MBOMEN 32

Chapter 32. Secret Game (1)
King Odd Hyernmorik selected a few trusted court officials from within the palace to officially announce the marriage of Prince Yustar Hyernmorik.

A few conservative nobles grumbled that the queen’s position was still vacant—so what was the need to rush with the prince’s consort? However, even they were on edge with curiosity over who Yustar’s bride might be.

He was the king’s only sibling, and despite suffering from a mysterious, worsening illness, he was also the commander-in-chief of the royal knights, the Tentynella Order. These facts alone made Yustar the object of immense public affection in the capital.

To top it off, he had flawless looks and a noble personality. People endlessly gossiped about who could possibly become the wife of such a perfect man.

But for Laila, that curiosity turned into a personal tragedy.

“I absolutely cannot accept this!”

Marquis Himierd’s furious voice shook the royal court officials to their core. Even veteran statesmen who had guided the kingdom’s policies for decades could do nothing but shrink back like scolded dogs before his rage.

The fact that Yustar’s betrothed wasn’t even from a minor noble family but a mere village girl wasn’t the real issue. Under normal circumstances, it would’ve been a scandal—but not this time.

The problem was that Yustar’s bride, the one set to marry this promising and beloved prince, wasn’t even an ordinary human.

Laila Chrisrad—the daughter of a witch, and a witch herself.

Her ominous black hair and blood-red eyes made it impossible to hide her identity. When Marquis Himierd heard the news that she would become Yustar’s wife, he was so stunned he could barely breathe.

“His Highness the Prince is a pillar of this kingdom. Especially at a time like this when His Majesty is bedridden, if anything were to happen to His Highness, who will lead Siorow and uphold national duty? Not me. And none of you can either! He already bears the heavy burden of command over the knights. And now we ask him to marry a witch? How does that make sense?”

A few officials murmured in agreement with his impassioned plea. At that moment, a palace administrator—personally assigned by the King to oversee the preparations—cleared his throat.

“We all know the Marquis speaks out of concern for the Prince and the peace of Siorow. But this decision is a direct order from His Majesty. Unless the Prince himself persuades His Majesty to rescind the decree, what else can we do?”

“So, Marquis Tevern, are you saying you’ll simply stand by and watch this happen?”

“And what do you mean by that, Marquis Himierd? We are merely carrying out His Majesty’s will. To say we’re ‘standing by’—what are you implying? That we should revolt against the throne?”

Ever since Yustar and Laila’s engagement had been publicly announced, the court officials did nothing but argue and disperse without resolution.

Meanwhile, Laila heard a troubling rumor: that Marquis Himierd had gone directly to the King and demanded the cancellation of the engagement.

Though she wasn’t hopeful, a part of her had wished the Marquis could sway the King’s stubborn will.

But unfortunately, things didn’t go the way she had hoped.

“Marquis Himierd has been banned from the royal palace for the time being.”

Mel, who had brought her tea, quietly delivered the news. Upon hearing it, Laila was struck with guilt and despair.

She wasn’t a noble, nor an official, but she had a faint idea of what being banned from the palace meant. It was public humiliation—proof that one had fallen out of the King’s favor.

But Marquis Himierd wasn’t the kind of man to grovel and beg for forgiveness just to regain favor.

If this caused the King to punish her further—what would she do? She could only stare blankly at the steaming tea, confusion washing over her.

“Mel… you served Marquis Himierd, didn’t you?”

Her voice was dazed. Mel looked at her with a trace of pity before replying.

“I did often attend to him when he came, yes. But I’m a palace servant under Siorow’s crown, not his personal retainer. Saying I ‘served the Marquis’ isn’t quite right.”

“But you were close to him. What if he ends up in danger because of me? Mel, you know him better than I do. You probably know the King better, too. Please tell me honestly… is there any chance His Majesty might punish him more harshly?”

A shadow flickered across Mel’s face.

“That’s not something you need to worry about, Miss Laila. The Marquis will take care of his own matters. As for His Majesty… I wouldn’t dare speak on his decisions.”

