Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 1
Chapter Title: The Duke's Final Night
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Duke Jang Theo-Bastin Sion knew that the time left in his permitted life was not long. Senility had already set in deeply.
He was sixty-one years old.
That was plenty long enough. Among his brothers and the other high nobles, plenty had passed away at much younger ages.
Thus, the duke was preparing for death with relative calm.
"It's a bit stuffy. Open the window. Wide open."
"Yes, Your Grace."
When the maids opened the large window, the cool September night air flowed in.
Even this much chill wind would be bad for the health of the old and sickly duke, so the head steward's expression was far from pleased.
But knowing how little time the duke had left, the head steward—who realized this might be his master's final request—could not bring himself to nag as he usually would.
He could simply close it later when he came to check on the duke's condition after he fell asleep.
"...Everyone, you may withdraw."
Sion Duke, staring out the window with cloudy eyes and repeating labored breaths, waved his hand dismissively. Everyone bowed their heads and left the bedroom.
Even the sound of rustling clothes faded away, leaving only the intermittent whisper of the wind circling the room.
Lying down, Sion Duke turned his head alone to gaze at the night sky spread out beyond the window.
A hazy crescent moon caught in the clouds and the twinkling of countless stars soothed his heart, causing memories of his past life to pass sequentially through his mind.
Born the eldest son of the ducal family, he had received education and teachings from childhood to live as a lord.
Immediately after his coming-of-age ceremony, he followed his father to gain experience in various administrative duties, and upon turning twenty, he inherited the title. Thus, he had lived as Duke Sion from a young age.
Over forty years, the world had been chaotic, but only Sion Dukedom had developed and stabilized accordingly.
When he had first ascended to the dukedom, the population had been just shy of 100,000; now it neared 150,000, with all systems and administration firmly in place, ushering in a golden age.
His successor son was a bit rigid but diligent and steadfast, so there would be no issues in managing the territory. His two daughters, married off long ago, were also living well.
"It was a good life."
He could proudly say he had done well both as a lord and as a father. Only his wife Elizabeth, who had passed away over a decade ago, was missed.
Thinking of his wife naturally brought other faces to mind.
Especially the two who had left his side even before she did.
"Mother... Father...."
With a sigh like a long exhale, two faint figures appeared in the old duke's mind.
The faces of his parents in his memories were far younger than he was now.
He could not recall his father's face because of the mask he always wore, but his mother had always been graceful.
"Why... why did you do it?"
As if they were standing before him, the duke asked the question.
In their early to mid-forties, still healthy and in their prime, his parents had not only handed over the title but left the territory entirely.
It was such an unprecedented event that, just as the duke had questioned moments ago, everyone at the time wondered why.
But in truth, both then and now... Duke Sion knew the reason.
"Even so... even so, stay by my side a little longer...."
The old duke's eyes, envisioning his parents, grew even cloudier.
The last image of his mother in his memory was beautifully ageless for a woman in her early forties, though not entirely untouched by time—she merely looked five or six years younger than her actual age.
But his father, the founder of House Sion who had lived with a mask from some point onward and the previous duke...
"Were you... truly human?"
It was a fact known only to direct family and the previous duke's close aides.
The previous duke did not age.
In Duke Sion's memories, his father always had the same face.
After his children were born, he even grew a beard to somewhat hide it from the family, showing his bare face to them, but even that could not conceal his youth.
Thus, he began wearing the mask he had used only for official occasions even in daily life, starting after the children were old enough to understand.
The one who did not age.
A being that defied the will of the gods.
If that fact became known, the nobles of the suzerain Obla Kingdom—who already eyed the dukedom warily—would rally the church and attack, as clear as day.
Not just his father, but the entire House Sion.
That was precisely why his father had handed over the title and left the dukedom entirely with his mother.
"Father...."
Setting aside his selfless sacrifice in renouncing power and glory, his father was truly great.
One of the six heroes who ended the age of chaos, the knight of knights who slew the Demon Dragon Viuslek.
But what truly made his father great was not only that legendary martial fame.
After marrying the princess of Obla Kingdom—his mother—he led a pioneering party of some five hundred to this land and built the dukedom from nothing with his bare hands.
This once-insignificant land, inferior even to a mere barony of Obla Kingdom, had become so prosperous entirely because of his father.
Duke Sion himself, revered as a wise lord, had merely built upon the foundation his father laid, coloring within the lines of the blueprint he left behind.
All the glory rightfully belonged to his father, the previous Duke Sion.
"Hoo...."
Guilt for once resenting him, longing and regret for parents he could never see again—all escaped as a long sigh.
His mother had returned to the dukedom long ago in a small urn of ashes, but his father's whereabouts were unknown.
