MBOMEN 18

Chapter 18. The Prince of Searow (5)

Yustar’s eyes widened slightly at Layla’s question. Layla couldn’t understand why he was reacting that way… and the moment of waiting for an answer felt like an eternity to her.

After what seemed like a long, heavy silence—at least to Layla—Yustar suddenly burst into laughter. His voice sounded strangely clear and refreshing.

“Was that the first thing you wanted to ask?”

Layla widened her eyes and looked at him.

“Of course. I mean, I had other questions too. But… Prince of Searow? You? Really?”

Yustar leaned back and propped his chin up with a relaxed smile, like a mischievous child who had set a trap.

“That’s right. Let me introduce myself properly, Miss Layla. My name is Yustar Hyenmorik. I am the younger brother of the King of Searow, and also the commander of the central headquarters of Tentynella. I know you figured that out earlier, but I thought I’d repeat it, just in case your surprise made you forget.”

Hyenmorik. Now that he mentioned it, Layla remembered he hadn’t said his surname when he first introduced himself. Even if he had, she probably wouldn’t have realized its significance right away…

Yustar, amused, watched Layla’s constantly changing expression and said,

“I’ve heard witches are usually very reserved in expressing emotion, but you don’t seem that way.”

Layla replied,

“Well, maybe I’m just the odd one out. My mother used to say that sometimes. Well, she didn’t say it out loud—she thought it. But somehow, I knew. I wasn’t unloved, but every time I noticed that feeling… it felt like I wasn’t someone born from my mother’s body.”

“Then what? Your mother found you in the middle of a field of chicory? Like in an old fairy tale?”

“Maybe so. In any case, my mother wasn’t a medium… though she was an excellent witch.”

Lost in thought for a moment, Layla suddenly looked down at the unfamiliar dress she was wearing.

“Why did you dress me in this?”

“Are you asking because you’re curious or because you’re annoyed?”

“Half and half, I guess.”

Yustar smiled, his eyes twinkling. In that moment, Layla had a sudden thought—he might be a very aggressive man.

It wasn’t a logical conclusion or something she’d deduced from careful observation. It was a flash of intuition, like a blade passing close enough to graze her skin.

Switching hands to rest his chin on the other, Yustar replied with a question of his own.

“Do you not like the dress?”

Layla answered,

“It’s not that I dislike it. It’s just… it feels awkward. I’ve never worn anything like this before. And I don’t think it’s something I’m suited to wear.”

“There’s no rule about who can and can’t wear a dress. Right? Being born a noble doesn’t give you the exclusive right to wear a dress, and being born a commoner doesn’t mean you must wear plain cotton clothes your whole life. That’s not how it works.”

“That’s true, but what I meant was…”

Before she could finish, Yustar nodded in agreement.

“I understand what you’re trying to say, Layla. But technically speaking, you can wear whatever you want. And I want you to remember that—from now on too.”

“Once I leave here, I’ll probably never wear anything like this again.”

Yustar gave her a knowing, unreadable smile.

“You never know. Don’t make assumptions.”

Layla didn’t take his words seriously. She simply thought he was trying to comfort her, sensing how awkward she felt.

Had she realized sooner how wrong she was, would things have been different? Even later on, Layla would vividly recall this day—the first time she set foot in the royal palace of Searow—as if it were only yesterday. Even the conversation she had with Yustar…

But that’s a story for much later.

Yustar suddenly tilted his head back, and his long hair flowed softly downward like strands of silk.

His radiant platinum hair shimmered like the branches of a willow swaying in the wind. Leaning back comfortably in his chair, the slightly undone look of his clothing suited him perfectly.

He really is royalty, Layla thought. The royal palace, which felt so suffocating to most, was simply home to him.

This place would never burn or collapse… no matter what happened.

“What’s wrong?”

Noticing the shift in Layla’s expression, Yustar straightened up and asked. She lifted her crimson eyes slightly, then sighed briefly.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about home. Though by now… it’s probably nothing but ashes.”

Yustar looked at her with genuine sympathy.

“I’m sorry. Truly. But… I’ll help you however I can. I promise.”

“How? Are you going to build me a new house or something?”

“If that’s what you want, of course I will. Right now, even. I can build you a sturdier, better home. Is that what you want?”

