Before heading out, Burn made a beelio see Shorof alone, while Man was busy talking with the mythical unity, discussing the treasures Nahwu had brought for Shorof.
She couldn’t her head around how they mao hide such cursed goodies in the sacred shadow of the World Tree itself. It was like putting a mime in a musical, but she suspected they had crafted a curse using the corrupted mana with Shorof as its target.
Meanwhile, everyone else, like her servants, wouldn’t face severe effects.
Burn stood in Shorof’s empty room, imagining her peacefully slumbering among the very objects designed for her demise. Narrowing his eyes, he felt his expression grow colder.
His mind wandered back to his father. What was the trick back then? What was the method?
Ohis loop ed up, he po storm the pace's ste room—only this time, he'd drag Man along to examihe goods. After all, Soulnaught wasly a holy nd, so surely a curse wouldn’t require the stealth of a ninja.
But then again, Man had already poked around the pad found nothing amiss.
How had they pulled off such a mastercss iion?
“Your… Majesty?”
A voice slinked closer, as subtle as a cat in the shadows.
Burn turo spot Shorof, wheeling in Nahwu like a relut shopping cart, clearly supp her haggard state. He graciously gestured for them to ehe room, leading the charge toward the bed.
Nahroached with all the fidence of a deer in headlights, her gaze glued to her feet as if she were afraid her eyes might betray her.
“I want to examine your body,” Burn stated, not b to sugarcoat it.
Shorof's breath hitched. “Yes?”
Although not oo linger on pleasantries, Burn patiently waited for Shorof to plop down on the bed. He dragged a chair closer, settling in like someone preparing for an intense round of 20 Questions, grasping her wrist as if it were the st doughnut at a staff meeting.
His impatience was an uninvited guest, but there was a glimmer of gentleness hiding behind it. He examined her body with his touch, firming that she indeed had the same illness as his father.
Nahwu, the silent aplice, didn’t dare to voice a single protest, as though any sound might summon the wrath of a thousand gods.
“My father’s symptoms were more hidden. How did your symptoms end up staging a grand protest on your body?” Burn probed, unafraid to engage in a messy examination.
“Sir… I don’t have any reason to hide it…” Shorof replied, her voice a soft tremble. “My family… They tried their absolute best to hunt down a cure, which meant I didn’t py the stoic martyr in front of them. Or… maybe I just have a weaker resolve than Your Majesty’s Royal Father.”
Well, that ossible. His old man, a stubborn knight who’d probably duel death itself, would trade years of life just to keep his ailments tucked under a proverbial rug.
And really, who could bme him? Those years had been like a stubborn fog: relentless, oppressive, and about as enjoyable as a soggy biscuit.
Before Burn asded the throhere were many problems in the court. As strong and righteous as his father was, it would never have been enough.
With the added weight of his age and the mysterious illness, it was easy for him to hide it for some years. However, it eventually came crashing down sooner or ter.
And it crashed all at once.
“Man and I must dash off for some business,” Burn announced, clearly not winning any awards for the warm-and-fuzzy club.
“You endure and have a chat about recovery methods with your mother. Right now, she’s probably glued tan’s instrus, taking notes about mana poisoning.” Burn was never one for f words, but Shorof had itted no sins.
Not to mention, he loathed this pesky illness known as mana poisoning.
“Her Holiness is leaving?” Nahwu tilted her head, catg the shadow that draped Burn’s face, revealing just how far he was detached from her vibrant, inted view of the world.
“You think you’re our only headache?” Burn shot up. “The world is already one giant problem on her shoulders. And then there’s me, not to mention those delightful outsiders.”
Enemies were popping up like weeds in a garden, and tallying each potential harm was about as exhausting as herding cats.
“And she still has to fret over this unknown evil lurking in the shadows.”
Burn turned away, not b to cast an their faces. It was a blend of fury and a helplesshat only a toddler witnessing a broken toy could muster. The world had many problems, but once again, this wretched hellhole was the soil he was born in.
Stepping out, his mind flickered back to his earlier chat with Man.
“The Demon Lord and I, who’s stronger?”
Man pondered.
“You,” she answered. “But he’s as sly as a fox in a henhouse, and corruption made him about as easy to kill as a cockroach at a pest trol vention. He’s almost like me, almost uo die.”
“Romeuf met his ee being strohan the Demon Lord. Urien too, if alone, would be a prime didate for a quick trip to the afterlife.”
The ‘how’ of Romeuf’s crucifixion remaihe world’s worst-kept secret, an enigma ed in an unsolvable puzzle. Of course, the cross was a statement. But the truth?
“If you were alive back then, the Demon Lord wouldn’t have stood a ce,” Man smiled, fshing him a look as warm as the sun that could light up a shadowy alley.
In short, the Demon Lord wasn’t even parable to him.
He knew Man was simply aowledging that when it came to problem-solving, he was still the best this world had ever seen. He would handle everythier than the world did 500 years ago.
He destroyed the first wave of the outsiders alohree years ago, after all.
If the crises of the Demon Lord 500 years ago and the outsiders three years ago were at the same level, well, that just proved he had a knack for nipping chaos in the bud.
The sound of his metal heels echoed down the corridrowing fainter with each step. Once he was out of sight, Nahwu turo her older sister, surprised to find her blushing like a ripe tomato.
“Sister? A-are you okay?” Nahwu asked, half-expeg Shorof to sprout hearts and flowers.
Shorof shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just… His Majesty Emperor Burn is such a plex character.”
Nahwu tilted her head, eling her inner fused puppy. “Well, yes… his iions are easy to misuand.”
Shorof nodded, gng at her wrist as if it held the ao the universe. The man’s touch lingered on her pulse, and for a fleeting moment, she imagi was as delicate as a feather caught in a breeze.
His father had met a grim end; she would have too if this tinued. How… tragic.
Yet somehow, he had taken it upon himself to be the executioner of misery.
“If they weren’t able to find my cure by the end… Nahwu, to end my misery, would you kill me?” Shorof suddenly asked.
Nahwu widened her eyes. Her hand ched as she answered softly, “That… could be the fate that might just be waiting to happen.”
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Will post two more chapters ter!
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