The Tidal Wave That Seized My Walls - Chapter 2

“Astonishing, isn’t it?”

The rain clung to the window as if trying to shatter it. My mouth was beginning to feel dry. This was no ordinary matter. I had messed with no ordinary person. If things went wrong, losing an arm wouldn’t be the end of it. I might as well grovel if they even granted me a maid.

Whether she knew my mind was spinning or not, the noblewoman smiled and removed her gloves.

“Welcome home, Yere Ha.”

Even if I was just some uneducated brat, I knew what Yereka and Bayereka meant.

“Huh?”

A Bayereka was a position only two held in each province, and a Yereka was the one who commanded even those Bayereka—a rank just below the king himself, with only four in the entire kingdom.

Even the most arrogant nobles would groan in frustration at the mere mention of a Yereka. I’d heard that just blocking their path was enough to get you cut down. They were figures you had to bow to until your neck snapped—people even the fearless Luphen were warned not to provoke. Those who valued their lives avoided gold-rimmed carriages like the plague.

And yet, I had to run into a noblewoman who bore the crest of a Bayereka, one who had clearly lost her mind long ago. I’d had my suspicions, but she was truly broken in the head.

“Shall we go?”

I wanted to ask if I even had a choice. The coachman, who had opened the carriage door, handed me a raincloak. Not one, but two. The edges of the black cloak were embroidered with golden thread.

“Cover yourself, Yere Ha.”

Was this some kind of roleplay? Maybe she was the type to treat me like someone to be revered, then toy with me in some twisted game. Still, I followed the noblewoman’s instructions and draped the cloak over my head. What was worse than death, anyway?

“Step down first.”

The coachman reached out to me. I could’ve just hopped down, but did I really need to take the old man’s hand? With a blank expression, I grasped his wrinkled fingers.

“Yere Ha.”

Before I knew it, the noblewoman had stepped down and stood beside me.

“May I walk with you?”

Come to think of it, she had been using honorifics with me from the very beginning. I’d been too tense to notice. Or maybe nobles just lived with etiquette dripping from their tongues.

The noblewoman’s pointed shoe stepped into a puddle. My bare, swollen feet followed, splashing into the same water. There wasn’t a single soul around—just the lone carriage standing in the middle of this grassland.

Had I come on a sunny day, I might have marveled at the sight. It was a field of lush green that refused even a single flower. The grass was trimmed to perfect uniformity, as if meticulously tended to every single day. The path cutting through the center was flawlessly smooth, not a single pebble out of place. I’d never seen such well-kept fields outside the walls. Then again, where could grass grow undisturbed when anything remotely edible would be ripped out by the roots?

Torches lined both sides of the path, their flames unyielding despite the rain. My jaw slackened. The noblewoman slowed her pace, letting me take it all in. It was an excessive kindness.

“Do you know where this is, Yere Ha?”

Eventually, we arrived before another wall. This one resembled an overturned book, smooth and unbroken—no door in sight. Standing before this towering, rain-slicked barrier, I felt no bigger than an ant.

“The Witterbalde Territory—home to the Western Yereka.”

I couldn’t even muster an “I see.” Out of habit, I rubbed my ear. The noblewoman smiled, utterly unbothered. She looked positively delighted.

“Would you step back, Yere Ha?”

Just as I was getting used to this absurd charade, the wall let out a groan—a deep, grinding sound like boulders colliding. The rumble of rolling stone followed, and a crack split the wall’s center. Light seeped through the fissure. I took two steps back.

The light spilling through the crack seemed to beckon. It grew, swallowing the wall before spitting out a massive gate. The doors swung open, revealing a human shadow within. I had thought it was just the two of us—my stomach lurched. When anxious, my legs trembled. The noblewoman covered her mouth, laughing as if she pitied me.

“Forgive me for the lack of explanation, Yere Ha.”

“…Yes.”

I barely registered my own response as I gnawed on my fingernail. The taste of dirt filled my mouth—whether from rainwater rushing in or the grime on my hands, I couldn’t tell.

The gates had split wide enough to tear apart entirely. The first thing I saw were men clad in armor. They stood in rigid lines, one row to the left, another to the right, staring straight ahead at one another. And between them—I was supposed to walk. What they held were banners, but to my eyes, they might as well have been spears or swords.

