‏‏‎ ‎Epilogue 3 [The End]

Epilogue 3

Has it already been 37 years?

Ixor let out a faint chuckle and pulled Daon into his arms.

She looked just as she always did—limp and peaceful, eyes closed. The only difference now was that she had just died.

In the early morning, she seemed to have exhaled her last breath and, as if simply falling asleep, passed away with a gentle smile.

Memories from the distant past remained vivid.

To him, she had always been his lady. Though the lines around her eyes and lips had deepened, kissing her still made his heart race.

He always wanted to be seen as a man in her eyes. Even with hair nearly all gray and limbs that ached when the weather turned bad, he still wanted to be her man.

Ixor gently caressed Daon’s hair with a hand full of affection. Soon, her body would turn cold. He pulled her close to share his warmth. Then, he began to hum a lullaby—the one he used to sing softly into her ear when she was bedridden.

Not long after, the window began to take on a pale blue hue. It was the first sunrise without her.

Knock knock.

A gentle knock followed by the door opening. Their son, Dahui, entered.

Ixor halted him on the spot.

“Shh. Your mother is sleeping.”

“Did she show any signs of recovery overnight?”

Dahui asked with concern. Ixor tilted his head slightly and replied calmly,

“There’s no need to worry anymore.”

Visible relief passed over Dahui’s face. With a nod, Ixor sent his son away with a glance.

The door closed, and once again, the two were alone in the room, on the bed. Ixor shifted slightly.

Was it because there was no life left in her? Her body felt eerily light in his arms. But then again, from the moment he first met her, she had never completely filled his embrace.

He always feared she might slip away, as if she might vanish at any moment and that remained true even now, at the end.

A king of a nation. Head of a noble house. A father.

Each of those titles came with heavy responsibilities. But in his final moment, he cast all that aside and chose to be just one woman’s man.

Because once time passed and she was gone, he might forget her. Her image might fade from memory. His love might cool. That’s why, while it still felt like he couldn’t live without her, he decided to go with her.

“My lady, they say a funeral is an act of letting go from the heart. But I don’t want to forget you, or let you go. So let’s leave the funeral to those who can go on living without us.”

He smiled playfully and made a joke.

“It’d be lonely and boring by yourself, wouldn’t it? Obviously, I have to go keep you company.”

He hummed the final notes of the lullaby pleasantly and twisted the gemstone on the ring on his finger. Inside was a hidden poison, which he placed in his mouth. Then, taking a long breath, he buried his face in her hair.

Warm morning sunlight streamed through the lattice window, wrapping the two of them in its gentle embrace.

The first day without her.

Or rather—

The first morning of being with her again.

As he closed his eyes, a warm peace settled in.

Good. This eternal coziness.

As he shared his final warmth with her and drifted into sleep in her arms, the last fragment of their long love filled him completely, bringing a deep and final satisfaction.

***

Zephar rubbed his tired eyes and extinguished the lamp. He must really be getting old. His wrist ached from holding the pen all night, and his neck and back were sore.

“Come in.”

At the sound of a knock, he gave permission, and an unexpected visitor appeared in the early morning.

It was Prince Dahui, Ixor and Daon’s only son and heir to the kingdom.

The prince’s face was tense, and as soon as their eyes met, Zephar’s heart sank.

“Is something wrong with Her Majesty…?”

As he stood up with a hand on the table, the prince spoke coldly.

“Both of them have passed.”

“What?”

“My mother, probably around sunrise. My father, shortly afterward.”

“His Majesty as well…?”

“We were prepared, since Mother had been gravely ill… but Father too…”

Zephar’s knees buckled, and he collapsed into the chair. The world spun, and his vision went dark.

The prince, perhaps trying to steady his own emotions, took a deep breath, briefly showing signs of fatigue.

“I’d thought… it might happen. If Mother went first… Father might…”

“…I see.”

“This morning, I saw them holding each other tightly in bed. I thought they were asleep. Their faces were so peaceful… almost like they were smiling.”

“They were always ones to smile, weren’t they?”

“Yes. Especially Mother. Her smiling face was truly beautiful.”

The deep affection for his mother was evident in the prince’s expression and voice. Realizing it himself, he quickly composed his face.

Without wasting time, he got straight to the point.

“The reason I came today was because I felt I had to speak directly to you, Zephar as Father’s most trusted retainer, about one more thing.”

“Please speak.”

“My father established this new kingdom. I’d like your advice on where the royal tomb should be built.”

“They wouldn’t want a luxurious royal tomb,” Zephar replied calmly.

“His Majesty may have lived nearly forty years as a king, but in the end… he left as a man who loved a woman. I believe her majesty would feel the same.”

“…”

“So just bury them together. As for the location, please make it Orlank.”

“Orlank? That remote place?”

“Yes. If you head east from Orlank Castle, there’s a hill. A small hill overlooking the castle. That would be best.”

“So be it.”

To outsiders, it might seem like a difficult request to honor—it was a king’s funeral, after all. But the prince nodded without a word.

Zephar was grateful that he wasn’t dismissed just because he was now an old man retired from the front lines, and that the prince had come himself to inform him of the king’s death.

But he had suspected there was another purpose, and he was right. Prince Dahui earnestly requested,

“Zephar, come to the palace and help me.”

“I’m too old. New wine should go in new wineskins.”

“Those who don’t understand the depth of aged wine won’t appreciate the taste of new wine either. I need your help.”

The tone was firm, almost more of a command than a request, clearly, the prince had already made up his mind.

Zephar looked at him anew. Already twenty-two. A young man, and one who had inherited both his parents’ personalities and features equally.

