Chapter 14

Instead of answering Itern, Zigcart lifted the bag he had placed on the floor onto his lap.

“What on earth is in there?”

Unable to see inside, Itern leaned forward with curiosity, then dragged a chair over and sat right beside him.

Zigcart glanced at him and replied indifferently,

“I told you—I was living rough.”

Dried jerky wrapped in paper, a slightly bent knife, a blanket shedding grains of sand—one by one, the items came out.

“I can’t believe this.”

Muttering quietly, Itern picked up a small pouch. It felt fairly heavy, and something clinked inside.

“What’s this? What’s in here?”

“Oh, that? Iron pellets.”

When he untied the pouch and opened it, it was indeed full of metal balls. Itern tapped the sturdy pouch sagging under the weight and asked,

“Why are you carrying around so many of these?”

“That’s a weapon too. If you tie a string to the opening and swing it, you can easily take down animals of a decent size.”

“……”

“Where did it go? I’m sure I put it in here—!”

While rummaging through the bag, Zigcart suddenly widened his eyes.

“Wha—”

He tried to speak, but Itern’s hands were pressing tightly against both his cheeks, leaving his lips puckered and only able to move uselessly.

“Why are you doing something so dangerous?!”

Zigcart’s eyes widened even more. In his ruby-like pupils, Itern’s face shimmered as if reflected in a mirror.

As his lips tried to move again, the small hands pressed even harder into his soft cheeks.

“To come all this way knowing how dangerous it is! What were you thinking, traveling such a long distance alone like a child?!”

“……”

Silence fell. Only Itern’s heavy breathing could be heard.

A bird cried in the distance. At the flutter of wings, Itern’s hands suddenly dropped away, as if he had touched burning coal.

What have I done?!

Avoiding Zigcart’s stunned gaze, Itern quickly turned his head.

Seeing the dirty, sand-covered bag filled with tools for survival, a surge of emotion welled up inside him.

To others, Zigcart might look like just another child—but Itern knew better. He himself had lived through countless hardships before being reborn.

No matter how much he disliked Zigcart as a former husband (?), right now he was just a fragile child who looked like he could collapse at any moment.

Realizing just how reckless Zigcart’s actions had been, Itern couldn’t hold back from scolding him as an adult.

“…Were you worried about me just now?”

“I wasn’t worried—I was scolding you!”

Zigcart frowned slightly and pushed Itern away.

“As long as I got here safely, that’s all that matters.”

“You…!”

“More importantly, isn’t this the real issue?”

Zigcart placed something he had been holding onto the table with a thud.

A bitter scent wafted from the paper-wrapped bundle—like the smell of ash left after burning branches.

“What’s this?”

“An herb.”

“An herb?”

Itern sniffed it and frowned slightly.

“What kind of herb? What is it used for?”

“The name probably differs by region. The descendants of the Duchy used to call it Verimere, but that’s not the exact name either. It means ‘the herb that brings the dead back to life.’”

An herb that brings the dead back to life.

The Empress wasn’t dead—but a chill ran down Itern’s spine. He understood why Zigcart had explained it that way.

Strictly speaking, the Empress—his mother—was breathing, but in a state close to suspended animation.

If this herb could wake her up…

It felt like a light suddenly flared in his mind. It was unbelievable—yet he wanted to believe it.

Just as Itern sprang to his feet, filled with the hope that his mother might wake up and embrace him—

“But bringing the dead back to life is just a legend.”

Zigcart’s words were like cold water poured over him. Itern frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s true that this herb is highly effective for people who’ve lost consciousness. And I guarantee it’ll work on your mother. But the effect isn’t permanent. It might only last a very short time—maybe two or three days at most. Or just a few hours.”

“That’s still fine!”

Forgetting his earlier resolve to keep his distance, Itern grabbed Zigcart by the shoulders.

A short time? Was that really short? A few hours—was that short?

His mother had lain in bed for over eight years without opening her eyes even once. A few hours? Even a single hour would be enough—just to hear her voice again.

To feel her touch, to see warm sunlight together, to cast shadows on the ground side by side—

If he could have that, Itern would willingly give up ten years of his own life.

“That’s enough. Please—I’m begging you. Use it for my mother. I’ll do anything. Do you need help? Just tell me.”

“I do need help.”

Zigcart carefully wrapped the herb again. Itern felt anxious even about that and wanted to grab his wrist to stop him.

“What kind of help?”

Zigcart answered,

“You need to help me get permission to use this on the Empress.”

Itern, who had held his breath for a moment, turned sharply around as if checking that no one was behind him.

“Don’t tell me… you mean getting permission from my father?”

“Were you planning to give it to her secretly without permission?”

“You said it would work!”

“It will. But secretly—how? I heard the Emperor of Sidernel has grown more irritable because of the Empress’s condition. How are you going to hide it from him?”

When he thought about it, that was true. Recently, his father had been visiting the Empress morning and evening.

I should’ve told him to visit her a little later!

It was useless to regret it now. Itern sighed.

“Do you think the Emperor of Sidernel would believe the words of some kid from a border duchy?”

That was true too. Even if it weren’t his father, anyone would scoff at such a claim. Dora would probably shout that it was nonsense.

But then—how could they possibly persuade him?

“Then let’s do this, Zigcart.”

Zigcart nodded, as if telling him to continue.

“I’ll go with you. But you’re the one explaining it to my father. That’ll be more convincing.”

“What if my head ends up rolling before I even get the chance to be convincing?”