Chapter 276
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 276
Chapter Title: 76. Idrian Leonberger (4)
The flames gradually died down, fading completely into embers.
It was then that the crown prince, who had been standing stock-still gazing into the fire, collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.
"Your Highness!"
Adelia Bayern turned pale and caught his crumbling body.
Arwen Kirguyen quickly checked the crown prince's condition.
His eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving a muscle.
"Inside, now!"
At her words, Adelia Bayern leaped to her feet, clutching the crown prince tightly as she sobbed uncontrollably, and rushed toward his chambers.
"Inform His Majesty at once. You, fetch the royal physician—no, I'll bring him myself!"
Kals Yulihi hurriedly left the crown prince's palace.
By the time they reached the chambers, the prince's knights were milling about in a panic, their faces ashen.
"Where's the royal physician?! Hasn't he arrived yet?!"
The knights shouted sharply one after another.
"Sob..."
Adelia Bayern held the crown prince close, tears streaming down her face.
Arwen Kirguyen watched it all with a rigidly tense expression.
The crown prince lying pale on the bed, the knights shouting and sobbing.
A nightmare flashed through her mind.
The crown prince's face as he plunged a sword into his own chest, smiling pallidly; his body slowly slumping; his corpse growing cold. The knights wailing in agony. Herself, too stunned to approach, just staring blankly.
Her head spun suddenly.
Her hands and feet began to tremble.
Her heart clenched tight.
Breathing became difficult.
"Hoo... Hoo..."
She gritted her teeth and shook off the nightmarish remnant of that day.
But no matter how hard she tried, the horrific imaginings wouldn't fade easily.
She reached out a hand.
Grasped the crown prince's hand.
In her mind, she repeated endlessly.
The chill lingering in his hand was just from the cold wind.
Squeeze.
Unknowingly, strength flowed into her grip.
Flinch.
Startled, she loosened her hold.
Then, carefully—as if it might shatter—she took his hand again.
Bang!
The door flew open violently.
Beyond it appeared Kals Yulihi, the royal knight, carrying the royal physician on his back.
The physician's face hardened as he dismounted.
The ominous atmosphere among the knights had sparked grim imaginings.
"What are you waiting for, physician?! Examine His Highness at once!"
Pushed by the knights' savage shouts, the royal physician shuffled hesitantly to the bedside.
A glow gathered at the tips of the physician's fingers.
Only then did the knights' relentless demands quiet down.
As the knights watched with stony faces, the physician reached out and examined the crown prince's body.
"Hm..."
The physician, having checked him over, lifted his head.
"His High—"
"How is His Highness?! Tell us!"
"What's wrong with him?!"
"O-our prince is going to be okay, right?!"
Before he could speak, the knights poured out their words.
"P-please, calm down, everyone."
The physician gently admonished them.
But the knights showed no sign of settling.
"His Highness has merely exhausted his mental energy and fallen into a deep sleep!"
Overwhelmed by their fervent loyalty and worry, the physician shouted it out.
"Thank goodness. Truly, thank goodness."
Kals Yulihi, eyes squeezed shut, repeated the words over and over in relief.
"Your Highness...! Your Highness...!"
Adelia Bayern, who had been sniffling, now burst into loud sobs.
"Ah..."
And Arwen Kirguyen covered her eyes with both hands, heaving a great sigh.
The stabbing pain in her heart eased.
The myriad thoughts swirling in her head vanished like a lie.
Her mind emptied.
All that remained was relief.
As relief washed over her, her strength drained away in a rush.
Her eyes were wet.
She wiped her face dry, brushing away the moisture.
She opened her eyes.
Looked around.
Fortunately, no one was watching her.
She wiped her face once more and took a deep breath.
Her usual stoic expression returned in an instant as she spoke.
"So, His Highness is alright?"
The physician turned to her and nodded.
"Just sleeping. No need for great concern."
She let out another sigh of relief.
Bang!
At that very moment, the door burst open again, and a pale-faced man stormed in.
"His Highness! How is His Highness?!"
It was Vincent Ballerhard.
"He fainted briefly, but there's nothing seriously wrong."
"If nothing's wrong, why did he collapse?! Physician, examine him again!"
Cowed by his fierce demeanor, the physician dared not argue and checked the crown prince once more.
