11. You, Caliph, Aren’t You
2016.02.08.
How could she possibly respond? Ilshia couldn’t even begin to fathom the burden Hashar carried in exchange for his power.
Hashar continued speaking as if it were nothing.
“It’s worse than death. Maybe it’s the fear of becoming a madman, or maybe it’s the curse of that forbidden power—but at some point, I simply couldn’t sleep anymore. The moment I closed my eyes, the most dreadful nightmare in the world would unfold.”
“…I see.”
“If I could trade that cursed feeling for a sweet, peaceful sleep… wouldn’t anyone make that choice?”
A self-deprecating laugh followed his ominous words. Listening quietly as his low laughter faded, Ilshia asked,
“So if I’m around, you can sleep without Caligula?”
“Yes.”
That was something Ilshia hadn’t known. She didn’t fully understand it, but it seemed their powers resonated in some way, giving him a sense of stability.
In any case, the idea that she could help him sleep carried a strange nuance. Lost in complicated thoughts, Ilshia heard Hashar murmur bitterly,
“Perhaps… I may already have become a madman…”
His faintly scattered words made Ilshia stop everything and look at him. Those few short sentences carried an unbearable weight of suffering.
She felt she should say something comforting—but had no idea what. Time passed as she hesitated, and in that moment, he seemed to have fallen asleep.
After that, Hashar said nothing.
Is he asleep?
In the end, Ilshia couldn’t say anything. After confirming that he was deeply asleep, she slowly stood up.
Quite some time had passed. Shukri would be waiting, so it was time to leave. Feeling a pang of regret for not offering any comfort, Ilshia whispered a farewell he likely wouldn’t hear.
“Good night. Have pleasant dreams.”
As expected, he didn’t respond—only the steady sound of his breathing filled the room. She thought she would likely see him like this often from now on. With that thought, Ilshia quietly opened the door and stepped out.
Outside, the woman who had guided her earlier was waiting. She gave a light bow and said,
“Please follow me back.”
Just as before, the woman led her silently through the winding corridors. Near the end of the return path, she suddenly spoke.
“Thank you.”
“…?”
Ilshia couldn’t understand what she was thanking her for and looked at her. The woman offered a faint smile—one layered with deep sorrow.
“I am Sir Hashar’s nanny.”
“Oh…”
So she was his nanny!
Now that Ilshia thought about it, the woman had seemed familiar with Hashar earlier when speaking about the harem. Even the way she addressed him as “Sir Hashar” made sense. No ordinary servant would casually address his name like that.
Her refined demeanor, unusual for a servant, also made sense if she was a nanny. As the Sultan’s nanny, she likely wasn’t just any attendant.
What surprised Ilshia most was that Hashar had someone like a nanny. He seemed like someone who had been independent since birth.
“Since Sir Hashar has finally found a woman, I became so overjoyed that I committed a discourtesy today. Please forgive my rudeness.”
She knelt before Ilshia. The “discourtesy” she referred to was merely speaking without being asked.
To Ilshia, it wasn’t a big issue—but clearly, it was from her perspective.
“It’s alright. Please stand.”
Ilshia helped her up. The woman repeatedly thanked her and escorted her all the way to the gates. Before parting, she added,
“My name is Anashila. I will be standing here at the same time every day, so please feel free to come anytime. I hope to see you again soon…”
Ilshia gave a small nod instead of replying. Anashila disappeared back inside the castle.
Watching her leave, Ilshia once again covered her face with a cloth and quietly walked into the night.
“Everything went alright?”
“Yes.”
“He didn’t even touch you, did he?”
“No.”
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Shukri!”
Unable to bear it any longer, Ilshia shouted, and only then did Shukri fall silent.
Since returning to the mansion together, he had asked the same question more times than she could count. She understood his concern, but it felt excessive at times.
“You still think I’m a child.”
Shukri muttered to himself as if she could hear, though his voice didn’t carry beyond the bedroom.
Let’s just sleep. Ilshia closed her eyes. After everything that had happened, her body felt heavy. Soon, sleep overtook her.
—Is this a dream?
It felt far too vivid to be a dream.
Ilshia slowly looked around. The place reflected in the dream was in front of Hashar’s palace. However, no guards stood before the tightly closed gates. Looking ahead, the wide street was empty—no sign of life.
