IYAMD: Episode 9

Jaha had a very long dream.

From the time he had just begun to toddle, walking through the garden with the encouragement of the Yu family’s household members, to the moment his tiny, adorable younger sister was born, seven years his junior.

Just as his family had done for him, he watched over her as she took her first steps and placed a sweet he had bought from the market into her small hand.

Time passed swiftly, and the moment came for him to leave home for his training. The day before his departure, Jaha spent the entire time comforting his wailing little sister.

Late at night, after finally putting her to sleep, he exchanged his last farewell with his parents.

After many experiences, when he completed his training deep in the mountains under his master’s guidance, he felt as if he had been reborn, thanks to his astonishingly enhanced physical abilities.

He thought all that remained was the journey home.

But suddenly, the path back disappeared. The road he had been walking and running along vanished without warning, and everything before him was swallowed by darkness.

When he turned around to take another route, everything except the ground he was standing on vanished in an instant.

What do I do…?

Just then, he heard a voice calling him from afar.

“Jaha.”

A low, composed voice. It sounded unfamiliar, yet oddly familiar at the same time.

“Jaha.”

The voice was flat, neither rising nor falling, spoken as if casually thrown out. When he turned his head toward it, he saw deep green leaves. Sunlight from midsummer filtered through the lush foliage of a massive tree.

Jaha blinked rapidly several times. It was not a giant tree—but a man as large as one, looking down at him.

“You’re awake. Ashton, bring the soup.”

At the man’s words, someone approached the bed. A middle-aged man with streaks of white hair and a younger man carrying a tray.

As soon as they stopped, the older man took the tray, and at that moment, Jaha found himself being propped up.

While he was too distracted by the two newcomers to notice, the towering man—like an ancient tree—had supported Jaha’s back, helping him sit up.

Jaha turned his head in surprise, but the man didn’t look at him. Instead, he spoke to the older man.

“Give it to me.”

The man took the tray and placed it on Jaha’s lap.

The green-eyed man paused briefly, lost in thought, before he finally spoke.

[Food.]

Though his words were clumsy, it was unmistakably the language of the Eastern Continent. He furrowed his brow as if struggling to recall the words, then said another short phrase.

[Eat. Food.]

When no other words seemed to come to him, he clicked his tongue in frustration.

“I only learned the basics, and now I’ve forgotten everything.”

“Eat, Jaha. If you don’t eat on your own, I’ll force you to.”

As his hand touched the soup, a faint green light flickered for a brief moment before vanishing.

What did he just do?

Before he could question it, the man placed a spoon in Jaha’s hand.

Jaha stared at the spoon in his grasp for a moment before letting it slip from his fingers. The clear, golden soup carried a rich aroma, yet he had no appetite.

I don’t want to eat.

It felt as if his throat had tightened shut, as if his mouth was stuck together.

At Jaha’s lack of response, the man let out a heavy sigh and picked up the spoon himself.

“Eat. I purified it, so you have nothing to worry about.”

Does he think I won’t eat because I’m afraid of poison?

Jaha shifted his gaze, rolling his eyes toward the man beside him. And without realizing it, his posture straightened, his eyes widening slightly.

The man was smiling.

It was a terribly affectionate expression, completely at odds with his detached voice.

Yet, upon closer observation, it seemed even he wasn’t used to such an expression. His lips kept twitching upward, and the skin near his cheekbones trembled slightly, as if he was forcing himself.

The man scooped up a spoonful of soup and brought it to Jaha’s lips.

“Don’t make me say it again, Jaha. Eat. Before I have to force your mouth open and pour it in.”

Instead of eating, Jaha opened his mouth slightly.

How do you know my name? Who are you?

Why did this man call him so naturally? Why did he speak his name with such familiarity? Jaha knew nothing about him, yet he spoke as if he knew Jaha intimately.

He tried to form the words in the Western Continent’s common tongue, but no sound came out. Instead, a sharp pain shot through his throat, as if it were blocked, and he furrowed his brows in frustration.

“Does your throat hurt?”

The man set the spoon down and cupped Jaha’s chin in one hand.

“Say ‘Ah.'”

He stared intently and applied light pressure with his fingers.

“Ah, Jaha. Open up.”

Why does he keep calling me like that…?

As Jaha hesitated, the man’s fingers suddenly slipped inside his mouth.

