Chapter 17
‘Since I’m not falling for it, she’s going with a numbers attack. Guess she’s thinking at least one of them will work.’
It was a level of aggression befitting her magic.
[What a boring man. Hmm?]
Perhaps irritated that Helios kept brushing off the illusions like a machine, one of them grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her.
He didn’t bother pushing her away. Instead, he looked down at her and let out a faint chuckle. The illusion seemed sweetly surprised.
[Oh my, you can smile?]
Contrary to what she might have hoped, he wasn’t entranced.
It was simply amusing to imagine Enya spending days preparing such unremarkable illusions. If something like this were enough to sway him, he would’ve been sprawled out uselessly with Gray from his very first day at the Magic Tower.
An illusion with black hair draped her arms around his neck and whispered:
[Do you like me?]
“No.”
Helios casually brushed her arms off his neck. But at that moment, his shoulder was seized and he was spun around.
Even seeing who it was, he wasn’t surprised. He had expected this.
[Helios, my younger brother. You must have suffered greatly.]
It was Ogothai.
One might mistake this for some kind of forbidden affection—but in a place this debauched, Ogothai was like a bee hovering around flowers.
Which meant the Ogothai before him was nothing more than a device to make the illusion feel more real.
[Helio, how pitiful. So many flowers, yet you haven’t even tasted their fragrance.]
Who even “tastes” fragrance? he wanted to retort—but the best way to deal with illusions was not to respond.
Instead, he simply stared. Her features were crafted with uncanny precision, even capturing the personality he knew so well.
That subtle eeriness, that sharp, violent gaze.
She acted like a close sister to him—but Helios didn’t trust her.
In truth, he didn’t trust affection itself. It was fickle, changing with circumstance and people, disappearing at any moment. Weak and insignificant.
If affection or familial bonds truly meant anything, the Emperor—his own father—would not have tried to kill him.
Ogothai always told him to trust himself, at least. But if he stepped outside her political interests, would she still stand by him?
He could answer that easily: no.
She was a politician who never made a losing deal.
He let out a self-deprecating smile.
[Helios?]
As he stood there smiling silently, her golden eyes shifted to the ring on his finger.
[Is it because of that ring? Do you have a lover somewhere? Is that why you’ve kept yourself so tightly restrained all this time?]
Helios laughed again, as if something amused him.
Thinking of Enya, who had tried to pry into the secret of his ring, made it hard to stop.
‘The owner of the ring? A lover?’
Contrary to Enya’s expectations, the ring belonged to his first love from childhood—and not even a particularly warm memory.
He had been fourteen. A shabby girl had tossed it to him like pig feed.
Yet he had treasured it, even forcing it onto his finger as he grew.
Now, he simply wore it out of habit—something he told himself.
Of course, when drunk, he had indulged in sentimental reminiscing. But that had been just after turning twenty.
There was no way he would still harbor desire over a childish memory.
The ring wasn’t a symbol or a promise.
Just an old trace.
[You’re smiling, Helios.]
Ogothai spoke softly.
Imagining how completely off the mark Enya had been brought him a bit of amusement, and he replied mockingly:
“Shouldn’t I laugh, Sister? A cat’s completely captivated by a single toy.”
[I don’t understand what you’re saying.]
“I didn’t expect you to.”
[I meant that I’ve never seen that expression on you before. I didn’t know you smiled like that.]
Helios’s face stiffened.
Amusement…
Now that he thought about it, he did laugh when facing Enya. Mostly mocking, irritated, or deliberately provoking—but still.
[Helios.]
Sensing her words had struck something, the illusion of Ogothai grabbed his shoulder again, her face filled with emotion.
[If I had known you liked it this much, I would have shown you sooner.]
…This felt like a trap.
[Using your third leg only to make children is such a waste. I’ve told you many times.]
The illusion seized upon his faint confusion and pressed on, like a blade twisting into a shallow wound.
[We’ve all lived suppressing ourselves like this. Shouldn’t you at least let loose there? Someone like me should gladly be a public good of pleasure. And you as well.]
She endured rising tears and flicked her hand.
