Chapter 250
“This is inefficient.”
He began eating proper meals. Drinking water and tea regularly. Even carving out brief periods for sword training. Though sleep remained fleeting—haunted by nightmares that jolted him awake—he forced himself to rest at least minimally.
Every other waking moment was poured into work.
With the Grand Chancellor gone, the bulk of administrative duties fell to him. The empire’s vast territories and understaffed nobility only compounded the workload. To compensate, he scoured the academies, recruiting top graduates regardless of birthright and scattering them across the provinces.
Minor oversights—left unresolved due to the lack of a proper transition—were gradually uncovered and corrected. By the time he moved from urgent matters to finer details, the empire’s operations had stabilized considerably.
The Emperor’s birthday passed uncelebrated, just as the Crown Prince’s had. The Empress’s, too, was treated as though it never existed.
Surplus funds from last year’s budget and a portion of Duke Barilio’s confiscated wealth were redistributed to the people, drowning criticism in praise.
Even the whispers—Is he even human anymore?—faded. A ruler who ate, slept, and worked like any other no longer unsettled the nobility.
For two days, Kazhan did not rise from bed.
Not dead. Not asleep.
Like a broken magitek device, he lay motionless in the Empress’s chambers, staring blankly at the ceiling.
A breathtaking replica of the night sky stretched above him—crafted long ago for Ysaris.
“What’s the point? I’m not here anymore.”
He ignored the phantom whisper in her voice, his hollow gaze tracing each meticulously placed gemstone. The constellations, painstakingly arranged to mimic the real heavens, now seemed unbearably lonely.
“You promised Mikael wishes on shooting stars. Are you even listening?”
Instead of answering the hallucination, he recalled her murmuring to their son.
“Every person has a star that watches over them. If you’re ever lost, it’ll shine bright to guide you home.”
“No wonder yours blinds me.”
“What nonsense are you— giggle —You’re ridiculous.”
“I mean it.”
A memory from when the three of them would lie together in this very bed. When he could still hold her from behind and drift into peaceful sleep.
Her warmth, her voice—sweetness he couldn’t relinquish, no matter how much he told himself to forget.
“You miss me so much, yet you won’t even pretend to listen—”
Kazhan closed his eyes.
His eyelids twitched. Jaw clenched. As if fighting to keep himself from crumbling.
He wasn’t asleep, wasn’t dreaming. He was simply living inside the nightmare of reality.
“It’ll hurt now, but you’ll be fine. Time heals everything.”
She was wrong.
Time hadn’t scarred his wounds—it had ripped them wider.
Work could no longer distract him. Months after stopping his abilities’ overuse, the hallucinations only worsened.
His long-silent heart now ached at every thought of her, as if half a year later, her absence had finally registered. As if frozen time had lurched forward, drowning him in a delayed tsunami of grief.
“…Ysaa.”
Her name cracked between his fingers as he covered his face. He knew no answer would come, yet he called anyway—helplessly, hopelessly.
‘What are you doing now? Have you already forgotten me? What do you eat in that village? Are there hobbies there to fill your days?’
‘Did you celebrate your birthday with Mikael? Or did you invite neighbors for a feast? Has someone else caught your eye?’
‘What would you say if I found you again?’
‘Could I send gifts? Would you read a letter, if the Sage delivered it? Would it be wrong to ask about your life?’
‘Are you happier without me?’
“……”
The question circled endlessly before lodging in his throat. He drew a shuddering breath, exhaling into the void.
“I still—”
‘—feel like I’m dying.’
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