18. Vow
“……”
She hadn’t slept a wink until sunrise.
“……”
“……”
The same went for the shadow knights.
The Emperor was still unconscious. Even in that state, he clung tightly to her, so she had no choice but to lie down beside him.
Since the Emperor had undergone a demonic transformation, the shadow knights could not leave his side.
In the end, all four of them ended up in the same bedroom.
Serven stood leaning against the wall by the door, and Riyan sat on the floor where he could see the bed.
It was strange how naturally the two of them settled in, as if they hadn’t just barged into someone else’s bedroom.
But the strangest of all was the Emperor.
Having lost consciousness while clutching her, he slept like the dead.
He hardly even breathed. If not for the slow return of his human form, she might have thought he was truly dead.
As a result, Lasilia had to stay motionless, watching him wide-eyed through the night.
The shard that had pierced through his forehead was a horn. The reason he had been covered in blood was due to his transformation.
The damage to his back was far worse. It was practically shredded — because wings are much larger than horns.
At first, she had been overwhelmed by how horrific it looked. She could now understand the expression, “a pain the human body cannot endure.”
“It looks like he’s almost back to normal now,”
Riyan, who had been sitting cross-legged, chin resting in hand as he stared at the Emperor, suddenly spoke.
“…I see.”
Lasilia gave the Emperor — whom she hadn’t looked away from for even a moment — another glance.
His face was almost fully recovered. Once the bloodstains were wiped away, he wouldn’t look much different from usual.
His back still bore deep wounds, but the bone shards that had pierced through the skin had receded. Only a few black scales remained near the injured areas.
The scales, looking like fragmented blades, gradually became thinner and more transparent with time before disappearing altogether.
“It would be nice to at least wipe his face. May I call someone to bring a wet cloth?”
Serven stepped away from the wall.
“I’ll go. It’s probably not ideal for others to see him like this.”
He was referring to the still-transformed Lescal.
Lasilia asked,
“But isn’t the truth about the Blue Moon not a secret? Surely the people of Elliadin know that demonic blood runs in the Imperial family.”
“Even so, if they see it with their own eyes, they’ll be shaken… Riyan, are you staying with His Majesty? Should I bring medicine for you?”
“No, I’m not hurt.”
“You’ll be left with a scar if it’s untreated.”
“It’s just a scratch. Go on.”
“Well, if you say so.”
Serven left the room.
In the meantime, as the Emperor shifted his head, his blood-soaked hair brushed against the top of Lasilia’s chest. It wasn’t unpleasant, just ticklish. She gently combed and smoothed his hair.
“That’s really something.”
Riyan commented as he watched.
“Were you talking to me?”
“Yes. I felt it yesterday too… Aren’t you afraid?”
“Of His Majesty?”
“Yes. The transformation, and how he appeared so suddenly last night… Even though you couldn’t push him off all night, you managed to bear with him.”
As Riyan said, no matter how hard the two knights tried, they couldn’t pry the Emperor off. Even under normal circumstances, his body wasn’t like an ordinary human’s.
In his transformed state, he looked more demon than man.
“I’m not scared.”
She had been startled — by his altered appearance, and by how the knights had been hurled away.
But she didn’t feel afraid.
Even when the Emperor came close, Lasilia hadn’t sensed any intent to harm her.
“He was unconscious. There was no reason to be afraid. And he’s sleeping so deeply — he’s not going to hurt anyone.”
“Hm. That’s quite a… unexpected viewpoint. What about his appearance? Doesn’t it bother you? He doesn’t look human.”
“I can’t say it doesn’t bother me. But I can clearly see he’s in pain.”
“That’s not what I meant. I mean, don’t you find it creepy or terrifying… or at least too ugly to look at?”
Was this supposed to be frightening?
Lasilia looked at the Emperor, who was close enough that she could feel his breath.
Even when his bones jutted out and scales covered his skin, it wasn’t fearsome — it just looked painful.
Maybe it was because of that dream.
She had seen someone with a face like his, covered in scales, gazing at her with heartbreaking tenderness — and those eyes had been the same golden hue as the Emperor’s.
“I don’t think I could call this face ugly.”
Riyan muttered, looking unimpressed.
“Uh… That’s quite an unexpected answer as well.”
Lasilia tilted her head.
“Isn’t His Majesty handsome? Is it just me?”
“Well, um… of course he’s unusually good-looking, but he’s mutated.”
“But his features are still the same. Only his skin and bones have changed.”
“That’s the problem.”
“He recovers anyway. And even with the scales, he doesn’t look that strange.”
Again, it was because of the demon in her dream. Having already seen that appearance, the transformed Emperor didn’t seem so foreign or frightening.
He just seemed pitiful. It looked like it hurt too much.
Riyan, who had been silently watching Lasilia, shook his head.
“I really don’t understand you, Your Highness. From the way you talk, you could only be his destined partner. So why do you reject His Majesty so strongly?”
