Chapter 18
‘Damn it.’
He fixed his gaze on empty space, as if there were a dot floating there, trying not to look at the illusions. Yet in his mind, he was already thinking that Enya’s skin must be even softer than what he glimpsed. In his thoughts, her voice sounded—of course—pleasant to hear.
If he had an axe, he felt like smashing his own head.
At least one thing was fortunate: the illusions he’d glimpsed were all dressed in long robes reaching their ankles—blue or black. Just like the austere and noble master of the Magic Tower, their attire was almost ascetic to the point of being suffocating.
That woman would never strip in front of him. Never.
And yet, the moment he thought that, a strange hollowness crept in.
Good grief—thinking wasn’t helping. His thoughts shattered into fragments, impossible to control.
He squeezed his eyes shut and, grinding his teeth, began reciting the national anthem to break his turmoil.
“Dr-rwuh mmu. Geuangi saeb-eug-eul geur-myeon—”
[The anthem, suddenly? I’m good at this.]
Miraculously understanding him, Enya chimed in, humming along. He had thought the same when she sang it before Ogothai—her voice, even when carrying the grandeur of an anthem, was soft, like reciting poetry.
Ah, please, God—no. Enya was sharp, irritable, and only spoke when she was attacking someone. At least, that was how she was with him.
He grew irritated at how she wouldn’t leave his mind even while he recited the anthem—then quickly calmed himself. Better to hear nonsense than those thoughts. He wasn’t some depraved bastard who got aroused by a national anthem.
[Do not fear death—we are the descendants of guardians, both false and true.]
[Do not fear the end of life—you will meet again in the paradise your god protects.]
Hearing Enya’s rich voice echo deep in his mind eased his turmoil, even if only a little.
He was physically healthy—and far from a moral man. Something like this could happen once in a lifetime. The problem was that the object was Enya—but in an illusion, perhaps that didn’t matter.
‘As long as I don’t fall for it.’
After rationalizing it, his mind gradually calmed, like a dark lake settling.
Right—he had been seeing Enya more than anyone lately. That must have imprinted something like this. To be honest, among all the women he had met, she was the most intense—
No. No.
Helios Deferth, stop thinking.
‘Just move.’
Better to get rid of these illusions quickly and find the real Enya.
With his eyes closed, he tried to shake off the figures clinging to him—
Then, suddenly—
A foreign sensation touched his lips.
The vividness of it sent chills down his spine. His eyes snapped open.
[No.]
Somehow, he was now seated in a tavern chair. Everyone else had vanished.
Except Enya, sitting on top of him.
An empty tavern.
Just the two of them.
Enya wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him gently.
[You’re not reacting to just my body. No—more precisely, not only to my body.]
She raised a finger languidly and traced from his chest up along his neck. Though it was only a fingertip, it sent ripples through him like a stone dropped in water.
[You react to everything about me—my gaze, my tone, the way I speak, the breath I take when I’m stirred.]
As her fingers brushed his shoulder, she pressed her thigh against his waist, straddling him like riding a horse.
[My furrowed brow, my dry lips. Even the past you don’t know—everything.]
His mind was filled with denial.
But the more he denied it, the more he reacted.
He tried desperately to ignore it—this was nearly his last resistance.
[Helios, it’s fine.]
This time, Ogothai’s voice cut in, as if encouraging him. She sat across the table, arms crossed, smiling.
[Physical attraction may influence the mind, but it cannot control it. Look at me.]
Ogothai was a perfect example of body and mind being separate. She couldn’t remember the names of those she slept with, and it was well-known that she had killed someone she had been seeing for months—without hesitation. Granted, that person had tried to poison her—but still.
[It’s fine to be drawn to Enya. No—she’s the only woman who stimulates you. So what if you embrace her?]
Ogothai continued:
[You killed a demon king just to earn recognition from the father who tried to kill you.]
[You turned a dead wasteland into a proper territory.]
[But did any of that make you feel alive?]
No.
None of it had made him feel alive.
There was fulfillment—but also anxiety. Satisfaction—but also emptiness.
It felt like chasing a light he could never grasp.
Always.
After his mother died, his father suddenly branded him a monster and tried to kill him.
The world believed he had gone west of his own will—but in truth, he had fled to escape assassination.
The Emperor had assumed he would die there and stopped pursuing him.
But Helios survived—and sought to prove his life by becoming the ruler of the west.
Stubbornness, recklessness, anger—those were his only driving forces.
