Chapter 71
Chapter 71
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Contact
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Hiems Grasha. The fifth king of the Grasha Kingdom, he ascended the throne at the young age of thirty and ruled for fifty years. As both king and pope, he monopolized all power during the kingdom's golden age, enjoying a long life until the age of eighty. People thought he had received every blessing, lived a life without regrets, and would pass peacefully. But in truth, the king was gripped by intense fear on his deathbed. The world beyond death was one he had never experienced. And it was a place where he could take neither his crown nor his armies. For a king who had always protected himself with ironclad authority, the journey he now had to take alone was utterly cruel. Those who had lived their whole lives with nothing might find it a relief, but not him. He was too accustomed to having so much, and so in his final moments, he trembled and groaned in terror.
Ah, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I want to exist a little longer as king. God, please don’t exist. I have never faced judgment. So please, don’t be anywhere.
The frail Hiems Grasha, for the first time at the very end, sought God and prayed desperately. And then death came. The instant his breath stopped, he stood beneath a sky blazing red. At his feet writhed countless humans, arms outstretched in desperate agony. Hiems tried to flee at the sight of them, but before he could take a step, hands surged toward him like a tidal wave and seized him helplessly.
Ah, is this death? Is this hell? Is this the price of my life?
As Hiems thrashed amid the muddy torrent of humans and screams,
“King.”
“King.”
Suddenly, voices called to him. They were the voices of the hands holding him. Startled, Hiems listened closely, and they spoke.
“Lead us.”
“Be our king.”
“Raise us once more.”
Hiems came to his senses and looked again. Then he understood what they were. They were the dead. In life, they had served God and taught disciples. And they had used that to embezzle, manipulate, commit adultery, and cunningly fill their own pockets with lies. Corrupt priests and depraved teachers from every era and every land were there. Crushed by their own sins and karma, unable to pass to the next world, they clung to this place like worms trapped in slime. And when they found one like themselves, they blindly reached out to drag them into the swarm.
Gazing at them, Hiems realized. Ah, that’s my place too. I’ll sink down there just like them.
In utter despair, Hiems asked the countless hands,
“If I become your king, what will you offer me?”
The hands of the already-dead answered.
“Everything.”
“Existence.”
“Myself.”
“My name.”
Hiems sneered at their groveling. Pathetic things, worms writhing in the muck. Wicked, pitiable creatures who, unable to repent their wrongs, sought to crown a fitting king to escape their torment. Crushed by their own sins and karma, unable to move forward, suffering their punishment. Yes, you are my people.
Without hesitation, Hiems grasped those hands. Then the dead swarmed him, pressing down as if to crush him, and cried out.
“King, king of scorched flesh.”
“King who blackened the sky.”
“Lead us.”
“King of burning and charring.”
With the dead’s song, an unknown power swirled. The hands brought something shimmering. It was the crown Hiems had worn in life. The dead offered it to Hiems. He reached out and took it, and immediately a pain like his soul tearing apart made him lose consciousness. When he awoke again, he stood in the form of his youngest, most beautiful days. A body made not of bone and blood, but of fire and ash. An unknown power overflowed from him, and Hiems scattered the strength filling his grasp into the air. Flames erupted like a volcano, scorching the already red sky even redder.
“Ha, ha…!”
It was a greater, fiercer fire than any he had ever ignited in life. Seeing it, Hiems rejoiced. His heart ached like a lump of lead burning, but aside from that, it was perfect. Beneath the red sky, there was no judgment, and he was still king.
As Hiems Grasha exulted, other kings who had already ruled the graves emerged, as if celebrating the birth of a new king. The Weeping King who sobbed endlessly, the Serpent King drooling lust, and even the majestic Lion King. They too had been kings in life, chosen by the dead after death to become Wraith Kings. They acknowledged Hiems as one of their own, and Hiems, seeing them, was certain. Ah, these are the kings among kings. The truly selected ones among those who had ruled as kings in life. Kings are great. Special. Unassailable.
God, for the first time, I thank you. I was right not to believe in you. I thought death would end everything, that I would fall as a pitiful soul instead of a king, but I became king without ever meeting you.
Hiems offered his first and last prayer of thanks. And as an immortal king, he reigned at the pinnacle of the graves. Until a hundred years ago, when the worlds of living and dead connected.
. . . Human history has countless kings, but those chosen as Wraith Kings can be counted on one hand. That was Hiems’s greatest glory and pride. Thus, Lena Rubel’s existence was like an impurity staining his glory. A worthless girl who was neither a queen nor a ruler, neither victor nor strong, standing on the same level as him? He could not accept it. Worse, Lena Rubel not only shattered his pride but grew into the ultimate threat. After Grasha’s daughter conquered the graves a hundred years ago, the defeated Wraith Kings built walls to protect themselves. By rights, the empire’s heirs should have faced years, even decades, of trial and error to conquer the graves. But Lena Rubel, knowing the graves’ recent state, recklessly exposed their secrets to the surface, dragging the kings back out beyond their walls. She revealed their decree—that to be named is to appear—and had already slain two Wraith Kings. How could he not take interest? For the future, he had to learn how this blasphemous being had come to be and what she wanted to cause this mess.
Meanwhile, having listened to Hiems’s long tale, Lena nodded slowly.
“I was wondering what angle you were coming from, but now I get one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re obsessed with the name ‘king.’”