The way he turned colder in times of crisis, and how he acted decisively and without hesitation when something had to be done was just like them.

The prince narrowed his eyes and asked,

“Are you doing something so important that you would turn me down?”

His gaze fell on the table, stacked high with parchments.

Zephar answered lightly,

“I’m just jotting down some notes about His Majesty in my spare time. You could say it’s a personal preface to the kingdom’s history. I started from when he was very young, right now I’ve reached his late twenties.”

“Is my mother in it too?”

“Yes, she is. Quite a lot, in fact.”

Because it was Daon who changed Ixor’s life. The prince showed keen curiosity—it was only natural. This young king likely had no idea how his parents had met or how they had loved each other.

“I definitely want to read it someday.”

That was the end of their talk about the records. The prince asked a few more opinions about the funeral preparations and gave orders. His black eyes flashed with arrogant authority as he raised his chin.

“This is my first command. Use all your strength to make me a good king.”

Ah… A king who gives such overwhelming, burdensome, yet thrilling commands. A shiver shot through Zephar’s body.

He clasped his aged hands together and bowed respectfully to the vigorous young monarch.

After the guest returned to the palace and he was alone again, Zephar dipped his pen in ink and wrote a letter.

[Gather in Orlank to send off our liege.]

He addressed the letter to the only two knights of Ixor still alive. As he looked down at the written line, a smile slowly crept across his face.

“Send off,” he murmured… But there was no better word for it.

Suddenly, tears welled up in his eyes. With a voice thick with emotion, Zephar mumbled,

“You are as virtuous as a wife who follows her husband in death.”

He recalled Ixor’s faint, amused smile when he had once said he didn’t quite like that phrase, and Zephar replied, his throat tight:

“Yes, it’s fitting.”

Then he sobbed loudly. No matter how much he cried, the sorrow wouldn’t leave. After a long, weeping lament, he wiped his face and rose from his seat.

Crying was for today only. He had a lot to prepare to hold the funeral in that faraway place. It had been ages since he’d last gone to Orlank.

As he removed his slippers and put on his sage-green cloak, he was about to leave—but then he returned to his desk.

He dipped his quill in ink again, wiped the tip on the rim of the inkwell, and added a single neat line beneath the previous passage.

Zephar, with his eyes red and puffy, stared down at the yellowed parchment.

[From the day they first met, to him, she was immortal.]

***

Ixor walked slowly, brushing aside branches. The full moon shone so white its edges blurred in a haze. Pushing through the thicket, he found Daon sitting with her feet in the forest lake.

She smiled brightly at the sight of him. The moonlight lit up her face like silver.

He approached and sat beside her. For a while, they said nothing. There was no need for words.

As they dipped their feet into the lake, cool water rippled gently around their calves. Ixor playfully splashed. The clear water formed ripples that spread far into the distance, breaking the reflection of the full moon into trembling pieces.

Daon gently extended her hand and flicked water onto his face with her wet thumb and middle finger. Ixor, pretending to be surprised, joined in the game.

Splashing water, laughing, shielding themselves with their palms—they burst into joyful laughter. Their happy voices echoed clearly through the quiet night sky.

He scooped a handful of water and poured it over her forehead. Daon tilted her chin up, smiling, as the water trickled down her brows and dripped from her chin. Ixor twisted his head to catch the droplets in his mouth.

“It’s nice and quiet, just the two of us.”

Leaning back with a refreshed expression, Daon gave a gentle scolding look.

“Master Zephar will scold you if you skip your duties to goof off.”

“I’ve already finished everything I needed to do. From now on, should we just play together here in this forest? Hmm?”

Daon smiled softly and straightened his collar with a tender, affectionate touch.

“Oh. Fireflies.”

Tiny orange lights floated above the lake. Their reflections in the glassy water quickly spread into a magical display of twinkling waves.

“Wow!” she exclaimed with joy.

Ixor carefully cupped a firefly in his hands and signaled her over. Daon lightly brushed his long fingers with her own, then gently held them. Foreheads touching, they gazed into their joined palms.

A dim amber glow filled their hands, pulsing slowly like a heartbeat before shining bright again. When Daon opened his index finger, the trapped firefly soared upward and disappeared into the black sky.

Still forehead to forehead, they looked into each other’s eyes. Ixor tilted his head and kissed her. Daon wrapped her arms naturally around his neck. As their bodies pressed tightly together, her heartbeat passed through to his chest.

“I love you.”

She whispered, her eyes sparkling. It was a voice only she could make—tender, simple, filled with love.

Ixor kissed her eyelids and playfully suggested,

“Let’s bet something new this time, not a freakish ticket or apple juice.”

“What?”

“Shall we wager, my lady? That I love you more.”

Daon burst into loud laughter. Ixor raised his right hand, continuing the game.

“Alright then. Rock-paper-scissors first.”

Laughing like a girl, she raised her hand to match his. They exchanged teasing glances, waiting for the perfect moment to win.

People say love fades. That even the fiercest passion leaves only ash.

But no—just as every soul is one and whole, love that finds its completeness becomes like a phoenix, reborn endlessly, eternally revived. No fate could defeat such love.

It was not ‘until death do us part,’ but a love that death itself could not sever.

“Should I play rock?”

He whispered slyly, and Daon quickly held out ‘paper’ in preparation.

“One… two…”

He teased, pretending to make a fist, and she giggled, tapping his knee. Just then, a firefly passed between them, leaving a trail of golden light.

So bright. All light.

Amid the warm and pure radiance, her laughter rang like crystal. So did the gaze of her lovely dark eyes that looked at him with unwavering love.

On the count of “three!” they both threw their hands out.

—The End