Chapter 39

“I’m fine. I’m just a little tired.”

It was a lie. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept properly. The feeling of dryness on the inside of his eyelids was intensely uncomfortable, and a headache gripped his mind tightly.

“Do you want to go for a walk? The evening breeze felt nice.”

Arkin was about to refuse, then nodded. It felt like it would still be much better than staying alone in his room.

After finishing their meal, the two headed to the garden and walked slowly. The sun was dipping below the horizon, dyeing the sky orange. The sea breeze rustled the palm leaves.

“Actually…”

Elio opened his mouth with hesitation.

“Things are a bit complicated because of Petra.”

“Petra?”

“Yeah. She’s the fiancé my father picked out. But I…”

A pebble bounced off the tip of Elio’s toe. As the pebble flew into the bushes and vanished from sight, Elio let out a deep sigh.

“I don’t actually dislike Petra. No, I actually like her. A lot, at that. She’s smart, strong, and has her own charm…”

“……”

“There’s nothing wrong with Petra. I’m the problem. Because…”

Well, you see… that is, you know why.

Repeating his trailing words without any particular meaning, Elio trailed off and shut his mouth. An awkward silence remained, as if he couldn’t easily bring himself to confess.

Unable to endure it any longer, Arkin groaned and pressed his temples. Under normal circumstances, he would have listened patiently to Elio’s story. But just for today, because of the damn headache, he simply couldn’t bear it.

“Oh dear, Arkin. Are you okay?”

Elio caught him in surprise. Judging that he needed to ask for help, Elio grabbed Arkin’s arm and looked around the empty garden.

“I’m sorry. I’m just a bit…”

Arkin pressed his forehead with his hand. Cold sweat clung to his palm.

“No, Arkin. You look really bad. Go inside and rest right away. You have classes tomorrow, too.”

Elio shook his head and pulled Arkin along.

“Shall I call Titus? He might be able to rub oil on your forehead or burn some herbs.”

“No, no. I’m fine. I just need to get some rest.”

Elio ended up looking at Arkin with doubtful eyes, but didn’t push him any further.

“Go soak your body in some hot water. Once the toxins drain out, you’ll feel better. I saw it yesterday, and there were herbs prepared in the bath, too.”

Arkin nodded and returned to his quarters.

Having to boil hot bathwater himself in this physical condition was an immense chore. Arkin dragged his feet all the way to the hearth in the corner of the bathing room. Shoving firewood into the hole beneath the hearth and setting it ablaze, he leaned back against it like he was collapsing until the bathwater warmed up.

He transferred the boiled water into the tub a few times and roughly tossed in the herbs. When he finally submerged his body inside the bath steaming with hot vapor, his entire body felt like it was melting into a mush. Arkin closed his eyes, let his arms and legs dangle limply, and tried to relax the tension. Yet his head still felt heavy.

Inside the huge wooden tub where two grown men could comfortably sit, Arkin curled his body up further, letting the water lap right up to his chin. Closing his eyes, he felt the sound of the rippling water and breathed evenly. There was even a vague expectation that if he smelled the pungent scent of the herbal water warmly wrapping around his entire body, all the things grating on his nerves might subside.

Yet when he returned to his bedroom with water dripping from his head, Arkin couldn’t bring himself to lie down on the bed and instead anxiously paced back and forth across the narrow room. The thought of laying his body down was terrifying. The fear that he would experience a more horrific dream than ever before was gnawing at his heart.

“Ha…”

Letting out a deep sigh, Arkin tossed the large cloth wrapped around his waist onto the bed and picked up a long, narrow strip of plain cotton from a basket. It was uncomfortable and he didn’t much care for it, but the feeling of his body dangling limply against the floor and dragging or brushing everywhere was even more disagreeable, leaving him no other choice. Skillfully wrapping the clean cloth around his waist and between his legs and tying a knot, he became dressed in neat and proper undergarments.

Kneeling on the floor, Arkin tilted his body to check the fit of the undergarments. Though there was a heavy sensation pouring downward, at least it didn’t seem like it would get in the way of exercising. With a blank face, Arkin spread his palms shoulder-width apart and placed his hands on the floor.

