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Chapter : 36
Scraping the Floor
What was it that had been scraping the floor?
It felt like fingernails dragging against it, scratch, scratch.
As if something were crawling up from beneath.
Something clawed at the dirt floor with its nails.
It was familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time.
“It felt unpleasant, like something scratching from below…….”
Sharlof tapped the table lightly.
“It seems His Majesty the Emperor will be late.”
The head maid whispered as she prepared the bed.
“Shall you retire first?”
“I’ll wait a little. If it gets too late, I’ll sleep on my own, so you may go.”
The head maid lit a scented candle nearby and withdrew. The flame swayed as the candle burned.
“Please call if you need anything.”
Sharlof felt a sense of déjà vu.
“Did I miss something……?”
It felt as though something were tugging at her ankle.
Death is an abstract thing.
It was a realm too elusive to explain with just a few words.
The death she had experienced herself was darkness.
Sharlof floundered beneath death.
Everything was ruined.
In a life twisted and trampled, Sharlof clung desperately to its very edge, struggling to endure.
And that end had been so utterly meaningless.
What had she endured for?
What had she survived for?
Then—why had she died?
“Awake?”
Sharlof opened her eyes.
“Go back to sleep. You looked uncomfortable sleeping face down, so I thought of moving you, but I guess I woke you.”
Only then did Sharlof steady her blurred vision.
“Did you wait?”
“Yes. For a little while.”
“I told you not to wait. Next time, don’t stay up for me here. Even if I’m late, go to sleep first.”
Benjamin pulled the blanket up and laid Sharlof on the inner side.
Sharlof gave him a faint smile.
“Did everything wrap up well?”
“Yes. As long as the miasma from a demon is dealt with in time, things settle quickly.”
“Did you personally step in for matters like that before as well?”
“I told you. This country is still a country, even like this, and someone has to cling to the thread of life to keep it going.”
Because the path to the throne had been chaotic,
the labels attached to him were largely negative.
“……Maybe it was unfair.”
Had he heard her murmuring?
“What did you just say?”
“Nothing.”
“Silly. Go back to sleep.”
Her consciousness gradually sank.
The events of last night had been brought to a close.
“The chaotic site has been completely cleaned up. No one directly witnessed the demon.”
“That’s fortunate, at least.”
Benjamin set down his quill. Fresh skin had grown back on the hand that had been damaged by the miasma.
“What about that man—did you investigate him?”
The intelligence officer reported what had been uncovered so far.
“We questioned him, but he didn’t know anything either.”
“Could he have forgotten because he was drunk?”
“We considered that possibility. However, his capacity was too small to handle a high-grade demon. To begin with, after using that miasma, he himself was corroded by it. He was devoured by it. It seems he didn’t anticipate that outcome himself.”
As he writhed in pain, the priests burned away the miasma and interrogated him.
‘Damn it! It hurts! I said it hurts! Aaaagh! Aaaaah…! D-do something! S-save me. P-priest…! I did wrong, so please spare my life!’
‘So there was a fool here who dared handle that much miasma without even protecting his own body.’
‘I-I didn’t know it was this dangerous! No, I was only planning to summon a parasite-like demon! I-I was never told any of this! Th-that old man! Bring me that damn old man! Ugh… ghhk!’
He didn’t seem to be lying, either.
“It appears it was his first time handling miasma. He said he bought it cheaply from some old man… but he didn’t even know who the man was. We dug into it for several days, but I don’t think we can expect more.”
“So this is the limit?”
“Yes. Miasma consumes its caster. For an ordinary person to handle it—even if it’s low-grade—it would be fatal. If it were truly low-grade, losing an arm might suffice, but after using that much miasma, hoping for one’s own safety would be greed.”
It seems he used it without fully understanding it.
“You may leave.”
Benjamin waved his hand dismissively. The intelligence officer finished his report and departed.
Aaron removed his hood.
“I thought it hadn’t been long, but it took quite some time.”
With clouded eyes, Aaron looked up at the gates of the imperial palace.
So he had set foot here again—the palace he had fled like an exile after the former empress died.
“You there.”
A guard narrowed his eyes and spoke.
“Who are you?”
Only then did Aaron realize how shabby he looked.
“Ah—no, I’m not trying to drive you away.”
The guard examined Aaron with a complicated expression.
“I am this sort of person.”
Aaron pulled out an entry token he had kept hidden in his clothes.
“You’re from the imperial palace?”
Aaron nodded.
“I have returned to the palace at the summons of the imperial family.”
Sharlof brushed her hair back.
“What about my maternal relatives?”
“Yes. I escorted them all the way to their carriage.”
They had come from the Windsor family.
Only after confirming two or three times that she was truly all right did they finally leave.
“It seems the Windsor family was very worried.”
“Even though I said I was fine, they couldn’t rest until they saw it with their own eyes.”
“That’s how people’s hearts are. Fragile as flower petals—that’s the human heart. Because we know how delicate it is, we watch over it again and again, don’t we?”
He spoke at length, but the point was simple: they worried about one another.
