IRMDH 25

Chapter 25

The sound of Blake’s heartbeat reached my ears.

Thump, thump. As if it had never stopped, it now raced on, and with that steady pulse, I slowly opened my eyes.

It wasn’t the pale face I had always seen…

For the first time in ages, there was color in his cheeks.

Panting for breath, I met Blake’s blue eyes.

“……”

Why is he looking at me like that…?

Embarrassed, I immediately dropped my head.

But since his hand still held mine, the distance between us didn’t change at all.

“I–if you kiss like this… how long does the heart keep beating?”

Beneath my bowed head, my gaze slid toward my fidgeting hand.

The warmth of Blake’s hand covering mine felt unfamiliar—like a sign that he was truly whole, truly normal.

“One day.”

Blake’s tone was as calm as ever.

I had thought that, since he’d asked me first this time to make his heart beat, he would at least smile slyly.

But when all he said was “one day,” I was so startled I looked up—only to find his gaze still locked on me.

“Only a day?”

“That’s how it was last time.”

Just a day?

That was hardly a good bargain.

I frowned slightly, and Blake chuckled.

Then, with the same cold tone as always, he said:

“You can go now.”

“……”

Really now—was he saying he didn’t need me anymore, just because his heart was beating?

I didn’t even bother to hide my grumbling as I yanked my hand free from his.

Blake simply shook his head.

“If you stay longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself. Let’s meet again outside, Master.”

“Huh? When will you be coming out?”

“Hmm… maybe in two days. What’s with that look?”

What’s wrong with my expression?

“You didn’t think I’d only make you kiss me once now that I know how to make my heart beat, did you?”

“……”

My eyes rolled.

When I thought about it again—did it really matter if his heart beat or not?

He could just sleep beside me… I could bring him meals…

Wouldn’t that be enough?

Depending on how he interpreted my indifferent face, Blake’s lips curled in a wicked smile.

“You saved me, so you have to take responsibility, Master.”

“This is just like that saying—‘pull someone out of the water and they demand your bundle in return’…”

“Bundle?”

Oops. Blake wouldn’t understand that proverb.

I turned my head away without answering, and he only shrugged.

“It’s just… not the place. That’s why I’m letting you go for now.”

“What’s… not the place?”

Blake sat casually in a nearby chair, as composed as if he hadn’t been kissing me moments earlier.

Then he said something that made my ears burn.

“If a kiss lasts only a day… it makes me curious how long other things would last.”

“I–I’m leaving right now!”

I had to go while he was still letting me leave.

I didn’t want to know what those “other things” were.

I was just about to press myself against the door when his voice stopped me.

“Just in case—”

Blake tilted his head, as if a thought had occurred to him.

“If you ever considered reviving Ian Harmel, don’t. Absolutely not.”

“Uh…”

“…You really did think about it, didn’t you?”

I only thought about it, that’s all.

Since I’m a necromancer, I wondered if I could bring Ian Harmel back.

But even if I did, he’d only think Blake was his killer. He wouldn’t be of any help.

Reviving him just to clear Blake’s name? And then what—tell him, “Your role is over, now die again”?

No way!

Besides, it would draw suspicion toward both my identity and Blake’s resurrection.

There were more risks than gains, so I quickly abandoned the idea.

I shook my head firmly.

Blake’s briefly grim face relaxed again, his tone turning lazy as he crossed his legs.

“To bring someone back, you’d have to kiss them.”

“…That’s the problem for you?”

Well… he wasn’t wrong.

You need to know their name, have a body for the soul to enter—and then you breathe life into them with a kiss.

He had a point.

But honestly? The last thing I wanted was to get tangled up with Ian.

If I brought him back, he’d cling to me like a leech.

Absolutely not.

It was already hard enough to handle just Blake.

I sighed softly and nodded.

I had been about to ask Blake about the man who looked exactly like him—the real reason he’d been trapped here—but I hesitated.

What had Blake been thinking during this week of confinement?

Knowing him, he hadn’t just idled away.