Why on earth did something absurdly large and long have to be attached to him from such an early age? It was useless to question what the gods intended, but to him, this thing he had never even used felt quite cumbersome.

Wouldn’t it be better if it just grew to fit when you formed a bond with your soulmate? You wouldn’t have any use for it before marriage anyway!

With his brow furrowed, Arkin slowly drew in a breath. Standing on his tiptoes and keeping his broadened shoulders in mind, he straightened his body into a single line. The sensation of his calf and abdominal muscles pulling taut was satisfying.

One. Arkin slowly lowered his body. Letting his body down until his chest nearly touched the floor, he kept his elbows tucked against his torso. Putting strength into his abdominal muscles so his lower back wouldn’t sag, he raised his body back up and exhaled his breath. Hoo-oo. Two. He could feel the muscles and tendons repeatedly clenching tight and then relaxing. Three, four… twenty-one, twenty-two… forty-seven, forty-eight… eighty-three, eighty-four… He pushed his body relentlessly without resting.

“A hundred… and twenty…”

Drip. Drop. Sweat rolling down from his forehead slid along the bridge of his nose before falling to the floor. Repeating the steady movements of his grease-shined, massive torso, he wrung out every last drop of his remaining strength. The body grown stronger through training rarely ever passed out from exhaustion anymore, yet this was certainly not what he had desired.

He had merely wanted his body to shoulder layer upon layer of fatigue and collapse limply. He wished to be utterly worn out, free of agonizing dreams. To sleep like the dead, wake up, and greet a peaceful day. Yet his hardy body showed no signs of flagging, and the head that had been hazy and murky the whole time slowly cleared up. Gritting his teeth, Arkin tried to drain every ounce of energy from his limbs. Without a single pause, he reeled off around one hundred and forty at a steady pace.

The last, the very last… Arkin squeezed out all his strength and extended his arms. His body trembled violently.

One hundred and forty-eight, one hundred and forty-nine, one hundred and fifty. Not collapsing immediately just because he hit his target number was a matter of pride for him. Arkin barely managed to maintain his posture.

Having driven his thick forearms past their breaking point, his massive body slowly went slack, having finished its allotted task. Extremely quietly, without even a hint of a commotion.

Though he lacked the strength to twitch a single finger, Arkin crawled up onto the bed with all his might. A cool breeze brushed against his sweat-drenched body, and a single bead of sweat slid chillingly down between his heaving chest muscles.

“Haa.”

Even after exhausting every scrap of energy in his body, it seemed it had all been for naught just for today. By the time he realized it was the beginning of his familiar hell, he had already fallen into the dream.

Arkin stood before the colossal World Tree.

Soaring high enough to pierce the sky, the tree was the symbol of Solinar and the source of royal authority. Its silver bark gleamed like moonlight, and the golden leaves hanging from every branch rustled in the wind.

A sight that ought to have been beautiful and sacred served as the beginning of terror for Arkin.

A staff was gripped in his hand. The very staff said to have been used by his great-grandfather, King Chefkin I, when forging the peace treaty. The smooth surface made of birch cooled his palm with a chill.

“You must become king, Arkin. You must accomplish it. You are different from those things. Aren’t you?”

His father’s voice echoed from all directions. His face was nowhere to be seen. Only the voice vibrated the air and drilled into his ears.

“The master of the Solinar throne is our Birch Clan. Do not give up, Arkin!”

“Arkin, you’ll do well, won’t you?”

His mother’s earnest whisper followed. Soft yet heavy. That voice, a tangled mix of expectation and affection, pressed down upon Arkin’s chest.

Arkin raised the staff high, intending to drive it down into the World Tree. It was part of the sacred ritual that only the heir to the throne could perform.

Yet the moment the staff in Arkin’s hand touched the tree, a horrific thing occurred.

The staff squirmed. At first it was a minor vibration, but soon the movement grew violent. Scales sprouted across the smooth wooden surface, and something cold moved slitheringly up Arkin’s arm.

A snake. A massive black snake was coiled around his hand in place of the staff. Its red eyes flashed as it stared at Arkin and flicked its tongue. The eerie sound was vivid in his ears. Hiss, hiss, hiss.

“Greed.”

The snake spoke. No, it was his great-grandfather’s voice. An old, deep voice flowed from the snake’s mouth.