Ch.66Connecting to the Past (2)

He was a filthy, wretched male prostitute. His emaciated body with protruding ribs evoked pity. Yet his hands, cracked like a turtle’s shell, had no right to receive compassion.

Literally, rights did not exist for him.

He was something not quite human. A creature precariously balanced between beast and man. Those who forced him to fall from the realm of humanity were humans themselves.

The true malignancy was this different class of humans who purchased others with violence and money, gnawing away at the shell of childhood.

A child dripping with grease and dandruff. Many hands desired such an unsightly boy. Like flies supernaturally drawn to filth from miles away. The maggots that settled and squirmed there seemed like an inescapable fate.

Small in stature but exceptionally intelligent from an early age, he never dreamed. This allowed him to accept his unchangeable reality faster than anyone. After grasping the immutable principles of the world, he laughed.

“Ahaha.”

Without pretending to enjoy, feigning happiness, or acting altruistically—or without internalizing these pretenses—he couldn’t continue even his bestial existence. Even a child could understand that lifeless eyes would be completely devoured by scavengers.

When he turned fourteen, a boy visited the squalid brothel.

This boy was a peer of such exalted status that he seemed untouchable.

Red hair that gave the impression of a lion’s mane. Eyes blue as the dawn sky. A handsome, well-developed boy with fair skin.

“Call me Astel. My name is unnecessarily long, you see.”

First Emperor Astelnerca Euglinas. This was the identity of the boy who took in the wretched prostitute. He was mysterious. While looking straight at Netionpis, his deep gaze seemed to pierce through some unknown realm that only he could perceive.

To Netionpis, who had resigned himself to the world with his sharp intelligence, Astel’s existence was special. From Netionpis’s perspective, Astel was a seeker who shattered fate with his bare hands and forged his own path.

It didn’t take long for him to become fascinated with Astel.

‘This is dangerous. I feel like my mind is becoming one with the Master’s.’

I moved in Netionpis’s body and felt his sensations. Regardless of my will, my mouth opened according to past events, and even the corresponding emotions were vividly transmitted.

[Don’t get swept away. If you continue to recall the elements that define you, the stains of the past will naturally become mere memories and emotions.]

Netionpis’s thoughts faintly stirred in my mind. The element I recalled while following his instructions was truly remarkable. When I belatedly realized it, I was, of course, thinking of the familiar pure white.

Her existence was like inertia. Just as a moving object tends to maintain its state. She naturally asserted her presence, occupying the prime position at the center of my heart.

I also newly realized that most of what defined me was Irefi’s white and blue. The colors of my one and only benefactor and connection. With this calmly returning realization, the emotions that had been eating away at me vanished completely.

‘Somehow, I already miss you. Irefi. You.’

In the cycle of seasons and flow of time, Netionpis transformed from beast to human. At sixteen, two years after being taken in by Astel, he had changed considerably.

Bartlant Chester from 400 years ago, identical to the modern Bartlant. Training in martial arts under the first head of the Chester family, he shed his vagrant appearance and developed into a proper young man.

Though his status remained humble, no one would guess his origin as a brothel boy from the slums.

Separately, many of the memories I experienced were familiar. For instance, sparring with Bartlant. This was exemplified by Netionpis’s brief memory from an unfairly arranged duel.

At that time, he was utterly defeated by Bartlant, who used only one hand in their sword duel. It was a high-stakes match with either a date with Lorian or permission for certain actions on the line.

“Hahaha, escort Lady Lorian for a day, alright?”

“I really don’t like you.”

Bartlant Chester. The guy had somehow convinced Lorian to appear before Netionpis.

Mixed with the chilly dawn breeze, she looked different. The lingering darkness seemed to melt into her glossy black hair, paradoxically making it shine. Wearing an uncharacteristically active dress, she was still composed and elegant.

When Lorian’s black eyes cast their gaze in this direction, my heart sank.

‘These aren’t my emotions. They’re the Master’s feelings. I have nothing to hide, Irefi…!’

The emotions were so intense that I had to desperately hold onto myself or risk being swept away. Netionpis’s cynical response was surprisingly honest and consistent, to the point where it was hard to understand.

‘In other words, Master has liked Lorian Feita all along…’

A special catalyst isn’t necessary for one’s heart to be drawn to another. Even in my case, Irefi, who cut me in half and killed me… No, no. I love you, Irefi.

Inside the carriage heading to town, Netionpis and Lorian were quiet. If anyone else had joined them, they might have suffocated and been carried to a doctor. This was entirely my own feeling, not Netionpis’s.

It’s painful. But I can’t even frown. Currently, I’m a third party stuffed into the past, moving like a puppet. All actions follow the past Master exactly.

In this place of such dense atmosphere, Lorian was the first to speak.

“What’s the plan?”

“Plan?”

Lorian’s attitude was as wooden as Netionpis’s stiff face.

It was clearly different from how I enjoyed Irefi’s unpredictable reactions before clearing up the misunderstanding.

“I’d like to believe you wouldn’t say you called me out without any plan. I didn’t teach you that way.”

“…”

After being taken in by Astel, Netionpis had four teachers—the first heads of the four ducal families. Among them, Lorian was in charge of etiquette and education.

