Chapter 167
Determine his own compensation?
For a moment, Helios’s neat eyebrows rose askew. He was beginning to find Kylus’s rudeness irritating.
As mentioned earlier, Helios felt nothing for Kylus.
To be more honest, he thought Kylus’s sacrifice was only natural, considering his life had been extended thanks to the deity when he should have already died.
Therefore, he had absolutely no reason to offer Kylus any compensation.
However, since he could protect his world with Kylus’s life, he was willing to bestow a small measure of mercy.
But now he was boldly saying he would determine his own compensation?
It seemed he had already tolerated quite a lot of rudeness.
Indeed, the Chief Deity had overlooked it when Kylus dared to mock him, when he displayed his anger—he had let it all pass.
Perhaps he needed to make Kylus feel the gap between deity and human with his entire body once more?
The deity stared at Kylus with cold eyes before opening his lips.
[I offered to ease your pain of death and even reincarnate you with a good destiny. Yet you want to determine your own compensation? Ha, what more could you possibly want?]
The deity twisted the corner of his mouth upward.
Of course, Kylus couldn’t see the deity’s cold sneer.
But just from the voice, he could clearly feel the deity’s emotions.
It was followed by a sharp sarcasm.
[Perhaps you’d like me to prepare a seat for you in the divine realm? Because you made such a great sacrifice for this world?]
The deity seemed quite angered by his words.
His request seemed to sound to the deity like, “Hand over control of the situation to me.”
Of course, Kylus hadn’t meant it that way at all.
Still, the fact that the deity wasn’t crushing him with divine energy again suggested he still had some mercy to offer.
So Kylus calmly replied, undisturbed by the sarcasm.
“I’m not asking for anything more. I don’t want a perfect reincarnation that can enjoy everything, nor a seat in the divine realm.”
The deity’s sharp gaze softened slightly.
But his raised eyebrows remained the same.
Of course, this time it wasn’t because he was angry with Kylus, but because he didn’t understand his words.
[You’re not asking for more… Very well, tell me what exactly it is you want.]
“Please reincarnate me with all my memories intact.”
[…What?]
Unable to hide his bewilderment at these unexpected words, the deity asked again in a most un-deity-like manner.
Kylus spoke with an unwavering, resolute gaze.
“I don’t care if I’m born not as a noble but as a pauper, an orphan, or even a slave. When I’m reincarnated, please just don’t erase my memories.”
[…]
‘I didn’t hear wrong.’
The deity was momentarily speechless.
The only solace in human death was oblivion.
If one remembered their past life in a newly born world, they would not only feel confused about their own identity but would also have to live with unbearable sorrow for the rest of their lives, longing for the precious people in their memories.
That sorrow would eventually become pain and ultimately drive them to madness.
In fact, Helios occasionally deliberately didn’t erase the memories of humans with many sins.
So they would ruminate on those terrible memories until death.
Therefore, not erasing memories was one of the worst punishments for humans.
To ask for such punishment as compensation? And even saying he would be fine being born a slave?
It was madness.
Helios truly couldn’t understand Kylus.
Then suddenly, he saw a clear emotion flicker in Kylus’s black eyes.
Longing, tenderness, and a love whose depth couldn’t be fathomed.
Helios’s face hardened as he raised his voice at Kylus.
[Are you telling me you don’t want your memories erased because of Alice?]
“Yes, that’s right.”
Helios let out an exasperated sigh at the answer that came without a moment’s hesitation.
[Child. You seem to be under some misapprehension. By the time you’re reincarnated, Alice will already be dead and gone.]
The deity continued with a voice tinged with some compassion.
[Even the divine realm has procedures, so I can’t reincarnate you immediately. And compared to the divine realm, time in the human realm flows much more quickly. So when you’re reincarnated, at least a hundred years will have passed since Alice’s death.]
“A hundred years…” Kylus murmured the long span of time to himself before slowly responding.
“…I expected as much. And I didn’t ask you not to erase my memories so I could be with Alice again.”
[Then why…?]
“I’m asking because I want to see her life, even if it’s too late. Although she’ll no longer be in this world when I’m reborn, if I remember her, I can still trace back the life she lived.”
[…]
‘Trace back Alice’s life?’
Momentarily stunned by Kylus’s emotions, which felt too vivid, the deity’s lips quivered.
“I want to know if she grieved too much after I died. If she eventually lived happily in the end. As I follow her footsteps, perhaps I might even reach her grave.”