“……”
Lasilia wanted to know that too.
Why had the Empress lost the mark?
“I can’t give you an answer. I don’t remember anything.”
Riyan gave a crooked smile.
“Ah… That amnesia of yours — how very conveniently timed.”
Just then, Serven returned.
“I brought the water and towel, Your Highness… Did something happen while I was gone?”
* * *
Serven glanced between them, his sharp senses picking up on the change in the room’s atmosphere.
Lasilia spoke.
“Not really. I was just impressed by Sir Sigres’s loyalty. Hand me the towel.”
“Uh… you’re letting that go? Really?”
“There was nothing that needs letting go.”
Serven glanced at Riyan, who quickly avoided his gaze.
Serven dipped the thick towel into the basin, wrung it out, and handed it to Lasilia.
“Here you are, Your Highness.”
“Thank you.”
Taking the wet towel, Lasilia naturally began to wipe Lescal’s face.
“Ah—!”
Serven flinched, nearly knocking over the basin. Riyan quickly caught it.
“What is it?”
Lasilia asked, and Serven blinked furiously.
“Are… are you wiping His Majesty’s face?”
“I asked you to bring the towel for that.”
“I thought you meant you were wiping your own face, not His Majesty’s.”
“Is my face dirtier than His Majesty’s right now?”
“Of course not — you’re as stunningly beautiful as ever… My apologies. That was inappropriate. I didn’t mean to be rude… But — you really are wiping His Majesty’s face!”
For once, the usually composed Serven was completely flustered.
“I think I’m more qualified than you two right now. His Majesty is still holding on to me.”
Thank goodness he hadn’t grabbed her arm too — being this close, it would’ve been awkward for someone else to try to clean him up.
Ignoring Serven’s slack-jawed stare, Lasilia continued carefully wiping the blood from Lescal’s face.
There was no way anyone could call this face frightening. Of all the people she’d seen, none were more beautiful.
If her first time seeing that face hadn’t been in a dream where she died, she might not have found it scary at all from the start.
“I’d like to switch towels. Sir Sigres?”
The towel had quickly gotten dirty with blood. Lasilia looked toward Serven for a replacement, but both he and Riyan were frozen, staring at something.
“Sir?”
She called again, and Riyan pointed toward Lescal’s back.
“Can you see that?”
There was no way she could. Lescal was resting his head on her shoulder with his arms around her waist.
“What is it?”
“The wound…”
“What about it?”
Riyan’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“It’s gone. All of it. In an instant.”
Just then—
“…Am I dreaming?”
Lescal, returned to his original form, opened his eyes.
“Your Majesty…?”
He reached out and gently cupped Lasilia’s cheek.
“You… in my bed?”
His voice trembled with emotion, and then he pressed his lips to hers.
“It’s not your bed, Your Majesty — you’re in mine.”
Fortunately, the kiss didn’t go beyond a brief attempt.
Startled by the knights’ sudden gasps, Lescal turned his head, giving Lasilia the chance to pull the blanket over her face.
Lescal couldn’t remember much after his transformation. All he remembered was locking himself in his room and ordering Riyan to guard the door.
So he couldn’t easily accept that this was the Empress’s bedroom.
“…So you didn’t come to me.”
Lescal murmured quietly.
His gaze toward Lasilia was slow and hesitant — a stark contrast to when he had impulsively kissed her upon waking.
“Then… did I force myself on you…?”
“No, Your Majesty!”
Serven quickly interjected, practically leaping in alarm.
“Though you did share the same bed last night, we remained in the room the whole time. Nothing untoward happened!”
“Ah…”
Lescal’s expression twisted slightly. It was hard to tell whether it was out of anger or relief.
“In that case… I’m glad. Are you hurt?”
It was strange. His expression was unreadable, but his golden eyes were warm — kind and affectionate, like the demon in her dream.
A demon who would willingly endure pain to protect her — that same gentle kindness seemed to dwell in the Emperor now.
…Why had she dreamed that?
Lasilia suppressed a bitter smile.
“No, Your Majesty. You don’t need to worry about last night.”
“…In that case.”
He slowly began to sit up.
“I suppose… I shouldn’t stay here.”
“You should bathe. I cleaned your face, but there’s still blood elsewhere.”
“Right.”
Lescal slowly rose from the bed.
As soon as he left, the warmth of the bed faded.
It made it easier to breathe — but also left her skin feeling slightly chilled.
“May I return after bathing?”
Lescal asked as Lasilia instinctively wrapped her arms around herself.
That, too, was strange. The Emperor, who used to lie and manipulate just to do as he pleased, now seemed overly cautious.
“Aren’t you staying here for the time being?”
“That’s true.”
His question had been slow, but his answer was quick.
“I’ll return after bathing.”
“As you wish.”
“It won’t take long.”
With that unnecessary reassurance, the Emperor left the bedroom with Riyan.