“I always filter about half of what Bartlant says, but perhaps this time I should have filtered it all. I was foolish to believe him when he said Nes had a plan.”

“Perhaps.”

Netionpis concurred briefly. His tone was excessively cold compared to his passionate emotions. There would be nothing to say if Lorian took it as provocation.

Afterward, silence reclaimed its place. Even without consciously focusing, their breathing was audible. It seemed like only the sound of the rolling carriage wheels would persistently chase the dawn stillness forever.

Until Lorian snapped her fan shut.

“Want to die?”

“…Lorian?”

“Obviously I’m not asking. The answer is already decided. You just need to listen.”

I momentarily doubted my ears. It was a tremendous shock to hear such crude language from the intellectual and refined Lorian.

Still expressionless, she stomped hard on Netionpis’s foot.

“Kuh.”

“Are you joking? Am I a clown to you? If you weren’t prepared, you could at least use what you’ve learned, huh? After everything, do I have to lose even to Astel? Would you have acted this way if you were out with him?”

“That’s…”

“It’s more frustrating that you can’t deny it. Why did I fall for that muscle-head’s smooth talk and ride in a carriage with you from this hour? What did I expect when I dressed up and went out from dawn?”

“How would I know…”

“Shut up, Nes. I told you to just listen.”

“…”

Lorian’s scolding was fierce. It was a type of fear I had never experienced.

Usually, when Irefi reprimands someone, she hides daggers behind a smiling face. That subtle chill wrings your spine. In contrast, the fear Lorian’s anger evokes is primal.

Simply put, it’s the pure fear of another human being. Comparable to meeting thugs while carrying a wallet full of cash.

“What’s making you keep your distance? What, are you embarrassed about being a male prostitute in that damn brothel? Afraid I’ll point fingers at you like a raped noblewoman? Well, unfortunately, my eyes work fine, and I have no intention of doing that.”

“…What?”

“What.”

Lorian’s eyes flickered slightly at Netionpis’s reaction. It was just speculation, but she seemed concerned about casually mentioning his past.

However, Netionpis didn’t care about such minor slips. His question stemmed from genuine confusion.

“I… Lorian, I thought you disliked me.”

“Huh?”

“Because I was in the mud pit. I thought you, as a duke’s daughter, despised me for my lowly origin.”

“Did Astel feed you something wrong?”

“No… no, no… wait… give me a moment, Lorian.”

Netionpis carefully reflected on their first meeting two years ago. When he greeted her with an inadequate attitude, only she maintained a cold demeanor, asking solely about his origin.

Because he had been a male prostitute. He had the preconception that it was natural for Lorian, a duke’s daughter, to view him negatively. But after that, Lorian’s attitude toward him wasn’t different from how she treated others.

He had only thought it was thanks to Astel’s mediation. But if that wasn’t the case…

“Lorian.”

“Speak.”

“Do you remember when we first met?”

“Even down to you trembling in that ridiculous servant’s outfit.”

“Ugh.”

Netionpis’s cheeks filled with shame at Lorian’s barb. Holding his forehead with one hand, he carefully asked.

“Back then, you asked what I had been doing and then turned away. Wasn’t that with meanings like ‘It’s obvious without looking’ or ‘I knew it’?”

“Not at all.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“It meant ‘Astel must have had his reasons for bringing you,’ what else would it be?”

Lorian’s attitude, as if there was nothing to hide, made the world feel like it was crumbling. The feeling of futility after digging in the wrong place all this time. And the relief of not being hated created a disharmony.

They were all resources gathered by Astel. It was a strange relationship formed by attraction to his vision, character, or peculiar charm.

Looking back, it made sense why Lorian had roughly stopped thinking at that time.

“Nes.”

“Uh, um…”

“You always pretend to be cool and smart, but you’re dumber than Bartlant.”

“That’s an insult I cannot tolerate, Lorian.”

Just call me a dirty, wretched rag of a male prostitute instead.

…Surprisingly, that was the Master’s unfiltered inner thought. I wonder if this is really the same person who repaid kindness with duels.

‘So Master was also hot-blooded in his youth.’

From this point on, the relationship between Lorian and Netionpis took on a different aspect. They spoke to each other without reservation, had tea times together, and occasionally went out together.

Such spring-like ordinariness became part of life.

What I had momentarily forgotten was that whether days are ordinary or special, the second hand of the clock never stops. Like a stream flowing continuously from top to bottom, time moved forward.

Eventually, three years later. A cold winter arrived when Netionpis turned nineteen and Lorian became twenty-one.

Until then, Netionpis remained a dependent guest at Astel’s count estate. If anything had changed during that time, it was the attitude of those around him.

His handsome appearance attracted women’s gazes, and there was no end to those who wished to associate with him, as he was accomplished in both literary and martial arts.

Still, Netionpis was clearly aware. That his position was too meager to boldly reveal his past as a male prostitute to the world.

The time when Netionpis’s awareness would be shaken was approaching.

An age of chaos. An era of confusion where street vendors might desire the seed of royalty was coming.

The world that had barely been holding on finally collapsed. As the symphony of the empire’s downfall bloomed in the sky, the entire continent was engulfed in war.

It was the cornerstone upon which the legend of First Emperor Astelnerca would be built.