SIWALL Ch 53

“Showing an unsightly mess, I see.”

Arzen said slowly as he put on his shirt.

An unsightly mess. How much time and suffering had this man endured before he could bring himself to call his own body that?

Elliot bit his lip. He could have told him right then and there that it wasn’t true. However, Elliot Lim Seongsik Brown’s experience in counseling friends, colleagues, bosses, seniors, and juniors spanned nearly twenty years.

People do not take to heart words they do not agree with, no matter how good those words might be. Such remarks simply pass through one ear and flow right back out, leaving the situation completely unchanged.

In such moments, Lim Seongsik usually substituted comfort with a hug or a pat on the shoulder. And surprisingly enough, that approach worked quite well.

Elliot took a few steps toward Arzen.

“It’s not unsightly, Your Grace. I’m going to give you a bit of a hug right now, so please don’t draw your sword. Just bear with it for a brief moment.”

Elliot hugged Arzen from behind. Because Arzen was big, he didn’t even fit fully into a single embrace, but hoping that at least his warmth and sincerity would be properly conveyed, Elliot squeezed him tightly.

“Is it truly not unsightly?”

“No. It looks cool. And I’m just so glad. That despite suffering all these many wounds, Your Grace, you are still alive.”

Elliot could feel Arzen’s back stiffen completely. Figuring the time was right, Elliot pulled away.

“Wait. Hug me once more.”

“Pardon? Yes… yes….”

Elliot hugged Arzen again. A short silence hung in the air, and soon Elliot cautiously asked the reason why.

“Why did you ask me to hug you again?”

“…Well, my, back, felt cold.”

“Ah, yes.”

When Elliot replied in a lackluster tone, Arzen hurriedly added.

“In truth, it wasn’t cold. It felt empty.”

“Ah….”

“It seems it feels empty when you are not around.”

“Oh, man….”

If anyone other than Arzen had spoken these words, Elliot would have undoubtedly thought it was a confession. However, Arzen had a tendency to make even ordinary remarks sound strange in various ways, so if Elliot were to take this remark at face value, he would only end up on the losing end. He believed that with absolute certainty.

Perhaps because Elliot’s reaction was different from what he had expected, Arzen wore a slightly displeased expression, but soon slipped back into a dark and sad countenance.

That day, Elliot wholeheartedly read poetry to Arzen, sang an out-of-tune lullaby, and patted the top of the blanket—while never forgetting to secretly stroke Arzen’s chest muscles once under the guise of straightening the blanket.

Arzen opened his eyes fiercely and fought hard not to sleep, but eventually boarded the train to dreamland under Elliot’s soothing touch.

∞ ∞ ∞

However, the things that happened after that brought a sense of suspicion to Elliot, who was normally exceptional in empathy and compassion, that something was deeply amiss. Namely, Arzen seemed to become more pathetic with each passing day!

The very next day, Arzen suffered a nosebleed. When Elliot discovered him, Arzen was wandering the hallways with his nose plugged, the handkerchief Elliot had given him stained heavily with blood.

Startled, Elliot ran over, and Arzen leaned his shoulder lightly against Elliot’s body, saying, “I’ve lost so much blood, I feel dizzy.” Stumbling from the weight, Elliot tripped and fell straight down, and Arzen, clutching the bloody handkerchief, scooped Elliot up in his arms and sprinted toward the physician.

Baron Chester, the physician, declared that Elliot was completely fine and then inspected Arzen’s nose.

“This doesn’t look like a nosebleed from exhaustion, but rather a nosebleed from getting smacked by something….”

Baron Chester said suspiciously. However, as soon as Arzen glared at Baron Chester with a murderous gaze, the poor doctor hiccuped and shook his head.

Hiccup! “Looking at it again, it’s definitely a nosebleed from fatigue. You must take a nap, hiccup, right away, hiccup.”

By the time Elliot shifted his attention away from Baron Chester and back to Arzen, Arzen already had a reddish-brown discolored handkerchief pressed right under his nose. Elliot led Arzen up to his bedroom and told him a story from his own childhood so that he could take a nap.

Of course, Arzen fell fast asleep the moment he heard that story.

The day after next, Arzen was wearing a depressed expression before bed, so when Elliot asked what was wrong, Arzen replied that today was his mother’s memorial day. Gingerly placing a cleanly washed handkerchief—the very same handkerchief Elliot had gifted him—on top of the bedside table, he said,

“My mother’s name was Salvia Teron. They say it was derived from the salvia flower. That is why the salvia flower is a special flower to me as well. Being her memorial day, I wish to go see them in the greenhouse, but I lack the courage.”

“Salvia? That flower was named after your mother?”

