Ch.88Confession of a Spirit

# Under the Blue Sky Restored

We raced across the sky that had regained its blue hue. No, I should correct my description. Strictly speaking, I was the only one running like a horse.

While I sprinted with my feet burning, Troph was quite the master. He was being carried princess-style, his face red with shame. He stammered as he tried to ask:

“Couldn’t you at least carry me on your back? Even so, this is… damn…”

“If you secretly commit suicide back there, how would I know?”

“If you’re truly a Founding Noble, then Lorian Feita must be the craziest woman in the world without a doubt… ARGH!”

Troph cursing to himself then crying out in pain looked foolish. After causing all sorts of trouble, he’s concerned about shame? What a fortunate life he leads.

I paraded Troph in his princess-carry position through several villages. At every checkpoint on the way to the territory, I proudly displayed Troph being carried princess-style.

A smile bloomed like a fresh spring flower at the sight of Troph spewing vulgar language. Well, this much is needed to appease my heart. What does it matter when he’s not even a direct descendant of Lorian?

A day passed like that. Since I was running at a speed that Troph’s body could endure, we inevitably lost time.

‘Sigh…’

The territory I faced again was at its worst. The first things that caught my eye were broken streets and people distorted by depression. It was obvious where their anger would be directed if Troph’s identity was discovered at this point.

“I never thought I’d end up protecting human rights here too.”

“Does it matter? It’s obvious I’ll be executed. Whether I die by stoning or get my head cut off on the guillotine, it’s all the same. Hahaha.”

“Well, you mysterious bastard who’s fine with dying but afraid of being carried princess-style.”

“Fuck.”

Troph’s face completely crumpled as he shut his mouth. It seemed painful to be hit right where it hurt.

For me, it would be inconvenient if he died before receiving a formal judgment. I rented a carriage that looked somewhat intact and put him in it.

I was the driver, and there were no horses. I made the carriage roll by itself using the Ever-Changing Forms sorcery.

Everyone stared in amazement at this strange sight that defied common sense. This was the beginning of the ghost carriage legend in the territory.

I felt a sense of dissonance as I looked around the territory through the window of the moving carriage. Judging by how Troph was also suspiciously furrowing his brow, it seemed I wasn’t the only one who noticed it.

‘The damage is too minimal?’

Many structures like streets and buildings had damaged parts. At first glance, the damage seemed extensive.

But the actual human casualties didn’t feel as serious as expected. The scenery itself seemed to claim that the damage was minor.

It would be difficult to clean up people’s corpses and bloodstains in just one day. Moreover, there had been a succession of clear days without rain.

‘I’ll know when we reach the imperial palace.’

The ghost carriage in broad daylight received reverent gazes. Leaving behind ordinary people rubbing their eyes, the exterior of the imperial palace came into view.

The imperial palace was relatively intact compared to the marketplace. It would soon regain its former majesty if only the damaged garden and some structures were repaired.

I showed my face to the knights guarding the entrance and entered. Their reflexive action of rubbing their eyes in disbelief was uniform.

In front of the main palace, a familiar figure was staring directly at the carriage. She welcomed me after presumably rolling up her sleeves to protect people.

“I’m back.”

“You’re late, Nepy.”

“Sorry, Irefi. I was delayed because I had to bring this baggage with me.”

“Baggage?”

Irefi asked curiously. I rummaged through the carriage, grabbed Troph by the back of his neck, and threw him out. As he groaned briefly, I spoke on his behalf.

“This is Troph Feita.”

“I see. So this man is…”

“You’re not surprised…?”

Her reaction was lukewarm compared to the shocking truth. Irefi surely knew that Troph was the name of the duke who committed suicide in that era.

“Something happened. By my estimation, it’s now Nepy’s turn to be surprised.”

“Me? Why?”

“You’ll see if you follow me.”

“Wait, before that.”

I grabbed Irefi as she turned around to head toward the main palace. She was momentarily startled by my urgent grasp but soon colored her lips with a gentle smile.

Her dress, which I worried might be too thin to keep her warm, displayed a soft texture. The back that I briefly glimpsed through her voluminous dress was delicate.

Even though it had only been about half a month since I last saw her, I wanted to keep hugging Irefi like this.

“Monsters who aren’t even human sticking together like gum. What a spectacle.”

If only it weren’t for Troph’s rough interruption.

“Damn! This young punk knows all the curses.”

“Really, in my day, we didn’t act like this.”

“You crazy bastards…”

Troph’s mind reeled at the collaboration of double nagging that transcended timelines. I took the initiative to grab Troph by the scruff of his neck and entered the main palace.

The place Irefi led us to wasn’t the audience hall or the emperor’s office. We also smoothly bypassed the Nelfrugia Knights’ captain’s room. We were approaching an underground location. A rather deep passage at that. It was a path leading to a separate space away from the main palace through the underground.

Having frequented the imperial palace like my own home in Netionpis’s past life, I easily guessed our destination.

“Are we going to the interrogation room?”

“How do you know that, Nepy?”

“The gloomy atmosphere makes it perfect for that purpose.”

“Ugh, hard to deny that.”

It was called an interrogation room, but it was closer to an underground prison. A secret dungeon where one wouldn’t be imprisoned unless they were a considerable traitor.