Since he did not age, he probably had not died either.
"If only... if only I could see you one last time...."
The old son on the brink of death envisioned his youthful father that way.
Whoosh.
An even chillier wind blew in, fluttering the curtains, and the edge of the curtain entered Sion Duke's view.
As the subsiding wind allowed the puffed-up curtain to slowly settle back, the briefly obscured window came into sight.
"......!"
The duke's wrinkled eyes widened slightly.
Behind the gently swaying curtain, something was visible. It was a human figure.
'A hallucination?'
The old, sickly duke momentarily thought his mind had gone strange.
At this late hour, for someone to invade the solemn duke's bedroom?
Moreover, no bird aside, no person could climb to such a height.
But it was neither hallucination nor illusion.
Step, step......
Low footsteps grew steadily closer.
At the same time, the figure—previously hidden in the thick shadow cast by the lantern—began to reveal itself.
Brown boots, then a black robe reaching to the knees, and soon the intruder who had approached the bedside in the lantern light was fully visible.
Duke Sion's pupils shook violently. His dry, cracked lips trembled as well.
After a short time that felt eternal, a quivering voice escaped the duke's lips.
"Are you... a phantom? Am I... dreaming right now?"
A hand. A large hand descended onto Duke Sion's head.
The hand that brushed back his snow-white hair gently stroked the duke's wrinkled forehead and then his rough, ashen cheek.
"It's not a dream, my son."
"......!"
At the voice as warm and gentle as the touch, the old duke's eyes widened further, and soon a single tear trailed down.
"Ah, Father. Dad...."
The old son, reverted to a child, raised a trembling hand toward his father, as if to confirm it was no illusion.
"Yes, my son. Jang Theo, my fine son."
The father grasped his son's hand tightly.
As the faint warmth from the edge of his memory transmitted anew across decades, Duke Sion shed hot tears. Only his father ever called him Jang Theo.
"Why... why come only now? Father, Dad... I missed you so much. I longed for you so. Why now? Hoo...."
"Dad's sorry, son. I'm just... so sorry."
Wiping the tears trailing down his deeply wrinkled son's eyes, the father smiled.
The moment he saw that smile—so bitter and sorrowful—Duke Sion understood.
For one who neither aged nor died, how immense the pain of watching his child's aging and death.
Before immortality, as a parent forced to witness it, Duke Sion could now comprehend his father's feelings.
But at the same time, the old son realized.
That his father's love for him far outweighed that unfathomable pain. That it was that love which brought his father here.
The instant he recognized that deep, vast love, Duke Sion felt an indescribable fullness and peace.
"Father...."
To his father nodding vigorously as if to say he would grant anything—just like in his childhood—the aged son spoke in a trembling voice.
"Was I... a fine lord? A lord not unworthy before God and you, Father?"
It was that which had been the source of strength allowing him to live as Duke Sion.
The reason he had toiled ceaselessly day and night as lord for so long was not solely for the dukedom and its people.
Truth be told, the greatest desire was to be acknowledged by his father.
And now, with time running out, he yearned to hear confirmation from his hero.
In the duke's trembling vision, his father shook his head.
As disappointment thudded into his chest, a gentle voice burrowed into his ear.
"You are my proud son. I've always been proud of you, Jang Theo."
"......!"
Duke Sion's widened eyes soon curved into a serene smile.
Before being a lord, as a son, his father was proud of him.
"I love you, Jang Theo. Thank you... for being born and living as my son."
His father's voice strangely felt damp.
It was like returning to his childhood, when Father would tell exciting old tales before bed.
"Yes, Father... thank you too. I was happy you were my father."
"Yes, yes."
"You know, Father? Ten years ago, I...."
Feeling like a six-year-old child, the old son—breathing raggedly with effort—bragged to his father about all he had accomplished in the meantime.
Holding his son's hand tightly, the father chuckled lowly and nodded repeatedly.
The father-son conversation continued warmly.
* * *
Two days later.
Duke Jang Theo-Bastin Sion passed away on a day fully embracing autumn.
It was a peaceful death, slipping away quietly in his sleep at night.
Since everyone already knew the duke's time was short, family and relatives along with many others had arrived in the dukedom. Thus, the funeral could be held immediately.
Fitting for the wise lord who led the dukedom's resurgence, crowds of people lined the path to the family mausoleum, seeing the duke off on his final journey.
Among that crowd was a man wearing a long, thick robe like mercenaries of old—tall, with his face half-hidden by a hood.
Standing motionless amid the grieving citizens shedding tears, watching the funeral procession, the man turned away.
"I love you forever, my son...."
A low whisper escaped his tightly pressed lips, but no one heard it.