How Roots Bloom Flowers
Rood regained consciousness and opened his eyes. When he looked around, everyone except Moneck was staring at him with worried expressions. He was still in the banquet hall of the main temple where the oath ceremony had been held.
"Are you all right, Sir Rood?"
"Yeah. I'm fine."
Rood clenched and unclenched his fists repeatedly, feeling as though all the strength had drained from his body. He recalled why he had collapsed. Getting drunk, dancing, and awakening my Aura. Where else in the world would you find something so absurd? At least by Rood's preconceptions, he had expected to awaken his Aura in the middle of a life-or-death battle. The tales of the Knight King passed down through the ages were like that, and most Aura awakeners spoke of similar experiences.
There were faint signs of this before, too.
This was the first time Rood had truly felt the sensation of awakening Aura. More precisely, it was the first time he had recognized what those sensations meant. Only now did he understand that the strange phenomena and feelings he had experienced before were caused by his Aura.
The first incident had been at Isabelle's mansion, when he held off the assassins. He had ignored the enemy aiming for his back and cut down the entire group with a single strike. The situation had been so chaotic that his memories of the fight were hazy, but now that his Aura had awakened, he realized the true reason behind that victory.
The wolf incident in the village was the same. Rood's arm had been torn by the claws of Yukryeong, and both his shoulders had been shattered by Mael, the curse shaman. Yet in that critical moment, his mangled arm had healed completely, allowing him to counterattack. Even Moneck, with his extensive medical knowledge, had said there was nothing wrong with his shoulders afterward.
Aura is the power to manifest one's will.
The nature of Aura was to assimilate with other things and transform them. Rood's body, wrapped in Aura, had recovered, and anything it touched had been sliced apart. Those were the traits he had observed.
What kind of power does my Aura hold?
Though Aura might appear to have two different forms of power, it was said to follow only a single principle. Even if the results derived from that one power seemed completely different, they were, in truth, the same. Because of this, Rood still could not clearly identify the nature of his own ability. After all, he was merely a beginner who had just manifested his Aura moments ago.
"I'll stand now."
With Moneck's help, Rood rose to his feet and bowed to the knight commander.
"Thank you for your invaluable guidance. I offer you my deepest respect, Sir Moneck."
Rood gave a crisp, formal salute. Moneck returned it briefly, then clapped Rood on the shoulder.
"Use that strength to protect Lady Isabelle. Ah, and one more thing."
Moneck poured wine into his cup as he spoke.
"How about it? Care for another drink?"
Rood waved his hand in refusal.
"I'm all right."
Even as he declined, he thought to himself, The intoxication's completely gone. His mind was so clear that he could have accepted another cup without any issue.
"I see. Then please enjoy the rest of the celebration."
Moneck moved elsewhere and drank quietly. Rood felt his heart beating in a way it never had before. Naturally, his gaze drifted toward Isabelle, who was leisurely sipping wine among the servants and soldiers.
He walked over to her.
"You're not surprised at all?"
"Why should I be? I always knew you could do it, Rood."
When he saw her hands trembling around her wine cup, Rood couldn't help but let out a small chuckle.
"W-why are you laughing?"
"It's nothing. Just thought of something funny."
Isabelle set down her cup and stood, gesturing to him. When Rood bowed at the waist, she reached up and patted his head.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm congratulating you, of course. Well done on awakening your Aura!"
Rood quickly straightened, standing at attention. It hadn't felt embarrassing when they were alone, but having his head patted in front of so many people was mortifying. Isabelle gazed at his hair with a hint of reluctance before sitting down again.
"We should wrap up the banquet soon. We must leave tomorrow to fulfill the Duchess's request."
"Will you be departing as well, my lord?"
"It seems I'll have to. There's business I must attend to at the royal palace."
Isabelle needed to visit the palace for the Alliance's council meeting. Since the Duchess's request lay along the way, it made sense to depart early. As Rood listened, the anxiety that had been churning inside him gradually settled. He needed to steel himself; tomorrow would mark his first true duty as her bodyguard knight.
