TMBIPYMEN Chapter 33

Yustar gazed at Laila in silence, his expression mild. That look forced her to feel another inexplicable guilt—though of course, Yustar couldn't know what she felt.

He spoke.

"I came because there's something I wanted to discuss with you."

"Discuss?"

Laila echoed the word with a puzzled air, her brow furrowing slightly as she added:

"With me?"

Yustar nodded.

"I'm asking just in case... Laila, do you want a wedding?"

The furrow between Laila's brows deepened. For a moment she tilted her head back as if she'd heard some incomprehensible foreign language, then hunched her shoulders and stared at Yustar.

"I don't understand what you mean."

"What I mean is... well, this is only my thinking, but hear me out first. I don't think we need to hold some elaborate wedding ceremony in front of everyone. Because—"

Yustar drew a breath, then continued in a calmer voice.

"Laila, even in this very moment, you're feeling burdened by every situation. And on top of that... I don't want to force you into something that isn't even necessary. I realized there's no need to make you do such a thing."

Laila watched him without saying anything for a moment, just as Yustar had done earlier.

"Is that truly what you think, Yustar? Or did His Majesty command it?"

Yustar softened his brow and smiled briefly.

"Do you think my brother is someone who would boldly omit my wedding ceremony?"

Of course he would, and more besides. Laila thought. But she didn't voice it aloud.

Yustar sent her a meaningful look, as if trying to examine every word she'd hidden in her heart.

"If, Laila—if you wanted it, we would hold a wedding. We could make it very grand."

"I don't want anything like that."

Laila's answer was immediate. It felt as though the words had leapt from her mouth before her mind could even think.

A wedding—she couldn't imagine it, didn't want to imagine it.

Even wearing a veil white as snow, would it hide her hair? When she raised her head to make vows before God, what expression would the bishop wear when he saw her eyes?

Yustar asked:

"I thought as much. But Laila, then what do you want?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because I want to know what would make you happy—how to do it."

It was an absurd thing to say. Laila lost her words and could only stare at Yustar blankly. His long hair, falling beside his cheek, shifted slightly forward. That small movement told her he'd lowered his head.

You shouldn't make that expression. Laila thought. Yustar's face looked... it was hard to describe, but it seemed sad.

But why would he feel sadness? There was no reason for Yustar to feel sad simply because he didn't know how to make Laila happy. It wasn't even an understandable sadness.

"Yustar, I don't need to be happy. But I don't want to be unhappy either. I just..."

Laila's words trailed off faintly.

"Do you want to live peacefully without incident?"

At Yustar's question, Laila's expression hardened slightly.

"Perhaps."

When Laila answered cautiously, Yustar said:

"The time when that was possible has already passed, Laila. As you saw with your own eyes."

This time Laila looked straight up at him with eyes both astounded and disbelieving. She wanted to argue that it wasn't so, that perhaps it could still be undone. But the words wouldn't come easily.

He's right. A voice whispered in her head. He's correct... You have nowhere to return to now. The time when you could hole up in your small den and boil herb soup will never come back.

The ground before her eyes shook as if from an earthquake. Laila tried turning her head away to hide her tears, but it was useless.

Yustar let out a short sigh and gently grasped her arm.

"I'm sorry for saying it like this, Laila. But I... I don't want to watch you suffer meaninglessly any longer. I told you, didn't I? Even if we marry, if you want it, this can remain a superficial relationship. Nothing will change. I didn't bring you here to use you this way. I wanted to ask for your help."

His voice grew lower and lower until it finally broke off. Laila roughly brushed at her eyes and looked at him with even redder eyes.

"I didn't know things would turn out like this."

Laila's eyes blinked slowly.

"Did you truly not know, Yustar?"

Silence flowed between them. Laila wished she could know his heart simply by looking at him. If only she could peer into some part of him the way she saw the cores of ghosts...

"Can you truly say you had no idea at all?"

But she couldn't. So for Laila, asking was the best she could do. Whether he lied or told the truth, what had befallen her wouldn't change anyway. Even so, she wanted to know. She wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

"I truly didn't know."

Laila's shoulders slumped like someone whose strength had drained away, and she let out a sigh.

"Will Marchioness Hymierd be all right?"

At her question, an amused smile rose on Yustar's face.

"You're worried about her?"