"No abnormalities."
"Thank you. Thank you."
Only then did Vincent Ballerhard exhale in relief, pouring out vague words of gratitude to the air.
"That child collapsed?! What in the world happened?!"
The king appeared from beyond the unclosed door, flanked by royal knights.
"He's sleeping now. He'll wake refreshed after some rest. No need for excessive worry."
"But why would a healthy boy lose consciousness like that?!"
The same reaction as Vincent Ballerhard; the physician sighed and gathered light at his fingertips again.
"I've checked multiple times. Same result. His Highness is simply asleep."
"Ahh. What a relief. Truly a relief."
The relieved king repeated himself several times.
"His Highness collapsed?!"
An elderly marquess entered then.
"What is the meaning of this?!"
The prime minister followed a step behind, opening the door.
"Brother! Brother!"
The 2nd prince arrived, pale-faced upon hearing the news.
"His Highness is fine."
The physician had to prove the prince's well-being tirelessly, until his mouth was parched and his energy spent.
"What in the world happened to leave this child so drained of mental energy that he fainted?"
At the king's question, royal knight Kals Yulihi stepped forward.
He detailed the process: lighting the fire in the training grounds, burning each wooden statue crafted over the past month one by one.
"To me, it looked like he was mourning the dead with profound grief and reverence, as if performing a funeral rite."
At Kals Yulihi's words that he had even bid farewell to someone, the king squeezed his eyes shut.
Only after a long while did he open them and murmur to himself.
"That child is ignorant. He doesn't know what's inside him, nor how to unravel the tangled knots within. So profoundly knowledgeable about swords and war, yet utterly ignorant about himself."
Guilt filled the king's face.
"It's because, at an age needing parental affection, I isolated him, depriving him of chances to learn about people. Not knowing others, he came to not know himself."
Claiming it all his fault, the king continued.
"Such a child wandered battlefields for seven years. How few were the deaths he witnessed, how few needed mourning? Unable to untangle his heart, he carried countless deaths within. He probably didn't even realize his insides had rotted away completely. If he had, he wouldn't have suffered nightmares nightly, groaning and searching for the dead."
At the king's words, the knights—save Adelia Bayern—widened their eyes.
"What..."
"You didn't know? Well, even you lot don't sleep in the same room, so it's natural."
The king recounted what he had seen that night the queen died, when the crown prince had groaned in agony.
"Ah, Lady Adelia. Is His Majesty's word true?"
At Vincent Ballerhard's question, Adelia Bayern burst into tears again.
"Y-yes, Your Highness has..."
From her lips, the knights learned.
What nightmares had plagued the crown prince nightly.
"And after Her Majesty's passing, it worsened; lately, there wasn't a single night without his groans."
The knights squeezed their eyes shut.
"Unable to mourn properly, it festered. Night after night, unknowingly groaning in pain. Awake, he gripped his sword again, letting his insides rot."
As they sat stunned hearing of the crown prince's hidden suffering, the king spoke again.
"Now, he has bid farewell to the departed. Severing seven years' worth of resentment at once—how could his heart not empty? Forcibly peeling away layer upon layer of stuck emotions and burning them—how could it not drain his spirit?"
The king declared firmly.
What he carved away over the past month wasn't mere wood, but pieces of his heart; what burned today wasn't statues, but his very emotions.
"You said he smiled brightly as he said goodbye. Yes, that must be it. Unlearned in weeping, he couldn't even shed tears."
The king fell silent.
Then, abruptly, he bowed his head to the knights.
"Y-Your Majesty."
"How can you bow?!"
The knights cried out in shock.
But the king did not raise his head.
He merely pleaded.
"Help him fill the hollowed-out space he carved away, learn the life he never knew, live fully. Guide him."
A worthless father could only watch; only you can soothe his empty heart.
The king met each knight's eyes one by one.
"We offer not just our swords to His Highness; we shall serve him with all our hearts."
"Some ignore blood brothers. What more need be said?"
"I lack the caliber to lead, but with keen eyes and strong legs, I'll follow from behind."
Arwen Kirguyen, Vincent Ballerhard, Kals Yulihi met his gaze with solemn, affectionate, resolute faces.
