Chapter 69

 

Chapter 69

At the emperor's words, Sethian’s brows twitched and arched sharply.

It was something even Roa hadn’t mentioned, and something Sethian himself had never cared about in the slightest.

He had assumed that once the master died, the engraved magic stone binding the soul would vanish, leaving behind a wandering spirit without a vessel. If the spirit had not fully transitioned into the realm of the dead and was instead tethered by the Crown Prince's authority, it might still return to its original body if the body were intact.

This was mere conjecture—nothing more, nothing less. After the matter had drifted outside the realm of Sethian's interest, he hadn’t spared it another thought.

But the idea that the spirit might be entirely extinguished? That had never crossed his mind. Hearing such a notion from the emperor, who had always seemed indifferent to soul magic and any form of arcane arts, felt deeply unsettling.

"The lifespan of a soul is finite, just as it is for the living," the emperor explained, his tone grave. "If the soul belongs to someone who has already died, it will dissipate like smoke once its lingering desire fades. If it belongs to the living, it will perish alongside the master’s life force."

If Sethian died, Joo Yi Gyeol would die as well.

It was an entirely logical outcome. Without the life force to sustain it, the soul had no means to continue existing. To Sethian, it seemed almost absurd to speak of such an inevitability with this level of gravity.

As he looked at the emperor with disinterest, unable to relate to the tangle of worry and pity in the man’s expression, the emperor’s face darkened further.

"...Yes, it’s no wonder you don’t yet understand," the emperor murmured, his voice trembling faintly as though weighed down by an insurmountable fear.

Sethian, still unmoved and unable to grasp what the emperor found so terrifying, observed him with a detached gaze.

After a moment, the emperor closed his heavy eyelids, collecting himself before speaking again in a steadier tone.

"I will grant you the Crown Prince’s position, as you wish. However, you must make me a promise."

"If it’s something within reason, I’ll gladly do so," Sethian replied, his voice composed.

Indulging the dying whims of an old man seemed a small enough price to pay, especially if it meant avoiding unnecessary entanglements later.

After what felt like a lengthy deliberation, the emperor’s demand was one Sethian hadn’t anticipated in the slightest.

---

Even now, Sethian found the emperor’s request—a plea, almost—unwelcome. But it hadn’t been so unreasonable that he couldn’t agree to it.

"Unexpected, I suppose," he thought to himself.

The emperor’s one condition was simple:

Do not kill your siblings.

For most people, such a promise would be self-evident, not something anyone needed to explicitly request. But in a situation where siblings were actively scheming against each other, it was far from an easy thing to uphold.

During the time Sethian spent alongside Joo Yi Gyeol as Crown Prince, he had gradually clarified his once-ambiguous thoughts about the throne.

He would claim it.

To ascend to the throne, the deaths of his bothersome siblings were practically a necessity. Those who had always regarded him as a thorn in their side would inevitably obstruct his path, making the journey to the throne anything but smooth. Moreover, even after donning the emperor’s crown, their existence would remain a significant hindrance.

The simplest, cleanest solution would have been to build on their own misdeeds, fabricate an elaborate conspiracy, and accuse them of treason for attempting to assassinate the Crown Prince. He could then swiftly execute them and display their heads outside the palace gates, leaving no room for speculation.

It was as if the emperor had read his mind, for he had summoned a sorcerer to prepare an "Oath of Command" contract. By swearing this oath with his soul, Sethian was bound to never bring about his siblings’ deaths directly. At most, he could exile them to far-off lands or imprison them in underground cells until their dying breaths.

"The emperor knows this, so there’s no way he would suspect me of being responsible for Mendel's murder," Sethian reasoned.

The Oath of Command was absolute. The emperor, who had personally witnessed Sethian promise not to kill his siblings in exchange for the Crown Prince title, would never entertain the notion that Sethian had violated the agreement. Instead, he would likely reveal the contract and demand the true culprit be found.

There could only be one explanation.

Someone had "possessed" the emperor. And if such a thing were possible, it could only be Zair.

Even if the current incident wasn’t fully resolved, Zair wouldn’t care. With the first prince Mendel dead and Sethian imprisoned in the Tower of Trials as a suspect, the next most likely candidate for the throne was Zair, the second prince. While the third prince, Remines, and the first princess, Elina, could theoretically join forces to challenge him, their chances of successfully toppling Zair seemed slim.

This assumption, of course, rested on the premise that Zair wouldn’t use his "possession" tricks any further. If he continued to manipulate witnesses and stage false testimonies, everything would unfold according to his will.

Including Joo Yi Gyeol.

A flicker of heat ignited within Sethian’s otherwise cold and calculating mind.

By now, most of his trusted aides and key figures from Emerald Castle were likely imprisoned in the damp, oppressive dungeons. The mere thought that Joo Yi Gyeol might be among them made him want to break down the door and escape immediately.

Then, just as suddenly, his thoughts turned icy again.

Zair was undoubtedly after Joo Yi Gyeol.

He had likely deduced that Joo Yi Gyeol, who resided in Sethian’s chambers, was a living soul with a body forged through forbidden magic. To someone like Zair, who was fanatically obsessed with soul magic, Joo Yi Gyeol was a perfect specimen—a treasure unlike any other.

The idea of Joo Yi Gyeol being captured by Zair and having his soul enslaved made Sethian’s blood run cold.

If he stayed idle, Zair would place the imperial crown on his head, strip Sethian of his title, and claim Joo Yi Gyeol for himself.

With his teeth clenched, Sethian stared out the small, grimy window toward the silhouette of Zair’s castle.

"Things won’t go your way," he muttered to himself.

Joo Yi Gyeol was his. Sethian had molded him into someone who would only ever look at him. Just as Sethian couldn’t help but fixate on Joo Yi Gyeol, Joo Yi Gyeol was equally unwavering in his loyalty.

Recalling the singular devotion in Joo Yi Gyeol’s eyes, Sethian’s lips curved into a faint smile. The coldness that had gripped his body vanished, replaced by a resolute warmth.

"I won’t let him cry. I’ll move, too."

For Joo Yi Gyeol, who was likely navigating treacherous waters on his own, Sethian knew he couldn’t remain passive.

As he shifted his gaze from the distant castle back to the confines of his room, a measured knock interrupted his thoughts.

"Knock, knock."

"It’s time for your meal."

Without awaiting permission, the guard opened the door.

Sethian, calm and composed as ever, watched as a young male servant entered, carrying a tray laden with a steaming bowl of meat soup, two loaves of warm rye bread, and a glass of wine.

The guard placed a wooden chair and a single table in the room, the standard setup for mealtime in captivity, and then left.

The servant, his expression cold and eyes devoid of warmth, arranged the food on the table with meticulous care. Sethian, still perched casually on his bed, broke the silence with an emotionless voice.

"Already healed, I see."

The servant paused, tray still in hand, and turned to face him. Sethian’s gaze locked onto the man’s arm, or rather, the smooth, rounded stump where his hand should have been. The stark contrast in skin tone between the stump and the rest of his arm caught Sethian’s sharp eyes.

"Did they use Iderlo or something similar?"

The servant’s cold demeanor softened into a polite smile.

"From today onward, I will serve as your personal attendant during your stay here, Your Highness. Though one hand is inconvenient, I will serve you with the same devotion I showed His Majesty."

The smile was flawless, but the servant’s eyes remained devoid of mirth.

END OF THE CHAPTER