Gripping Jaha’s lower jaw firmly, he pressed two fingers from his other hand against the roof of his mouth, gently lifting it.

Jaha’s mouth was forced open wide. He instinctively tried to struggle, but when he saw the curious expression spreading across the man’s face, he stilled.

The man examined Jaha’s mouth carefully, his green eyes narrowing slightly. Then, with a faint smile, he ran his fingers over a small indentation on the roof of Jaha’s mouth.

Jaha’s tongue twitched at the ticklish sensation, brushing against the man’s fingers.

For a fleeting moment, the man’s eyes became even sharper.

Is he… smiling?

His green eyes gleamed with a peculiar light. He continued to rub the spot inside Jaha’s mouth, then suddenly parted his lips.

His tongue flicked out briefly, running across his upper lip before disappearing again.

“My name is here.”

His voice carried a deep satisfaction.

“My name.”

Is that something worth repeating?

What’s your name?

Every time Jaha moved his tongue, it brushed against the fingers inside his mouth. Realizing he was practically sucking on them, he shook his head, and the man finally withdrew his hand.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

Misinterpreting Jaha’s silent motions, he focused on his lips again, waiting for him to speak. His intense stare was unnerving.

Your name.

“My name?”

When Jaha nodded, the man’s face softened into a genuine smile—far more natural than before.

“Marsilia. Marsilia Serentio Arhen. That’s my name.”

Arhen? Wasn’t that the name of the largest empire in the Western Continent?

Jaha failed to recall that he already knew this information. As he furrowed his brows, Marsilia added,

“I am the Emperor of the Arhen Empire.”

Marsilia straightened his posture proudly, but Jaha couldn’t comprehend his words.

The Emperor of Argen? Why is such an important figure here?

More importantly—why was he here, with the Emperor of Arhen? Nothing made sense. His mind felt like a tangled mess.

Seeing Jaha’s confusion, Marsilia exhaled softly, his expression slightly troubled.

“I’m looking for someone who speaks the language of the Eastern Continent. By tomorrow or the day after, I’ll have a translator for you. For now, just eat, Jaha.”

Jaha felt the chaos in his mind settle slightly at the man’s quiet and measured voice. It was as if he were soothing a child or comforting a small animal—his gentle whispers carrying an unmistakable warmth.

Marsilia carefully scooped up a spoonful of the golden soup and brought it to Jaha’s lips. Then, he simply watched, waiting for Jaha to swallow.

Chased by that unwavering gaze, Jaha swallowed the soup, and at that moment, a sharp pain shot through his throat as if it were being torn apart.

As the soup traveled down his esophagus, it felt as though he had swallowed a jagged stone.

Tears welled up in his eyes from the unbearable pain. Jaha clutched his throat, wanting to vomit it out immediately, but something blocked his throat, making even that impossible.

Seeing Jaha curl up in pain, a warm palm slowly rubbed his back.

“Does it hurt? It must be because you haven’t eaten in a while. It’s okay, just swallow slowly.”

The man patiently continued rubbing Jaha’s back until he straightened up again.

“…This is a strange feeling.”

Marsilia whispered, swallowing dryly as if his throat had gone dry.

For some reason, I…

He let out a quiet sigh before continuing.

“First, finish this.”

With a determined expression, the man scooped up another spoonful of soup and brought it to Jaha.

“Once you’ve finished eating, I’ll put you to sleep.”

At Marsilia’s firm expression, Jaha unconsciously opened his mouth. And he regretted it almost immediately—because the pain tearing through his throat had not lessened in the slightest.

But it was strange. Every time the warm hand patted his back, he felt as if the pain was gradually fading away.

And when Marsilia urged him with those glowing green eyes, Jaha felt compelled to obey, as if it was the natural thing to do.

Each time Jaha opened his mouth, Marsilia’s smile deepened. He felt like the man was slowly drawing closer, his presence looming over him.

Jaha, feeling slightly cornered, leaned back as he continued eating, an awkward expression on his face.

By the time half the soup was gone, Marsilia stirred the spoon and murmured as if talking to himself.

“Your name is written on my chest as well.”

He glanced at Jaha with a faint smile as he lifted another spoonful.

“Jaha. Your name.”

At that smile, Jaha’s lips parted on their own. His heart fluttered inexplicably, and he found himself unable to look away from the man.