IYAMD : Episode 36

Marsilia gazed at Jaha’s black hair, which cascaded down his back like an ink-made waterfall. The dim candlelight in the tent flickered against the strands, making them shimmer softly.

Is it still wet?

Marsilia tilted his head and rested it near Jaha’s shoulder blades, as if burying his face there.

Immediately, the damp hair clung to his face. The wet texture reminded him of seaweed sticking to his skin.

As Marsilia chuckled at the odd sensation, Jaha squirmed uncomfortably and subtly shifted away.

“You finally look at me.”

Jaha frowned deeply, his lips moving in quick, silent protest. It was nearly impossible to decipher the words when he spoke so fast.

“Hosekhan* ? What’s that?”

TN/ “호색한” (Hosekhan) is a term that refers to a person who is excessively fond of or obsessed with sensual pleasures, particularly related to lust or promiscuity. 

Marsilia barely managed to catch the unfamiliar word and asked about it.

Jaha, however, immediately shut his mouth. But judging by his still-furrowed brow and sharp gaze, he was far from appeased.

Was even that brief contact unpleasant for him?

Marsilia quietly observed him before withdrawing.

For a while now, he had been studying Jaha’s reactions—trying to figure out what kinds of interactions he was comfortable with.

Jaha was a man whose expression rarely changed, making it difficult to read his emotions. Even Marsilia, who prided himself on being perceptive, found himself uncertain more often than not.

And yet, there had been subtle shifts.

Whenever Marsilia initiated conversation, Jaha would at least respond. He no longer flinched at the slightest touch.

Thinking back, Jaha acted as if he were covered in thorns, yet he was surprisingly soft-hearted.

Whenever Marsilia looked exhausted, Jaha’s gaze would linger on him, as if concerned.

Sometimes, Jaha would give him a look—one that suggested he wanted to ask something but was holding back.

It was a stark contrast to the time when he had simply sat there, lost in hopeless despair.

The change had happened in less than fifteen days, and at times, even Marsilia found it startling.

That was why he wanted to talk to Jaha.

Even if it was about trivial matters, he wanted to hear his voice, to know what he was thinking.

Jaha often spoke in the Western Continent’s common language, but his lip movements were imprecise, making it difficult to decipher his words.

It made Marsilia suspect that Jaha had never properly learned the language.

His pronunciation was unclear, and whenever he struggled, the movement of his tongue and lips seemed off as well.

“Answer me, Jaha. What did you just say?”

Even now, Marsilia was focusing all his attention on reading his lips.

Since he couldn’t tell if Jaha had spoken in Eastern or Western Continent language, he had to rely on guessing the pronunciation to piece the words together.

“Ba…ram…doongi?”

Marsilia hesitantly repeated the syllables he had managed to make out.

Jaha immediately nodded.

“So you’re calling me a playboy?”

Before Marsilia could even appreciate the fact that they had finally understood each other, he was too busy feeling wronged.

Jaha seemed to want to say more.

His lips moved more clearly than usual, and as Marsilia focused on deciphering them, he suddenly felt like he was setting himself up for trouble.

“A frivolous man?”

Jaha nodded again, touching his own body here and there as if demonstrating something.

Is he saying he doesn’t like being touched?

But playboy? Frivolous?

Marsilia raised his eyebrows in protest.

“I’m not that kind of man, Jaha. I’ve never—”

He stopped short.

He had been about to say that he had never touched anyone but Jaha, but the words wouldn’t come out.

And even saying he had touched Jaha felt ridiculous.

The kiss at the banquet had been no more than a chaste peck—something even children would dismiss as trivial.

Who in the world would call that a real kiss?

The idea of being labeled a playboy when he hadn’t even had a proper kiss made Marsilia irrationally frustrated.

As his expression twisted in irritation, Jaha’s face scrunched up as well, as if he refused to back down.

Since he couldn’t articulate his feelings, it seemed like he was determined to express them through his expressions instead.

Marsilia couldn’t help but let out a breathless laugh at the rare sight of Jaha displaying such an assertive range of emotions.

“To prove my innocence, I suppose we should sleep separately tonight.”

Marsilia stood up and glanced around.

But why was there not a single spare blanket?

Did that mean he had to sleep on the bare ground?

With no other choice, Marsilia sat down beside the bed, resting directly on the floor.

As he leaned his head back, he figured he could probably fall asleep like this.

Still, he called out to Jaha in a relaxed voice.

“Jaha, lie down. It’s late.”

With that, Marsilia reached for the nearby candle and snuffed it out.

As if a bucket of darkness had been poured over the tent, everything was suddenly engulfed in blackness.

For a moment, his unadjusted eyes saw absolutely nothing, making him feel as if he had gone blind.

