“The night has grown deep, boy.”
From the moment Anya could hold a sword, he trained with swordsmanship in the morning and practiced gathering magical energy in the middle of the forest in the afternoon. Sabelli had said that in such ancient forests, much magical energy still remained. As magical energy was gradually being depleted in the empire’s lands where elves had disappeared, having a sacred forest near the domain was nothing short of divine fortune.
“J-just a bit m-more.”
His wheat-field-like brown hair was soaked with sweat. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead and rolled down to his chin. It was a sight utterly unsuited to this forest covered entirely in white snow.
Under the ‘Beginning Tree,’ Anya sat with one leg folded and the other leg placed on top, closing his eyes. Sabelli had said that to gather magical energy, one must empty one’s mind. A blank slate where nothing exists. One had to become a ‘being of nothingness.’
“The boy has not yet attained enlightenment.”
But he failed each time. Every time he closed his eyes, the faces of those who had tormented him appeared one by one. The mind that should be empty was quickly filled with fear and anger. Anya coughed roughly. The faint light gathered in his palm quickly disappeared.
“Neither anger nor sadness should exist. You must conform and accept.”
Sabelli spoke as if teaching simple letters to a six-year-old child. Anya rubbed the stiffening area around his chest and flopped backward.
“I h-have ac-accepted.”
A plea of injustice poured out along with frequent coughs. With physiological tears clinging to his eyes, Anya glared at the sky. The sun was already setting behind the Beriela Mountain Range. Time passed quickly, and unlike his pride in being a chosen one, training progressed slowly.
He thought he might as well just die, but perhaps he didn’t really want to die after all. Pretentiously… Anya covered his face with his hands. He had held hope that he was receiving Sabelli Nox’s teachings, that he was actually a chosen one, that he might even win the duel.
The red light of sunset seeped through his fingers. The boy clenched his fist, capturing the sunset in his hand.
“Impatience is also a form of ‘being.’ Conform and become a being of nothingness.”
To use magic, one had to somehow gather and manipulate magical energy. Anya, who had originally been able to understand the spirits’ language, could easily detect magical energy. But gathering it and confining it in his hands was a different matter. His already weak physical strength had become completely tattered after several days of intense training.
Amid all this, having to be careful not to be discovered by others, Anya stood before his bedroom completely exhausted. His trembling hand was just about to grasp the bedroom doorknob.
“Anya.”
The cool voice from behind him made the hair on his arms stand on end. Anya turned around with a start. Evernight was leaning against the doorframe of the opposite bedroom. The man moved silently, just like a shadow. There was no sense of his presence at all.
“He-hello, L-Lord Ev-Evernight.”
Anya stood before Evernight with his hands neatly folded in front, like an obedient child. It had been a while since they had faced each other and conversed since their wedding night. So far, only brief greetings or glimpses of each other’s faces had occurred.
“Skip the greeting. We’re not that kind of relationship.”
Evernight flicked his finger. Anya hesitated but obediently approached him. Due to their significant height difference, Anya’s gaze reached only Evernight’s chest.
“When someone speaks to you, you should look them in the eyes, Anya.”
To meet the man’s eyes, he had to tilt his head back.
“Where are you coming from at this hour of the night?”
Evernight asked, picking up a leaf stuck to Anya’s hood. Anya’s face, half tilted backward, turned pale. The boy, as Sabelli had mentioned in passing, was not yet skilled at hiding his emotions.
“Th-the library.”
It was a lie. The corners of the man’s eyes, which curved slightly upward at their elegantly drooping ends, looked even more enigmatic in the dim night where the only light came from oil lamps. The events of that night kept coming back to him. Those eyes that had frowned half in agony as he shook the massive pillar up and down.
“Is that so?”
Evernight blew on the leaf he was holding. The leaf flew weakly with the man’s breath and fell to the floor. Anya came to his senses with a start. His fingers fidgeted inside his robe sleeve.
“I’ll g-go in n-now.”
It was dangerous. If Evernight found out, he might lock him up in the Galley Monastery. His brothers had always hated Anya receiving knight training or learning from scholars. Surely Evernight would be the same. After all, everyone considered him half-witted.
