IYTTEPAAK Chapter 39

With a sharp turn, he put his back to me.

"Rest well, Your Imperial Highness."

Domynick withdrew.

I let out a breath the way someone does after holding it too long to avoid a foul smell. My chest rose and fell, shallow.

A self-mocking laugh caught at my mouth.

Only Regen and I remained on the garden path. The knowledge that no one was watching let me go soft. I pressed my face into my palms.

The day had been too much. I'd reached the limit of pretending I was fine. Domynick's little game had pushed me past the threshold.

"It's no different, is it—my situation, and Cehera's. Except the real enemy stands somewhere else entirely."

"......"

Rain began to fall. Cold. Cold winter rain.

Regen raised his arm and shielded the sky above my head.

"Allow me to see you back to your chambers."

"......"

"You'll be soaked through."

"......"

Even my body.

Then something besides my body had gotten wet. Something like—my heart, say.

The closeness spurred my weakened heart. I opened my mouth on impulse.

"Comfort me."

"......"

"...Just—comfort me a little."

Nothing more needed saying. Regen looked down at me a moment, then pulled my body into his chest.

"......"

"......"

I drew in a small breath. Having asked first, I'd gone stupidly tense, my shoulders locking up. I worried he'd read it as a gesture of refusal and pull back like a gentleman—but instead he only held me tighter.

"You're permitted to call me Brother."

"......"

I didn't want to call him that.

"Regen."

"......"

Even if this was cowardly, filling my own greed, I didn't care.

Right now, all I wanted was comfort from my first love.

5. To Tame, or to Covet

As expected, Archbishop Grehmol was executed within a week.

The execution took place in the middle of the slums where the capital's poor gathered.

Originally, they'd built a pyre stacked like a tower and meant to carry out a burning—but ironically, the Archbishop had, apparently, taken a full day to freeze to death instead.

Hamel relayed the details.

"They say the Archbishop prayed to the goddess to the very last moment, sobbing. When the time finally came and the executioner set the wood alight, the poor who'd come to watch the burning took the firewood stacked beneath him away, piece by piece—or so I'm told."

"How moved the Archbishop must have been."

"Yes. He must have thought the goddess was saving him through the hands of the poor. But in truth..."

"The people just needed fuel."

With the executioners' silent permission, the poor made off with every last piece of wood meant for the burning.

Far from burning, the Archbishop wasn't even given a single campfire to warm himself by, and was left to freeze in the cold.

"Only after he was dead did he finally burn, they say."

Someone who'd arrived late and missed out on proper firewood had apparently made do with low-grade kindling instead.

"Just deserts. After all he skimmed from the charity fund."

Nowhere near enough to cover what he'd done—but he'd shown one small mercy at the end, so call it a fraction of the sin, forgiven.

Firewood wasn't the only thing the Archbishop had given generously. He'd become my sacrificial offering to the goddess, and raised my dominion considerably.

I asked about something else.

"It's already been ten days since the dowry auction. How are my sisters?"

Since witnessing the fate of the princess eliminated from the contest, the mood in the residential wing had been overcast, like a rainy season, for some time.

"Save for two, most seem to have recovered, more or less."

"The two you mean are Vivian and Gwendolyn?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

Hamel reported in detail.

"The Blue-Wave Princess hasn't set foot outside her room. Her ladies-in-waiting seem quite worried."

"Vivi's anxiety runs deep. Bring her something to ease it—quietly, without word spreading."

"Understood."

"And Gwen?"

"The New Moon Princess pays her respects to His Majesty every single day. She seems to be trying quite hard to earn his favor."

"No medicine cures that. Foolishness."

"What should we do about it?"

Those who chose, on their own, to become the Mad Emperor's playthings rarely ended well.

"She won't listen even if I try to stop her."

Rather than interfering and risking the opposite effect, all I could do was hope she'd come to her senses on her own, and quickly, before the road ended somewhere catastrophic.

"Besides, I haven't the time to worry about anything else right now."

I breathed a small sigh into my teacup. I had a pressing matter of my own to deal with.

Regen's mental realm had changed a great deal from before.

The first time I'd set foot in it, it had felt eerie, like stepping into a wasteland cursed by devils. Now it felt more like a mist-shrouded, mysterious forest.

The more vitality the oak tree recovered, the friendlier the surrounding environment seemed to grow toward living things.

Perhaps a day would come when the overcast clouds cleared from the sky and sunlight finally broke through.

Every one of the countless buds sprouting along the branches had unfurled into young leaves. Tiny yellow-green leaves, their tips touched faintly with red, budded thick along every branch, and the oak tree boasted a truly formidable vigor of growth.

I found myself looking forward to seeing those young leaves grow further.

If every leaf became a large, vivid green leaf, that single tree alone would surely rival a mountain in its splendor.

"If it kept growing like this..." I sighed it out, slow and soft, and trailed my hand along a branch that stretched out, beautifully, at eye level.

As if answering me, the young leaves trembled gently in a place with no wind at all.

I took my hand away and closed my eyes. Answering my will to return, Regen's mental realm opened a door back to reality for me. My consciousness was pulled gently through it.

"......"

I opened my eyes in reality without any break in consciousness.

What met my gaze directly ahead was Regen's face, his eyelids opening slowly, as if in sync with mine.

This time, since I'd only visited the mental realm very briefly, I woke sitting up, without having lain down.

Regen and I drew back from each other, little by little, to separate our foreheads, which had been pressed together.

I had to deliver unwelcome news.

"The core's recovery has completely stalled."

The young leaves I'd seen in the mental realm hadn't grown in weeks.

"...I see."

Regen answered in a subdued voice, as if he'd already sensed it himself.

I looked out the window.

The Silver Bird chamber was on the second floor. Every branch draped across the window was heavy with pale green spring.

"The leaves stopped growing right around that point. Spring's a wonderful season, but I'm worried it might last forever."

I fell into thought, touching my lips.

"What do I need to do to get us out of this stall? If I just keep waiting for summer to come to Sir Regen's heart like this, I'll have no face to show you."

"You're already making more than enough effort."

"Effort alone won't do. I need to try harder. Sir Regen, you're serious about growing stronger, aren't you? Serious enough to accept the binding for it."

"......"

"I'll get your strength back for you, without fail. Fixing your core—that was our very first promise to each other."

"...Yes."

Maybe I imagined it, but his answer came out flat—half-hearted, almost.

I wanted to draw a little more cooperation out of him, so I spoke up.

"You have to get stronger. So that even if Domynick tries something, I won't have to worry."

"That sort of worry."

I thought I heard something like a laugh catch in his throat, so I turned to look at him.

Maybe I'd imagined it—his face held nothing but flat seriousness, not a hint of a smile.

Regen cleared his throat lightly and spoke.

"We'll need to find a way past this stall. Wouldn't there be historical records worth consulting in the Imperial Library?"

"Restoring a mana core is the fifth tier of dominion authority. It's the highest tier, opened starting with the Mad Emperor himself, so it's unlikely there'd be any historical material on it."

"Ah."

Still, no need to be discouraged over it. I rose from the couch.

"I suppose we'll need a head-on approach for gathering information, for once, in quite some time."

"Surely not..."

The method was simple.

"I suppose we'll just have to ask the Mad Emperor directly, then."