RHH | Chapter 1.1

The hound bit the leash.

Tall, with a neat face, a friendly personality, and even a diligent nature—at eighteen years old, Sung Leehwan was the kind of boy who could probably do well anywhere. But he never imagined that “anywhere” would include another world.

If he had known, he would have at least read the fantasy novels his friend had recommended. On the first day of his arrival, Leehwan regretted spending his past years solely on studying.

“Sometimes, things like this happen. They’re called dimensional wanderers…”

By the time Leehwan had gotten a decent grasp of the unfamiliar language, his assigned teacher explained this to him.

“There must be a way to go back, right?”

His desperate question was met with a vague answer—matters that belonged to the domain of the gods were beyond the understanding of ordinary people. And so, Leehwan decided to rely on the powerful figure in the Imperial Palace where he had taken refuge.

The Crown Prince Charles, who was the same age as Leehwan, agreed to help this unusual guest from another world. It took quite a while before the scholar they had summoned finally arrived, but in the end, Leehwan got an answer.

“According to ancient records, there have been cases where dimensional wanderers were sent back.”

“So, you’re saying it’s not completely impossible?”

“That’s true, but…”

The historical text, easily over a thousand years old, looked like it would crumble at the slightest touch. Even Leehwan could see how faded and deteriorated the characters were. Yet, the idea that more clues could be found in similar documents made even the musty old parchment seem strangely fragrant.

However, the research hit a wall—there simply weren’t enough people to help.

The empire Pierenniac, where Leehwan resided, was at war against flesh-eating monsters. With things as they were, asking for manpower for research felt impossible.

“I apologize. If it were just about our guest, I would assign people to help somehow, but…”

One day, the Crown Prince personally expressed his regrets. It’s not your fault, Your Highness. Leehwan said the expected formalities, but that didn’t make his anxiety any easier to bear.

Seeing this, Charles made a suggestion—he should train his body.

To everyone’s surprise, Leehwan had a talent for the sword. A skill he never would have discovered had he not come to this world. On top of that, for some reason, he was far stronger than he had been on Earth.

The day he defeated the Captain of the Royal Knights, Leehwan had a thought—if the war was the reason his research was stalled, then all he had to do was end the war as quickly as possible. And with that, he threw himself into battle.

What he didn’t realize was that his decision, which he believed was purely his own, had been a meticulously planned move all along. By the time he started questioning it, he was already known by a different name.

“Sir Alexander.”

A seventeen-year-old Fifth Prince with a pout on his face approached him.

Alexander Sung Leehwan. The name was an odd mix, but it was the title granted to him by the Emperor after he distinguished himself in his first battle. The people of this world found his real name too difficult to pronounce, so they simply called him Alexander.

For someone born and raised in South Korea, it was an embarrassingly grand name. But strangely, Leehwan didn’t dislike the extravagant sound of it.

“Where have you been? Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting for you?”

Because the one calling him by that name was an utterly lovable prince.

Lucien Croix del Pierenniac. Four years younger than Leehwan, he was the only one who treated Leehwan casually, despite the fact that he was revered by all as the Messenger of God Iella.

Falling in love had been instantaneous, but its depth was infinite. Leehwan fought for his beloved, pushing aside all doubts. Their kisses were stolen in secrecy, for Lucien was shy—but even those fleeting moments brought him happiness.

And now, at twenty-seven, a new chapter of his life was unfolding.

Cough, cough—

The sound of coughing filled the tent. It was wet, as if something was blocking his throat. The coughing soon subsided, leaving only a shallow sigh in its wake.

Leehwan stared down at the blood-soaked towel in his hands. No matter how many times he saw it, he never got used to that color.

His coughing fits had started last year and were growing worse. Just last month, he had even coughed up blood. The doctor he had secretly visited had told him that it was already too late to do anything. Since then, he had carefully hidden all traces of his illness. If people found out, it could shake the morale of the entire human army.

After rinsing his mouth with water, he habitually burned the stained towel.

That was when he heard familiar footsteps approaching the tent. Quickly, he wiped his mouth one last time with his sleeve, ensuring there were no traces of blood. Just as he confirmed he was clean, the footsteps came to a stop outside.

“It’s me, Sir Alexander. May I come in?”

“Come in.”

As expected, it was his lieutenant, Duku Langbür. The moment Duku stepped into the barracks, he skipped any formal greeting and spoke immediately. That alone was enough to emphasize the gravity of the news he was about to deliver—something utterly uncharacteristic for the ever-diligent Duku.

“A dispatch from the Imperial Capital has arrived. A dragon has delivered a ceasefire proposal to His Majesty.”

“A ceasefire proposal? Who to whom?”

Even though Sung Leehwan knew that the ever-serious Duku would never joke about something like this, he couldn’t help but ask again. His ears refused to believe what they had just heard. Duku, looking just as troubled and skeptical, answered with a complicated expression.

“The dragon… to His Majesty.”

