Volume 11 part 1
Volume 11 part 1
A massive net dropped over Daon’s body. In the blink of an eye, she was bound, and Zelgirk, excited beyond reason, shrieked with madness.
“Drag her over! Now! This way! Over here!”
Pirates were everywhere. From the trees above, they fired crossbows chaotically. The soldiers, unprepared for the surprise attack from above, fell helplessly.
“Aaaargh!”
Sir Renaud shouted fiercely. Only then did the soldiers regain their senses and begin to respond, though belatedly.
What happened after that was unclear. Her body was suddenly dragged backward until her hips hit the ground. Two pirates grabbed her and pulled her into the bushes.
She resisted with all her strength, but the more she struggled, the tighter the net wrapped around her.
“You *****!”
Zelgirk cackled as he grabbed both her hair and the net. When Daon glared at him with cold eyes, Zelgirk twitched his upper lip and slapped her hard.
Smack!
Her head snapped to the side from the merciless blow, and her forehead slammed into a tree trunk. Swallowing a groan, she tried to focus her eyes.
She could vaguely see Sir Renaud charging into the middle of the pirates. The pirates fought back with curved swords in a chaotic flurry, but none of them could overpower Renaud. They clearly hadn’t expected him to be this strong.
Amidst the chaos, one injured soldier staggered, picked up a war horn, and blew it toward the sky with all his might.
Fwooooom!
A deep, long sound echoed through the forest between the trees. One panicked pirate tried to silence the soldier by slashing his back, but the soldier continued to blow the horn with all his remaining strength until he finally collapsed.
“We need to run.”
The pirate captain gritted his teeth and gave a sharp nod. Zelgirk quickly took the lead, and a dozen pirates broke away from the group, retreating deeper into the forest.
Daon bit at the net, managing to free one hand, and broke every branch she could grab. The sounds of battle quickly faded into the distance, only to suddenly return.
Rustle.
Sir Renaud emerged from the bushes on the right, blood streaming down one side of his face. The pirates gasped in horror, some stumbling back or falling in shock.
Covered in blood and exhaling cold breath, he looked like a wild beast. Renaud raised his sword, blood dripping from the blade. The pirate captain reacted quickly.
Thwack!
A small crossbow bolt struck Renaud in the forehead. Daon screamed without realizing it.
“No!”
The veins in Renaud’s neck bulged. Slowly, he steadied his head and opened his eyes wide. It was a chilling sight. Even with death upon him, Renaud’s madness was so fierce that the pirates couldn’t even move, frozen with fear.
Only the pirate captain kept firing arrows with a clenched jaw.
Even as bolts embedded into his body, Renaud did not stop fighting.
“Kill him! Kill him already!”
Zelgirk shouted, full of frustration. Finally, the frozen pirates shook off their fear, raised their swords, and rushed in.
Renaud, drenched in blood, stood like a lone leopard surrounded by wild dogs.
Scrape.
He slid his right leg back and took a firm stance. The resolve not to retreat burned in his eyes.
Daon screamed.
“Run away!”
Renaud slowly moved his lips. Though she couldn’t hear him, Daon understood. He was murmuring Ixor’s name.
He raised his sword above his head. His blade sliced the air, cutting through both wind and man. But he couldn’t dodge every blade flying at him from all directions.
One filthy pirate sword struck his wrist. Others pierced his side and back. When the swords were pulled out, blood gushed.
Even in the darkness, Renaud’s blood was vividly red.
Daon clenched the net with bone-white fingers and fixed her gaze on the collapsing Renaud’s face.
The pirate captain delivered the final blow, and Zelgirk spat on the corpse in disgust.
“Move!”
The pirate captain’s order snapped the pirates into action. As if fleeing from the corpse, they scrambled away in haste.
They arrived at a small cave. The pirates took up guard positions outside, clearly familiar with the place. Zelgirk shoved Daon inside like luggage.
“Thought you’d live well after ruining my life, didn’t you?”
He removed the net with a mocking tone. When Daon glared coldly, he lunged at her.
“Arrogant ****! Let’s see how long that pride lasts.”
