IYAMD: Episode 5

“Has your mind come back? Can you understand what I’m saying?”

Jaha had a rough understanding of the common language of the Western Continent. After searching for his younger sibling for two years, he had learned it in a somewhat hasty way.

However, Jaha did not answer. He didn’t know where he was or who the man was, and for some reason, it felt like his throat was stuck, making it hard to speak.

The man, thinking that Jaha didn’t understand, scratched his eyebrow with his finger. The awkwardness in his expression and mannerism was faintly visible in the darkness.

“Dammit.”

The man muttered a curse and then disappeared for a moment. The large man moved almost silently.

From far away, a faint sound of a bell seemed to ring, and suddenly, the air was filled with the presence of people.

Jaha was surprised at how he hadn’t noticed the presence of others until now. Perhaps it was because of the overwhelming presence of the man. As someone who was trained in martial arts, Jaha could feel the presence of others, but he couldn’t explain why he hadn’t noticed until now.

The sound of a door opening was heard, and a calm yet firm voice of a man spoke.

“Prepare the meal.”

“What about the courtiers, Your Majesty? They are still waiting,” came the reply. Courtiers, Your Majesty. Jaha faintly realized who the man might be. Was he the Emperor of Argen?

But Jaha had no idea why he was in the palace. While Jaha was deep in thought, a weak light appeared beyond the curtain like a star.

The man’s shadow stretched long across the thick fabric, and then he pushed it aside and emerged once again.

“Prepare a place for the courtiers. Tell them to wait until I call them in the morning.” The man ordered the servant while standing beside Jaha’s bed, looking down at him. The man’s face, shadowed by the light, was hard to see, but his eyes stood out vividly.

When did I see those eyes? Jaha, staring at the strange yet familiar eyes, suddenly felt a sharp headache and grimaced in pain.

A piercing pain, like a needle pricking his brain, surged. Ugh. Gasping for breath, Jaha held his head and bowed it down.

It felt as if someone was trying to split his head open. As he struggled to breathe, the man called his name.

“Jaha?”

How does he know my name? Jaha hadn’t used that name since crossing the Eastern Continent. How does this man know it?

Even in pain, Jaha lifted his head to look at the man. The man was now sitting close beside the bed, with one knee on the bed, their eyes meeting.

In that instant, a scene flashed across Jaha’s mind. A dark prison, a green light wrapping around his body, and those green eyes of the man.

What is this? The fragmented memory quickly vanished, and Jaha desperately searched his mind for the source of this memory. Where have I seen this man before?

Every time he searched his memory, his hands trembled. Is it fear? What am I afraid of? Jaha continued to fumble through his thoughts with a confused expression.

His vision wavered. In the quick movements of his eyes, he saw the man, the unfamiliar bed, and the lights flickering behind him.

“Malek, call the physician.”

As the man shouted, Jaha suddenly recalled a memory. It was the time when he had chased someone, hiding in the Setora estate in search of Jaryeon’s whereabouts.

In the brief flash of the memory, Jaha saw people lying on the ground, covered in blood.

The memory came back—the time when he chased someone down and swung his sword, the hot blood splattering onto his face, and the nauseating smell.

Ugh. Jaha’s stomach turned, and he started gagging. As he struggled to suppress the nausea, he realized that he couldn’t hear his own voice.

The sounds of his gasping breath were deafening, but no other sound reached his ears. It was strange that even the sounds of him vomiting didn’t reach his ears.

When the nausea briefly stopped, Jaha felt a hot body temperature on his shoulder. He looked up in surprise, and through the strands of his disheveled hair, he saw green eyes.

Go away

Jaha, his lips trembling, pushed the man away. His eyes were burning, and it felt as though fire was spreading in his chest.

Don’t look. Get away.

The more Jaha’s eyes met the man’s, the larger the flame in his chest grew. In an instant, the fire seemed to burn even more intensely, and Jaha clutched his chest.

It felt like he couldn’t breathe, as if the air was running out. The heat spread everywhere—his eyes, ears, nostrils, and mouth—like the flames coming from his chest.

He opened his mouth, but still no sound came out. Desperately, Jaha tried to speak, but his voice was gone.