Leehwan glanced down at the sword hanging at his waist. The golden and ruby-encrusted blade had been drenched in monster blood just two hours ago. And now… a ceasefire?

Just as he was about to speak again, a voice rang out urgently from outside the barracks.

“Sir Alexander! Monsters!”

Leehwan gripped his sword and rushed out. His opponent today was a gargoyle—monsters known for their superior mobility. Even the slightest delay could spell disaster for his allies.

But the moment he stepped outside, he froze in place. What he saw was the complete opposite of what he had expected.

The gargoyles, their wings covered in leathery membranes, were retreating. The ones at the front remained wary, their sharp eyes fixed on him, but the ones at the back had already flown far away.

Duku asked, “Should we pursue them?”

“……Wait.”

Leehwan hesitated before giving his order.

An hour later, only Leehwan’s knighthood remained standing on the vast plains. Staring in the direction where the monsters had disappeared, he finally spoke.

“We’re returning to the Imperial Capital.”

Upon his return, Leehwan and his fellow knights were ordered to remain on standby. The other knights all went home, and Leehwan, as always, headed to the one place where his heart found solace.

But his beloved Lucien was not there.

“He left for an inspection of his territory?”

Lucien’s estate was in the distant southern region. Though small, it was solidly built and prosperous enough to attract jealousy from his siblings, who did not view him favorably. Perhaps because of that, Lucien would personally visit his estate multiple times a year.

“If it’s urgent, shall I send a messenger to His Highness?” a servant offered.

Leehwan shook his head. He couldn’t call someone back from official duty just because he wanted to see him.

“When he returns, let him know I came by.”

“I’ll make sure to deliver the message.”

Leehwan returned alone to his residence. In this world, his residence was a small annex within the Imperial Palace. Despite the presence of live-in servants who constantly maintained the place, the air always felt cold whenever he returned.

Passing through the ornately carved door—a depiction of a winged wolf, a creature said to protect its owner—Leehwan stepped inside.

After soaking his dust-covered body in a bath prepared by the servants, he headed to his bedroom. Having spent several nights without proper rest, exhaustion clung to his body. Yet, the moment his head touched the pillow, sleep refused to come.

Tossing and turning, his mind wandered to various thoughts.

The first thing that came to mind was the urgent news Duku had relayed. Later, when he reported his return to the Crown Prince, he had confirmed it as true.

The Dragon King of the Monsters had proposed a ceasefire.

Perhaps it was only now, after returning home and allowing himself to relax, that the reality of it all finally sank in. Leehwan repeated one particular word in his mind.

Ceasefire. A temporary halt in war.

But as someone born in South Korea, to him, that word meant something closer to the end of war itself.

The war was ending. That meant he would no longer have to wield his sword.

At that moment, a gut-wrenching pain seized his stomach. Leehwan curled in on himself, his body trembling. Overwhelmed by nausea, he coughed violently. Clumps of blood spilled onto the pristine sheets.

If the ceasefire held, if he could finally rest—then perhaps his illness would improve, even just a little.

Then, maybe, he could finally fulfill the dream he had always longed for.

As he clung to the pain, he envisioned the future—one where he and Lucien would move south, where they would find peace at last.

𓂃 ོ☼𓂃

Fifteen days had passed since Leehwan’s return to the Imperial Capital. Lucien had yet to come back.

Having no skills beyond fighting monsters, Leehwan spent his time reading.

Time crawled at a sluggish pace when spent with books. Training would have been a welcome distraction, but his illness prevented him from exerting himself. Bored beyond belief, Leehwan finally decided to sneak out and visit a friend.

Dressed in worn-out clothes, Sung Leehwan slipped out of the Imperial Palace and headed for the bustling streets. As he entered his usual tavern, the owner acknowledged him with a slight nod. Sitting in a corner seat, he ordered a beer and a mildly seasoned mushroom dish, keeping his gaze fixed on the door.

How long had he waited? Watching the endless flow of people coming and going, his anticipation and disappointment repeated in cycles. The face he had been waiting for finally appeared deep into the night. Leehwan lifted his hand with a faint smile.

“Over here.”

Perhaps hearing his not-so-loud call, his friend turned his head toward him. No matter how many times he saw him, it was impossible not to be amazed by his beauty—Absalom had arrived.

“This way, Rlom.”

Absalom approached Leehwan, drawing countless gazes with every step he took. But he seemed completely unaware of the attention, keeping his eyes solely on Leehwan.

“It’s been a while.”

The last time Leehwan had seen Absalom was a month ago. Back then, he had said something strange with a peculiar expression.

‘I can’t do this anymore.’

At the time, Leehwan hadn’t fully grasped what he meant, yet a vague sense of fear crept in.

‘Does that mean you’ll never see me again?’

Thinking about it now, it was an embarrassingly desperate question. Absalom had silently watched him for a moment before curling his red lips into something that resembled a smile. In that expression, Leehwan had seen exhaustion.

‘That would never happen.’