Laila drew her brows together as if to say, of course.

"In the end, it happened because of me."

Yustar nodded. But it wasn't agreement with her words—it seemed meant to comfort her.

"Hymierd will be fine. Don't worry."

His answer gave Laila some small comfort, though she wasn't completely reassured. But if she didn't believe his words, there was nothing—truly nothing—left for her to hold onto right now.

When Laila finally nodded, Yustar smiled gently and pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand as a sign of affection.

"We'll definitely have dinner together this evening. Understand?"

"I will."

It had been a very long time since midday sunlight had poured into King Ode's bedroom.

When his condition was poor and he had to lie down all day, he couldn't bear even the faintest light. Because of this, the small number of officials and attendants permitted to enter his bedroom could roughly gauge King Ode's condition by whether the curtains were open or closed.

Ode Haienmorik stared vacantly toward the window as if he were seeing sunlight for the first time in his life.

He was still in his nightclothes, but he sat upright in bed and wasn't gasping for breath. Considering how he'd been almost unable to move recently, it was a remarkable improvement.

"Baso."

At Ode's call, the chamberlain bowed slightly at the waist.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"What month is it now?"

"October, Your Majesty."

"October."

His voice was desolate. Though he hadn't yet reached forty, he felt like a weary old man full of regret. He couldn't stop those thoughts, those feelings. Leading his diseased body through each day was like waging a battle.

Knowing one's fate in advance was a cruel thing. At least for Ode it was. No blessing, nothing of the sort... it wasn't.

The helplessness of being able to do nothing but take one step, one step forward while staring at an ending he absolutely couldn't change—it made him rage and grieve sometimes. But after raging and howling, he still had to move forward willingly.

Because that was his promise.

A shallow cough mixed with the end of Ode's long sigh. The chamberlain waited, thinking he might ask for water, but when no command came, he lowered his gaze for a moment.

"Your Majesty, may I dare ask a question?"

Ode's gaunt eyes, as if only bone remained, turned toward Baso.

"Speak."

Baso hesitated briefly, then straightened his posture and looked at Ode.

"Do you truly intend to make that witch the consort of His Imperial Highness the Crown's Blood?"

For an instant, a mocking smile rose on Ode's lips, dried and twisted like a snake's shed skin. His expression looked as if he'd anticipated that very question.

"I do. Why? Do you want to object as well?"

Baso shook his head.

"How could I? If it's something Your Majesty does, I'm prepared to follow whatever it may be. However... I'm merely curious about the reason Your Majesty made such a decision."

Ode turned his head again and looked out at the sunlight beyond the window. Autumn sunlight. Come to think of it, the trees visible from the bedroom had turned brilliant colors. Some trembled at their branch tips and shed dry leaves.

Watching this, Ode's expression softened to an unbelievable degree for one moment, but the emotion soon vanished. Like sinking into a swamp, it submerged instantly and became invisible.

"Yustar has reached that age, so I've simply found him a match. I may be unable to take a queen with my body in this state, but Yustar is different from me. He's healthy and has no problems at all. Nothing strange about him gaining a consort, is there?"

"You speak wisely. However, I will add one more thing. Your Majesty, you will surely recover. You will regain your former robust health and stand firm as the bedrock, the pillar of Sierrow. Only then can the kingdom's people truly feel at ease."

Ode snorted. This time it wasn't just a mocking expression—it was an audible sound. Baso didn't even flinch, simply gazed at him steadily. Unlike Ode, compassion and concern rose in his eyes, which had aged naturally with the years.

"The people's ease, you say. Well, Baso, I think differently. As long as I sit on the throne, no one will be able to feel at ease."

A faint shadow fell across Baso's face. Ode lowered his gaze, then tried clenching and opening his right hand where it rested on the sheet.

As if confirming his fingers were still attached there. Or as if desperately checking whether his hand still moved according to his will.

Ode spoke.

"Yes, they won't be able to feel at ease... As long as I occupy the throne, no one should feel at ease."

The skin beneath his blackly dead eyes twitched. It was a movement as if something might crawl out from under that wrinkled, withered hide of a hundred-year-old man.

Just then came the sound of knocking on the great door leading to the sitting room. A young attendant stood in proper posture and said:

"Your Majesty, His Imperial Highness the Crown's Blood requests an audience."