Esa Promesa

“…….”

Something felt off. No matter how long I waited, the king showed no signs of speaking. A small seed of unease began to sprout in the corner of my chest.

Surely, he wasn’t seriously considering keeping someone with less than six months to live tied to this palace and working them to death, was he?

As insane as he was, the kind of lunatic who could smile while separating a servant’s head from their body, he at least had enough decency and understanding not to hold on to someone terminally ill.

The prolonged silence was unsettling, but I convinced myself that, in the end, he would say something sensible. I clung to the belief that his eventual response would be an affirmation, waiting patiently for him to speak.

When I mentally counted to a full minute, I finally heard a sound.

Rip.

For a moment, I thought I had misheard. Surely, I must have seen something wrong.

But no, when my eyes met his, the truth was undeniable. The king was holding the medical report and the final resignation letter I had handed over. Looking me straight in the eyes, he began tearing the two documents apart.

First into halves, then quarters, and then again, into smaller and smaller pieces. His hands moved with a ferocity that made it seem like he was shredding an object of deep-seated resentment.

He remained expressionless the entire time, his cold eyes locked onto mine, as if daring me to react. I stood there, stunned, my mouth hanging open.

This bastard! The curses bubbled up to the tip of my tongue, hot and ready to spill, but I was too flabbergasted to utter a single word.

Did he think I was lying? Did this lunatic actually believe that I had fabricated my diagnosis? Was that why he shredded it so brazenly in front of me?

If I opened my mouth now, I knew I would say something unforgivable, something along the lines of, Do you not believe me, you insane bastard?! So instead, I pressed my trembling lips tightly together and tried to rein in my anger. Calm down. Calm down. My head felt like it was burning, my thoughts spinning in heated frustration.

“You.”

The heat that had been boiling in my head vanished.

My mind went completely blank in an instant. What on earth was I looking at? Had my anger made me hallucinate? Or perhaps the witch who cursed me had decided to add a new layer of torment to her spell?

The sound of a chair scraping across the floor broke through my daze. The king stride toward me, closing the distance with long, purposeful steps. His hands, hands that had never before initiated contact with me gripped my shoulders firmly.

I didn’t even think to push him away. My eyes were glued to the translucent liquid streaming down his cheeks, glistening as it followed the sharp lines of his face, and the intensity in his gray eyes a color deeper and more vivid than his white hair.

“Are you really going to die?”

God, now I was hearing things, too. A trembling voice I had never heard before escaped the mouth of this tyrant I’d known for 15 years. Was the curse finally affecting my brain as well, now that my death was near?

“Answer me, Tei. Is it true? Are you dying?”

It had to be the witch. She must have added something to the curse.

In all the years I had been by his side, the king had only ever called me things like ‘hey,’ ‘you,’ ‘idiot,’ ‘fool,’ or ‘nag.’ Never once had he used my name or an affectionate nickname like ‘Tei.’

When did I become consumed by these hallucinations and auditory delusions? How could I break free from them?

Perhaps if I shook my head, the king’s usual expressionless face would reappear. I was about to test the theory when my entire body was suddenly shaken violently. Had I not reflexively planted my feet, I might have toppled over backward like a fool.

“Tei, Teian. Answer me. Tell me it’s a lie. Say you made it up because the work was too much for you. I’ll forgive you. Just tell me it’s not true…!”

The arms wrapped tightly around me were almost suffocating, their grip strong enough to knock the air from my lungs. That crushing embrace made one thing clear: this was neither a hallucination nor a delusion.

When the king, his forehead pressed against my neck, finally lifted his head, I saw it clearly. He was crying.

For the first time in 15 years, the king, my king, was crying because of me. Diver, who had once felt like a child who didn’t truly exist, was now the powerful king I had guided for years. Yet here he was, clinging to me in desperation, tears falling silently down his face.

It was a side of him I had never seen before: human, vulnerable, fragile. If I had witnessed this when he was 10 years old, perhaps I would have felt a kind of bittersweet joy. But seeing a grown man of 24, crying so openly because of me, only filled me with guilt.

Unable to return his embrace, as his grip was far too tight, I mustered the gentlest voice I could and said my final farewell to Diver.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I wish I could say it was a lie, but it’s the truth. I regret that I cannot stay by your side any longer. You have been the one and only king in my life. I truly admire you, with all my heart. That won’t change, even in death. Though I must leave your side like this, I will never forget the time I spent with you, not until the day I die.”