Daon pushed back with all her strength. But Zelgirk, though missing a hand, was still a heavy adult man. She couldn’t overpower him. In an instant, she was thrown down, her back hitting the ground.
The pirates gathered at the cave entrance to watch.
“Go stand guard!”
Zelgirk shouted. The pirate captain reluctantly obeyed, and the others stepped away.
As soon as they were gone, Zelgirk began his assault. His small eyes gleamed with lust, and his hot, sticky breath disgusted her.
Daon scratched his face with her nails.
“Argh!”
Zelgirk screamed and slapped her face. Blow after blow landed until her head spun.
Riiip.
He stripped her top off. His wet tongue trailed impatiently from her cheek down her neck, sending chills of pure disgust through her.
As she caught her breath, he leaned in close—and she bit his ear.
“Gaaaaah!”
While Zelgirk rolled on the ground, clutching his ear, Daon bolted from the cave.
The pirates weren’t far, tending to their wounds by the campfire. One pirate noticed her.
“Get her! That *****—catch her!”
Zelgirk staggered out, roaring with rage.
Rough pirate hands grabbed her neck.
Daon broke free and ran, eyes locked forward. But this time, someone caught her arm.
As she twisted away, her body spun and the pirate captain’s face loomed close. He grinned wickedly.
“**** wench.”
Zelgirk caught up, grabbed her hair, and yanked hard, then lifted his foot in fury.
As he prepared to kick, she instinctively shielded her belly.
Zelgirk’s eyes widened.
“Oh? Are you… pregnant? Hah? You’re carrying that *****’s child?”
He grinned vilely.
“If a dog’s pregnant, at least its children guard the house. What use is your brat to me?”
He punched her belly.
She barely blocked it using her hands, but the blow landed hard. Her vision dimmed from the pain. She collapsed, knees buckling.
Still trembling, she grabbed Zelgirk’s hair as she fell.
Zelgirk raised his leg and stomped her thigh.
“Let go!”
Pirates laughed as a handful of his hair tore out. He cursed, touching his head, while Daon crawled away in the snow, hunched and limping.
White dots flickered before her eyes, narrowing her vision.
She couldn’t breathe.
The winter ground was black and cold like hell.
“She looks young, but walks like an old woman. Where do you think you’re going? Think someone’ll help you? Ixor?”
“…”
“Ixor’s finished. I sent him a letter saying you’re mine. He’s probably running here, but too late. You’ll be mine by then. Lost the war, lost his woman. A fitting tragedy for that arrogant *****.”
Daon kept walking, cold sweat dripping down her face. She supported herself on trees with her wounded hand, moving forward without stopping.
But the trees ended.
And what stood ahead—
Was a sheer cliff.
A crushing sense of despair pierced her chest. Her pupils, staring into the black void before her, trembled with hopelessness. Zelgirk arrogantly strutted before her.
“Since the cave is between cliffs, we used it as a hideout. Where do you think you’re going to escape? Fly away?”
“Just finish it here. We have to move as soon as dawn breaks,” said the pirate captain behind, sounding annoyed.
Pirates immediately spread out to block every escape route. When Daon tried to move toward the forest on the right, the pirate captain shot a crossbow to block her path, forcing her to retreat.
Whooosh, whooosh.
Fierce gusts of wind surged up from beneath the cliff. It was too dark to gauge the height, but the sound of rushing water suggested it was quite a fall.
As if protecting what she had to defend, she placed both hands gently over her belly and calmly looked at Zelgirk.
There was no fear in her eyes, only a gaze as cold and impeccably detached as ice.
Zelgirk, who had been approaching with arrogance, burst into a shout.
“Don’t look at me like that!”
She placed her hands on the cold ground and shakily stood up, steadying her breath. Her thighs were damp, perhaps something was wrong with the child. No signs of help could be seen in any direction, and she knew escape was impossible.
Though Ixor would want her to survive at any cost, as a woman, as a mother, she could not accept Zelgirk.
Zelgirk waved his hand and approached her closely.
“Come now, come. You’re pregnant, so I’ll be gentle this time.”
