IYAMD: Episode 33

Marsilia fell asleep quickly.

While he slept, Jaha decided to remain still and meditate.

As time passed, he could feel the warmth of Marsilia’s body gradually rising where it touched his thigh.

During that time, Jaha took a moment to scan his own physical state. Perhaps it was thanks to Marsilia’s power, but he could feel the inner energy in his spiritual core slowly recovering. Maybe around seventy percent had returned.

When he finished meditating and opened his eyes, he looked down.

Marsilia seemed to be in a deep sleep. But from the slight furrow of his brows, it didn’t look like he was having a pleasant dream.

Jaha gazed quietly at his sleeping face, then turned his head at the subtle sound of Malek entering the tent.

“Dinner is almost ready, Your Majesty.”

There had been a lot of noise outside for a while—so that must have been the preparation.

Jaha gently shook Marsilia’s shoulder. While rest was important, they had only eaten simple rations for lunch, so they needed to eat a proper meal now.

At first, Marsilia didn’t stir. But when Jaha applied a little more pressure, he slowly blinked awake, dazed.

His eyes looked slightly damp—was it because he had just woken up, or had he been having a sad dream?

Marsilia blinked blankly for a moment, then, upon hearing Malek mention dinner, he slowly sat up.

After stretching his arms and shaking off his drowsiness, he quickly regained his usual composure and got to his feet.

There was an imprint on his cheek from his trousers, and Jaha found himself unintentionally staring at it as Marsilia held out his hand to help him up.

Accepting the hand, Jaha rose and pointed to his own cheek, indicating the mark on Marsilia’s face.

But instead of touching his own cheek, Marsilia simply stared at Jaha’s fingertip.

With a sigh, Jaha reached out and rubbed the mark off his face.

“Ah, you meant I had a mark.”

Finally understanding, Marsilia rubbed his own cheek before stepping out of the tent.

Outside, several campfires were burning. A large cauldron in the center bubbled with something simmering inside, while other fires had large iron kettles placed over them.

The knights, who had been waiting with their bowls, immediately rose and bowed when they saw the emperor emerge.

Marsilia approached the central fire, surveying the gathered knights before reciting something.

It wasn’t the common language of the Western Continent, so Jaha couldn’t understand a word of it.

From behind him, Malek whispered discreetly.

“His Majesty is offering a blessing. He always does this when we go on campaign—to protect the knights from illness.”

A blessing, or was he purifying the food to guard against poisoning?

Jaha watched Marsilia’s ritual with mixed feelings.

The emperor, who had already seemed exhausted earlier, was now expending his power again as if it were nothing.

After blessing both the cauldron of stew and the tea kettle, Marsilia finally stepped back.

“We’ll eat, then rest for an hour before setting off again. We’ll ride at full speed until sunset, then slow our pace after dark. Exempt the vanguard from night duty so they can get extra rest.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

After giving various instructions to Marquis Yoncen, Marsilia personally collected two bowls of stew and approached Jaha.

Apparently, he had taken the liberty of bringing Jaha’s portion as well.

Jaha accepted the bowl and was surprised to find that the stew was well-made.

It was filled with fresh meat and vegetables, with a fist-sized piece of bread resting on top.

Where did they get these ingredients?

Jaha was astonished that the knights had carried all this in their supplies.

As he sat down nearby, following Marsilia’s lead, the emperor dipped his bread into the broth and answered his unspoken question.

“The vanguard likely bought provisions from the surrounding lands. Traveling by portal is fast, but it’s hard to transport enough food. So as we move, we buy supplies from nearby territories. That’s why the locals welcome the imperial army—because we bring money into their lands.”

That made sense. Feeding this many people would require a considerable amount of money.

And the stew wasn’t just well-made—it was delicious.

Jaha, who had followed Marsilia’s example and dipped his bread into the broth, chewed slowly, astonished to realize he could actually taste it.

It had been a long time since he had been able to taste food properly.

Had it been three years since he lost his sense of taste? Ever since he last saw Mr. Song, it had been that way.

For years, no matter what he ate, everything had been flavorless.

Yet now, unexpectedly, this simple stew was making his mouth water.

The last time something had triggered this reaction was when Ashton had given him that sharply sour lemonade—but that had been due to the overwhelming acidity.

This, however, was truly mouthwatering in the most satisfying way.

“It’s delicious,” Marsilia mused aloud.