Could I really throw myself in front of Isabelle and die for her?
Rood felt doubt and fear slowly crawling up from the depths of his heart. He had only just awakened his Aura, and he couldn't even control it properly yet. He wasn't sure he could truly protect her. But what troubled him even more was his own personality and habits.
In battle, Rood would check on his allies as a matter of course, but he had never possessed the kind of loyalty that led one to lay down their life. He couldn't say with certainty whether he would throw himself forward to shield Isabelle if death came for her.
Her true self—the version of her that had broken free from her suppressed growth—was his ideal type of woman. But she was only that: an ideal. Isabelle possessed both the noble character one would want to follow and the appearance and behavior that naturally inspired a desire to protect her. Rood's heart was certainly swayed by her, yet he could state it plainly: he still did not believe he loved Isabelle.
He simply wanted to follow her—as his lord, and as a person. Because he understood the depth of his own feelings, he could not be certain he would sacrifice himself for her.
"Then shall we bring the banquet to a close? There is something important I wish to discuss with you."
"You mean we should speak privately?"
When Isabelle nodded, Rood did the same. As soon as she signaled the end of the feast, the servants swiftly began clearing away the food and tables. The soldiers, having eaten their fill, left without regret. They had intense training awaiting them the next day.
Rood glanced at the sword resting quietly at his waist. He lifted his thumb to the deep blue blade and smiled faintly.
It's a sword I was granted. I should give it a name.
He had intended to name it himself, but an impulse made him speak aloud.
"My lord."
"Hm? What is it?"
"Could you... give this sword a name?"
At Rood's question, Isabelle curled her fingers near her lips, gazing up at the ceiling. Then she smiled brightly and spoke.
"Danyeon. It means to use it only in decisive moments... and also to cut away what is taken for granted. How does that sound?"
Cut away what is taken for granted.
Rood liked the name Isabelle had given it so much that several alternatives he had been considering vanished from his mind. Especially the second meaning—it resonated deeply with him. It was exactly the kind of sword he had wished to wield as a knight.
To make the things the world accepted as natural into something unnatural. To overcome the world's "obvious" demand that a human should bend their will.
"It's good. It has weight."
"Of course it does. Who do you think named it?"
When Isabelle lifted her chin with pride, Rood couldn't hold back his laughter.
"I'll come find you shortly."
"Good. Rest a little, then come see me."
Gripping the new sword at his waist, Rood steeled his resolve. With Danyeon in hand, he would cut away all that was considered natural.
At Pete's summons, Rood made his way to the room right beside Isabelle's bedchamber. Unlike the other rooms, this one had a rather modest and simple decor, and it was quiet. Pete led him to the far end of the room, then opened the window on the left, revealing a veranda decorated with beautiful white railings. The semicircular terrace held a dining table and chairs. On the table were a bottle of wine, glasses, and dishes of nuts and biscuits that paired well with drink. One chair was empty. In the other sat Isabelle, gazing out at the night scenery.
"You've come?"
"Yes, my lord. Rood, at your command."
"Oh, don't be so stiff~"
Isabelle motioned for Rood to sit. Pete left the two of them alone, closing the window that led to the terrace. Rood took his seat and looked in the same direction as Isabelle. The full moon shone brilliantly, and the stars gave off tiny sparks of light. The clouds hung low and thin. Rood thought only that there would likely be fog in the morning.
"What are you looking at?"
Isabelle kept her eyes on the scenery as she answered.
"Simply... the world."
"What does it look like to you?"
Rood had asked out of formality, but deep down he was genuinely curious. He couldn't imagine how Isabelle saw the world. A peerless genius forced to live with a limited lifespan—what would life look like to someone like her?
"It looks peaceful. So peaceful that it seems one need not struggle at all."
"But isn't it precisely because everyone is struggling that it can appear peaceful?"
