Chapter 224
Chapter 224
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 224
Chapter Title: D-3
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“The Magic Department and Judiciary had quite the brawl, didn’t they?”
“A brawl? What kind of brawl?”
In Gail’s residence as the sun set. The soldier, who had been staring straight ahead like a statue, muttered without thinking. He realized his shift was almost over, and the unbearable boredom had gotten to him. Sensing footsteps from afar, he replied.
“I heard it was chaos. They said it was the first time they’d seen mages fighting like that—no one even thought to stop them. Apparently, it was over some stamp or something.”
“No issues with the deal?”
“That’s why the Judiciary staff clocked out right after hours, isn’t it? The Imperial Palace is a riot sometimes. They’re all at each other’s throats, then bam, time’s up, and they just leave.”
The soldiers chuckled, then spotted a carriage approaching from afar and straightened up. The flag belonged to the Magic Department. And usually, the mages who came to Gail’s residence were either healers or Ian.
Creeeak!
Neigh!
“Lord Ian. Please come in.”
“You’ve had a long shift. Everything alright?”
“Yes. No issues.”
Ian gave a slight nod and climbed the stairs alone. He usually brought Romandro along, but for some reason, today he was with the other mages.
Ian tucked his leather gloves into his chest pocket and crossed the palace familiarly.
Clack, clack.
The sun sank lower. The thick sunset had shifted from orange to a deep red glow. A warm breeze. Distant shadows. The onset of darkness pouring through the large windows. Ian’s footsteps and those of the mages following him echoed through the empty corridor.
“Ah, Lord Ian.”
“It’s Lord Ian. What brings you here?”
The Cheonryeo warriors lounging on the garden lawn greeted Ian. They were all chewing on grass blades, enjoying the greenery leisurely. Ian simply returned a small smile.
Swish.
“Something going on? Where’s Lord Romandro?”
“Yeah. But the more I look, the more she resembles Lady Philia, doesn’t she? This is why bloodlines matter. If Lord Nerthern has a kid, I’ll pray it looks just like Lady Philia.”
The warriors brushed it off as nothing and flopped back onto the grass. They didn’t know when they’d return to the desert, but this luxury wasn’t half bad.
Creeeak.
“Lord Ian. Good day.”
“Is His Highness Gail inside?”
“Yes. He’s dining now.”
“Open the door.”
At Ian’s command, the double doors leading to the bedroom slowly swung open.
Gail, eating at the table beside the bed, scowled. Surprisingly, Philia and Nerthern were with him.
“Oh, Ian!”
“Mother’s here too.”
“Ah, this is, well...”
Philia looked troubled, not knowing what to do. She panicked, fearing she’d be scolded for overstepping.
Gail glanced at Philia, then slammed his fork down loudly.
Thud.
“Dining alone was boring, so I asked them to join me. But the guard out front is awfully inept and rude. Letting a guest in without announcing I’m eating.”
But contrary to his words, Gail’s knife pointed at Ian. It was a protest that entering while he was dining was incredibly rude.
Ian ignored it with a mere glance and asked Philia.
“Please leave His Highness Gail alone with me for a moment.”
“Oh, y-yes. Of course.”
Philia hurriedly gathered her things and vanished into the next room with Nerthern. Gail scanned Ian up and down, then casually sliced his steak.
“You chased away my dining companions, so sit and take their place. By the way, I like being fed.”
Seeing him jest slyly, he seemed somewhat revived.
The mages placed a small glass vial in front of Ian and left. Gail eyed it while continuing to eat. Even without Ian saying, he could guess what it was.
“...I don’t do dessert.”
It was a potion that brought death. Through magic, he would soon breathe his last entirely for Ian. He could truly feel the final page of his life turning.
“Rumors will spread soon.”
“Rumors. Rumors, huh.”
Clink, clink. The sound of utensils echoed quietly. Gail pondered in silence, then gave an answer close to the truth.
“Rumors that I’ve fled into exile?”
“...Yes.”
“Ridiculous. Who gave you permission to use a prince’s name like that? I didn’t think you were so reckless.”
Ian was inwardly surprised but didn’t respond. Gail didn’t seem to want an answer anyway.
“Your Highness need only stay as you are now.”
“Ah. Right. Just sit tight like this, testify to Haiman’s corruption at the trial, follow Marib—and if things go wrong, breathe your last without issue.”
Bang!
Gail slammed the table hard and pointed his knife at Ian’s nape. If he could, he’d slice that pale neck like his steak.
“A body awaiting death anyway. Drinking this potion is nothing. But what’s that? Exile? Me abandoning Bariel for a foreign land? To save my skin?”
What greater insult? He wasn’t a coward begging for his life by betraying his homeland. Gail ground his teeth, but Ian pushed the potion forward indifferently.
“It’s just a rumor. One that will vanish without a trace someday.”
“My honor vanishes with it.”
“My regrets, Your Highness. But since the rebellion, your honor has already vanished.”
Crash! Clang!
Gail swept all the dishes off the table.
