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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Teottry
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Yeonhwa slowly opened her eyes on the bed, gazing blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling.
Her head felt foggy. She must have dozed off.
Rubbing her temples, she sat up, her body feeling heavy, and checked outside. Fortunately, the sun hadn’t set yet.
She prepared the brazier for her afternoon prayers. With a flick of her finger, she lit the small, indoor brazier.
Crackle-crackle-whoosh~
She stared blankly at the pretty, dancing flames. Another flick of her finger extinguished the fire.
Yet another flick reignited the dying embers. The flames flickered and danced at her whim, a fickle thing.
Come to think of it, she remembered being scolded by her mother for playing with fire like this when she was younger.
The elders of the sect, however, had praised her, declaring that she was indeed different from the start, a true harbinger of destruction, destined to defile the creations of Ahura Mazda.
As a child, she had been pleased by their praise, oblivious to its true meaning. Looking back, those old geezers were truly insane.
Lost in thought, staring into the flames, she recalled the sacred flame, burning eternally in the depths of the sect’s temple.
Embers from the first fire created by Ahura Mazda, carefully preserved and never allowed to be extinguished. A sacred flame. And Yeonhwa’s mother, Hordad, was a Zoroastrian saint, a fire maiden, tasked with tending to the sacred flame.
A woman with skin as white as snow, beautiful black hair, and a kind yet alluring demeanor. A gentle mother.
A foolish woman who would occasionally lash out, denying the reality of Sima Bu’s indifference, only to collapse in tears and self-loathing, but a precious mother nonetheless.
She loved her. She pitied her.
A saint destined to set the world ablaze, a sacred sacrifice for the advent of the Saoshyant.
Yeonhwa had grown up within the confines of the sect’s palace, surrounded by luxurious silks and precious treasures, a gilded cage.
Within this elaborate, spacious prison, she had been raised with care, showered with the love and rage of her mother, Hordad, and the reverence and fear of the servants.
While she couldn’t speak for Sima Bu, her mother had loved him.
She stroked her beautifully maintained, silken black hair.
As her mother gently brushed her hair in bed, she would recount the day she met Sima Bu, her voice a soft, melodious whisper.
“Thick eyebrows, a sharp jawline, a prominent nose, fierce amber eyes. Courage that didn’t flinch in the face of death. A proud, confident gait.”
Her mother, raised within the confines of the sect’s palace, had fallen in love at first sight with Sima Bu, a dangerous, foreign man.
“His eyes, though seemingly cold at first glance, burned with a fiery intensity upon closer inspection.”
While there had been other factors, looking back, it had truly been love at first sight, she would say with a laugh.
“He was a wolf in human form. A large, dangerous, and ravenous wolf.”
Yeonhwa, as a child, had enjoyed listening to stories of the father she had never met, comforted by her mother’s gentle touch and cheerful humming.
“He held my hand, embraced me tenderly, and taught me so many things I didn’t know.”
Sima Bu was a clever and deceitful man. To maintain a favorable relationship with the Zoroastrian cult, he showered Yeonhwa’s mother with affection and whispered sweet nothings, regardless of his true feelings.
But it was all an act. It could never be real.
While wolves were often seen as symbols of infidelity, they were, in reality, creatures that mated for life.
Sima Bu, for better or worse, was a wolf-like man. His heart already belonged to another. There had never been a place for Yeonhwa’s mother in his heart.
He had merely used her, seeking the fortune needed to restore his clan’s former glory. There had never been any love.
A tainted bastard, born without love.
A child born not of love, but of lust, was said to be devoid of a heart.
The heart was a creation of Ahura Mazda. If she didn’t have a heart, whose creation was she? Angra Mainyu’s?
Perhaps. She was, after all, a saint of the demonic sect, born to set the world ablaze. A monster destined to be slain by a hero’s sword.
That was her purpose.
Her head ached, throbbing painfully.
She finished her prayers and stood up unsteadily. The sun had already set. The others would be gathered in the dining hall.
She had to hurry. She had to play the part of the perfect daughter, the perfect younger sister. She had to conceal her emotions. She had to smile.
Step by step, she forced herself forward. Her body felt feverish. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
“Haah… haah…”
As she stumbled forward, for some reason, she thought of Mancheon.
In Zoroastrianism, all good things were touched by the hand of Ahura Mazda, and all bad things were touched by the hand of Angra Mainyu.
Was he the same? Was he, like her, born crippled, untouched by the creator’s grace?
His appearance, so like Sima Bu’s, his piercing gaze that seemed to see through everything, his annoyingly confident demeanor… There were so many things she disliked about him, but perhaps he was… like her.
As she neared the dining hall, she heard the sound of cheerful voices, more than just one or two people.
Leaning against the wall for support, she cautiously peeked inside. The entire Sima family, with the exception of herself, was gathered there, their faces alight with laughter.