Only a large, round moon illuminated the surroundings, and the crackling sound of torches at the gate echoed faintly.
A chilling wind blew. The silence resembled a deserted city of the dead. Feeling a sudden fear, Ilshia called out softly,
“Is anyone here?”
Then she sensed movement. Turning in relief, she saw someone walking toward her from down the road.
He walked with the moon behind him, dressed in black. Though obscured by darkness, the white cloth draped around his neck like a scarf appeared to be a vestment.
In the southern continent, only priests of the Ahala faith wore such attire.
Why would a priest appear in my dream?
It was incomprehensible. Ilshia observed the approaching man carefully.
As he drew closer, his face gradually emerged, like the moon slipping from behind clouds. His soft features were beautifully defined, as though drawn with delicate precision.
Most striking of all—he had pale white skin.
In the desert, such skin was extremely rare. Aside from herself and her father, Ilshia had never seen anyone with white skin before. Even for a dream, it felt strange.
Who is that…?
It was clear he was no ordinary person. Ilshia studied him further.
His eyes were a gentle gray, carrying a benevolent light yet distinctly cold. His long silver-gray hair flowed down to his waist. Without the warm smile and kind gaze on his face, he would appear very cold and distant.
Only then did she notice the vestment he wore. White fabric embroidered with gold thread.
The moment she saw the gold embroidery, a chill ran through her body.
Within the Ahala faith—where asceticism is one of its core doctrines—only one person was allowed to adorn a vestment with gold thread.
The Caliph…
The head of the Ahala faith—the Caliph.
Ilshia had never seen the Caliph before. Yet here he was in her dream. It was too detailed and real to simply be imagination.
What is happening…?
In a situation where she couldn’t even distinguish dream from reality, she couldn’t make proper judgments.
As Ilshia stood confused, he stopped a few steps away from her and spoke in a gentle voice:
“You need not be afraid.”
Ilshia asked blankly,
“Is this… a dream?”
He smiled.
“Yes, it is.”
“Are you the Caliph?”
“Well…”
He trailed off ambiguously.
Ilshia was certain.
“You are the Caliph.”
She looked around and continued,
“And this is a dream you created.”
The Caliph let out a small laugh.
“Oh dear, you figured it out so quickly. That makes this less interesting.”
His voice was warm, but Ilshia remained tense. In a different sense from Hashar, this man was dangerous. What kind of serpent coiled beneath that seemingly gentle exterior?
Her instincts warned her that the Caliph was not what he appeared to be—and he made no effort to hide it. Ilshia glared at him.
“What did you do to me?”
The Caliph ignored the question and instead said,
“The Queen of Devaris is beautiful.”
His gaze slowly scanned her from head to toe, sending a shiver down her spine. Ilshia took several steps back.
“White skin… and sky-blue eyes… truly perfect.”
A pure white light flowed from his hand. It slowly enveloped Ilshia—cold to the touch. Though it appeared warm, the instant it reached her, her entire body trembled from the chill.
She tried to move, but her body was bound by the light and could not budge. The light lifted her up and brought her directly before the Caliph. Suspended and restrained, she looked down at him and said,
“Such behavior from the noble Caliph… how disappointing.”
Despite her sharp words, the Caliph smiled serenely, his expression so benevolent it would seem as though he were forgiving her.
“In front of the Queen of Devaris, even a Caliph cannot help but feel hurried.”
He seemed to already know everything. Maintaining formal politeness, he continued,
“Ahala teaches us to show mercy even to non-believers, so I shall treat you gently.”
“….”
Ilshia did not respond—she couldn’t. The binding light tightened, slowly pulling her closer to him.
Finally, she was brought right before him. His black sleeve slipped back, revealing a pale hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
She warned him—but his hand did not stop. It touched her face. As his hand slowly cupped her cheek, Ilshia bit her lip.
The Caliph gently caressed her face as if savoring the sensation—her brows, her straight nose, her lips.
“Ah… how can one be so perfect? It’s a pity I cannot touch you directly.”
His gray eyes glimmered.
“I wonder what it would feel like to touch you myself…”
His fingers pressed lightly against her lips, then slid down her neck, grazing her chest. Ilshia trembled.