Elliot remembered staring at the salvia flowers for several minutes in front of Arzen one day in the past. Realizing it belatedly, he was startled and grabbed Arzen firmly by the arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me back then? When I talked about salvias. It must have been hard for you to listen even then….”

“But that is a memory belonging to you and your father. My troubles are my own, so pay them no mind.”

With those words, Arzen despondently removed his sleeping cap. Even though it had been flattened by the cap, his flawless hair cascaded down like a string of woven pearls, accentuating his tragic beauty.

“Let’s go, Your Grace.”

Elliot stood up abruptly and said with fierce determination.

And so, the two of them headed down to the greenhouse in the dead of night.

After sitting for a long while at the greenhouse’s tea table, they gazed at the salvia flowers. Following the flower-gazing, the topic drifted to the gardener Benny, then to his daughter, and naturally, Darlin came up in conversation as well.

“That fellow Darlin was found dead in the woods as an unidentified corpse, so you have nothing to worry about.”

“He’s already dead?”

Elliot’s eyes bulged as if they might pop out.

“It seems true that he fancied the gardener’s daughter, but his primary objective was to follow the Emperor’s orders to keep surveillance on me while simultaneously driving you out.”

“My, the Emperor, oh wow….”

“The Emperor likely killed Darlin himself.”

Elliot let out a weird, strangled groaning sound. Arzen chuckled softly at Elliot’s unvarnished exclamation.

“His Majesty the Emperor is originally the type to try out various methods. This time, to avoid arousing my suspicions, he attempted to deal with you in a moderate manner, but there’s no telling what kind of approach he might take next.”

Arzen looked straight at Elliot and said earnestly.

“Therefore, Elliot Brown, stick close by my side for the time being.”

“By any chance… is that why you’ve been acting so pitiful since the day before yesterday? Just so you could have me stay by your side?”

“It’s a two-in-one bonus.”

Arzen replied curtly. Then, without giving Elliot any time to think, he immediately moved on to the point at hand.

“The important thing is that you stick tight by my side.”

“Stick tight….”

“Stick tight.”

At Arzen’s words, Elliot nodded with a frightened expression. He hadn’t realized the situation was quite that dangerous.

“Then promise me.”

Arzen held out his pinky finger. Bewildered by that out-of-the-blue action, Elliot stared blankly at Arzen as Arzen wiggled his pinky back and forth.

“…Yes, it’s a promise. For the time being, I’ll stick close! to Your Grace’s side.”

Arzen stayed still like that for a moment, seemingly satisfied with the act of locking pinkies. Elliot, watching nervously until Arzen let go of his finger, kept his finger linked just as inwardly pleased.

Inside the greenhouse, the scent of the alluring salvia flowers drifted thickly alongside the night air. Yet neither Arzen nor Elliot was conscious of that fragrance. The only thing they cared about was the sensation of their fingers touching and intertwining—nothing else.

∞ ∞ ∞

“The Pentus shopping district was completely cleaned out by Arzen and the god’s fragment. All for that lowly bedchamber attendant.”

Emperor Ilius said, toying with a Darlin golden tassel on the curtain. Kneeling behind him, a member of the Red-White Dan bowed his head even deeper.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Rumors that the two of them are in a romantic relationship have been circulating, albeit briefly.”

“Well, now… this has turned out quite interesting.”

The Emperor spoke as if amused, yet there wasn’t a single trace of a smile on his face. In front of him, a box containing Darlin’s severed head sat ajar.

“My, the underlings are going to have to go through some trouble.”

The Emperor made a casual hand gesture toward the Red-White Dan member. At that, the man stood up, pulled the pull-cord instead, and vanished. Soon the door opened and the head maid entered.

“Did you call for me, Your Majesty.”

“Throw that box out. It is thoroughly repulsive to look at.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The head maid walked quietly inside and closed the lid of the box designated by the Emperor without any change in expression. Just as she lifted the box up,

“Head maid.”

“Yes. Please speak.”

“I hear that my nephew has been sleeping with some mere attendant. What do you make of this?”

“If the attendant in question is the young scion of a noble house, it would merely be a foolish night of playful folly, but if he is not of the nobility, I consider it a combination of sins that will invoke the wrath of the Lantar gods, Your Majesty.”

The head maid had grown up as the noble young lady of a prominent marquisate, upholding the surname Tulion—she was blue blood among blue bloods. The pro-Emperor nobles who supported the throne believed that nobles and commoners were entirely separate species, akin to humans and pigs, and despised them so much they loathed even exchanging words with them.

“My, they say the person Arzen is seeing is a commoner—what should we do about this?”

Ilius said as if entertained, toying with the Darlin golden tassel on the window curtain.

“Let us share this news with everyone. That my nephew, who supposedly received the blessings of Lante, is dallying with a commoner lower than a beast.”