IYAMD: Episode 49

Marsilia endured a headache throughout his sleep. His body trembled, and even in his dreams, the sound of his sorrow escaped him.

Lost in such shallow sleep, he dreamt a tiresome dream.

His father weeping while holding his lifeless mother, and the trembling child clutching the hem of his father’s clothes—that was the dream of his childhood.

Marsilia’s mother had passed away so suddenly. One day, she had collapsed like a wooden puppet with a broken string, and a few days later, she was gone.

The royal physicians judged that it wasn’t poison, and there were no wounds on her body.

Her death, without explanation, led some to suspect that it was an assassination, including Marsilia’s father, Emperor Herzen.

But there was no evidence. The coroner who examined her body found no reason for her death either.

Herzen could never accept her death. After the examination, when he saw her prepared for the funeral, he collapsed in front of the coffin.

Because the Emperor’s grief was so immense, the funeral of Empress Ingrid was delayed by ten days.

For over half a month, the Emperor wept beside her, and even after the funeral, he secluded himself for over a month, neglecting state affairs. The one who took over was Archduke Doton.

The Emperor began to regain some clarity, but it was because of Marsilia. On the day the assassin had intruded into his room, the child had wielded a sword on his own to kill the assassin.

Covered in blood, the child held the sword until his father arrived. When the Emperor saw the child, who was on guard, he finally snapped out of his daze.

However, it wasn’t his desire to live that returned. The Emperor tried to protect his son, but at the same time, he always wished for death.

Every time he longed for Ingrid, he would come to Marsilia’s room and weep quietly through the night.

Marsilia couldn’t make a sound or comfort his father. If he knew the child was awake, the Emperor might be even more upset, so the child desperately pretended to sleep.

The hot tears that had wet his cheeks were something he could never forget. Whenever he thought of his father, the first thing that came to mind was those tears and the lifeless eyes that lacked any vitality.

Marsilia sometimes pitied his father, and at other times, he resented him. At that time, the Soul Mark hadn’t appeared, so he couldn’t understand how dreadful it was to possess a mark that only he could see.

If another soulmate had appeared, the situation might have been different. But after his mother’s death, his father still clung to her name.

The Soul mark, which had been engraved on him even before his ascension, continued to bind him even after the one who had been his partner had passed away, and he withered away in less than three years.

Leaving his young son alone, who had yet to even reach adulthood.

…

Marsilia, frowning, woke up but couldn’t immediately regain his senses. Something was pressing down on him, and he thought he was trapped in a nightmare.

Still thinking he was asleep, he raised his hand to rub his face, and that’s when he realized he was awake.

The black strands of hair tangled around his fingers allowed him to finally recognize reality.

Jaha was lying on top of Marsilia, asleep. His left chest was damp as if he had drooled.

Marsilia slightly lifted his head to look at the sleeping Jaha’s crown. He was lying there, holding Marsilia’s body, seemingly deep asleep.

Marsilia lowered his head back onto the pillow and slowly patted Jaha’s back.

Normally, he would feel down after such dreams, but today, he felt alright. It was just a bit absurd that his companion was drooling while sleeping.

How long had he slept, though? He turned his head and saw that the candle from last night had completely melted and gone out, and the outside was already quite bright. But why was it so quiet?

Even though it was the tents in the center of the camp, the surroundings felt eerily silent. Was he still dreaming?

The thought that had been occupying his mind was broken by Jaha, who moved.

Marsilia snapped back to reality as Jaha stirred, and he quickly shut his eyes to pretend he hadn’t woken up.

As he slowly controlled his breathing, Marsilia heard Jaha’s body make a rustling sound as he lifted his head, sticking to Marsilia’s chest.

Marsilia almost burst into laughter. How ridiculous did Jaha look? Just imagining it made his facial muscles tremble.

But soon, Marsilia tensed without even realizing it. Jaha, still half-asleep, had started rubbing his face against Marsilia’s chest again.

As Marsilia’s muscles stiffened, Jaha finally lifted his head.

By the time Marsilia opened his eyes and looked down, Jaha, with a dazed expression, met his gaze, and Marsilia quietly smiled.

“Did you sleep well, Jaha? From the drool marks, it seems you slept quite soundly.”

