Chapter 8. Come to My Bedroom
2016.01.28.
Shukri immediately invoked forbidden power. The force he drew up in an instant caused his pupils to burn a vivid red. Black smoke rose in a circular surge with a crackling sound around his feet.
“Get your filthy hands off at once!!”
With Shukri’s shout, the black smoke swelled menacingly. However, to Hashar, Shukri’s power was no different from a child throwing a tantrum.
Hashar felt no threat whatsoever from him. He merely scoffed.
“How foolish. Can’t you see that your master is right here with me?”
Hashar was correct. At this moment, holding Ilsia—who amplified his power—Hashar was invincible beyond anyone’s reach.
“And you call this forbidden power in front of me…?”
Hashar slowly scanned Shukri from head to toe. The meaning behind his condescending gaze was clear.
Utter disregard.
The gaze that seemed to remind him that he was inferior was all the more humiliating for being accurate. Overcome with indignation, Shukri clenched his jaw tightly. He thrust his hand sharply to the side.
At that, the black smoke seemed to scream as it twisted into a grotesque, horrifying sound before scattering in all directions. Ilsia inhaled sharply.
“Shukri!”
She shouted to stop him, but it was already too late. Ilsia knew what he was doing. It was not an attack—it was a signal calling the Dekarim.
In an instant, figures dressed in black began appearing from behind blocked walls, from behind bookshelves, outside the window, and even from above the ceiling.
Those who had been out on missions had returned upon receiving Shukri’s signal. Their clothes were stained with dark blood.
Other Dekarim silently entered through the office door and lined up behind Shukri. They were the ones stationed at the estate, likely already waiting since the moment the disturbance began.
All the Dekarim had gathered. They surrounded the office from all sides, their formation tight. Every dagger in their hands was aimed at Hashar.
“Take your hands off our master, Hashar.”
Shukri drew out a sharp dagger as well. His eyes glinted fiercely—he had already lost half his reason.
Of course, Shukri was not the only one losing composure. The Dekarim, seeing Hashar seemingly violating and restraining Ilsia, were also growing agitated.
The heightened emotions filled the office. Amid the tension that seemed ready to explode at any moment, Hashar smiled crookedly. It was easy to guess that he was about to say something twisted.
“Stop.”
Ilsia pressed her hand against his lips. Hashar raised his brows. Seeing his expression that seemed to say “go ahead and try,” Ilsia reached into her clothes.
From within, she slowly pulled out a dagger. Despite the slow motion of her hand, the moment she aimed it was swift and precise. The tip of the blade was directed straight at Hashar’s throat.
Hashar let out a light chuckle as if impressed. But Ilsia did not waver.
“Step back, Hashar.”
Her tone was commanding. Hashar looked amused.
“And if I refuse?”
He asked playfully. Ilsia replied quietly,
“The moment you harm even a single one of my Dekarim…”
Her ice-cold, pale blue eyes sharpened with killing intent.
“I won’t let you get away with it.”
Realizing she was serious, Hashar’s expression also turned solemn. Locking eyes with her, he whispered,
“I could kill everyone here and take you by force.”
Thick black smoke began to pour out, far denser than what Shukri had emitted earlier.
As the smoke flowed over Hashar’s body, the Dekarim tightened their grip on their daggers. They would strike the moment Ilsia gave the order.
But Hashar showed no fear. Standing calmly amid the rising black smoke, he said,
“You know very well that I am capable of that.”
As he said, he truly could. If he wished, wiping out an entire estate full of Dekarim would be nothing.
What Hashar likely wanted was for Ilsia to surrender. In other words, this was a battle of wills. If she yielded here, she would never regain the upper hand.
But Ilsia had no intention of backing down from the beginning.
“Then…”
The dagger in Ilsia’s hand shifted. The blade that had been aimed at Hashar’s neck slowly turned toward her own throat. Holding the knife to herself, Ilsia declared firmly,
“Then we all die together.”
“…Ha!”