This time, Layla tilted her head back and let out a faint laugh. Was it because they were so different? Because the gap between them was so vast, it was hard to even fathom? She felt strangely hollow.

Fiddling with the ends of her hair, Layla said,

“I appreciate the thought, but that’s not really the issue right now. And even if a new house is built… even if it’s a castle, it won’t be the same as the one I lost. That place was home to many witches, including myself. My mother, my grandmother… perhaps even the first witch built that house. It would’ve been centuries ago, and if that’s true… it’s pretty incredible, isn’t it?”

The first witch. That was an old legend passed down in the Kingdom of Searow.

Centuries ago, a woman who sought the perfect husband summoned a demon to make a wish. But the demon turned out to be so charming that she ended up sleeping with him—and thus became the first witch.

According to the story, she gave birth to a daughter, who was also a witch. But that daughter didn’t summon a demon to have a child. It was easier to seduce a human man instead.

“And that’s why everyone hates witches. They can’t even tell if someone’s really a witch or not… and that’s how awful things like witch hunts happened during the Dark Ages. The funny thing is, many of the women who were called witches actually helped other women. They made tinctures to ease childbirth pain or reduce inflammation. Sometimes even concoctions to deal with cheating husbands without leaving a trace… But even other women ended up hating them.”

Layla continued speaking calmly, almost to herself. She played with a strand of her hair and touched the corner of her eye.

“Black hair and red eyes. These two traits are the mark of a witch. The fact that I’m still alive means the bloodline of true witches survived the Dark Ages. The women who died were probably just herbalists living alone who were good at making tinctures. How pitiful.”

Yustar knew the story well. The traits marking a witch’s lineage were clearly stated in old records, but during the Dark Ages, people didn’t use any such criteria to identify witches.

If someone was different, or displeased the masses, she was labeled a witch. Hair color, eye color, age—it didn’t matter. Neither did social status.

Layla said,

“Sorry, I got off track. Anyway… what I meant is, no matter what house I live in from now on, it’ll never be the same. That place was the home of real witches. The home of many witches.”

Yustar, who had been listening quietly, smiled and nodded.

“I understand what you mean. I was a bit thoughtless.”

“I didn’t mean to criticize you. Thank you for the offer.”

After a brief pause, Layla tapped her finger on the edge of the table and asked,

“You said you needed me, right? So why are we staying at the palace? I can guess what I’m supposed to do later, but…”

Yustar took a moment to consider how much to tell her.

If she found out she had to meet his brother, the King, ahead of time, she might try to run away in the night. But keeping it from her wouldn’t help either.

Nothing works without trust, Yustar thought. If there was one thing absolutely necessary between him and Layla right now, it was mutual trust.

Even if it was fragile or shallow, without that trust, the things ahead of them wouldn’t be possible.

“We won’t be staying at the palace long. Probably not even a month.”

Layla’s eyes widened. A month?! Just the thought of spending a month here made it hard to breathe. She wasn’t sure she could last a week!

“So… we’re staying at least a few more days, right.”

Yustar smiled apologetically and nodded.

“This is the central headquarters. I’ve been away for a while to find you, and I have reports to review once my agents return. Also… you need to prepare for a few things.”

“Like what?”

“Simple things. How to use portals, how to use magical tools… You may have special eyes and ears, but that alone makes you vulnerable. As you’ve seen, even a small Sync can be extremely dangerous. The Sync we encountered in Ridzikus barely qualified as level 1. But it still tried to control you.”

Layla raised her hand like a student.

“What’s a level?”

Yustar answered,

“At Tentynella, we rank Syncs based on several criteria—size, energy concentration, danger level. Level 1 is the weakest, and Level 5 is the strongest. The strongest one we’ve encountered was close to Level 4. We lost nearly a third of our fourth and fifth division agents fighting the monsters that came out of it.”

Layla felt a chill run down her neck. She knew being with him wasn’t going to be easy, but now she was really starting to feel the weight of it.

Yustar continued,

“That’s why you need preparation, Layla. And there’s one more important thing you have to do. Even if you don’t want to, this one’s unavoidable.”

“What is it?”

Yustar hesitated, then sighed and said,

“Tomorrow… you must have an audience with my brother—the King of Searow.”

Suddenly, Layla’s vision spun.