“But this happened because of me!”

Suddenly raising her voice, Laila clutched her head in both hands.

With her forehead resting on her knees, she remained that way for a moment. Things she had never imagined were happening—and she was suffering because of them. Worse, others were suffering too.

Mel spoke gently.

“Miss Laila, please don’t do this. You should go outside and get some fresh air. You’ve been cooped up in here for days. No wonder you feel depressed.”

“I don’t want to. Going outside is worse. Everyone stares. Everyone whispers. It was the same in my hometown, but at least I had places to hide. When I stayed out of sight, people almost forgot I existed. But here, there’s nowhere to hide. Even if I disappear, everyone still knows who I am.”

Mel’s expression darkened further.

To be honest, when she had first heard the news of Yustar and Laila’s engagement, Mel hadn’t known what to think. It was such an absurd idea, she’d even wondered if King Odd had lost his mind.

But Mel had never felt hostility toward Laila.

Some people claimed she had bewitched the King and Prince, but Mel, who saw her every day, couldn’t help but scoff at that.

Truthfully, if not for the unmistakable black hair and red eyes—traits only witches possessed—Mel would’ve assumed it was all just rumors and lies.

To her, Laila was just an inexperienced young woman, dragged into an unfamiliar world, barely managing to cope.

“I don’t understand what he’s thinking.”

Laila’s voice was barely above a whisper, as if pulling words from deep inside her was a painful chore. But Mel didn’t respond.

“Mel?”

When Laila lifted her head, the person standing before her wasn’t Mel.

She hadn’t heard a sound, yet somehow, Yustar had entered. He looked at her with a gentle, sympathetic smile.

“Where did Mel go?”

“I asked her to step out for a while.”

His voice was as soft as ever, but to Laila, whose nerves were on edge, even that failed to comfort her.

Yustar glanced briefly at the cooling tea and castella cake on the table.

“Have you eaten?”

“I don’t have an appetite.”

“The kitchen staff said you didn’t eat at all yesterday. And you skipped breakfast and lunch today too.”

“I said I’m not hungry, Yustar. Just leave me alone.”

Her words snapped. Her already chaotic thoughts seemed to collapse entirely into disarray.

After a moment of silence, Yustar asked:

“Would it be alright if I sat next to you for a bit?”

Laila, who had stubbornly kept her head down, finally looked at him directly. Her lips trembled. Her breathing was uneven. Then came a strange swell of heat and sorrow rising in her chest.

I don’t want to allow him, she thought.

I want to tell him to leave. Or better yet, send me home. To Rizicus or wherever—it doesn’t matter. Anywhere but here…

But of all the few choices she could make, none were really hers. It was hard to bear that Yustar wasn’t even to blame for that.

Whenever she tried to speak—whenever she tried to ask him to undo this irrational situation—something sealed her lips.

An invisible hand, or maybe something soft and gelatinous, would block her mouth and even choke her breath. As if warning her: if you reject him, I’ll kill you.

The most unbearable part was that this something seemed to exist inside her.

“Is it not okay?”

Yustar asked again.

The couch was wide anyway, and here, he was royalty—second only to the King. Why would someone like her—a witch, a commoner—refusing him matter?

“…Sit.”

Once again, Laila succumbed to the pressure twisting inside her. She hadn’t even fought, yet already felt defeated.

Yustar sat beside her, keeping a respectful distance. His light green eyes—like spring leaves in the wind—quietly reflected her somber face, gently embracing it.

“Even if you’re not hungry, you should eat, Laila.”

She didn’t respond. That was the most resistance she could muster. Even that felt like a strain.

At this rate, I’ll go insane, she thought with an inward sigh.

“Let’s eat dinner together tonight,” Yustar said. “I meant to come yesterday too, but I got tied up with some work and figured you’d already be asleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep at all last night. I heard about Marquis Himierd.”

Yustar’s eyebrows drooped slightly with sympathy. Laila inhaled deeply to calm her rising breath.

“Why did you come here, Yustar?”