Hiems clamped his mouth shut and smiled at Lena’s laughing assessment. His displeasure was blatant, but Lena calmly countered.
“What is a king, anyway?”
“A being who rules.”
“No, a king is someone who gets the chance to rule.”
Hiems’s eyes narrowed at the subtle wordplay, but Lena continued in a casual tone.
“Just one among many who, by chance, seizes the high ground—or perhaps bears a heavy burden.”
“Is that your definition of a king?”
“Then you’re lucky.”
Lena replied to Hiems’s question with a mocking scoff.
“But unfortunately, the world has plenty of kings like you.”
“Kings like me?”
“Kings who become narrow-minded believing they’re special. Kings who end up crossing the line, like you and my father.”
As she spoke, Lena looked down at her skirt hem. She felt its texture with her fingertips.
“To repeat, I’m not a king. You can’t understand that because you believe only kings wield power. You think only kings like you can fight and win.”
“Those who fight and win become kings in the end.”
“No, gaining power doesn’t mean you have to become a king.”
This was the narrow-mindedness Lena meant. Another common prejudice. Just as an abandoned girl doesn’t have to be ruined, a strengthened lady doesn’t have to become a king. She doesn’t have to seek revenge, much less become a monster. It’s enough to become someone who understands weakness and strength. That’s why Lena called herself just a person, but Hiems, born a king, could scarcely comprehend.
“Then I suppose I should become friends with the king. It’s too wasteful to leave that power and ability to a mere mortal.”
So instead, he proposed to Lena.
“What if you join hands with us instead of the emperor?”
“Then will you let me out of here?”
Hiems faltered briefly as Lena swiftly asked. Seeing it, Lena grinned deeply.
“As I thought.”
Lena tore off the skirt hem she’d been fiddling with while watching Hiems. Then she lunged at the more flustered Hiems. As Lena tried to grab him, Hiems turned his body to ash and evaded. Lena, as if waiting, unfurled the torn cloth and captured all the ash. The ash writhed like a living thing trying to escape, then reformed into Hiems Grasha, trapped like a fish in a net. The immobilized king asked, hiding his dismay.
“What is this?”
“An escape attempt. Didn’t I say earlier? I can’t get out alone.”
So she would get help. From you, the one who imprisoned me. A great king wouldn’t come all this way just to chat. Trying to steal my memories meant probing for information, and coming for information meant he had a way out too.
“I don’t have to cooperate. Just as you entered freely, I’ll do as I please.”
With that, Lena placed her hand on the captured Hiems’s neck. Reminding herself this was a dream, she focused not on her own consciousness but his, searching for the way out.
“Ugh!”
Suddenly, a dizzying shock hit, and the world shook like a candle flame. Lena clutched her head and staggered unwittingly, and in that gap, Hiems shook off her hand.
“Where…!”
Lena reached out to grab Hiems again. But the world jolted once more, and darkness fell before her eyes.
“It seems your body is under attack.”
Hiems’s voice came from far away. But Lena couldn’t even gauge his direction.
“Pity. It was a good try.”
Hiems said smugly.
“The conversation was enjoyable. But if we linger, it might get troublesome, so I’ll take my leave.”
Desperate, Lena tried to pull herself together. Then another bolt-like shock poured in, muddling her mind. And Hiems’s voice grew even more distant.
“Then have a peaceful time.”
That was the last. With that farewell, Hiems vanished from Lena’s consciousness. ***
“What are you doing!”
Uni shrieked in alarm. But the Southern Duke ignored her and slapped Lena’s cheek. When Lena still didn’t wake, he raised his hand again.
“Stop it!”
Unable to watch, Uni clung to the Southern Duke’s arm. With a pained expression, he said,
“If she doesn’t wake, she’ll die.”
“If slapping her would wake her, she’d have come to already!”
The Southern Duke’s face twisted further at Uni’s retort. The doctor had tried medicine, washed her face with cold water, massaged her limbs. But with no sign of her stirring, the frustrated Southern Duke resorted to slapping her awake. The result was the same. As he groaned in despair with no other options, commotion arose at the door, and an unwelcome guest appeared. Eastern Duke Rig-nan Aiterner.
Gritting his teeth at the thorn in his side, the Southern Duke demanded,
“What business do you have here?”
“I came to see my fiancée.”
“You rude bastard, I don’t have time for you—get out!”
The Southern Duke tried to eject Rin immediately. It had only been hours since he suffered humiliation from the emperor. He didn’t want to face someone who had witnessed it all. But Rin ignored him and pushed inside, and the Southern Duke drew a deep breath to shout again. Then Uni intervened.
“You never know. Maybe he has some way.”
At Uni’s mediation, the Southern Duke paused and eyed Rin again. Rin didn’t seem to have brought anything. Glaring at Rin in dissatisfaction, the Southern Duke eventually ground his teeth and turned away.
“I’ll be back in an hour. Make sure you’re gone by then.”
With that, the Southern Duke left, leaving only Rin and Uni in the room.
“Do you have a way?”
Uni pleaded with Rin. He nodded with an uncertain look.
“Leave us alone for a bit.”
Uni glanced anxiously between Lena and Rin, then turned and left the room. Now alone with Lena, Rin quietly gazed at her swollen red cheek and bloodied lips. Rin brushed Lena’s lips with his thumb. Then he licked the blood from her off his fingertip and swallowed.