With wide, dazed eyes, Jaha hastily tried to sit up. Well, he tried.

Marsilia laughed as he pulled Jaha back into his embrace. Jaha, squirming and frowning, only lifted his head.

“You’re quite mischievous. Climbing on top of an unclothed man like this.”

It was only his upper body that was exposed, though.

In that instant, Jaha struck Marsilia in the side with his fist. The injury from yesterday still hadn’t healed, and it was painful.

“Ugh….”

As Marsilia squirmed, Jaha broke free from his embrace, rubbing his face with his sleeve. Marsilia, unable to make a sound, curled up, enduring the pain, and grumbled at Jaha.

“To hit a wounded area, you have no pity, do you?”

Perhaps because the sticky sensation on his cheek bothered him, Jaha got up and began looking around. It seemed he was searching for a basin of water.

Marsilia, now sitting up, shouted toward the outside.

“Is anyone out there?”

It seemed that Malek had been waiting, as he soon pushed aside the curtain covering the entrance of the barracks and poked his head in. His expression clearly showed that he had seen something he shouldn’t have, especially when he saw Marsilia, shirtless.

“I’m not sure how to face you, Your Majesty,” he said, looking as if he had seen something unspeakable.

Before Marsilia could say anything, Jaha, rubbing his face, drew Malek’s attention.

“I’ll bring the wash water, Jaha. Should Your Majesty wash as well?”

“What time is it?”

“It’s 3 PM.”

“Long sleep. Prepare my wash water as well. I need to get up.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

As Malek disappeared from the tent, Jaha turned back with a smug look on his face. Marsilia, in truth, was still suffering from a pounding headache, and if it weren’t for the funeral of the soldiers who had died yesterday, he might have still been lying down until the next day.

Jaha, watching Marsilia calmly, approached and placed his hand on his forehead. When Jaha’s hand touched his heated forehead, it felt refreshingly cool.

‘You have a fever,’ Marsilia read Jaha’s lips and smiled quietly. Pretending not to understand, he closed his eyes, and Jaha’s hand slid from his forehead down his neck and shoulders.

It seemed Jaha was checking his temperature, as he carefully felt Marsilia’s body, touching him in several places.

“Hmm…hmm.”

When Malek returned with the wash water, he seemed to have caught sight of the scene, clearing his throat awkwardly as he stood at the entrance of the tent.

Marsilia opened his eyes and glared at him, and Jaha, looking startled, quickly stepped back.

Marsilia wasn’t the one to blame for the discomfort he felt.

…

When they went outside, a grave had already been prepared for the bodies. Covered in flags, the corpses were lined up in rows.

Marsilia, dressed in uniform for the funeral, stood alongside the knights, also in their uniforms. He prayed for the fallen knights, on behalf of those who had survived.

“Goddess, those who were your faithful servants return to your embrace today. Please remember that their deaths were not in vain, and do not erase the traces of their lives. Give comfort to their families, grant them eternal rest, and may you give us, the living, time to heal our grief.”

Jaha, listening to Marsilia’s low voice as he recited the prayer, paid attention to the faces of the knights, who were solemn and sad.

Jaha didn’t know the deceased knights. If he had to name anyone he knew, it would have been the knight he spoke to yesterday and Shasha, but that was it.

However, to the other knights, they were comrades, family. Jaha, who had lost all his family understood that feeling of loss well.

A gust of wind blew, scattering the soil piled up for the graves. The dust blurred his vision and drifted between the knights.

Jaha sighed quietly, without making a sound. The deaths of those knights would surely weigh down on the shoulders of the man who stood with his head bowed.

When the man finished the prayer, he lifted his head. The death of only a dozen or so seemed like a trivial matter to him. He looked up at the sky with a blank expression. Somewhere in the distance, a long blast from a horn sounded.

The horn’s sound, echoing among the people gathered, stopped briefly every now and then.

From somewhere, the sound of damp sighs could be heard, and sniffles from various places followed, as if struggling to hold back tears.

Amidst the knights mourning their fallen comrades, their emperor remained unmoving, staring only at the sky.

Unlike before, his shoulders appeared a bit heavier. No, actually, they looked much heavier. The burden hanging on his shoulders was now painfully apparent.