MBOMEN 21

Chapter 21. The Prince of Searo (8)

Marquis Himierd slightly raised an eyebrow.

“Lijikusra? That’s a name I haven’t heard before. Is it an interesting place?”

Lyla knew that the marquis wasn’t truly interested in the topic, but she pretended not to notice and continued the conversation casually.

“As I said earlier, Lijikus is a very small village. It probably isn’t even marked on the map. People work all year round. The better-off families raise sheep, but not many can afford that.”

The marquis let out a thoughtful hum.

“Did you raise sheep too, Miss Lyla? I’ve always wanted to try livestock farming.”

Yustar playfully chimed in.

“Livestock farming? I never imagined you’d have that kind of dream, Himierd.”

Marquis Himierd replied coolly.

“A widow has many dreams, Your Highness.”

Lyla glanced at the marquis involuntarily, then quickly looked away. But the marquis caught her gaze and smiled slyly, like someone who enjoyed flustering others with teasing remarks.

“You look surprised to hear I’m a widow.”

It was clear that Marquis Himierd had many sides to her. The elegant and slightly intimidating figure Lyla met the first time was her, but there also seemed to be a sensitive, almost skittish side to her—like a frightened baby animal.

That sensitivity seemed to breed cynicism, which in turn made her hard to approach and prone to sarcasm.

After a brief hesitation, Lyla nodded honestly.

“You look very young.”

The marquis let out a sharp, short laugh. She didn’t look offended, but it was enough to make Lyla flinch.

“Thank you. But being a widow has nothing to do with age. That’s just fate. Fortunately, I’m not the kind of widow who wears mourning clothes and strokes her husband’s portrait all day.”

Yustar gazed at the marquis with a faint smile. She quickly sensed his intention and returned to her usual graceful demeanor.

“That wasn’t an appropriate topic for the dinner table. My apologies, Miss Lyla.”

“It’s alright.”

Lyla responded calmly, but inside, she was far from at ease.

Marquis Himierd’s attitude made her uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the real problem. As the night deepened and the darkness outside thickened, the very air of the royal palace felt heavier and more oppressive.

The longer she stayed, the more Lyla’s eyes turned toward Yustar. It wasn’t just the air that felt stifling.

If she stayed any longer, she felt like she wouldn’t be able to breathe properly. But Yustar—and even the marquis—seemed perfectly fine.

“Lyla?”

Yustar, who had been discussing livestock with the marquis, finally turned to Lyla.

He noticed immediately that something was wrong. Her face was pale, and she was clearly struggling to hide her labored breathing.

“What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I think so… If it’s alright, may I be excused? I’d like to get some fresh air outside.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Lyla shook her head.

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be fine alone. I won’t go far.”

Even before she finished her sentence, she pushed her chair back and stood up. The sound of her footsteps echoing across the long dining hall quickly faded.

Marquis Himierd, quietly watching the now-empty seat, set down her utensils.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen Your Highness this concerned over someone.”

Her voice no longer carried any sarcasm or mischief—only the flat, formal tone typical of capital nobility.

Yustar looked at her with a soft, yet distant gaze.

“She’s a special person. I thought you’d understand.”

“Of course I do. No matter what Your Highness chooses to do, I would never doubt you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I do. I’m always grateful to you.”

Yustar lifted his half-full glass. Marquis Himierd watched him for a moment, then gently raised her own and clinked it against his.

As the wine slid down her throat, she suddenly felt a dull ache in her body. It was the pain of long-standing loss—familiar, yet never pleasant no matter how often she experienced it.

“She’ll be staying in the palace for a while, so I’ll have to ask a favor of you.”

The marquis absentmindedly stroked the rim of her glass. Her expression turned thoughtful.

“Should I teach her proper etiquette?”

Yustar burst out laughing.

“No need for that. Just make sure she’s comfortable. She’s not used to this kind of place.”

“No one ever gets used to this place. You saw how she ran out just now, didn’t you? I’m only enduring it myself. The palace becomes unbearable at night. Even though it’s so beautiful.”