Jaha, who hadn’t yet properly lain down, was probably experiencing the same.

Marsilia rested his head against the side of the bed and whispered quietly,

“Good night, Jaha.”

Finally, he heard the faint rustle of fabric as Jaha lay down.

Slowly, as his eyes adjusted, he began to make out the faint shapes of objects scattered around the tent.

Holding his breath, he listened for any further sounds from Jaha.

And when he heard nothing, he let out a quiet sigh.

It felt like this was going to be a very long night.

Jaha lay with his back turned to Marsilia, slowly blinking.

Was it that his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness? Or was it simply too dark?

Even the cream-colored fabric of the tent had lost its color, swallowed entirely by the shadows.

At the sound of a quiet sigh behind him, Jaha instinctively curled his shoulders inward.

That small sound felt suffocating.

So did his gaze.

The way Marsilia sometimes looked at him—as if expecting something—made it hard to breathe.

Even now, it was the same.

Just the suggestion of sharing a bed had placed an expectation in the man’s eyes.

And that expectation froze Jaha in place.

He had seen that look before.

Whenever Marsilia spoke of waiting ten years for him, whenever he asked Jaha to stay by his side, he sometimes gazed at him with that exact expression.

Jaha didn’t even want to know what Marsilia was hoping for.

Because he had no intention of giving it to him.

Whether it was love, or an heir—it made no difference.

Sometimes, Marsilia looked at him as if gazing at something far away.

And in those moments, Jaha wondered—was Marsilia truly looking at him?

The man who claimed to have waited a decade…

What exactly had he been waiting for?

How could he have spent ten years yearning for someone whose gender, age—even race—he hadn’t known?

That was why Jaha found it all the more suspicious.

Maybe Marsilia hadn’t been waiting for Yu Jaha as a person.

Maybe all he had ever wanted was the title of a soulmate.

Maybe all he needed was Jaha’s name.

And every time that thought crossed Jaha’s mind, he felt the urge to push Marsilia even further away.

I should’ve never followed him.

The air felt impossibly heavy, making it hard to breathe.

Like the weight of disappointment in Marsilia’s sunken gaze—bearing down on him.

Jaha exhaled a quiet sigh, barely making a sound as he rested his hand beneath his head.

Even that tiny movement drew a response.

A whisper reached him from behind.

“Can’t sleep?”

Jaha didn’t answer.

Didn’t move.

He simply closed his eyes.

There was a rustling noise as Marsilia shifted positions.

A moment later, his voice—once directed at empty space—now reached Jaha’s back.

“Are you asleep?”

The sound was slightly muffled, as if his lips were pressed against something.

Then, in a low murmur, Marsilia continued speaking, as if talking to himself.

“Holding someone’s hand… It’s something I was taught to do since childhood. When escorting someone into a carriage, walking down stairs—even standing up from a chair—I was always told to extend my hand.”

Then, more softly, he added,

“Of course, that’s etiquette meant for a lady.”

It was an admission.

An unintentional slip—confessing that, all this time, he had been treating Jaha like a woman.

Jaha had expected this.

Ever since hearing about soulmates, he had seen this coming.

Still, he twisted his lips in silent frustration, keeping his eyes shut.

So that’s why he never reached for my hand.

Even when he needed all the help he could get, Marsilia hadn’t counted Jaha as part of his strength.

Why?

Jaha had no reason to care.

No reason to feel anything about it.

And yet—something inside him twisted.

“I don’t know, Jaha.”

Marsilia’s voice was quiet.

“I don’t know how to treat you. I spent ten years imagining what it would be like to meet you, but honestly… you are beyond anything I ever imagined.”

Another sigh rippled through the silence of the tent.

Marsilia’s voice was weary.

“What should I have done? It never even crossed my mind that my soulmate would hate me. That they would want to die rather than stay with me. In my imagination, Jaha, you always recognized me instantly. You always ran to me, and I… I always opened my arms to you.”

A soft sound—fabric sliding.

Then, the faintest touch against Jaha’s hair.

Marsilia had reached out.

His fingers lightly brushed against a strand before he asked,

“Sometimes, even I don’t know what I’ve been waiting for. Jaha, you’re not the only one who’s confused.”

His voice was low, carrying a quiet chill.

Then, withdrawing his hand, Marsilia muttered tiredly,

“Forget it. It’s just the ramblings of a weak man. I hope you’ve already fallen asleep. I hope you didn’t hear a word of this.”

And after that, he said nothing more.

Only the occasional, weary sigh pressing against Jaha’s back reminded him that Marsilia was still awake.

At some point, Jaha’s eyes opened.

He stared into the darkness, unmoving.

Until—at last—the dim light of dawn seeped into the tent, revealing the pale, cream-colored fabric once more.