Chapter 256
“It’s nothing. I’ve heard signs of a lean year—no need to match last year’s scale for the harvest festival. Cut luxury spending across the board until next year. The summer festival alone suffices to showcase Uzephia’s stability.”
“Understood, Your Majesty. By how much should we reduce it?”
“Start with 80% and adjust details later. Ensure quality doesn’t suffer despite the budget cuts.”
“As you command. Next agenda: the appointment ceremony for the new royal knights—”
As the noble continued, Kazhan mechanically responded while lost in thought.
Had I toured the capital with you last year… Had you been at this summer’s grand festival, how brightly would you have smiled? Mikael would’ve begged for a piggyback ride, no doubt. I wonder if that remote village even holds festivals.
Is their security adequate? I punished the guards who failed to prevent your kidnapping, yet now incompetent ones fill the palace. How I regret no longer deploying personnel to protect you.
‘You should’ve treated her better while you had the chance.’
He didn’t answer the translucent specter of Ysaris whispering in his ear. His expression remained blank, gaze fixed on some void between past and present.
“…That concludes today’s agenda.”
“Dismissed. Discuss any further opinions among yourselves and submit a summary.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Kazhan exited first. Instead of heading to his office, he turned toward the empress’s vacant chambers.
Once the dam holding back thoughts of Ysaris had broken, she flooded his mind relentlessly—during work, meals, training, everything. The hallucinations and phantom whispers worsened it. Even brief naps brought nightmares where she awaited him.
In this world stained by the lover who’d left him, Kazhan had reached a point where…
“You’re beautiful today too.”
He could admire the Ysaris his mind conjured, purely and without pretext.
The specter’s cheeks flushed at the absurd compliment.
‘I didn’t dress up for you.’
He didn’t bother replying, just memorized her against the backdrop of the blue garden. When he’d believed her dead, he’d clung to these illusions. But knowing she lived elsewhere made them mere tools to preserve her image.
‘Are you listening? I wore this to meet another man, not you.’
“……”
That one stung.
Kazhan roughly dragged a hand through his hair. Logically, Mikael’s presence meant she wouldn’t remarry—yet the vision’s taunt soured his mood.
Not knowing anything about the real Ysaris’s life was torture. After years of watching men flock to her beauty, the uncertainty gnawed at him.
‘Too scared to actually go see for yourself? Coward.’
He didn’t argue. He was a coward.
His heart, still raw from Ysaris’s departure, couldn’t risk her rejection again. The specter’s barbs were easy to dismiss, but the real her might cast him out—and he feared what he’d do then.
Even now, violent impulses surged and ebbed. If I can’t see her, we should’ve died together. The thought flickered, followed by darker fantasies: If I burned Uzephia—no, the entire continent—would she come to stop me?
The idea of suicide in front of her tempted him. To haunt her nightmares forever, etching himself into her memory—what sweet vengeance.
He blamed most of this on his ability’s side effects. But what if it wasn’t? What if he sought her out only to succumb to these urges?
What if he placed a sword in her hand and guided it to his heart—
“Madman.”
He muttered at the crushed blue flower in his palm. His bangs cast shadows over dull, sunken eyes as he bowed his head.
Perhaps Ysaris was right. They were never meant to meet.
Kazhan Tennilath was a creature who should’ve never learned love—never received it, never given it. A broken monster.
“……”
He stared emptily at his hand. The crumpled petals trembled in the wind before scattering, leaving only blood-like sap on his calloused skin.
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