Hashar let out a dry laugh, amused. His eyes sparkled with delight. It was likely the first time someone had dared to threaten him like this. He seemed genuinely entertained.
Lifting both hands in a gesture of surrender, Hashar said,
“I concede.”
The moment he surrendered, Ilsia shoved him back with a firm push. Though Hashar looked at her as if her sharp reaction was cute, she ignored it.
Ilsia straightened her disheveled clothes and posture. Raising her chin regally, she addressed the Dekarim.
“It’s fine now. You may all return.”
“….”
“This is something I will handle alone.”
Even so, they did not disperse immediately. Shukri and the Dekarim gathered around her, their eyes filled with concern. Ilsia smiled.
“I said I’m really fine.”
She extended her hand. One of the Dekarim stepped forward and knelt respectfully before her. He kissed the back of her hand, then vanished.
One by one, each Dekarim followed suit—kneeling, kissing her hand, and returning to their posts. It took quite some time for all of them to leave.
Yet none of them rushed. They departed calmly, one after another, in due order.
Shukri remained until the very end. Ilsia sighed lightly at the sight of him still seething with emotion.
Gently stroking his red eyes, they slowly returned to their olive color.
“It’s my fault, Shukri.”
Instead of answering, Shukri glanced behind her.
There stood Hashar, arms crossed, observing the entire scene with interest. When their eyes met, he grinned.
Shukri’s face briefly contorted before he regained composure. Looking directly at Hashar, he spoke politely, though coldly:
“…I do not know what you, Sultan, are thinking.”
His calm tone was even colder than a shout. He finished firmly:
“Whatever it may be, it will not be easy.”
Shukri then kissed the back of Ilsia’s hand one last time and walked to a corner of the office, silently taking his place to observe.
“…Hoo.”
At last, the situation settled. Ilsia exhaled and looked at Hashar. Unlike her headache, he appeared completely at ease.
What should she do with this uncontrollable man? At this point, she almost felt like running away and pretending none of this existed. But she was the one who had reconnected their broken ties—so the responsibility lay with her.
Ilsia looked at Hashar and said,
“The reason you rushed here… is because you know Kalif is moving to capture me, isn’t it?”
Her words hit the mark. Hashar’s ever-smiling expression flickered slightly. Ilsia picked up the black paper still lying on the desk.
She waved it in front of him.
“A request from Kalif.”
Seeing the clear handwriting in white ink, Hashar finally frowned. He reached out, but Ilsia pulled it back.
“An apology for what you did today comes first.”
She was clearly upset. Because of Hashar, Dekarim who were on missions had to return to the estate—an unprecedented situation.
Though the initial cause could be attributed to Ilsia, what Hashar did today was a blatant disregard for both her and the Dekarim.
“If you behave so rudely again, I will side with Kalif.”
Her sharp gaze cut like a blade. Her soft pink lips spoke words as cold as winter wind.
“Just like Emir Ahad, who betrayed you.”
This was not a mere warning. If Hashar had harmed her Dekarim, she would not have stayed silent.
Even if this strained their relationship, she needed to speak clearly. She wanted an equal partnership with Hashar, not subordination.
Though slightly anxious, it was right to establish this from the start. Shukri couldn’t hide his satisfaction at her words, openly showing his relief.
A brief silence followed. Ilsia cautiously gauged Hashar’s reaction, expecting anger—but surprisingly, he yielded easily.
“I apologize for my rudeness.”
The words of apology themselves felt so out of character that Ilsia doubted her ears.
“Uh… um…”
Flustered, she stammered before responding,
“I… I’ll accept your apology.”
An awkward atmosphere lingered. Unlike Hashar, Ilsia felt uncomfortable. She had even considered cutting ties and siding with Kalif if necessary—but his unexpected apology caught her off guard.
‘Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought.’
She revised her evaluation of Hashar from “very bad person” to simply “bad person.”
Having settled things and received an apology, the question remained—what now? Given the circumstances, partnering with Hashar seemed inevitable.
