MBOMEN 25

Chapter 25. Kizel’s Beast (2)
The moment she heard his voice, Laila felt an overwhelming urge to turn and run.

But as if possessed, she stepped closer to the bed. Upon seeing the King’s face, shrouded in the bleak aura typical of long-term illness, she again felt the strong impulse to flee.

“Come closer.”

Od gestured persistently, as if he wanted her to sit right beside him. Mechanically, Laila took another step forward.

It was a strange sensation. Much like when she dealt with Yustar, she found herself unable to genuinely disobey Od’s words.

Now, she stood barely a hand’s width away from him. A chill ran down her spine at the thought that his bony fingers might suddenly reach out and grab her wrist.

“Kneel and pay your respects to His Majesty.”

The chamberlain, who stood like a statue beside the bed’s canopy post, spoke in a solemn, authoritative voice. Laila instinctively dropped to both knees.

Od extended his withered hand, devoid of all vitality. Laila briefly pressed her lips to the back of it in a gesture of respect. His skin was cold like a fish, dry and cracked like a dead tree.

“Raise your head.”

Laila did as instructed. It felt as though two invisible hands gripped her cheeks and forced her head up to face the king directly.

The chamberlain scowled at her boldness, but to her surprise, King Od burst into laughter—a harsh, rusty sound like metal scraping metal.

“A witch, indeed.”

Then, Od unexpectedly grasped her chin with his bony fingers. Both Laila and Yustar, who was observing, were visibly startled by the sudden gesture.

Od spoke again.

“Tell me, witch. Was your mother a witch as well? Are you truly a descendant of the first witch?”

Laila, lips trembling with shock and fear, replied calmly,

“Yes, Your Majesty. My mother was a great witch. She passed some of her knowledge on to me. I and my ancestors are daughters born from the first witch.”

“The prince tells me you can see what humans cannot, hear sounds from the boundaries of reality, and reveal the ugly truths behind them—weakening men in the process. Is that true?”

“It is true.”

Od’s sunken cheeks bulged, as if he were about to laugh again, but instead he turned his head and erupted into a violent coughing fit.

“Cough, cough! Hack!”

“Your Majesty!”

The chamberlain rushed forward in alarm, but Od raised a hand to stop him. Laila, still on her knees, stared wide-eyed.

When the coughing subsided, a dark thread of blood dripped from the corner of Od’s mouth. He wiped it away carelessly with the back of his hand, then glared at Laila with bloodshot eyes.

“If you are truly a witch, then tell me—how many illnesses plague my body?”

Laila’s lips parted in surprise. Some witches were able to diagnose diseases by merely touching a patient. But not her—she had no such power.

“I do not possess that ability, Your Majesty. But if you describe the symptoms, I can perhaps make a tincture that might help.”

“You claim your medicine is better than that of the royal physicians?”

Od mocked, and Laila felt her ears burn with embarrassment.

At that moment, Yustar spoke gently.

“It is said that true descendants of witches breathe incantations into their tinctures. While the royal physicians precisely measure herbs to heal you, Miss Krisrad may be able to heal you through prayer as well.”

“Prayer, you say.”

Od let out another rasping chuckle and narrowed his eyes at Yustar.

“I wasn’t asking you, Yustar.”

His tone was commanding and rough. Laila felt a wave of resentment rise toward Od—and was startled at herself for feeling such a thing.

“I apologize, Your Majesty,”

Yustar replied obediently, but Od didn’t seem satisfied—at least not in Laila’s eyes.

Suddenly, Od broke into a fit of harsh laughter. This time, no coughing followed.

He looked at Laila kneeling before him and said,

“It seems your efforts were worth it, Yustar. This is the first time I’ve seen you speak on someone else’s behalf.”

Yustar remained silent. A strange, tense air passed between Laila, Yustar, and Od. A foreboding sense crept in—as though something momentous was about to happen. Cold sweat trickled down Laila’s back.

Od said,

“Take this woman as your consort, Yustar.”

Silence.

It was as if the entire room—no, the entire palace—had sunk into a deep abyss. An overwhelming silence filled the space.

It was Yustar who finally broke it.