Kylus continued with slightly unfocused eyes, as if picturing a moment in the distant future.
“Then at least I could deliver a belated message. That I loved her deeply, that I missed her terribly.”
Kylus brightened his clouded eyes and spoke toward Helios’s statue.
“So I beg you. Please don’t erase my memories of her.”
Kylus bowed his head.
The man who had shown such spirit even before a deity was now setting everything aside and begging earnestly because of Alice.
At this, the deity moved beyond his indifference toward Kylus and genuinely thought his passionate love for Alice was truly remarkable.
‘To think someone could love another this deeply.’
Thus, no matter how much of a deity he was, he couldn’t look down on Kylus’s love.
He had watched countless human lives and deaths, seeing all manner of things, and thought nothing could surprise or amaze him anymore.
That, it seemed, had been his arrogance.
‘Is his self stronger because he broke free from the destiny set in the divine realm?’
‘Or is it because Alice saved him?’
Whatever the reason, it was remarkable.
He had never before encountered a human who would beg to retain memories of a loved one, even if it meant being born a slave.
Perhaps that’s why, for the first time, the deity felt a faint emotion toward Kylus.
A tiny bit of compassion and regret.
But it was only a fleeting moment, and the deity’s gaze reverted to its emotionless state.
Still, he didn’t ignore his request.
[Very well. As you wish, I will not erase your memories. I promise this on my name, Helios.]
“Thank you.”
Kylus’s weighty voice resonated through the chapel, and with that, their conversation ended.
But even after Kylus left the chapel and dawn deepened, Helios did not leave.
For quite some time, he gazed with intense eyes at the world he had created and the dark night sky.
Four days later.
The Empire was once again in great commotion following the Second Prince’s incident.
This was because the First Prince, who had been unconscious for two years, had miraculously regained consciousness.
The First Prince, whom everyone thought would die, had come back to life.
Nobles and commoners alike discussed the First Prince whenever they met.
The conscious First Prince and the mysterious physician that Count Latrang had brought from the South.
And the poison, lolopora, that the physician had identified during the treatment process.
The poison the First Prince had ingested, which no other physician had been able to identify.
“That physician demonstrated it directly before His Majesty the Emperor. That the poison the First Prince ingested was indeed lolopora.”
“They say once that poison is absorbed, its defense becomes so strong that it won’t accept even the same poison if it’s new.”
“That’s right. My husband was there that day, and when they put newly extracted lolopora poison into the First Prince’s blood, it truly didn’t mix, like oil and water.”
“My goodness. How remarkable. But how is it that not a single imperial physician could identify this poison?”
“Well… from what I’ve heard, the poison lolopora is quite obscure, from a desert kingdom, and…”
The noblewoman who had let her words trail off lowered her voice even further and continued.
“The poison wasn’t on the food His Highness ate.”
“Then how did His Highness get poisoned?”
“This is really something I shouldn’t be saying…”
Having already said nearly everything, the noblewoman let her words trail off, prompting the other noblewomen to urge her on, as if begging her to tell them.
Finally, pretending to give in reluctantly, the noblewoman spoke.
“According to my husband who was there, the physician said that unlike other poisons, lolopora is colorless and odorless, and it’s absorbed instantly without a trace wherever it’s sprayed, so it doesn’t have to be mixed directly into food…”
The noblewomen who had been listening with bated breath swallowed hard, eager to hear what would come next.
“So apparently, what had the poison on it that day wasn’t the food… but His Highness’s hands.”
“His hands? Are you saying someone deliberately applied lolopora poison to His Highness’s hands?”
When one noblewoman asked with wide eyes, the noblewoman who had been explaining like she was revealing a secret frowned and shook her head.
“Does that make any sense? Who would dare to openly apply poison to a royal’s hands? Even the servants who assist with bathing try to minimize hand contact.”
“Ah… that’s true. Then how on earth did the poison get on His Highness’s hands…?”
“That, even I don’t know.”
The frowning noblewoman continued with a prim expression, as if she had never frowned.
“I heard that Count Latrang himself will be reinvestigating the First Prince’s poisoning case to find out.”
“Reinvestigation!”
“And everyone, keep what you heard today to yourself. It will take at least a couple more days before there’s an official announcement from the imperial family…”
Though the noblewoman was asking them to keep the secret, her expression didn’t look troubled at all.
Rather, it was full of arrogance, as if to say, “Look how much information I know that you don’t.”
And a noblewoman with pink hair who had been quietly listening to the conversation rose from her seat with a satisfied expression.