Adelia Bayern said nothing. She merely clutched the crown prince's hand, shedding endless tears.
But none doubted her devotion, tending him day and night.
The king's face softened as he gazed at the crown prince.
"Sleep well, and dream sweetly."
I dreamed.
In the dream, I was a young boy.
Nothing special about me, prone to mishaps, but an ordinary child anywhere.
Unfortunately, the boy wasn't allowed to be ordinary.
The world deemed ordinariness a sin, demanding the extraordinary; people always sought more than capability allowed.
The boy tried, but the fruits they demanded hung forever out of reach.
Still, he tried.
And shrank inward.
"The kingdom our ancestors built with blood and sweat teeters on the brink. Steel your heart and strive harder."
The warm words he sought from his father brought rebuke, not comfort.
"Ian. Sorry, Mother is busy now. Let's talk later."
The mother he sought to ease his loneliness always postponed.
In the vast world, nowhere for the boy to rest; among countless people, not one to hold him.
Then disaster struck.
"H-how dare you?!"
Father raged like fire.
The bewildered boy cowered in fear, waiting for the anger to subside.
But it didn't.
"You lack the qualification to lead this nation!"
Cornered by mounting fury, the boy reached the precipice.
"Ian."
Mother came late, hand outstretched, but the terrified boy fled without grasping it.
Fleeing endlessly, he arrived in deep shadow.
"Your Highness. This hard-won stuff turns the world into a flower garden. All worldly toil and sorrow vanish far away."
The cunning whisper overwhelmed him; he couldn't resist.
He touched what he shouldn't.
Lost in haze, he muddled through days.
"It's not Your Highness's fault. The world's to blame."
Vile whispers in delirium became his solace, enduring each day.
Then contempt and mockery filled his world more fiercely.
That's when an uncle he barely remembered appeared.
"A dullard can't be king."
Seeing the boy sprawled in stupor, he raged and left the palace.
After, dozens of heads hung on the outer walls.
Heads of the group that provided his sole comfort.
"Th-the earl announced he'd sever limbs, gouge eyes, and feed them to crows for anyone providing substances clouding Your Highness's mind again."
He scoured alleys for new sources but found only poison.
The boy sent the poison north, laced with hatred and resentment.
Time passed; the delirium lifted.
Facing reality, he shuddered.
Hatred, contempt, scorn, rage.
Before suffocating malice, all he could do was,
"How dare you filth look at me like that?!"
Shout and lash out with limbs, repaying evil with evil.
Like a wounded beast, he crouched snarling, hiding frailty, ignoring fear.
But he knew.
He had gone gravely wrong.
Fearful shouts hardened into tyrant's rages; gestures hiding weakness became violence against the weak.
By realization, he was too far gone.
Irreversible.
"Do you wish to reset everything now?"
The empire's envoy tempted slyly.
"Obtain the Dragon Slayer."
He couldn't ignore that the founding king's sword would restore all.
He seized the royal sword.
Believing he could reclaim everything, right past wrongs.
The boy believed, and died.
In death, endless void, swallowed by darkness.
Left only etched regrets before forgetting existence.
[I never wanted to live like this.]
Regret and despair.
[I want to live. But I don't.]
Attachment and fear.
[You're better than me.]
Envy and admiration.
[If only I were you.]
Jealousy.
[If only you were me.]
Desire.
[If not.]
Resolve.
[Through you.]
Hope.
[I'll live in this world.]
Expectation.
[Please.]
Plea.
[Idrian Leonberger.]
The overflowing regrets.
[Live well.]
Finally returned to nothingness.
In their place, another thought bloomed.
[Having chosen one at the hazy boundary of past and present.]
The mage who sacrificed her life's origin for me, her final greeting.
[The long, deep dream finally ends.]
[Much remains lacking, to learn, to reclaim, but you'll do well.]
Her voice, full of affection and concern as in life, so welcome and missed.
[It may be confusing.]
I wished her words would continue.
[But think simply.]
[You've just been reborn.]
But Ophelia's thought faded quickly, mercilessly.
[Happy birthday, Ian.]
When her voice faded entirely.
Flash.
I awoke from the dream.
Crack.
A splitting sound rang in my ears.
And at that moment,
Pop.
Light burst from my body.
From the left side of my chest, where my heart lay.