What troubled her most was Shukri.
Ilsia looked at him. He quietly watched her. Seeking his approval, she read his expression. Understanding her intent, Shukri gave a small nod.
Reassured, Ilsia swallowed and called out,
“Hashar.”
At her clear voice, Hashar turned toward her.
“I heard that the Devaris are being held by slave traders. Do you know anything about it?”
“Slave traders…”
He stroked his chin, deep in thought.
“If we’re talking about slave traders in the Southern Continent, they certainly exist.”
Slave traders of the Southern Continent were notoriously infamous.
Their reputation for capturing anything of value was so great that traders from other continents would travel there to obtain high-quality slaves.
They were also a major reason the Devaris met their tragic extinction. Unable to meet overwhelming demand, they grew greedier and ultimately wiped them out.
To the Southern slave traders, Devaris were not living beings. To them, they were walking jewels, gold, or panaceas.
As Ilsia simmered with rising anger, Hashar continued,
“However, approaching them is not easy. They are backed by mercenary guilds. Moreover, the tributes they pay to various Emirs and to me, the Sultan, are enormous.”
What he said was true. Slave traders supported mercenary guilds financially in exchange for military backing.
In addition, their tributes to Emirs and the Sultan were immense. Where money flows, power follows—so most Emirs sided with the slave traders.
Historically, slave traders had been an impenetrable fortress no one could easily challenge.
“Of course, I did swear an oath with my name that I would help…”
Hashar flicked his fingers idly. Black smoke swirled around them playfully.
“But what you’re asking is essentially to go to war with the slave traders head-on.”
Is that so? Hashar asked. Ilsia smiled faintly.
“That’s why I’m asking you, Hashar.”
He chuckled.
“Hmm. And I should give up my massive tributes for that?”
A strand of black smoke coiled around Ilsia like a rope, tightening slightly.
“What reason do I have to do that?”
Ilsia brushed the smoke aside and met his gaze, lifting the corner of her lips in a crooked smile as he often did.
“Am I not worth that much to you?”
This was not mere bravado. Ilsia was a unique existence beyond any wealth in the world. To Hashar, she was someone worth obtaining at any cost.
Her words satisfied Hashar greatly.
“…Ha. Bold. Truly bold.”
The black smoke surrounding her vanished in an instant. Hashar growled softly,
“And that’s exactly why I like you.”
Ilsia kept her composure despite her slightly trembling heart. Only belatedly did unease creep in.
‘This is scary…’
A thought that she might have dragged in something she shouldn’t have began to surface. Perhaps trying to manipulate him had been her arrogance.
This man—more like a demon than a human…
Ilsia glanced at his crimson eyes. The deep red reflected how fractured his mind was. She didn’t know how he managed to endure using forbidden power to such an extent without collapsing.
His strong will likely played a part, but at his level, he seemed dangerously close to losing his sanity without some kind of anchor.
If he ever went mad one day, it wouldn’t be surprising. And if someone with his level of power lost control…
A single palace might be destroyed with ease… perhaps even the capital, Aslan…
Lost in thought, Hashar interrupted her reverie.
“I have a condition in exchange for my help.”
A condition. As expected, nothing came free.
A sworn oath was like a matter of honor. Even if he invoked his name as Sultan, if he chose to ignore it, Ilsia would have no recourse.
She had to accept—but what kind of condition would he demand?
Ilsia nodded cautiously.
“Alright. What is the condition?”
Hoping it wouldn’t be unreasonable, she looked at him anxiously. Hashar replied casually,
“Come to my bedroom every night… or at least once every few days.”
“…!”
What the—?!
Ilsia and Shukri both froze in shock. So stunned they couldn’t react.
Seeing their expressions, Hashar realized how his words had been interpreted and quickly clarified.
“I don’t mean sharing a bed. Just…”
He hesitated slightly—unlike his usual self.
It was oddly like a hedgehog exposing its soft underside, Ilsia thought.
Slowly, Hashar continued,
“Put me to sleep.”
