IYAMD 122

IYAMD 122

Jaha reached out, cupping the man’s cheek as he asked,

“Do you regret it because you met the goddess?”

Marsilia didn’t answer. He merely tilted his head, pressing his nose into Jaha’s palm.

When Marsilia let out a slow, heated breath and curled his lips into a smile, Jaha almost lost his temper—toward the goddess who had left this man so utterly dejected.

What could she have said to make him wear such a bitter expression? Jaha had no intention of pressing him for an answer. He simply wanted to comfort him, to whisper that the goddess’s words meant nothing. But he held back—because he still didn’t fully understand what faith meant to Marsilia.

On the Eastern Continent, people believed in various gods, but not with the same blind devotion as those in the West.

To Jaha, who was from the Eastern Continent, faith was like nature. If good things happened, one quietly gave thanks; if bad things happened, one simply hoped for better fortune next time.

Taoists and Buddhist monks might follow religious doctrines that dictated their actions, but ordinary people were more focused on simply living rather than adhering to strict teachings.

Unlike the Western Continent, where gods felt ever-present, the East maintained a greater distance from them. Jaha had never even heard terms like “oracle” or “divine power” before coming to the West.

So, he chose to wait. Until Marsilia was ready to speak. Until he could listen fully and reassure him that none of it truly mattered.

One reason Jaha refrained from urging Marsilia was that he, too, had never spoken about his own family. Wounds of the heart did not heal quickly. No matter how composed someone seemed, no matter how much they appeared to have moved on, opening up old scars was never easy.

Jaha already understood that, so he decided to wait until Marsilia’s wounds had healed.

Lately, Marsilia hadn’t been sleeping well. Unlike the times they had spent sleepless nights tangled together, this was different.

Whenever Jaha woke to find Marsilia gasping awake at dawn, trembling like an aspen tree, he would hold him into his arms. Marsilia would hide his face, curling his body inward as he silently endured something alone.

And all Jaha could do was hold him and offer silent comfort.

It was frustrating. Heartbreaking. Maddening.

Yet, when he saw Marsilia smile and carry on as usual in front of others—laughing, talking, working as if nothing were wrong—Jaha felt an odd mix of emotions.

A sigh would escape him, a dull ache would settle in his chest.

Even now, looking at Marsilia’s silence, he didn’t feel anger. Just a deep, stifling sorrow.

“Marsilia, I love you.”

“My feelings have nothing to do with the goddess or the mark. I love you simply because you are a good man. Don’t ever forget that.”

“…Mm.”

When Marsilia, eyes closed, responded softly, Jaha leaned in and kissed him.

He rose onto his toes, cradling Marsilia’s face as he pushed his tongue into his mouth.

Since Marsilia had stopped kissing him deeply after losing his mark, Jaha took the lead—lapping at his lips, sucking on his tongue.

When Jaha’s heels finally touched the ground again, Marsilia opened his green eyes and met his gaze.

A wind rustling through trees—Jaha could feel it in those eyes.

After taking the time to calm that wind within himself, Marsilia pressed his lips to Jaha’s cheek and whispered,

“I love you, Jaha.”

The warmth from his lips lingered. So did the warmth in his hand as he covered Jaha’s own.

That was enough.

Jaha, reassured, pulled him into a tight embrace.

—

From that day on, Jaha and Marsilia spent their time apart.

Jaha spent his mornings training—strengthening his body in the training grounds or sparring with knights.

But at midday, they always ate together.

That was Marsilia’s one request—that no matter what, they share a meal.

And though they were only apart for a few hours each morning, Jaha found himself looking forward to seeing Marsilia again.

It seemed Marsilia felt the same. No matter how exhausted he looked, his expression always softened the moment Jaha walked into his office.

“How’s your training going?”

As they sat in the office’s adjoining lounge for a simple meal, Marsilia seemed curious about what had happened while they were apart.

“For now, it’s just physical conditioning. What about you? Are you busy?”

“Mm… Not really. Most of the actual work is handled by others.”

The knights had been gathering intelligence, and there was an overwhelming amount of reports and paperwork to process. Jaha had heard from Serez that the administrative staff had been working late into the night, sorting through it all.

Marsilia, meanwhile, had been focused on reestablishing magical communication with the Mage tower, preparing for the potential failure of the teleportation portals.

The method he was attempting to restore was an ancient one, and it was proving to be a headache.

“Is it that difficult?”

Marsilia, in the middle of tearing off a piece of bread, paused and let out a long sigh.

“Magic levels used to be much higher. There were plenty of 6th-circle mages back then, but now, the highest rank is only 4th-circle—and there are only two of them.”