At Rood's words, Isabelle turned from the scenery to look at him.
"Why do you think so?"
"The moon, the trees, the wind—each lives by doing what it must. Isn't that why this scenery feels acceptable as it is?"
Rood believed that if the moon, trees, and wind were to lose their roles and even their existence, the world's scenery would become desolate and somehow unsettling.
"You are right. Even if unseen, roots bloom flowers."
Isabelle swirled the wine in her glass and drank.
"What do you see?"
Rood answered briefly.
"I see you."
"And how do I look? What do you see when you look at me?"
Rood watched Isabelle sip her wine and pondered. She looked comfortable and happy, yet the smile she wore somehow seemed like mockery.
"You seem disappointed."
Isabelle let out a small laugh.
"What would I have to be disappointed about?"
"I'm not sure. That's just how it looked."
Isabelle emptied her glass and spoke.
"You're right. I am a little disappointed."
With a flushed face, she leaned forward to look at Rood.
"Because what I asked wasn't how I appear in your eyes."
Little by little, Isabelle leaned closer to him. Accompanied by the soft clink of dishes, she drew nearer.
"What do you... think of me?"
She climbed onto the table, lightly grabbed Rood's collar, and pulled him toward her as she asked. Every time she exhaled, Rood felt a faintly warm breath and the sweet scent of wine, stirring strange sensations within him. He couldn't tell her to stop. He made no move to stop her.
"I..."
Rood didn't know how far he should express himself. No—before that, he wasn't even certain what his own feelings were, so he couldn't give her an answer. Did he love Isabelle? Respect her? Feel gratitude? Desire her? All of those seemed plausible, yet none fully captured what he felt. And some emotions, even if he felt them, were too rude to express, so he didn't delve too deeply.
Rood took a short breath before speaking to Isabelle, whose face had turned bright red as she glared at him.
"I want to see you as someone I wish to protect. I'm not entirely sure, but... that's it."
"How vague. What does 'wish to protect' mean?"
"I don't want to approach you rashly, but I also don't want things to become any more awkward between us. Is that... answer enough?"
"Hmm, so what you're saying is..."
Isabelle smiled with clear mischief and practically pounced on him. With a loud thud, the chair tipped backward and Rood's upper body tilted back with it.
"If I were to come closer, you would be willing to be seduced—is that what you mean?"
"My lord, you seem quite drunk. There is a clear difference in our stations, is there not?"
"I don't care about station at all."
"Are you simply toying with me for your own amusement?"
"I have wondered what it would be like if that were the case. When I think about you, Rood..."
Rood stood and covered Isabelle's mouth. If he heard any more, he felt he might lose his mind. He answered calmly.
"I still don't fully understand my own heart. So please give me time."
Isabelle pressed her tongue against the hand covering her mouth and licked it once. Startled by the sensation, Rood pulled his hand away and stared at her.
"Marked."
Isabelle said it shortly, then licked her lips and continued.
"If you asked for time knowing how little I have left, I would be furious."
At Isabelle's grim joke about her limited lifespan, Rood quickly looked away. He thought his inability to make a clear decision was unlike him. Yet he also felt that this hesitation was the most honest reflection of his true feelings. Because he was not simply a servant or a lover—he was her bodyguard knight, the one who must remain by her side.
"Didn't I say I would buy you that time?"
Rood spoke firmly.
"Wait for me. I will gather the sacred herbs and artifacts needed to cure your illness and offer them to you. Please hear my answer then."
At his words, Isabelle rose from where she had been straddling him, returned to the edge of the terrace, and gazed at the moon once more.
"Very well. If such a future comes... may I tell you that I love you?"
Rood didn't know where to begin pointing out the problems with that statement. It was already a confession. His heart pounded as if it would burst. Yet he answered in the calmest voice he had used all night, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"That future will definitely come. Don't worry."
After Rood's words, the only sound on the terrace was the quiet chirping of insects in the grass.