To live, he burned with rage.
Ironically, to prove he wasn’t a monster, he lived like one.
He didn’t just kill monsters. He installed proxy lords in unclaimed lands, fought neighboring territories for supply routes, and killed without hesitation.
He told himself it was unavoidable—and repented to God.
For ten years, he lived as both murderer and priest.
[So—will it change when you become the lord of the west, Helios?]
Ogothai spoke as if she already knew the answer.
[You think you’re angry—but all you want is recognition. And your father will never give you either love or acknowledgment.]
[And Helios—you already know that.]
[You’ll spend your life swinging your sword, craving affection you’ll never receive. Eventually, you won’t even know who your anger is directed at. You’ll live worse than a beast.]
His eyes dried like ash at the undeniable truth.
[So indulge.]
[Your mind is already worn down—don’t leave your body empty too.]
…Was that right?
As his thoughts rose and fell, Enya approached.
[Don’t listen to your cold sister, Helio. Saying to seek only the body?]
She lifted his chin, her eyes filled with pity.
[You just need somewhere to run to. You want someone who can hold even your insignificant core.]
“……”
[I’ll do it.]
Enya—what could you possibly do?
[You saw it too, Helios. That night in the garden, when you fled from your father who ignored you at the banquet. You saw my eyes.]
Her lips pressed against his ear. Her tongue brushed his earlobe before she bit it lightly. The sensation spread through his body like strong liquor.
[You and I are the same.]
…Are we?
[I can understand you. I know you’ve been waiting for someone like that. Pretending not to hope, not to expect—reading novels, secretly waiting. Thinking there must be someone like you out there. Right?]
Yes.
I have been waiting.
[I’m the same. That’s why I was kind to you, despite knowing my place. I thought maybe, as fellow runaways, we could be friends.]
She leaned closer, as if willing to accept everything.
[I’ll give you everything.]
She pressed her forehead to his and guided his wrists to her waist. Her body wasn’t fragile in his grip.
Ah—she had seen battle. Those scars must be remnants of war.
[Desire all of me.]
He lifted his eyes.
Her languid face was close. He wanted to touch the curve of her eyes, her lips.
He admitted it.
Enya was the first person to provoke him like this.
Whether it was anger or irritation—it didn’t matter.
Even if this was desire twisted by illusion—so be it.
It was only an illusion.
This much was fine…
[Helios.]
Enya pressed her lips into the crown of his head and embraced him. Naturally, he leaned into her chest.
She always seemed cold—but now her warmth was dizzying.
Even knowing it was an illusion, he didn’t want to shake it off.
As he buried himself in her, she whispered something softly. Her voice shimmered like ice clinking in whiskey.
Her voice. Her touch.
Perfect.
If he had known, he would have embraced her from the beginning.
He was nothing but a beast anyway—why had he resisted?
[Tell me what you want.]
The illusion demanded a clear desire, trying to bind him completely.
Helios, buried in her warmth, thought.
What did he want?
What did he truly want…?
Clink.
The sharp sound of ice struck his mind.
Slowly opening his eyes, he saw beyond the tavern window.
Rain fell outside.
And there—someone was sitting.
A woman with a dry, lifeless expression, swirling a glass of cheap whiskey. She wasn’t looking at him at all—only at a gray gravestone.
Your teacher’s grave?
Why do you look so sad—you killed them, didn’t you?
…Wait. Who was he even thinking about?
He was supposed to be naming what he truly wanted.
Unlike the others, that woman did not look at him.
Seeing her, his mind began to clear.
The illusion holding him spoke urgently:
[Tell me what you want, Helios.]
“Enya…”
The illusion’s voice scattered.
A realization struck like lightning.
The woman outside—
That was the real Enya.
Marie anxiously checked the time on her silver pocket watch.
It had been exactly four hours since Helios fell into the illusion. He hadn’t moved at all.
Enya, standing before him, was just as still—like a statue. Close enough that he could reach out and grab her throat at any moment, yet she remained perfectly upright.
Helios was reckless for agreeing to this absurd wager—but Enya was just as reckless for setting a spell that would make him strangle her if he succumbed.
Ogothai, Enya…
Were all powerful superiors just a little insane?
As Marie thought that, she heard the crisp clink of a teacup.
Laila, as if the tense standoff meant nothing, checked her empty cup.
Hours ago, she had set up a table, spread a white cloth, and calmly brewed tea—offering some to Gray and Marie as well.