“Anya.”
His hood was caught. Anya’s body spun around once. Before he could scream “eek,” his body was slammed against the wall. Evernight pinned his hand above Anya’s head, trapping him so he couldn’t move.
“Do you know what happens when you lie to your lord and get caught?”
Evernight shrugged. His expression was utterly bland, as if asking about the weather. Evernight bent down and brought his face close to Anya’s ear. His hot breath could be felt up close.
“We brand ‘liar’ on your forehead with a hot iron.”
He whispered softly. Goosebumps rose all over his body. Each of the man’s movements stirred Anya’s heart. He had never had such a long conversation with him. He felt like prey being driven in a hunt. Anya clasped his trembling hands together.
“…Well, so drop the obvious lies. Why did you accept the honor duel?”
A dark shadow fell over his head again. Anya was so startled he almost screamed. His husband already knew everything. He gripped his sleeve tightly and lowered his eyes.
“Y-you wouldn’t c-care if I d-died anyway.”
One of Evernight’s eyebrows rose crookedly. Anya continued speaking as if making excuses. His voice trembled severely at the end.
“If I d-die in an honor d-duel, even F-Father wouldn’t s-say much. D-don’t w-worry.”
Evernight raised the corner of his mouth. On the surface, it was a fine smile.
“Kid. You seem to be under a misunderstanding, but your death no longer matters to me. I just want to prevent unnecessary trouble in advance.”
His words were cruel. Anya raised his lowered head and looked at Evernight. His husband, whose name he still didn’t know. He didn’t want to be trapped in Tildyen Rock with this man for the rest of his life.
Sabelli had said to conform and not resist, like endlessly flowing water. Now he seemed to understand what he needed to conform to.
“Th-there won’t be any tr-trouble, Lord Ev-Evernight.”
When he calmly accepted death rather than clinging to life, his fear finally disappeared.
“Whether I d-die or the o-other person dies, it w-will happen anyway. J-just accept it.”
Despite accepting the duel with resolve to die, in truth he didn’t want to die and had been impatient and stubborn. Now he understood. He had to conform to ‘death.’
Not clumsily, but definitely.
“…You’ll have to keep your word, kid.”
Though he expected to be hit, Evernight withdrew peacefully. Instead, he pushed Anya’s forehead. Like that time.
Paradoxically, one must accept death to avoid it. This was also something Sabelli had once said to a young Evernight.
* * *
The next day, Tildyen Rock was in an uproar from early morning. There wasn’t a single person making loud, frivolous noise, but amid their busy steps, everyone was busy exchanging glances or whispers.
“Did you hear? They say the Mistress and Rips Mohan will have an honor duel.”
“Goodness! As expected of royalty, his arrogance is remarkable.”
Though work had piled up at the washing area, the maids were excitedly chatting. The servants gathered in the kitchen were the same. Despite sweating profusely, they appeared the most lively in recent times. They all shared the same opinion.
A boy who looked small and thin could never defeat a knight who had honed his sword skills for years. Well, precisely, he was a lower-rank knight, but anyway, the mistress had clearly accepted the battle out of impulsiveness, so it was like stepping on his own foot.
Then what would happen to the mistress of Tildyen now?
Not just the servants, but the knighthood was also stirred up.
“Have you heard that?”
A lower-rank knight polishing his sword in the middle of the training ground answered indifferently.
“Ah, the honor duel? It’s already swept through like a storm.”
Knights from the patrol unit who had just returned from nearby surveillance rushed in, spread out blankets at the corner of the training ground, and dug into the rumors.
“Though Rips is a lower-rank knight, it’s not like he can’t use a sword.”
Someone defended Rips. Another knight who plopped down next to him and removed his iron helmet countered.
“That guy has done something pathetic. How could he take the life of the mistress of Tildyen, even in an honor duel?”
Yet another knight rebutted.
“Why couldn’t he? This is an ancient tradition of the North. A sacred domain that even royalty can’t violate. If the mistress disregards this, he will never be accepted in Tildyen.”
The room immediately became noisy. Some said Rips’ duel challenge was satisfying, while others disparaged it as foolish. But they all strongly agreed that it was the most interesting event in recent times.
