MAS 35

Chapter – 35

“Hmm?”

I was startled by the sudden voice, but only for a moment—I soon remembered Blake’s presence.

When I turned my head, he was nowhere to be seen.

‘Where did he go?’

I looked around, and soon my eyes met Blake’s hiding behind the curtains.

He pressed his index finger to his lips and waved the other hand in a gesture that seemed to say, “Go on, quickly.”

“What’s over there?”

When Cideron tried to look at where Blake was hiding, I grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him outside.

“No, wait! Let’s go back.”

If a commotion like the one in the garden happened here, being caught with Blake wouldn’t end well.

Luckily, Cideron seemed uninterested, and he soon stopped paying attention and left the terrace.

We left the banquet hall and headed straight to where the carriage was.

It wasn’t until I sat down in the carriage that I could finally calm my racing heart.

‘…I must have been really startled.’

No wonder my heart was pounding so loudly.

[Cideron]

Cideron’s life had been uneventful.

He was born, he grew up. That was all.

The only unusual thing was that he had never been able to feel emotions, not even as a child.

This wasn’t just him—his father, and his grandfather before him, were the same.

It ran in the family. A trait born from the strong fire element flowing through the blood of Asitria.

People naturally didn’t accept this trait, seeing it as abnormal.

‘You saw someone whose parents died and they didn’t even blink?’

‘It’s a family trait…’

‘No matter what, how can someone act like nothing happened? It’s really…’

‘…monstrous.’

Everyone whispered the same thing.

As these days passed, he became known more as “the monster” than by his own name.

‘A monster.’

When Cideron was seven, he began to think that perhaps, as people said, he truly was a monster.

Even though he couldn’t feel emotions fully, he still had thoughts and actions, which he based on books.

One passage caught his attention:

“A monster is not only one with a grotesque appearance, but also one who possesses something bizarre beyond human comprehension.”

Reading that, Cideron thought the passage described him perfectly.

He bore no resentment at being called a monster.

But that didn’t mean he lacked all feelings.

Annoyance, irritation, slight discomfort—he still felt those.

Then one day, he met a girl who was to be his fiancée.

The emperor had personally chosen her to curb the influence of Asitria.

A girl with no power, no knowledge, and no wealth.

The first impression he had of Lilia was simply that: a minor, unremarkable girl.

If she had kept to her place and stayed in the corner, he likely would never have remembered her.

Yet she kept hovering around him, constantly drawing his attention.

The only thing Cideron often sought in this world was sweets.

He wasn’t sure if he could call it “liking” them, but eating them never put him in a bad mood.

One day, Lilia brought him cookies.

After eating them, he no longer felt unpleasantness even when seeing her.

Eventually, he found himself waiting for the moments when she would bring treats.

At first, he thought it was just about the snacks, but later, even when she didn’t bring them, he didn’t feel as annoyed as before.

When he realized this, he was deeply unsettled.

Things only got stranger.

He began paying attention to her words, wanting to fulfill whatever she asked.

Cideron found his own reactions to be strange, as if he were broken.

So, he tried to keep his distance.

But in the same space, avoiding her entirely was impossible.

One day, while walking in the garden, he ran into Lilia.

She said something to him that made no sense:

“If you survive the battlefield…”

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t know why, but surviving didn’t sit well with him.

Irritably, he muttered:

“People die so easily. It’s like killing insects. You’d die too if you got on my nerves.”

He said it, but it was a lie.

No matter how irritating, he would never—could never—kill Lilia.

Yet he wanted to stop feeling these strange emotions every time he saw her.

These feelings weren’t suitable for a monster.

Cideron unleashed his fire-element powers toward her.

He wasn’t fully skilled yet, but enough to scare a child.

Seeing Lilia’s face turn pale, he instinctively knew:

He could no longer converse with her as before.

But Lilia’s actions defied his expectations.

“Why? You’re going to die? You haven’t even told me yet.”

Persistent questions.

Cideron thought her persistence was commendable.

Perhaps as a reward for her efforts, or maybe just because he wanted to tell someone, he spoke from an impulse he didn’t fully understand:

“I can’t feel emotions like others do.”

He could feel only about ten percent of what others felt.

Then why did his heart race like this?

A strange surge of emotion erupted in his chest, as if a dam had broken.

Odd.

Suppressing this subtle feeling, he continued:

“People call me a monster when they see this. They want me dead. And…so do I.”

He had always thought this way.

Not exactly that he wanted to die, but that he didn’t want to struggle to live.

Lilia looked sad for some reason.

Not with fear, not calling him a monster, but with pity.

A look he had never seen directed at him before.

Cideron was puzzled.

Why does she look at me like that?

And why does that look bother me so much?

Frustration, annoyance—everything was unpleasant.

‘…How can you be sure everyone feels that way?’

The slow reply contradicted his own thoughts.

He couldn’t help asking:

“Then tell me. Have you ever thought I was a monster?”

His heart pounded loudly.

Lilia couldn’t answer. She pressed her lips tightly together and looked away.

The pounding slowed, and a chill crept through his body.

Of course.

It was a natural reaction.

He hadn’t asked expecting an answer.

She was just like everyone else.

Even Lilia was human.

He was, in the end, alone.

No one wanted him to live.

So he preferred death.

If he died, he wouldn’t have to see those things that annoyed him anymore.

Acknowledging this painfully obvious truth, feelings he had never experienced before surged within him.

It hurt—achingly.

And then, his cheek tingled.

Followed by a trembling voice:

“See? Which monster cries?”

Eyes, tears?

Cideron hesitantly raised his hand to his cheek. Something warm and wet clung to it.

Could this really be from his eyes?

Monsters, after all, don’t cry.

‘Then…what is this?’

Confusion washed over him.

Being in front of her always brought experiences he had never felt: feeling emotions.

Who are you?

What are you that makes me feel so…strange?

I want to ask. I want to know.

Why do you affect me like this?

“You might not be a monster, as you think.”

With that single statement, all his pent-up strength collapsed.

Not a monster, huh…?

A thought he shouldn’t even dare to have.

“Then…what am I?”

His voice came out, urgent, breathless.

He didn’t have the presence of mind to wonder how he could even speak like that.

Slowly, deliberately, her lips parted.

“Sion.”

Sion.

The resonance spread through him like ink diffusing in water, stirring his mixed emotions.

“So live your life, Sion, not the life of a monster.”

What was the difference?

It was a question too difficult for him.

“…What does that mean?”

“I don’t know. How would I know your life?”

The reply was so calm it belied the tension.

“But one thing I do know. You won’t die on the battlefield.”

Those golden eyes shone like the sun.

Could a person shine like that?

He felt mesmerized by the sunlight.

But then she added one more line, and his fleeting clarity was doused:

“If you come back safely, I’ll make sure we get a divorce.”

Like pouring cold water over a blazing fire, his scattered emotions were suddenly quelled.

Looking back, Lilia had always pressed him for a divorce.

It wasn’t difficult.

Yet for some reason, it didn’t sit right with him.

More than anything he had ever experienced.

Then, unexpectedly, Lilia poked her face close and asked:

“Do you think I’m that ugly? Not even fit to be a duchess?”

Boom. It felt as if his heart had dropped.

Cideron stepped back unconsciously.

Ugly? Well…

‘…Of course not.’

Lilia frowned and pressed her face even closer.

Golden hair like the evening sun. Eyes bright like the sun itself. A gaze so pure and clear. Pink cheeks flushed with color.

His heart raced as if running a race inside his chest.