She felt goosebumps rise on her forearm, hidden beneath her sleeve. The night at Searo Palace was dangerous. Even high-ranking officials who were required to remain at the palace often felt the urge to flee when night fell.

She continued.

“That young lady… she’s a real witch, isn’t she? I’m not sure she’ll be able to endure this place. You may see her as someone special, but to me, she’s just a young girl. And pitifully, she has a sensitive ability. That’s why she’ll sense the ominousness of this place right away—tonight, even. The moment she lies down, she’ll feel it. That vague fear that something might leap out of the closet. Like when we were five or six and didn’t dare look under the bed.”

“She’ll be fine. If she were staying here alone, I’d be worried. But at least tonight, I won’t be leaving the palace.”

Clink.
A faint sound echoed in the quiet dining room. The marquis had tapped her glass with a fingernail. The thin crystal vibrated slightly.

With a firm expression, Marquis Himierd said:

“Your Highness, forgive me if this is presumptuous, but I must say it.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Marquis.”

“His Majesty… is beyond saving.”

Yustar’s fingertips struck the edge of the table with a sharp tap. The marquis glanced down at the napkin under his hand.

As his fingers moved, the napkin crumpled helplessly. Though Yustar’s face showed no anger, his gesture made his message clear.

“I believe I told you before: you’re free to pity me, but don’t project that pity onto me.”

The marquis responded firmly.

“I’m not the only one concerned for the royal family and the nation, Your Highness. Please remember that.”

“I know that well. But again, that concern is your freedom—not mine. My brother will recover. Once the royal marriage is complete, an heir will be born. The throne should belong to that child—not me.”

“Your Highness—!”

“This conversation is over, Marquis.”

Yustar wiped his mouth with the napkin and signaled for the plates to be cleared. The marquis sighed, then fell silent—not from fear or submission, but as if recognizing the futility of arguing further.

She would bring up the topic again someday. If, as Yustar said, King Odd Hyenmorik truly recovered, all would be well. But if he didn’t…?

“Lyla’s taking a while.”

“Shall I send someone to find her?”

“No, I’ll go myself. You stay and enjoy dessert. The chef prepared pastries—you like those, don’t you?”

A faint smile touched the marquis’s lips—the first genuine one that evening.

“You still remember things from so long ago.”

“Is it not true anymore?”

“I still like them, but tonight… I think I’ll excuse myself as well. I’ll check if Miss Lyla’s room is ready before I leave.”

Yustar nodded. The marquis kept her head bowed until his footsteps faded into the corridor. Only then did she look up.

As she turned into the dim hallway, her long hair swayed behind her like the shadow of a fierce and lonely beast crossing a mountain.

She had always known she could never have him. A widow who lost her husband. A traitor dreaming of overthrowing a sick king and placing the man she loved on the throne.

A high-ranking official entrusted with the royal household’s administration.

There were many titles and roles that defined her, but none of them could reach Yustar.

Even so, she had always been content with her place—close enough to serve him faithfully.

But watching his retreating figure always brought a faint pain, as if she had swallowed something bitter that lodged in her throat and made it hard to breathe.

*

Lyla, having fled the dining room, took a deep breath to fill her lungs with fresh air. It still wasn’t pleasant, but it was better than inside the palace.

‘What is this feeling…?’

She had never felt anything like this before. The air was suffocating—not just physically, but emotionally. It made her feel anxious. As if…

It was like holding a box full of scorpions and wriggling bugs, she thought. A small box crawling with fat insects, ready to burst with yellowish fluid if squeezed.

Clutching such a box while dreading the moment the lid might open… Or fearing that she herself might be sucked into it.

Without knowing where she was going, she wandered through the garden. The hallway lights made the outdoors seem as bright as day.

But the shadows beyond the reach of light felt as dangerous as assassins—like black claws ready to slash her heart.

“This place is strange,”

Lyla muttered. But once spoken aloud, the thought became clearer in her mind. She turned abruptly to face the palace. The lights flickering along the corridor shimmered like sentient creatures.

“This place is strange,”

She said again, this time more clearly.

And then—

“Then why don’t you come this way, child?
To a safer place.”