With a faintly heated voice, he said,
“You would be… incredibly beautiful… and intoxicating.”
She had fallen into the worst possible situation. The Caliph had come to Alshatra specifically to find her.
Regret surged through her. Shukri had been right. Between Hashar and the Caliph vying for her, the one who would suffer most was Ilshia herself.
A pair of lazy red eyes surfaced in her mind. Frustration welled up.
“Hashar… I shouldn’t have bothered saving him…”
Ilshia licked her dry lips and called out,
“Caliph.”
He looked at her, slightly surprised. Carefully, she cast her bait.
“I will choose the path that best serves Devaris, regardless of which side it is.”
Interest flickered in his eyes. His binding light loosened slightly.
“That path might be Hashar… or even you, Caliph.”
Before he could respond, she looked straight at him and declared,
“If you want to have me, then act like the Caliph you claim to be.”
He laughed softly.
“Act like the Caliph…? Haha, what an amusing statement.”
With a gentle expression, he whispered,
“Please forgive my rudeness. The Sultan acted sooner than expected, and I could not remain at ease.”
He leaned closer until their foreheads touched.
“I will visit you soon. As the Caliph should.”
Then he lowered his lips onto hers. Ilshia shut her eyes tightly. His tongue slowly traced her lips and slipped inside.
“My Devaris…”
His warm voice and breath brushed against her face.
“Ugh… aah!!”
Ilshia screamed and bolted upright in bed. The scream cut through the quiet night, and Shukri rushed into the room instantly.
“Master!!”
He quickly checked her body. Gripping him tightly, Ilshia said in alarm,
“The Caliph’s divine power can control the mind.”
“Pardon?”
Shukri frowned, confused.
“The Caliph… he appeared in my dream.”
“…”
“He entered my dream using divine power…”
Realizing the situation, Shukri’s expression turned serious. He steadied the trembling Ilshia and said calmly,
“Please describe the dream in detail, Master.”
“Right…”
Ilshia tried to explain—but stopped abruptly.
“Master?”
Looking up at Shukri, she said blankly,
“I can’t remember…”
Shukri’s face twisted in frustration.
Ilshia felt like she was going mad. The memory of the dream vanished as if dissolving into water. Without Shukri, she might not have even remembered that the Caliph had appeared at all.
She clenched her hands tightly. The feeling of being unable to control her own body was deeply unpleasant.
As she bit her lips, Shukri sighed and gently rubbed them with his hand.
“You’ll damage those pretty lips. Stop that.”
After thinking for a moment, Ilshia suddenly said,
“Shukri! Bring the request letter from the Caliph.”
From that single command, Shukri understood her intention. Using his forbidden power, he teleported to the office and returned instantly with the document.
Ilshia took it and examined it carefully.
Black paper, white ink, and the Caliph’s seal stamped in white wax. At a glance, nothing seemed unusual.
“Check it.”
When she handed it to him, Shukri took it and closed his eyes, concentrating fully. After a moment, he let out a quiet breath.
“…This is…”
From his reaction, Ilshia confirmed her suspicion.
“So that was the issue.”
“Yes. There is a faint trace of divine power.”
Ilshia shuddered.
“Burn it immediately.”
At her command, flames erupted from Shukri’s hand. The paper, touched by forbidden power, emitted a faint white glow before disintegrating into black ash that scattered away.
The Caliph had embedded divine power into the request letter.
Using that barely perceptible trace as a medium, he had entered her dreams. It was a method so precise—and so unsettling—that it was almost brilliant.
It also showed that his mastery over divine power was extremely advanced. Manipulating power over such a distance was no easy feat.
Perhaps… he might even rival Hashar more than expected.
While Ilshia was lost in thought, Shukri suddenly knelt before her and pressed his head to the ground.
“It is my fault, Master.”
He should have detected it himself. The weight of guilt must have been crushing.
Ilshia shook her head and helped him stand.
“Stop. It’s not entirely your fault.”
“Master…”
Rather than comforting him further, Ilshia gave a command.
“From now on, everything from the Caliph must be thoroughly inspected.”
Empty consolation would only burden him further. It was better to clearly define responsibility and give precise orders to prevent a recurrence.
“I will keep that in mind.”
Shukri clenched his fists tightly and replied.