As he wandered left and right in a distracted manner, he suddenly lunged forward and grabbed her wrist tightly.
Daon grabbed his outer garment in return. She pushed her fingers through a buttonhole and fixed them in place tightly. Zelgirk blinked in confusion.
“Huh? What… What are you doing?”
She clenched her hand so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Whoooosh.
A blade-like wind rose from below, wrapping her long skirt around her legs. In that final moment, she imagined the late spring sun in the afternoon.
A warm, golden sun like freshly baked bread. A swing soaring with white flowers attached, then descending again. A clear blue sky. And his large hands lifting a milk-scented baby. Her own bright laughter of joy.
That kind of warm future felt possible. She believed in what he had said—that they could live together in a world where good people didn’t suffer.
“If I die with my eyes open, please be the one to close them,” she whispered, so faintly it could barely be heard.
“What?”
Zelgirk sensed something strange and tried to pull her fingers away, hesitating.
Daon spoke coldly, proudly, and threw herself off the cliff.
“I’m a human. I won’t mate with a beast.”
***
Zephar stiffly moved his hand and drew back the curtain. The carriage clattered as it sped along. He gazed blankly at the clouds of dust rising outside. The parched early spring ground was black and frozen.
The wind brushed the frozen earth and swept away toward an unknown place. He must have been exhausted—he hadn’t traveled far, yet he was already feeling motion sick.
The civil war was in a lull. During their march, Ixor had learned of the incident in Orlank, that Daon had been kidnapped.
He left the army behind and immediately turned his horse back alone. He must have ridden like a madman, day and night. But by the time he arrived in Orlank…
A courier sent by Sir Garun, who had been dispatched to investigate, reached Zephar.
Sir Renaud, left behind to guard Daon, had been found dead. His body was discovered in the forest, pierced by several arrows.
Wild dogs had already torn at it, making recovery difficult. Still, he hadn’t died with his back turned, that, at least, was a small mercy.
They scoured the forest and discovered the pirates’ hideout, but they had erased all traces and fled days earlier.
Luckily, two members of the pirate crew had broken off to plunder food from an isolated home and were caught by Orlank’s local defense force.
Ixor personally interrogated them and uncovered the full story, Daon had jumped off a cliff with Zelgirk.
Below the cliff ran a deep, wide river. Though they thoroughly searched downstream, neither was found.
For now, she was considered missing. But… Sir Garun’s report leaned toward the conclusion that she had died.
“I don’t know what to do with our lord,” Garun had written at the end of the report.
Zephar immediately summoned Garun back to the battlefield and headed to Orlank in his place. He laced his fingers together loosely.
No matter how far he traveled, Orlank didn’t seem to come any closer. He hadn’t thought he’d gone that far, but he had come quite a distance.
At last, he arrived in Orlank.
A dark silhouette stood on a hill to the east. His heart pounded painfully.
Zephar stopped the carriage on the spot and hurried up the hill.
Ixor was sitting like a statue, gazing down at Orlank Castle. His shoes were worn through, his legs covered in mud up to the thighs, and his hands full of cuts.
Zephar halted, startled. It seemed Ixor had climbed up and down the cliff searching—his right pinky nail was gone.
Zephar stood beside him, but no words came. Ixor seemed to have burned all his pain away in his heart. He looked like he no longer had the will to live.
His face, devoid of feeling, his eyes frozen in endless despair. His lips, tightly shut, looked as if they would never open again.
“I won’t drink,” Zephar said slowly. “The lady of the house said she’d brew a drink herself when we won and toast with it. I believe she will return. So until then, I won’t drink.”
No answer came. Zephar wasn’t even sure Ixor was listening. He took a deep breath and approached a nearby soldier.
“How long has he been like that?”
“This is the fourth day. Before that… he was like a ghost. We were afraid to approach.”
“Has he eaten?”
“He’s barely eaten or slept for almost two weeks. Until a week ago, he was still giving orders and speaking, but now…”
“Injuries?”
“He fell from a cliff. We don’t know the extent of it, because no one can get close. The doctor said he might have mild frostbite from wading through icy water…”
Zephar rubbed his forehead and returned to Ixor. He crouched beside him and looked into his face. A wave of emotion rose up from deep inside.