He must have reached some kind of conclusion.

And yet, even now, his unreadable face—though faintly flushed—still gave nothing away.

Even with his heart beating again, he wasn’t the bright, refreshing man he had once been.

The darkness, the sharp edges, the decadent air—they were all still there.

“If you’ve got something to ask, stop hesitating and ask.”

“That man… the one who looked exactly like you—like Your Highness. The culprit.”

“……”

“You must have some idea about who he is, don’t you?”

His calm expression had been too unnatural for someone who claimed to know nothing.

Blake rummaged in the basket, pulled out a sandwich, and laughed lightly at my words.

“Why do you think that?”

“Just… you seem too composed.”

“You know, Master—you never tell me anything, but you’re always full of questions for me.”

That pricked my conscience.

It was true. There were too many things I couldn’t tell him.

But even if I did, would Blake believe me?

That this whole world was just a story in a book?

More likely he’d laugh it off as some bizarre joke from my “overactive imagination.”

I stayed silent for a long while, realizing he wasn’t going to tell me anything either. I was about to say goodbye and leave when—

His half-lowered blue eyes flashed sharply.

“I can tell you one thing. That guy can’t hurt you. So don’t worry too much.”

“And what about you?”

“Me? I’m the exception.”

So Blake himself could be in danger?

I shot him a glare, only for him to say something absurd.

“Of course, if he can kill me, then I can kill him too. So it’s nothing to fret over.”

What kind of logic was that?

At first, I had thought he might be some kind of double.

A double trying to kill the “real one” and take his place.

But when I actually spoke to the fake, he wasn’t irrational. He had a plan of his own—even if it wasn’t exactly normal.

And his obsession… wasn’t Blake. It was me.

The fake didn’t like Blake—he found him annoying. But instead of trying to kill him, he seemed more interested in me.

Looking back, everyone he killed had been connected to me.

The knight who guarded me, the commoner who bumped into me.

And… Ian Harmel.

But why me?

It wasn’t as if I were the heroine Seira from the original story.

Why me?

The fake’s attitude… it almost felt like he had fallen for me.

Well, right now I was Blake’s wife.

Maybe that was what he was fixated on—the real wife of the real Blake.

Whatever the case, Blake himself didn’t seem worried at all.

But that line—if he can kill me, then I can kill him too—

It almost sounded like… they couldn’t exist without each other.

Like they were bound together.

“Brooding over it won’t get you more answers. Just go already.”

“Mmm…”

Even at his dismissal, my thoughts kept spiraling.

And just then, something the fake had said resurfaced.

His name. His true name.

“I can’t see you off since I can’t leave here, but next time I’ll just come straight to your bedroom.”

“Huh? Why straight to my— No, wait, that’s not the point. I just remembered something.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the fake. He also said his name was Dominic.”

“And?”

“But… he said he’d tell me his true name.”

The true name.

A name only imperial royals possessed, shared only with their closest family or partner.

But if his name was also Dominic, and yet he wanted to tell me his true name…

Then maybe his true name… wasn’t Blake.

That thought suddenly felt like a clue.

“True name? What kind of man tries to tell another man’s wife his true name?”

Blake muttered irritably.

And in that moment, I felt sure. I asked cautiously:

“That fake—his true name is Blake… isn’t it?”

“You mean, the same as mine?”

“Yes.”

Blake was silent for a moment.

Then, after taking a bite of the sandwich I’d given him and swallowing, he replied, completely unfazed:

“Mm, probably not.”

“W–what?!”

“If you’ve figured out this much, then think it through yourself.”

You already know most of what matters.

That was all he said, waving me off with an air of indifference.

As if it didn’t bother him at all that I might learn everything about the fake.

There was even a strange confidence in his attitude.

Puzzled, I left the Crown Prince’s palace.

When it came to Ian, he’d looked so uncertain…

But now—

It was like he was saying: If it’s someone who looks exactly like me, I can beat him.

What kind of twisted mix of self-loathing and arrogance was that…?