“Your Majesty, I did not bring Miss Krisrad here for that purpose.”

His voice was more flustered than ever. Laila stared up at Od in a daze. This man was not just physically ill—he was clearly mentally unwell as well. Otherwise…

“Whatever your intention, Yustar, it means nothing to me. If you had brought me a true witch, I intended to grant her to you as your wife.”

Laila sprang to her feet in fury.

“I am not an object!”

Yustar quickly reached out and pulled her back.

“Calm down, Laila.”

Od looked at them—or more precisely, at Laila—with a cold, cynical smile. His hollow cheeks twisted grotesquely.

“If I call you an object, then you are an object. If I call you a beast, then you must be a beast. And if I call you the prince’s consort, then so you shall be. Do you know why? Because I am the peak of this nation—the King of the Kingdom of Sierro, witch.”

The color drained from Laila’s face. Od let out another loud, raucous laugh.

“You should be grateful, Yustar. I had decided to grant you the witch as your wife regardless of her appearance. Even if she had a giant wart on her forehead, a face pockmarked by smallpox, or rotting teeth and festering gums.”

He twisted his lips.

“But this one’s rather pretty, isn’t she? That ominous black hair and blood-red eyes aren’t such terrible flaws after all. Skin as pale and smooth as hers is rare even among noble ladies.”

“Your Majesty.”

“I will instruct the palace secretary regarding the wedding. Consider my words final. Make preparations accordingly.”

As his eyes gleamed, the door behind them opened. For a moment, Laila thought Od had opened it by magic—but it was only the chamberlain, who had somehow reached it unnoticed.

“Leave us.”

Od commanded, followed by another harsh coughing fit. Yustar gently grasped Laila’s shoulder.

“Let’s go for now, Laila. We’ll talk outside.”

* * *

Sunlight poured warmly into the hallway. The ominous and gloomy atmosphere from the night before had vanished completely, yet Laila trembled uncontrollably.

Her teeth chattered, and goosebumps ran from her neck down to her waist.

“Laila.”

The moment Yustar’s hand touched her shoulder, she twisted away. She could feel his hand flung off her body, and with it came a wave of inexplicable guilt from deep within her.

What is this? Laila wondered. A crushing urge to sob overtook her, but no tears came. The emotions were incomprehensible—and because of that, her chest ached.

“Laila.”

Yustar waited for her to calm down before approaching again, more cautiously this time. Laila didn’t recoil, but glared at him with a twisted expression, like someone struck by misfortune.

“I’m going back.”

At her words, Yustar slightly lowered his chin.

“Back? To where? You mean Rizhikus? Back to the place where people burned down your home and tried to throw you into the flames?”

Yes, she thought. But she couldn’t say the words aloud.

Rizhikus. Back there? Who would even welcome her? All that awaited her was a burnt ruin and the same villagers who’d try to burn her again—this time for sure.

“You know it’s a foolish thought, Laila.”

Yustar seemed to read her mind. Laila, who had been anxiously rubbing her arms, froze and looked at him. Her eyes were red and swollen.

“Why are you trying to marry me off to you?”

she demanded sharply. Yustar glanced downward, then gave a faint, unreadable smile.

“My brother would never do anything to harm me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. How can you say that after what he just said? How?”

“What exactly did he say? That I should take you as my wife? That’s not harmful to me, Laila. It may be a disaster for you, though.”

Unbelievable, Laila thought. She stared at him, mouth slightly open.

“How can you say that?”

“And why shouldn’t I?”

Yustar’s counterquestion stoked her fury. She couldn’t believe he was being sincere. It felt like being mocked in a cage.

Suddenly, she clutched at her hair as if to tear it out.

“Take a good look! My hair—my eyes! These can never be hidden. Will you cover my face with a veil when I go out in public? Will you fit me with a wig? Change my eye color with magic?”

“I’ve always seen you, Laila. I saw you before. I see you now. And I’ll likely keep seeing you.”

At his gentle voice, strength left her fingers. Yustar looked down at her, hesitated, then gently smoothed her disheveled hair with his hand.

He asked softly,

“What are you really afraid of, Laila? That if we marry, people will mock me? Or that you will be mocked?”