At the end of the passage, red hair caught my eye. It was the current emperor’s color. Seeing us, he came out to greet us with a brightened face.

“Oh! Marquess Alteon. If the Marquess has come here, then…”

“Yes, Your Majesty. This is Troph Feita, the ringleader of the current enemies.”

“This fellow… certainly resembles the fake one.”

“… Your Majesty isn’t surprised either?”

“Ah, that’s…”

As the emperor was about to explain the reason.

A voice echoing from beyond the iron bars of the underground prison instantly resolved the question.

“Hey, Marquess. It seems you resolved things well.”

“Zikharun?!”

Why is he here…!

While I was taken aback, Troph, who was being held by the scruff of his neck, growled while glaring at the iron bars.

“Zikharun… you degenerate bastard. I’ve got a rough estimate now. Not only did you reveal our location, but you’re also supporting the territory? Hey, you son of a bitch, after planning everything together, why are you pretending to be righteous alone? What grudge do you have against us to do this!!! Why? Were you persuaded with a promise to spare your life if you helped a little? If not that, is it a woman? Money? What the hell is it!!!”

‘So that’s why the territory’s damage seemed minimal?’

If Zikharun had participated, it was a plausible outcome.

The territory’s forces led by Bartlant and Irefi’s protective abilities.

Add Zikharun’s assistance to that, and the damage would inevitably be dramatically reduced.

Zikharun looked at me with his small, red eyes.

“Marquess, you’ll let me have a private cell, right? At this rate, I might get stabbed overnight.”

“… Fine. Is that alright, Your Majesty?”

“Hmm. Let it be so.”

“You disrespectful bastard!!!”

Zikharun tilted his head at Troph’s insult. Like a child who couldn’t understand difficult mathematics…

He calmly countered Troph’s curse.

“Despite appearances, I’m 400 years old. Talking about hierarchy is a self-defeating move, Troph. Especially for you.”

“What?”

Everyone froze at Zikharun’s statement. 400 years old? It was an impossible number.

If that statement were true, Zikharun would have a timeline comparable to Netionpis.

‘Surely the Zikharun I know…’

I rested my chin on my hand, recalling old memories.

In the original work, the prologue begins with Zikharun awakening in the Red Sanctuary Altnia and facing the fallen empire.

As he wandered aimlessly, he met Bartlant, who became like a father figure, in the vicinity and became an adventurer roaming the continent.

The keyword “400 years” wasn’t anywhere in that journey.

“Ah, right. I was about to tell the Marquess but was interrupted by the Chainlich. It’s about Zikharun’s long-cherished wish. Hmm, where should I start and what should I reveal?”

Zikharun, thoroughly bound, fell into deep thought. It was as if I could hear the sound of him stacking angular blocks in his head to organize his words.

Just as everyone was focusing on Zikharun inside the prison.

In the midst of the thick silence, Zikharun, having finished his contemplation, parted his heavy lips.

“First, the origin of my name, Zikharun Misrakh. The Marquess already knows, right?”

“Yes.”

I nodded readily.

His name, Zikharun, is a human name given by his future father figure, Bartlant. And Misrakh refers to his unique spirit name as a spirit.

“A name made up of a name and a name, it’s funny. I don’t have the concept of a surname. Strictly speaking… I thought I didn’t.”

Zikharun half-opened his eyes and self-deprecated. I couldn’t understand what was so funny that made him swallow a hollow laugh.

“As the Marquess knows, I am Zikharun. The exact same person without any discrepancy. You’ll know what I mean.”

“Hmm.”

Zikharun’s possession was quite different from my relationship with Netionpis.

He completely assimilated and unified with Zikharun upon possession.

It could be called a level of possession one step higher than the old master’s past life experience.

“The future Zikharun was devastated. Because Irefi Justitia was already… oops, that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Ugh.”

Irefi shivered as if a cold wind had brushed past her. Zikharun continued casually, giving her a knowing look.

“Anyway. I, with memories of that timeline, was elated. Because I had the opportunity to fulfill my wish with my own hands. And coincidentally, Feita, who shared a common denominator with my long-cherished wish, approached me. Isn’t that right, Troph?”

“The information being gathered was ominous. I should have broken the ankle that approached me then. I should have persisted in finding out what that damn wish was.”

“Nothing would have changed. Because my wish was connected to your wish. At least, until I opened Lorian Feita’s memoir.”

“What did you say?”

Zikharun slumped down, his eyes holding emptiness. His empty eyes carried a mixture of futility and resignation.

Eventually, he declared in a low voice. In a voice that was terribly shabby and also pitifully trembling.

“Zikharun’s wish was for his mother’s desire to be fulfilled. I mistakenly thought that would be connected to Feita’s wish.”

“You…?”

I witnessed Troph being shaken for the first time.

Until now, he had been grinding his teeth in anger and spewing curses, but the scene of his face performing various expressions was a spectacle.

Zikharun, unconcerned, reveals the truth he had been hiding.

“My name… no, if I were to state my full name, I should introduce myself like this.”

The designation he subsequently uttered froze everyone as if it had been injected with a verbal command.

“Zikharun Misrakh Feita. The legitimate son of the Duke Feita family, and the most rightful successor. That’s… me.”

“…… Fuck, what?”

That was the first and last curse I uttered in front of Irefi.