Seeing Jaha’s blank expression, Marsilia gave a brief explanation about mage circles.

Much like the Spiritual Core used by knights, mages formed Mana Circles in their hearts. The more circles they had, the higher their rank.

“Still, there are records of old communication spells. As long as we have communication stones, we can test them. I had some brought from the royal palace, so we should have results soon.”

After finishing his explanation, Marsilia turned to Jaha.

“What’s your schedule for the afternoon?”

“Oh, what was it again? There’s a court etiquette lesson, and I need to have my clothes refitted.”

Since he had gained some weight, they had to take his measurements again. He had also heard that it would be good to prepare several visit our siteuniforms and formal outfits, as he would be attending many events in the future.

“How is Gerald doing?”

A few days ago, Gerald had been assigned as Jaha’s aide, and he seemed troubled lately, trying to organize the necessary lessons for Jaha. Since Gerald was the only person in the imperial palace who could speak the Eastern Continent’s language, he was also responsible for teaching Jaha the Western Continent’s script.

“He looks busy.”

Jaha answered absentmindedly, making Marsilia burst into laughter.

“I was asking if he’s doing his job well.”

Jaha hesitated for a moment, then lowered his gaze.

“I wouldn’t know. He keeps following me around, saying there’s a lot I need to do. It’s annoying.”

“What exactly do you need to do?”

“Oh, I have to learn the script, study etiquette, memorize the faces of the nobles… There’s just too much.”

Every afternoon, Gerald brought him something called a noble almanac and told him to memorize it. But the names were too long and difficult. The almanac also contained portraits of the nobles, but those weren’t much help either.

Even the portrait of Marquis Pablo, whom he recognized, was from twenty years ago. How was he supposed to recognize someone from a painting that old? And the names of Western Continent nobles were needlessly long and complicated, especially for those with higher titles.

When Jaha still couldn’t memorize the faces and names of the other nobles after a few days, Gerald took drastic measures and decided to host a tea party. The idea was that Jaha could at least familiarize himself with the attendees’ faces. But honestly, it was a hassle.

Marsilia laughed uncontrollably the entire time Jaha grumbled about it. Jaha had no idea what was so funny, but he was relieved to see Marsilia looking cheerful again after so long.

“I heard about the tea party too. Gerald plans to serve tea imported from the Eastern Continent.”

“Really?”

“He probably wanted to prepare something familiar for you. Since he hasn’t visit our site told you yet, he must have meant it as a surprise. I guess I just spoiled it.”

Marsilia gave a slightly sheepish smile and winked.

“Just pretend you didn’t hear it from me.”

Jaha let out a small chuckle at the rare playful remark.

“Alright, I’ll keep it a secret.”

When Jaha placed his hand over Marsilia’s on the table, a faint green light shimmered. Marsilia had been like this a lot lately—suddenly releasing his divine power like a firefly.

“You still can’t control it?”

At first, Jaha hadn’t paid much attention, but it was happening far too frequently now. Marsilia brushed it off with a tired smile, saying it was just because he was exhausted, but Jaha instinctively knew that wasn’t the case.

The inability to control divine power likely meant that his heart was unsettled. Ever since he had met the goddess, he had been changing—constantly. And that worried Jaha more and more.

Seeing Jaha’s expression, Marsilia withdrew his hand and hid it under the table, forcing a small, dejected smile.

“I guess I’ve let my guard down a bit lately.”

Jaha had once overheard that Marsilia had struggled with controlling his divine power since childhood. That was why he regulated his output by reciting prayers and scripture.

Jaha had wanted to ask if his leaking divine power put a strain on his body, but Marsilia had brushed it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal.

But was he really okay?

Even before meeting the goddess, he had struggled to control his divine power whenever they spent the night together. And lately, it had only been getting worse.

With his divine power spilling out at all times, there was no way his body was fine.

Even without saying anything, Marsilia looked visibly [unauthorized copy]exhausted. His jawline had grown sharper, and the crease between his brows was deepening.

How could Jaha not worry? Watching the man who always tried to endure everything alone made his heart ache.

Holding Marsilia in his arms every night, glowing like a firefly, filled Jaha with both love and sorrow. He desperately wanted to help, but the helplessness was frustrating.

Still, Jaha kept those feelings to himself. He simply smiled quietly and moved his fingers over the back of Marsilia’s hand.

“Hold my hand.”

As if sighing, Marsilia let out a small laugh and intertwined his fingers with Jaha’s.

As Jaha squeezed his hand, Marsilia returned the pressure, as if responding.

Once again, a green glow flickered around their tightly clasped hands.