At once, everyone around them vanished. The hanging drapes lengthened until they touched the ground, transforming the space into something like a stage just before a play begins.
In the radiant darkness, Ogothai smiled.
[I’m on your side, Helios. Remember that.]
With that, the drapes disappeared—and the tavern from before appeared once more.
Any tension he had felt faded into absurdity, and a quiet laugh escaped him.
This again?
For a moment, he had wondered if the illusion had glimpsed something deeper—but it had only returned to the tavern.
‘I should stop playing along.’
It was time to end this tedious contest.
Standing in the noisy center of the tavern, he turned his head, searching for Enya.
‘Black hair…’
A woman sharp enough to break in your grasp, untidy, with lifeless eyes that occasionally glinted like they had swallowed fire.
He had to find the real Enya.
As he scanned the room, something suddenly felt off.
Every single person in the tavern had black hair.
[Helios.]
The moment he realized, a soft body pressed against his back.
Long, pale arms wrapped around him, sliding up his body, caressing his chest as she embraced him tightly. Her curves pressed flush against him.
His temple tightened sharply.
[Why not just admit it?]
Her languid tone didn’t enter through his ears—but directly into his mind.
[I knew it the moment we met. You were curious about me.]
As he drew a deep breath and lifted his gaze, everyone in the tavern was looking at him.
Sharp eyes, straight nose, that crooked smile.
Every illusion in the tavern was Enya.
[Surprised?]
Yes—he was.
This absurd, worthless situation should have been easy to shake off. Yet seeing Enya appear within an illusion born from his own desire unsettled him.
The illusion gave him no time to process, seizing his confusion like the talons of a bird of prey.
[How cute.]
Amused by his stiff posture, the illusion hugged him tighter from behind. The curves of her body pressed into his back.
Her chest, her firm abdomen…
Helios remembered every sensation—what her waist felt like, how it yielded under his grip.
His hand clenched and loosened unconsciously.
[You already knew.]
The illusion stroked the back of his rigid hand, whispering gently.
[You examined my body thoroughly. Enough to recall it with your eyes closed—like something obscene.]
He hadn’t. He—
[Is that all?]
Another Enya—no, another illusion—rose from a nearby seat and approached. She took his hand and slowly lifted it.
[You saw the damaged parts of my skin and felt pity… yet all you could think was wanting to grasp it, clinging to your pathetic pride. As if ignoring it would erase the desire.]
[Don’t be so harsh. It’s pitiful.]
A chair scraped. Another Enya approached from the side.
No—these were illusions. He must not call them Enya.
They approached with impossibly soft expressions—ones he had never seen on her.
Even when they first met, she had seemed gentle—but there had always been exhaustion beneath it.
Now, she leaned against his broad shoulder, rubbing her chin against him as if he were the only thing in the world.
Something the real Enya would never do.
It was an obvious illusion. He could dismiss it.
Yet a thought crept in—
Wouldn’t she do this for Hasan, the mage who descended the mountain?
They seemed far too familiar with each other. Just imagining Enya touching and feeling Hasan made something rise in him.
Disgust.
[You know, I was glad to see you that first day.]
The illusion seemed to read his mind, brushing her lips near his ear.
As one drew closer, others coiled around him like snakes. Now more than three illusions clung to his body—all wearing Enya’s face.
[You felt the same, didn’t you?]
[You thought, “What a hassle,” but when I smiled, you came scurrying over.]
[Are you really a holy knight? Or just a dog? Want a collar? It’d suit you.]
Every place they touched sent a burning sensation through his blood.
His body tensed and weakened at once. His neck stiffened as he struggled not to collapse.
Helios couldn’t believe he was wavering.
Self-loathing and an unknown pain twisted inside his ribs.
[Helios…]
A teasing breath brushed his ear, shaking his composure.
[You beast.]
The final insult was barely more than a breath, yet his jaw clenched as if it might shatter.
Even the light laughter that followed—rather than sharp—sounded strangely alluring.
Whenever such thoughts surfaced—thinking Enya was alluring, or attractive—it felt like being struck over and over with a hammer.
