MBOMEN 15

Episode 15. The King’s Younger Brother of Shearow (2)

I’m going to drown, Layla thought. It didn’t just feel like her throat—water seemed to fill her entire windpipe and lungs, with air bubbles rising up.

“How are you feeling? Less dizzy now?”

That overwhelming sensation vanished the moment she heard Yustar’s voice. Gasping for breath like someone dragged from the water, Layla instinctively clutched her throat. The suffocating feeling was gone without a trace.

Layla, her eyes wide, darted her gaze around and spoke.

“Are all portals like this? Do you always have to jump off a cliff or experience drowning?”

Yustar burst into laughter.

“Not all of them. Some are better—much more manageable. Still, I figured it’s better to warn you. You’ll be using many portals from now on.”

“There are worse ones than this?”

“Some are, yes. But you’ll adjust quickly—it’s just an illusion, after all.”

What kind of twisted person came up with this? Layla looked down at her clothes in disbelief. She had clearly been submerged in deep water just moments ago, but there wasn’t a single drop on her. It was like wandering through a bizarre dream.

“Where are we?”

Looking around, Layla instinctively tilted her head upward. The ceiling was so high it made her dizzy. It seemed circular, but it was too far to be sure.

“Is that a hole?”

Layla pointed to the beam of light pouring from the very top. Yustar, relaxed, looked up at the ceiling.

“No, it’s not a hole. If it were, we’d have chaos every time it rained.”

“Then is it glass?”

“Something like that, but not exactly glass. I’ll explain later. Let’s head out first.”

As always, Yustar gently placed a hand on Layla’s shoulder to guide her. Even then, Layla kept looking around, inspecting the interior.

Unlike the 1st Division they had just left, everything here was white or close to it. No people were in sight, and only a low mechanical hum occasionally broke the silence.

“This is the capital, right?”

When Layla asked, Yustar nodded.

“That’s right. This is Serchita, the headquarters of the Tentinella Knights in Benalis.”

“Are there no people here?”

“It’s not that no one’s here, just not many permanent residents.”

After a pause, Layla asked thoughtfully,

“You’re the Commander of Tentinella, aren’t you?”

Yustar glanced at her with amused eyes.

“What made you think that?”

“Back at the 1st Division, named after the god Romel… The head of that division showed you great respect. He called you ‘Lord Yustar.’ That must mean you outrank him, doesn’t it?”

A faint smile formed at Yustar’s lips.

“You’re right. I’m the Commander of the Tentinella headquarters—I oversee all the knight orders. But that doesn’t mean I just sit around giving orders. I can visit any division without prior notice or approval, and I have access to all kinds of Syncs, regardless of scale. So I’m always moving. That’s why the commander’s seat in Serchita is usually empty.”

“Where are we heading now?”

Just then, what appeared to be a firmly shut door swung open wide. Outside, armored guards stood at regular intervals along a hallway.

But that wasn’t what shocked Layla the most. Beyond the door was a corridor lined with the most luxurious carpet she had ever seen in her life.

The columns behind the guards were white like freshly fallen snow, and ornamental brackets were studded with dazzling jewels.

Still dazed, Layla murmured to herself,

“Where in the world…?”

Yustar grinned and bowed playfully.

“Welcome to Shearow Palace, Miss Layla Crislade.”

“Palace…!”

Layla’s body immediately stiffened. She glanced down at her dusty skirt and hood, then looked up at Yustar with a stunned expression.

“You said this is a palace?”

“Yes. Serchita, the Tentinella headquarters, is connected to Shearow Palace. That hallway we just walked through was the link.”

“And why… why am I here?”

Yustar shrugged.

“Well, first things first—a warm bath and something to eat would do you good. Oh, and here comes your greeter.”

Layla quickly turned her head.

A dignified and solemn-looking woman approached with her chin held elegantly high. She appeared a little older than Layla or Yustar.

Yustar leaned in to whisper,

“Don’t worry, Layla. You look like someone being led to the gallows right now.”

“Isn’t that exactly what’s happening? If I accidentally step on her dress, I might lose my head.”

Yustar chuckled.

“That won’t happen.”

Whether Layla wanted it or not, the woman soon stood before them. Even one person felt overwhelming, but there were eight or so others behind her.

Two of them wore noble dresses like the woman in front, but the rest, likely palace staff, were dressed more plainly.

“Your Highness, you’ve returned.”

“Marchioness Himierd. It’s good to see you again. I trust all was well at the palace?”

“Yes, all was peaceful.”

The woman, whom Yustar had addressed as Marchioness Himierd, turned toward Layla. For a brief moment, her jade-like eyes flashed with confusion, but she masked it skillfully.

Yustar spoke.

“This is my guest, Miss Layla Crislade.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Crislade,” said the Marchioness. Her voice was more formal than when she spoke to Yustar but still polite.

Layla stared blankly at the hand extended toward her.

The gloves looked like the thinnest, most translucent fabric ever made—nearly see-through. Was she really offering a handshake? Layla glanced at her own dirty hand and instead bent her knees in a small curtsy.

“Hello, I’m Layla Crislade.”

“No handshake?” the Marchioness asked in a flat tone.

“My hands are… a bit dirty,” Layla replied, her cheeks turning pink.

For a moment, the Marchioness’s expression shifted subtly—was it a smirk or pity?

“That’s nothing to fuss over.”

Before Layla could retreat, the Marchioness swiftly reached out and pulled her hidden hand from beneath her hood. It was more of a forced pull than a handshake, but they greeted nonetheless.

Yustar spoke again.

“Himierd, could you prepare a bath, tea, and some refreshments for Miss Crislade? I must go report to His Majesty.”

“Of course.”

As the Marchioness bowed, the people behind her also bowed to Yustar. He smiled warmly at Layla and said,

“I’ll be back soon. Let the Marchioness take care of you.”

Layla couldn’t even reply. Her mind was overloaded with too much information at once.

She had leapt off a cliff, eaten some nausea-inducing candy, experienced drowning—and now she was in Shearow Palace surrounded by nobles.

‘If I were still in Rizikus, I wouldn’t even dare look these people in the eye. And Yustar is…’

“His Highness the Prince.” That’s what Himierd had called him.

“Miss Crislade, are you all right? You don’t look well. Should I call someone to carry you?”

The Marchioness’s words nearly made Layla faint for real.

“No, no… I’m fine. I mean, I’m all right.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Come along now—you must rest after such a long journey.”