She saw Sima Bu, his face softened with an affection he never showed her, smiling at Mancheon. Mancheon, looking slightly embarrassed, responded with a polite smile.
Blinded by the sight, a scene she longed to be a part of, Yeonhwa turned away.
With heavy steps, she retreated to the darkness of her own room.
Her vision blurred.
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he skipped lunch, retreated to his room, and slept until evening. he was starving.
Clutching his rumbling stomach, he hurried towards the dining hall.
Arriving at the dining hall, he saw his family gathered there, everyone except himself.
“Where’s Yeonhwa? Isn’t she joining us for dinner?”
As he spoke and took his seat, his father praised him with a satisfied smile.
“You’re already looking after your sister, even though she’s only been with us for a day? I’m impressed.”
His father’s praise was followed by similar sentiments from his mother, brother, and sister-in-law, all commending him for his efforts.
It was… well, he appreciated the sentiment, but being praised for such trivial matters felt somewhat condescending.
‘Whoa, awesome! You’re actually capable of being hospitable?! Amazing!!’
That’s what it felt like. Honestly, His family was a little too generous with their praise. They were the type of people who would applaud and commend you for taking a good shit after a bout of constipation.
If he weren’t so thick-skinned, he would have died of embarrassment.
“Yeonhwa is resting in her room. Putting on a brave face doesn’t erase the grief of losing one’s parents.”
His father paused, then spoke in a gentle voice, expressing his concern for Yeonhwa, seeking his family’s agreement.
“Perhaps it’s best to give her some time alone to grieve.”
The others nodded in agreement, but he felt a nagging sense of unease and rubbed the back of his neck.
His father’s words might be true. Time healed most wounds. But being alone didn’t guarantee a solution to one’s problems.
One needed to be in a sound state of mind to contemplate solutions. And to think clearly, one needed to eat. Humans were fragile creatures. An empty stomach clouded the mind.
“She still needs to eat. I’ll go get her. You can start without us.”
He rose from his seat to fetch Yeonhwa. While he could have sent a servant, he felt it was his duty as a family member to attend to such matters personally.
It might be unnecessary meddling, but they were family.
There was no such thing as unnecessary meddling between family members. Except for matters of marriage, career choices, and anything related to finances, of course.
Come to think of it, there were quite a few topics one shouldn’t meddle with, even among family. He was hungry. Perhaps he should just go back and eat.
As he walked towards Yeonhwa’s room, lost in thought, he noticed something lying in the hallway.
‘What’s that?’
Approaching cautiously, he saw Yeonhwa collapsed on the floor, breathing heavily.
He placed a hand on Yeonhwa’s forehead. It was a cliche, but it truly felt as hot as a furnace. While he wasn’t a physician and couldn’t offer a diagnosis, it was clear that Yeonhwa was unwell.
He would have preferred to carry her in the so-called “princess carry,” but his crippled leg made it difficult. So, he hoisted Yeonhwa onto her back, using a technique he had learned in the army for transporting injured comrades.
It looked a bit like he was kidnapping her, but this was an emergency; there was no time for appearances.
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After much effort, he managed to get Yeonhwa into bed and instructed the servants to prepare medicine and porridge. A cool, damp cloth would also be needed to bring down her fever.
While he might have been helpful when Yeonhwa was younger, she was now old enough to be embarrassed by his presence, especially in such a vulnerable state. As he turned to leave, something tugged at the hem of his robe.
“Don’t go.”
Turning back, he saw Yeonhwa’s slender, delicate fingers clutching his robe with surprising strength.
She seemed unconscious. Was she clinging to him unconsciously?
As he gently tugged at his robe, attempting to free himself, he heard Yeonhwa’s soft murmur, a small, desperate plea.
“Don’t leave… me alone.”
Who was Yeonhwa thinking of as she clung to his robe? Was she remembering someone she could no longer see?
There was nothing he could do.
Carefully maneuvering so as not to dislodge Yeonhwa’s grip, he pulled a chair closer to the bed, sat down, and placed a cool, damp cloth on her burning forehead.
While he didn’t know what troubles or pain Yeonhwa was experiencing, he could at least offer her his presence.
He sat by Yeonhwa’s side, replacing the damp cloth as it warmed, repeating the process until the water itself became lukewarm.
Normally, he would fetch more water himself, but with Yeonhwa clinging to his robe, he was forced to take drastic measures.
“Jang Sam! Bring me a basin of water! And some wall gecko pills!”
Jang Sam-bung, servant, bodyguard, and assassin of the Sima household.
Just as he was about to enjoy his late dinner after a long day’s work, he was burdened with additional duties thanks to his young master’s meddlesome nature, and ended up eating soggy noodles that night.
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Woah Mancheon is such a gentle MC 😏
Thanks Teot!