That’s how it was with family.
“This is the event schedule. The delegation will arrive at the palace the afternoon of the following day. Since the coronation was conducted rather hastily, they plan to come formally to pay their respects this time.”
“And the budget proposal?”
“That part is here. I’ve also noted other necessary matters below, so please review them.”
Sharlof tapped the table lightly. The head maid observed her cautiously.
“Will there be a delegation from the Southern Continent as well?”
“Yes. Exchanges with the Southern Continent were cut off for several years. They had been in turmoil due to internal conflict, but as soon as that ended, they sent a delegation.”
“The customs and culture of the Southern and Eastern Continents are completely different. Don’t forget that difference. Be careful to avoid any mistakes.”
The head maid wrote down the points Sharlof dictated.
“Your Majesty, just a moment…….”
One of the maids came to find Sharlof. Sharlof calmly set down her teacup.
“What is it?”
“Were you expecting a guest today?”
Sharlof waved her hand for her to continue.
“There is a visitor outside. He introduced himself as Aaron, saying he once worked in the palace as a court physician.”
“Who did you say?”
“He said his name was Aaron. An elderly man with a stooped back.”
Sharlof rose abruptly.
“Where is he?”
“He’s outside—”
Before the head maid could finish, Sharlof had already stepped out.
She paused to steady her breath before the emperor’s palace, and there stood a familiar figure in a familiar form.
“I pay my respects to Her Majesty the Empress.”
Aaron bowed deeply.
“Aaron…….”
Sharlof’s lips trembled without sound.
“The old man has been exposed to too much night wind. May I speak in a warmer place?”
Sharlof hurriedly prepared a place inside the palace. She ordered the fire stoked higher and warm tea brought in.
“My attire is shabby; I apologize for appearing before you like this.”
“You have nothing to apologize to me for.”
“I expected that the two of you would one day return to the palace, but it happened sooner than I anticipated. I apologize for not being able to attend the imperial wedding.”
“That’s your second apology already. I’m fine, so please warm yourself first.”
Aaron’s hand trembled as he held the teacup.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
“It’s just old age. The Southern Continent is warm, but this continent is cold. And it’s the tail end of winter now, so it seems even colder.”
Sharlof smiled awkwardly at him.
“I didn’t know you’d gone all the way to the Southern Continent. If you’d told me in advance……”
“You would have told me not to go, considering this old body. Traveling in warm places helped thaw me out, so I’m all right.”
“Still……”
“Please, speak informally, Your Majesty. If you sit in that position, you must uphold the hierarchy befitting it.”
Sharlof smiled bitterly.
“One who is easily lonely has climbed to the loneliest seat of all. The highest place—and yet the most desolate. Each step you take may feel heavy at times.”
“I…….”
“Speak informally, Your Majesty.”
Aaron whispered firmly once more.
“I thought I would see you like this, but actually seeing it still feels strange.”
“I can never win against you, Aaron. Is your business in the Southern Continent finished?”
Sharlof dropped the honorifics. Only then did Aaron smile warmly, as he had in the past.
“I went to obtain medicinal ingredients that can only be found there. Ah—and I also investigated Luperthic disease.”
Aaron slowly recounted what he had learned.
“The hallmark symptom of Luperthic disease is paralysis of the body’s sensory system. For example, sensation in the hands and feet gradually disappears, and then the muscles begin to stiffen……”
“Is it a common illness?”
“It is not common.”
Aaron explained the disease’s origin. Long ago, in a mining village on the Southern Continent, a luminous ore was discovered, and a fad arose of mixing that ore into pottery.
“It was a disease that miners frequently developed.”
“That can’t be……”
Then why did I die?
Sharlof’s expression slowly twisted.
“It’s true that Luperthic disease is rare. And the treatments that exist now have severe side effects—so severe that the treatment process is more painful than the disease itself.”
“Is it treatable?”
“It would require some research to treat it without side effects, but it is possible.”
“Then if someone from a noble family were to die from Luperthic disease……”
“Luperthic disease is still a disease. People can die from it. If untreated, they fall into a critical condition and then die.”
Aaron murmured uncertainly.
“However, it is treatable.”
Haneli stood still.
Without speaking.
He stood there for a long time.
His eyes were empty, yet something alien was mixed within them.
“……High Priest.”
The young priests trembled. His divine power spread in all directions.
Like spiderwebs rippling through the air, the power spread thinly.
The young priests gnawed at their fingernails.
“Are you all right?”
Haneli gave off an aura that made it hard to speak to him rashly.
That divine power was raw.
Primordial divine power is like that.
Raw, it scratches the flesh and burns away impurities.
The unrefined power stung as if it were scraping skin.
Haneli let tears fall. He whispered dreamily.
“Why……”
His eyes slowly turned red.
Raw divine power scattered chaotically.
As if possessed, he muttered—his whisper unbearably full of grievance.
“That soul is still wailing. How wronged must it have been, to wither away alone without even being able to cry out?”
“…….”
“Stop crying, child. You don’t even know how to wipe the tears flowing down your own chin.”