During that moment, the warmth from the man’s body faded away. As that happened, Jaha’s body began to shake uncontrollably. His chest still burned with heat, but his body felt cold, like he had fallen into ice water.

Jaha thrashed around in agony, trying to tear at his chest with his trembling hands. The thin fabric of his clothes tore, and his nails scraped against his ribs.

In the distorted vision, a loud sound echoed. Jaha, unable to recognize the source, continued to struggle in pain.

The fire in his chest felt unbearable, and he wanted to tear apart his ribs to end the torment. But then, suddenly, his arms wouldn’t move.

He saw large hands gripping his wrists. Jaha struggled to free himself, but no matter how hard he pushed, the hands wrapped around his arms like vines.

Jaha scratched and clawed at the man’s arm, but the grip remained firm.

Let go, please.

Jaha couldn’t lift his head. No, he couldn’t bear to look up. If he looked at the green eyes, something that he didn’t want to remember would resurface.

It seemed like it would only make the pain worse. So, with all his strength, he pushed the man away, but the man’s grip was so strong that it didn’t let go.

The hands were so hot, hotter than the flames inside Jaha’s chest. But why wasn’t it painful? Jaha, momentarily stunned, looked down at the man’s hands gripping his arms.

Jaha’s senses were focused on the heat from the man’s hands. Because of that, the flames inside his chest didn’t feel as painful as before. However, the remaining pain still made him gasp.

At that moment, the man’s voice came, soft but steady.

A green wind blew from his hands. The wind quickly wrapped around Jaha’s arms and spread across his body, causing the fire in his chest to slowly die down.

Jaha closed his eyes. His chest heaved, as if he were about to cry. His rough breaths tore through his body, but his eyes felt dry, as if they had been drained of tears.

As the heat from his eyes faded, the warmth from his breath and ears slowly cooled.

The pounding in his chest lasted for what felt like a long time, and a cool breeze gently swept across Jaha’s body. His hair floated up and scattered into the air.

Only then did the tears in his eyes seem to freeze. Before they could fall, Jaha lost consciousness.

The moment Marsilia stopped using his divine power, he collapsed backward, seemingly unconscious. He looked at his own arm, where deep scratches remained from Jaha’s claws.

The marks on his body still had blood on them.

The wounds that Jaha had made on his chest and arms had already healed, leaving no trace of the damage.

Marcilia, who had quickly risen to the level of Sword Master after taking the throne, found it strange that someone of his strength could endure such pain from Jaha’s claws.

The scars on his arms were deep, as though cut by a blade, and it was surprising that they hadn’t been healed by his powers.

Marcilia felt like he wanted to click his tongue at the monstrous strength that was emanating from the fragile body before him, as if it could break at any moment.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the other palace attendants would be able to handle this. His thoughts immediately turned to worry.

After ascending to the throne, it didn’t take long for Marcilia to reach the level of a Sword Master. How many times had he shaken off such overwhelming strength?

The wounds left on his body were just as surprising. Seeing the scratches that looked like they’d been made by a blade, as if they had been cut, made him incredulous.

If this man starts causing more trouble, will the palace staff even survive? Marcilia, lost in thought, noticed Ashton, the head of the attendants, approach him.

“Your Majesty, you should treat your wounds.”

“Right,” Marsilia said, sighing as he handed his arm over to the healer his attendants had brought.

Marcilia’s divine power was renowned for being the strongest of all time, but it didn’t work well on him.

While it was effective for purification and defense, healing was an exception. It wasn’t that it didn’t work at all, but to heal even small wounds, he had to pour out dozens of times more divine power than he would use for others.

He’d heard that his frequent exposure to divine power as a child might have led to a resistance to it, but no one could say for sure.

Whatever the reason, it was Marcilia’s biggest weakness. Fortunately, his body, forged through years of intense sword training, was strong and resilient enough to withstand the consequences.

Marcilia looked down at the unconscious man before him with a sinking feeling.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had invited trouble into the palace, and it irked him that it reminded him of his own vulnerability, something he hadn’t thought about in a while.

Should I just leave him here? He had told Sereth that he couldn’t kill the man, but less than a day had passed, and he found himself questioning that decision.

Maybe it would be better to just kill him and wait for another destined partner . With a sigh, Marsilia clicked his tongue softly as he gazed at the man who seemed submerged in black water.