Jaha nodded.

The salty broth, the rich flavors of meat and vegetables, and the blend of spices lingered on his tongue.

It was the first time in so long that swallowing felt like a shame.

As Jaha savored his meal, Marsilia finished his food faster than usual and sipped his tea in silence.

He said nothing, simply sitting beside Jaha.

Jaha chewed his bread slowly, watching the flickering flames of the campfire.

Is this what it means to be alive?

For once, he felt satisfied just because the stew was delicious.

His stomach was full, the warm wind at his back eased the tension in his shoulders, and the faint scent of Marsilia’s tea lingered in the air beside him.

The distant chatter of knights, the crackling of firewood, and the occasional calls of birds returning to their nests filled the evening.

Everything he heard was rich and peaceful.

When Jaha turned his head, Marsilia silently extended his tea cup toward him.

“It’ll help cleanse your palate.”

Without hesitation, Jaha accepted the cup and took a sip.

The refreshing, slightly astringent scent of tea leaves filled his mouth and washed away the heaviness of the stew’s oil.

Marsilia watched as Jaha’s tense expression gradually relaxed.

Then, without warning, he reached out and gently pressed his knuckles against Jaha’s cheek, rubbing in small circles.

“It’s strange,” he murmured.

“You never speak a word, yet I feel like I can hear your voice.

Just now—you said you were full, didn’t you?”

No.

Jaha had only been thinking about how good the tea was.

“No?”

Marsilia asked with a small chuckle, withdrawing his hand.

“What a shame. It would’ve been nice if I was right.”

Marsilia soon got up.

When Jaha moved to stand as well, Marsilia shook his head.

“Stay and rest. I’m going to check if there’s any news from Ferento territory.”

After Marsilia left to find Marquis Yoncen Pablo, Jaha sipped the remaining tea and tilted his head.

The liquid in the cup was just as Marsilia had given it to him, yet the scent from earlier was no longer there.

The tea, now lukewarm and cooling bit by bit—why had it felt so refreshing and fragrant before?

It was one of those things that made no sense.

—

For the next three days, the march continued on a tight schedule.

Gerald, who had fallen behind in the rear guard from the very first day, only managed to catch up on the last day.

After setting up proper encampments and fortifying their position, Marsilia told the knights to get some much-needed rest.

With the late-arriving troops and the Archduke’s knights joining them, the once-spacious clearing was now packed with tents.

Jaha ended up sharing Marsilia’s tent, and when he entered before dinner, he noticed a proper bed had been set up.

The problem?

There was only one.

When Jaha turned toward Marsilia, who had just come in, the emperor also seemed to realize the issue, smiling with an odd expression.

“There’s only one bed.”

Marsilia chuckled, his shoulders shaking.

“You take it. I can sleep on the floor.”

Honestly, Jaha wouldn’t have minded sharing.

If only this man didn’t occasionally try to do strange things, it wouldn’t have been an issue.

But Marsilia was… dangerous.

He had a habit of attempting to steal kisses, constantly holding Jaha’s hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles—always doing things that made Jaha wary.

Even during dinner, Jaha was preoccupied with that problem.

Both of them were equally exhausted, after all. It didn’t sit right to take the only proper sleeping spot for himself.

While Marsilia was away for a strategy meeting, Jaha took the chance to wash up with the water Malek had prepared.

Once he had rinsed off the dust and sweat and washed his hair, drowsiness hit him hard.

He had planned to stay awake until Marsilia returned, but with a full stomach, his eyes drifted shut on their own.

—

A hand touched Jaha’s shoulder as he nodded off where he sat.

Malek, bending down slightly, whispered quietly.

“His Majesty said you may sleep first.”

Jaha wanted to shake his head, to say he was fine.

But sleep’s pull was too strong.

He slowly wriggled his way onto the bed.

It had only been three sleepless nights, yet the exhaustion was overwhelming.

And after just three days, the bed felt unbelievably soft.

The moment he lay down, he felt as if he was sinking into it.

So he didn’t last long. Sleep swallowed him instantly.

—

His muscles, sore from endless hours on horseback, felt as if they were screaming.

Had his body weakened?

Back in the Eastern Continent, he could go ten nights without sleep, constantly on the run, and still be fine.

That hazy thought surfaced in his fading consciousness—

And then, before he could dwell on it, darkness took him completely.

He fell into deep, dreamless sleep, as if he had passed out.