He didn’t want to believe it, but it was reality. He was a prisoner who couldn’t step foot outside the palace—and even if he did, Haiman’s assassins would ensure a gruesome end.
The two glared at each other coldly.
“Stay quiet and don’t cause a fuss. Do that, and at least you won’t end up like Marib.”
Stripped of his imperial status, erased from history, and hanged to the applause of the nobles. Ian whispered soothingly.
“I’ll protect Mother’s tree in my name as well. Don’t forget this is all my consideration.”
Reminding Gail of the promise he’d made. If Ian had wanted, he could’ve slipped him the potion without a trace.
Gail scowled and snatched the potion.
“Ha. Consideration?”
He downed it in one gulp without hesitation. A thick, bitter taste coated his tongue. This was death. Gail wiped his mouth roughly and hurled the vial at the wall.
Clang!
“Fine. This must be the consideration you want from me.”
“With our interests aligned perfectly, what better cooperation is there?”
“You’re damned to hell too.”
“If I can make Bariel heaven, anywhere will do.”
Ian replied elegantly, and Gail let out a hollow laugh. A hot surge spread through his body. His breath now entirely belonged to that bastard. As his chest tightened, soldiers called from outside.
“Lord Ian. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine. Everyone, withdraw.”
“Ah, y-yes. Understood.”
Worried by the commotion, wondering if there was trouble. Of course, in a situation like this, no one worried about him. Gail stared blankly at the ceiling as Ian rose.
“No issues with daily life aside from a brief fever. You can even forget you drank it.”
“When do I die?”
“...When God deems the moment most perfect.”
“I’ve been thinking these past few days.”
An abrupt preamble. Ian considered ignoring it but paused and turned back to Gail. Words spoken with no one to hear merely scattered as sound. The final lament of a dying man—it wouldn’t hurt to listen.
“When I first received Wesley’s curse.”
“Wesley’s curse?”
“Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. Cursed never to be loved? It wouldn’t change much from before.”
He’d always been that way. Sweet whispers, but always within calculated interests—and the same for the other side. Wesley had gained plenty from meeting him too.
Was that true love? It seemed no different from before. What curse? What problem? That’s what Gail thought at first.
“But reflecting on my current situation, I get it. ‘Never to be loved’—that included Bariel.”
He had courted Bariel fervently, but in the end, he wasn’t chosen. He wasn’t loved. Ian crossed his arms and looked down at him. Like brothers, huh—spouting words not unlike Marib’s.
“Shall I record it for posterity? ‘Prince Gail, rejected by Bariel.’”
“Get out and drop dead, Ian.”
“I can’t die, but I’ll leave. Enjoy. Not much time left.”
Gail chuckled and muttered a light curse. As Ian exited, Philia and the soldiers who’d been hovering jumped back in surprise. Worried about the noise, no doubt.
“I-Ian! Are you okay? I heard dishes breaking.”
“I’m fine. But the floor needs cleaning. Let the attendants in.”
“Yes. Understood!”
“...Your cheek’s swelling has gone down a lot. Good.”
Ian glanced at his mother’s cheek and nodded. A scratch from Arsen’s slap remained, but it had healed enough not to show unless looked at closely.
“Say, Ian. If you have time, shall we walk the garden? I need to discuss something with Lord Nerthern.”
“Hm, yes. That’s fine.”
Romandro and Hail hadn’t returned yet. He trusted they’d stamped it on time, but until he saw it himself, nothing was certain. A bit of time left anyway.
“How’s palace life?”
“It’s too—too much for me. I’m grateful just for this chance in my lifetime. But, well. It might be time for us to start thinking about heading back.”
Ian gauged the timing. Come to think of it, they’d been here quite a while. A minority tribe stationed here, in a climate unsuited to them—it hadn’t been easy. Ian placed a hand on his chest and conveyed thanks to Nerthern.
“If you wish, I’ll prepare carriages for your journey. The Cheonryeo’s aid saved the Imperial Palace from crisis—I’ll engrave it deep in my heart.”
“Nonsense. We’re allies. We share joy and hardship alike.”
“I’m truly grateful for those words.”
“And so...”
And so? Ian looked up as if to say go on, and Nerthern clamped his mouth shut, tense. Unlike him. Nerthern requested very slowly, but sincerely.
“Before we leave, I’d like a small engagement ceremony with Lord Ian. We’ll hold the wedding back in Hielro.”
“Ah.”
Philia’s face flushed beet red. Asking permission from his child—it was adorably endearing. Ian let out a short exclamation and approved immediately.
“Of course. But things are busy now, so after Prince Arsen’s Mana Confirmation Ritual and urgent matters? I’ll handle the preparations.”
“You? The preparations?”
“With all sincerity.”
Philia was so thrilled she nearly stomped her feet. Nerthern looked relieved, his expression lighter.
It was while they discussed the engagement in the garden. A mage rushed up and whispered to Ian.
“Lord Ian. We’ve received word about the Carbo Temple. You’ll need to head out.”