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Chapter 62
When he realized Ibi was gone, Clois couldn’t think at all for a moment.
Everything went black before his eyes, and he felt as if the ground beneath him had fallen away—an overwhelming sense of vertigo.
But after a moment, the surrounding noise brought him back to his senses. He looked around.
“Ibi?”
He called out in a relatively loud voice, but there was no answer.
His gaze turned to the small children nearby.
Even though it was a small event, the children were enjoying themselves, laughing and walking around while holding their parents’ hands.
Clois quickly scanned them all.
He wondered if Ibi had mistaken someone else for him and had taken another person’s hand by accident.
But no matter where he looked, Ibi was nowhere to be seen.
‘Was she swept up in that crowd earlier?’
He recalled the group of people who had passed between him and Ibi just before he lost her.
It had been a noisy, crowded moment, and a small child like Ibi could’ve easily gotten caught up in it and dragged far away.
‘Was it this way?’
He headed in the direction where the crowd had gone.
But even there, he couldn’t find Ibi.
As the child he was so sure he’d find kept failing to appear, his anxiety grew.
Even though he told himself to stay calm and search carefully, the fact that the child had vanished made his hands tremble.
He found it hard to breathe.
Clois had felt this way before.
On the desperate journey back to the castle where Lillian had been, he encountered wounded soldiers.
They had cried as they told him his loved ones were no longer in this world.
“Ah…”
Clois covered his mouth with a hand.
The fear and despair he felt now were the same as back then.
A deep sense of hopelessness clouded his mind again.
‘I have to find her.’
How could he find the child?
Even as his rationality started to slip, people passed by him, smiling.
‘Stop everything.’
The seasonal festival had to be halted immediately.
He needed to dispatch not only the security forces but the Imperial Knights as well, to check every single person.
If Ibi had even been slightly hurt in the meantime…
A surge of fury and despair wrapped around him.
Emotions he had long suppressed quickly began to rise to the surface.
Ever since he had become emperor, there were times when he was overtaken by destructive impulses.
On those days, he loathed every smiling face in the world. Even the sound of laughter felt unbearable.
Still, he had buried all of it deep down and tried to become a wise ruler remembered by history.
The reason was simple.
Because it was what Lillian had wanted.
When he had decided to march to protect his family and the peace around them, Lillian had told him:
“You must become emperor.”
She didn’t say it out of ambition.
There had been certainty in her voice, as if she had seen the future—and overwhelming sadness in her expression.
“Everyone else will rule by killing and oppressing. If people are to be happy, you must take the throne.”
Even afterward, she continued to tell him to become emperor.
She said he had to look after the people, understand what hardships those below endured, and what they truly wished for.
Not even his own teacher had ever pleaded so desperately for him to become a wise and good ruler.
Maybe it was because of her words.
After taking the throne, Clois had devoted himself entirely to rebuilding the cities and restoring the people’s lives.
After the war ended, the first thing to be built was a hospital, followed by schools.
In areas that had suffered the most damage, he even sent Imperial Knights to stabilize public order and restore roads and buildings as quickly as possible.
Unlike previous emperors, his efforts prioritized a prosperous and stable life for the many over the luxurious lives of the few. And those efforts bore fruit quickly.
Thanks to that, the empire had recovered so swiftly it was hard to believe such a devastating war had occurred.
Even the neighboring kingdoms, once eager to see the empire fall, now bowed their heads in submission.
Most of all, the people no longer lived in pettiness or cruelty.
Where once a starving man on the street would have gone unnoticed, now people rushed to help and called for the guards.
If someone struggled, others offered help. They resisted the temptation to steal and upheld their conscience.
It had all been built on a foundation of stability and abundance.
Everyone was happy—except Clois.
There were times when his mind reached its limit. On such days, he would suddenly think:
‘It would be better if everything just disappeared.’
That was likely the tyrant’s blood—like his father and brothers—that flowed through his veins.
He could’ve done as he pleased.
It was a throne earned through blood and suppression; who would dare stop him from doing what he wanted?
Yet Clois desperately held down the rising urges.
Because of the voice that had whispered, after the war ends, everyone will be struggling—so please take care of them all.
And yet…
He recalled the small hand that had clutched his clothes just moments ago.
The wide unfamiliar road had seemed wondrous but frightening to her, so she’d held onto him tightly, unwilling to let go.
He had found it both pitiful and adorable.
So he had pretended not to notice and let her hold on.
But then she had taken the toy and held it tightly with both arms, no longer able to grab him.
So he should’ve been the one to hold her instead.
‘If I find her again, then this time…’
Just as that thought formed, a voice whispered from deep within.
—You already let go of her once. Do you really think you’ll get another chance?
He couldn’t breathe.
He hadn’t been able to protect them before—what made him think he could now?
At that moment—
“Excuse me.”
Someone tapped Clois on the shoulder.
When he turned, his eyes sharp, a man stood before him.
“Are you looking for a child? A small girl with golden hair and green eyes?”
For a second, Clois almost grabbed him by the collar.
Fortunately, before he could move, the man continued with a sympathetic expression.
“The security team took her to the lost children’s shelter. You should go there.”
Then he added,
“That little girl stood there quietly, waiting for her dad. She didn’t even cry—it was heartbreaking. You should hurry. I think she’s waiting.”
Clois immediately turned and began to run like a madman.
He didn’t even say thank you, but the man wasn’t offended.
What parent who’d lost a child could possibly stay calm?
Just then, the man’s wife came over and asked,
“How did you know that was her dad?”
“Just a feeling. They looked exactly alike.”
“Really…?”
She tilted her head in doubt.
That man didn’t seem ordinary at all.
Even putting aside his handsome face, the way he stood and moved—and even his voice—radiated grace and power.
‘Maybe he’s a noble.’
It wouldn’t be strange, given that nobles often mingled freely at events like this.
But the child didn’t seem like a noble’s daughter at all.
Her clothes were clean but old, patched multiple times.
Then the man spoke again with conviction.
“She’s his daughter. No one else would wear a face like the world had ended just for some random kid.”
* * *
By the time Clois reached the lost children’s shelter, he didn’t even need to ask—he found Ibi right away.
The small child curled up in the corner chair was unmistakable, even without seeing her face.
“Ibi!”
He rushed forward and pulled her into his arms.
Ibi looked up at him with startled eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
He embraced her tightly, patting her gently on the back.
Ibi didn’t cry.
Instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried herself into his chest.
And that hurt Clois even more.
If she had just cried or clung to him, he could’ve comforted her.
But such a small child had chosen to quietly swallow her fear alone, as if she had given up.
Holding the trembling girl close, he whispered,
“I’m sorry. I found you too late.”
Then Ibi spoke softly from within his arms.
“It’s okay.”
The child, who had been curled up, lifted her head. Though she must’ve been scared, she managed a small smile as she looked at him.
“Because… you still came for me.”
As if that alone was truly enough.