I could have answered curtly, but seeing this side of Diver for the first time, I couldn’t help but speak in a tone that was unlike my usual self.

And that, as it turned out, was something I should never have said to him.

This mad king who might as well be the spawn of a beast locked me up in the room adjoining his bedchamber immediately afterward.

*

I had foolishly assumed that showing my heartfelt admiration might make him accept my resignation.

How could I, who had spent 15 years observing him, have underestimated this damned king’s personality so completely? The bastard had hugged me tightly, summoned his knights, and had me thrown into the adjacent room to his bedroom.

The tears he had shed so mournfully, the strength in his arms as he held me, none of it had been driven by grief over my impending death. No, it was all a calculated move to keep me from running away.

Only when it was too late did I realize that his embrace wasn’t born of sorrow, but of a pragmatic desire to bind me, like a human chain, to ensure I wouldn’t escape before he could act.

And so, here I was, imprisoned by Diver as of yesterday. Since then, I hadn’t been able to set a single foot outside this room.

The first time I tried to leave, a knight blocked my path. On my second attempt, when I opened the door, I found two knights stationed outside, and I had to close it again without even uttering a word.

At first, it didn’t occur to me that this lunatic had imprisoned me. I had naively thought that he was simply overcome with emotion and wanted to have some final, heartfelt conversations before letting me go. So, without a care, I sat in the room, waiting for him to return.

It should have been a red flag when the maids brought me tea and meals while looking at me with pitiful eyes. But instead, I had leisurely eaten the snacks they served and spent my time reading books. Now, I wanted nothing more than to slap my past self across the face.

No, considering the thoughts I’d had about Diver while he was away attending to state affairs, I wanted to grab my past self by the collar and shake him senseless.

Back then, this was what I had thought about Diver.

I had thought foolish things like, ‘Even if he’s crazy, he’s still human,’ ‘Turns out he does have some humanity left,’ and ‘I’ve misjudged him; I should treat him well before I leave.’ To make matters worse, I had even resolved to offer him some words of encouragement before parting ways!

Past me was beyond salvation a hopeless idiot.

Had I realized at that moment that I was being imprisoned, I would have done whatever it took to escape. I would have thrown my resignation letter onto his desk and bolted straight out of the palace!

Would I be able to leave the palace in time?

Though I still had some time, my anxiety was growing.

I had to leave before my body gave out. Once my heart stopped, I would return to the form of a child, and before that happened, I needed to get to a place where no one could find me.

Whenever the day of the witch’s curse approached, I would retreat to a remote mountain cave, my cradle and tomb. There, I would die and be reborn in the body of a child.

In that cave lived the chimera I had painstakingly created back when I was still a mage. As a reborn child, I would be defenseless, so returning to the safety of my cave was a matter of survival.

My curse was both a source of fear and fascination for others. If anyone were to witness my rebirth, my transformation from a lifeless adult to a living child it wouldn’t take long for disaster to follow.

If word of my existence ever reached places like the Kingdom of Remable, where human nature could be particularly cruel, I would face horrors far worse than death. Being treated as a monster would be the least of it.

In an era where magic had waned to the point that conjuring a simple flame was considered a remarkable feat, and where relics of ancient magic were scavenged to advance magical engineering, my body capable of repeatedly dying and reviving would be seen as the ultimate specimen.

I had experienced something similar in the past, which made me all the more cautious.

Because of this, I had a strict rule: I never returned to a place where I had previously lived. Even though my appearance would regress to that of a child, my face would remain the same.

I had already decided never to return to the Emar Kingdom after this life ended. If, by some twist of fate, I ever did, it would only be after everyone who knew me had long since passed away.

There was a twinge of sadness in that thought. This life, among all the ones I had lived, had been the most enjoyable. I had formed bonds here, built relationships, and cherished moments I would never forget. But I couldn’t bear the thought of those same people treating me like a monster or an experiment.

While the palace physician had estimated I had six months left, I knew better. My body will give out exactly three months and one week from now.

Before then, I had to sort through my accumulated wealth, stash what I needed in the cave for my next life, and prepare for the inevitable.