeper yellow hue.

Marsilia muttered the word that suddenly came to his mind.

“Jaha?”

That one word was all Marsilia knew about him, and seeing the man look lucid, he found that he couldn’t speak any further.

When the warm breeze wrapped around him, Jaha finally registered the green eyes that had been staring at him.

A deep green hue. It reminded him of a time when the first shoots of barley would rise from the soil.

“Brother!”

The memory of his younger sister, rushing towards him, flashed in his mind. It was a spring day when he had left to follow his teacher, claiming to be on a training journey.

It was still early morning, and he hadn’t received a proper send-off before leaving.

In the dim light before dawn, the face of his little sister, with her chubby cheeks frozen red from the cold morning air, gradually came closer.

Zaha slowly extended his hand, intending to take the tiny, pebble-like hand of his little sister, smaller than his own waist.

“Jaryeon.”

“Brother must go. But I’ll grow stronger than anyone and come back to you.” This was what he hadn’t been able to say because of the tears filling his sister’s eyes.

Jaha closed his trembling lips and shut his eyes quietly. There was no moisture in his dry eyes, and no sound came from his dry throat.

Jaha understood.

This was a dream.

A daydream with no basis, created by self-blame and despair.

Otherwise, how could he have seen her again?