In a stern voice, Zephar asked,
“Are you going to die, my lord? Just like this? Will you die? Say something. Sir Mark has fallen. The day after you left, there was a fierce battle. That ***** Zelgirk must have leaked information to Prince Dirk—telling him to strike while you were gone. Mark… he held the line and died.”
“And our army… is still there.”
“…”
“Sir Mark shouted your name as he died. Even in the middle of the chaotic battle, I heard it clearly from the rear, because it hit right to the heart.”
Zephar held back his rising sorrow as he looked at Ixor’s pale, chapped lips.
“My lord, this may be my final report. During the battle, a group of pirates escaped with Princess Anna. We formed a pursuit squad, but lost the trail. We have raced across half the continent like a storm. But neither side has the strength to push further. We should declare the battlefield where Mark fell to be our border, restore order quickly, take care of the people, and strengthen our governance. Then we can absorb the rest of the land.”
Zephar rubbed beneath his nose with his thumb and forefinger, then lifted his head.
“However, all these plans require your permission, my lord. Will you stop here? If you choose to give up, I will immediately return to the battlefield, disband the soldiers safely, and send the knights home with rewards.”
“···”
“Shall we stop here?”
Ixor spoke with an expressionless face. His voice was dry, cracked, and devoid of emotion.
“Those men would rather remain on the battlefield than accept any reward. At least until I go there.”
“Yes… Yes.”
“Daon, Renaud, Mark. I was absent at such a crucial moment and wasn’t even able to protect a single one of them. I must be incompetent.”
Zephar rubbed away the tears streaming down his cheeks and replied.
“There are times when fate tests people. God prepares more trials for those he loves most.”
Ixor gave a cold, twisted smile, as if to say it was nonsense. Zephar gently calmed him.
“When people fail a test, they call it a mistake. Some say it’s just bad luck. Everyone blames themselves for mistakes. But very few take responsibility and overcome them. One must understand sacrifice to learn responsibility, and only then can one become a good leader.”
“A leader… I can’t forgive myself.”
Zephar gave a gentle smile with tearful eyes.
“Embrace the pain you carry as a kind of faith. Rule justly, care widely for the people, and do not forget that this is what those who gave their lives for you had hoped for.”
Ixor remained silent for a long time. After a deep and heavy silence, he spoke in a broken voice.
“A world without her is the same as a world with her… That fact makes it impossible to go on living.”
“My lord.”
“Just one hour. I’ll rise after that.”
Ixor looked out toward the white, rolling hills with distant eyes. Zephar bowed his head loyally.
“I’ll have the carriage prepared. Rest on the way.”
As he descended the hill and headed toward Orlank Castle with heavy steps, Zephar wept like a child, his shoulders shaking.
***
In Spring. The war was temporarily paused.
The battlefield was narrowed to the Yom Valley where Knight Mark had died, and after setting a date, the nation’s name was decided and a capital chosen.
A new country was founded. The coronation was held simply. Talents from across the land were appointed, unjust laws abolished, and existing laws revised and supplemented.
Ixor sat on a grand and majestic purple throne, his legs stretched out and back resting.
The new throne, adorned with gold, was cold and immense.
He looked indifferently at what lay before him: rows of officials, loyal knights, clergy in golden-embroidered robes, and attendants.
Midday sunlight streamed into the vast hall, casting a golden hue.
Shadowed white marble columns, long ornate lattice windows, mosaic tiles in vivid colors, long red curtains—everything felt strangely familiar, as if seen once long ago in a dream, or perhaps destined. But she was not there.
That day, when he left for the battlefield, may have been the moment their bond was severed.
He hadn’t asked her to come with him, only to wait. He was the one who left her in Orlank and ran ahead alone.
Ixor closed his eyes with a dry expression.
The woman he had loved madly, as though his soul would burn. That magical woman. The moment he sat upon that grand, brilliant throne, he felt she had vanished completely from his life.
Still, for the coronation, he marked that ‘his Queen was absent.”