“Yere Ha.”

The noblewoman, seeing me hesitate, stepped forward first. She strode confidently down the center. I couldn’t just stand here, but there was nowhere to run, either. We’d traveled so far by carriage—what hope did I have, barefoot and frantic, but to be swatted like a flea? Muttering curses under my breath, I followed her.

The distance ahead was too bright to see clearly. The men lining the path stood rigid, their gazes fixed upward. Not a single one glanced down at me. Even when I openly stared, no one reprimanded me or threatened to gut me like a fish.

At first, the sight of their stiff postures was novel, but boredom soon dulled my nerves. The inside of the wall stretched longer than I’d imagined. The men seemed endless—as if every soldier from the slums had been rounded up and stationed here.

“Ah.”

My feet had gone numb from walking when light suddenly poured over me. I winced. This was where the wall ended. The noblewoman stepped into the radiance, while I lingered in the shadows, hesitating.

The glow was orange—lanterns that looked like flames trapped in upturned glass, hanging from the tips of long spears. Fire lined the path, and a warm golden light rose from the ground itself, as though the stones held heat. My rain-soaked feet burned against it.

I couldn’t tell if it was morning or afternoon. The sky, choked with storm clouds, was dark. Far in the distance stood a castle, its roof sharp as a carved mountain, its body spread wide like a seated giant. If I walked to the end, would I reach it?

I stood dumbly, unable to leave the wall’s shadow. The noblewoman stopped—not because of me, I realized.

No. She hadn’t paused for my sake.

Three shadows stretched before the noblewoman—each a different size. Two adults and one child. She knelt before them as though they had come to greet her, while the mysterious trio stood tall and imperious. Whoever could make a noblewoman bearing the crest of a Bayereka kneel—they were the ones who ruled within these walls.

“Yere Ha.”

The three shadows turned toward me.

I’m utterly ruined.

Until now, I’d blamed the noblewoman’s madness. But the real fault lay with me—for carelessly stumbling into this disaster.

Should I run? I might end up like a frog boiled alive.

But there was no escape. Behind me stood rows of armored men, and the walls enclosed everything. Could I scale them? Or beg for mercy? Neither offered much hope.

Then the tallest shadow strode forward—an elderly man with white hair swept neatly back, his eyes rimmed red. I squeezed my own shut, bracing for a blow.

“……”

But no matter how long I waited, no pain came. Cracking one eye open, I found the man who should have struck me gone. Instead, the old man knelt before me. My eyes widened.

“What was your name again?”

His voice was gentle, low and resonant.

“No one here means you harm.”

His thick hands settled on my shoulders. Flustered, I could only glance ahead—where the noblewoman and the other two shadows watched me intently.

I spat out my name slowly.

“Iyara.”

The old man smiled, his eyes crinkling. His face, unmarked by the harshness of life, was one that had known much laughter. Every grin deepened the fine wrinkles etched into his skin.

“Shall we go that way, Iyara?”

I was probably sixteen—Luphen had sworn on his molars for it. But the old man, perhaps with failing eyesight, treated me like a child of six or seven. Carefully, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and guided me forward. His hand carried a quiet weight, and his steps were measured, deliberate.

With someone like him leading me, I couldn’t just stand there like a stubborn foal. Helpless, I let myself be pulled along.

As we drew closer, the shadows obscuring the figures ahead began to lift. A girl came into view—golden-haired like me, with eyes of pale green. She wore an emerald cloak draped carelessly over a black lace dress, her blouse adorned with feathers like a bird’s plumage. Her eyes were similar to mine, yet different. A more refined shade of green, as if stars had been sewn into them. Noble. But within those eyes dwelled despair. I knew sorrow better than joy, despair more than hope. So I recognized it instantly.

“No need for further confirmation.”

The red-haired noblewoman standing beside the girl stared straight at me. She seemed to be the child’s mother—their attire shared the same refined air.

“She’s the spitting image of her grandmother.”

The hand on my shoulder tightened. Not painful, but heavy with meaning. I fixed my gaze on the ground.