He vowed as he donned the heavy golden crown that he would wait, and if she never returned, he would live forever as her husband alone.
***
Time passed in a blur, it was already autumn.
Time was a strange creature. Like a bottomless beast that devours every moment, yet transparent, so that when alone, the past returned suddenly.
He had met her in late summer of the previous year and parted in early spring.
Chronologically, not a long relationship. But his entire lifetime had already been compressed into those moments. Beyond the time spent with her, he could no longer feel anything.
Like dry soil, everything around him crumbled into dust. Reality was as empty as a dream.
Sleepless nights. Days that felt impossible to endure. Curled alone in bed, he dug his nails into his body, swallowing silent screams.
‘If one day you’re no longer by my side… then how am I supposed to live?’
The night was hell. All night long, he barely restrained the twisted desire to destroy the world without her.
And when dawn came, he would rise groggily from bed and silently build the world she had longed for.
A world where children could laugh. Where adults would not be sorrowful. Where elders could rest in peace. That was his only remaining link to her.
And from that link, his vision expanded. Ruling meant creating harmony between self and others, between one’s group and the rest, and eventually between nations.
The top and bottom of a society were connected. That connection grew stronger through trust. When each person was genuinely moved by the integrity of the other, the path to a strong and prosperous country opened.
‘Even the rice that enters the king’s mouth is planted and harvested by the people.’
Only after sitting on that lonely throne did he truly grasp the meaning of those words.
She had shown him the marrow of life.
Daon’s body was never found. Ixor stared coldly at the trees slowly shedding their leaves.
At times, it was all so distant. Especially when he felt just how unbearably long the rest of his life might be.
Zelgirk was captured. Caught sneaking into the market and trying to steal duck meat. Interrogated immediately—he knew nothing of Daon.
Ixor ordered him transported to Orlank for execution. For the first time in a long while, Ixor himself also returned to Orlank.
Zelgirk knelt in the castle courtyard, tightly bound by ropes. As Ixor looked down coldly, Zelgirk trembled and crawled forward on his knees, begging for his life.
“I-I, I only… Please spare me! Ah, the contract! I have the contract! Inside this coat, about that slave woman—”
“···”
“No! I mean—I’ll give you the ownership contract for her! Just spare me!”
“Buying and selling people is illegal in my land.”
Zelgirk flinched, then desperately pleaded.
“I did nothing wrong! What have I done? These burn scars, my hand, my ear, my land were all stolen from me! I’ve only ever been a victim! Why must I suffer like this? God will pity me!”
“Your sin is…”
As he spoke in a flat voice, Zelgirk looked up. Ixor continued coldly.
“Your sin is not even knowing what you did wrong.”
“Traitor! You filthy traitor! Even in death, you’ll be punished! How dare you defy the royal family and plunge the nation into chaos! And you dare lecture others?”
“Begin.”
Ixor gave the order in a dry voice.
A thick wooden board was placed between Zelgirk’s legs. Soldiers restrained him tightly while the executioner ripped his pants and exposed his buttocks and thighs. His limp genitals rested on the board.
“W-wait! No—!”
The executioner raised an axe and brought it down. Zelgirk screamed. Blood gushed across the board.
As he shrieked and thrashed, a pyre was built in the courtyard and an iron coffin was laid atop it, retrieved from Zelgirk’s basement. Inside, when discovered, had been the starved body of a young girl.
As soldiers shoved Zelgirk into the coffin, he broke into sobs.
“S-spare me! Why must I—! I’ve always been the one to suffer! Ah! That woman! I know where she is!”
Ixor raised his hand. The soldiers halted immediately.
Staring with icy eyes, Ixor waited.
Zelgirk stalled, mumbling, “We fell off a cliff, swept into a torrent. I grabbed a big rock and rescued her. Took her to a farmhouse. She vomited the water I made her spit up—barely survived.”
“And?”
“For about a week, I struggled to find food, clothes, everything for her…”
“···”
“She said thank you, promised to repay the favor… then left, I think… Where exactly, I can’t recall…”
“Close it.”
The soldiers slammed the iron lid down. Zelgirk shrieked in terror.
