CHAPTER 35
The room was dim and quiet except for the soft rustle of fabric and Sihyun's labored breathing. He lay curled under thick covers, his skin flushed with heat, faint flickers of red still glowing in his closed eyes. A damp cloth rested on his forehead, while Yuhyun sat beside the bed, calmly wringing out another towel in cool water.
Muwon stood not far from them, arms crossed, but his gaze had not left Sihyun for even a second. His expression was unreadable, the weight of helplessness pressing against his chest.
"He's still burning,"
Muwon muttered, voice tight.
"Does he always… go through this when a tattoo manifests?"
Yuhyun didn't answer right away. He gently pressed the cool towel against Sihyun's neck and finally looked up at the prince, his voice soft but laced with quiet frustration.
"Yes. Every time."
Muwon's brows drew together.
"How many times have you…?"
"This is the nineteenth,"
Yuhyun said, his tone matter-of-fact but his eyes heavy with emotion.
"I've been through all of them with him."
There was a pause. Muwon's throat tightened as he looked at the fragile, fevered figure in bed.
"I've seen him scream, burn, shake, and nearly lose his mind each time one of those marks comes alive,"
Yuhyun continued, folding the towel with care.
"I've watched him claw the walls just to stay conscious… and I've stayed beside him every time."
He dipped the cloth again. His voice lowered further, almost to a whisper.
"I don't like it. Not just because it hurts to see him like this… but because every time he's like this, some part of me is missing."
Yuhyun's hand paused in the water, trembling slightly.
"If he dies, I think I'd die too."
Silence followed. Heavy. Pressing.
Muwon's gaze fell to the floor. That simple confession hit harder than he'd expected. He clenched his fists by his side.
"I didn't know…"
he murmured.
"You cared for him that deeply."
He looked at Sihyun again—vulnerable, burning, fragile. A prince with power but no way to protect the person in front of him. And for the first time, Muwon felt it…
Jealousy.
Not because Yuhyun had been by Sihyun's side all this time.
But because Sihyun let him.
By morning, the palace halls stirred with whispers.
Servants walked lightly, their voices hushed behind sleeves. From the kitchens to the outer courtyards, murmurs floated like smoke:
"The Demon Sorcerer is sick…?"
"Is it true? I thought sorcerers didn't get ill—aren't they like gods?"
"If he's weak now… what does that mean for the prince?"
The guards heard it too. Even a few lower nobles had begun speculating. Some out of curiosity. Some with ill intentions.
Muwon stood at the head of the council hall, the air tense around him. A few of his most trusted guards stood close, sensing his darkening mood.
He had just returned from checking on Sihyun—still burning hot, still unconscious. And now, this.
"I don't want to hear another whisper,"
he said sharply, his voice slicing through the quiet.
The heads of those in the room bowed instinctively.
"Anyone caught spreading rumors about the sorcerer's condition—even a whisper—will answer to me directly."
One of the guards shifted uneasily.
"Your Highness, some of the nobles are concerned—"
"I don't care what they're concerned about,"
Muwon snapped, his eyes gleaming with cold fire.
"They don't understand him. They fear him. And fear breeds foolish talk."
He stepped forward, his voice firm and unwavering.
"Sihyun is under my protection. I don't care what they call him—Demon Sorcerer, cursed, threat. If protecting him is the only thing I ever do right, then I'll still die satisfied."
The room fell into a dead silence.
No one dared speak.
Muwon turned, his robe sweeping behind him as he strode out.
He wasn't just protecting Sihyun's name.
He was drawing a line.
And everyone knew—crossing it would be a mistake.
When word reached the king's ears of what the crown prince had said—his sharp warning to silence the rumors and his vow to protect the Demon Sorcerer—the old monarch sat quietly in his private chamber, the flames of the brazier casting wavering shadows on his expressionless face.
The advisor who delivered the report bowed low, unsure of how the king would react.
But the king did not erupt in anger. He did not question or shout.
He only chuckled—soft, quiet, but laced with disbelief.
"…That boy,"
the king murmured, setting down his tea.
"The cursed child I raised to become the coldest blade in my hand… now shielding a sorcerer?"
He rose from his seat slowly, his aged hands clasped behind him as he walked to the open window, the breeze gently shifting his robes.
"A Demon Sorcerer at that,"
he added, more to himself.
"The same beings we've spent decades wiping out… One of them placed a mark on Muwon when he was just a child, and now he stands beside another willingly?"
There was no fury in his voice.
Only awe. And suspicion.
"…Perhaps the boy isn't entirely to blame."
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"This sorcerer—Sihyun… He may have placed some sort of spell on him. There is no other explanation."
The advisor hesitated.
"Shall we investigate, Your Majesty?"
"No. Not yet."
The king's gaze darkened, lost in thought.
"Let's watch how far this spell runs its course."
And though he said no more, a single thought echoed in his mind:
If Muwon's heart truly leans toward the sorcerer…
…then this kingdom may burn from the inside out.
Muwon stepped quietly into his quarters, the air thick with heat from Sihyun's fevered body. The room was dim, lit only by the faint glow from a lantern and the steady shimmer of Sihyun's glowing eyes beneath his lashes.
"Is he still unconscious?"
Muwon asked, his voice low.
Yuhyun, seated at Sihyun's bedside with a damp cloth in hand, simply nodded slowly without looking up. He was gently wiping the sweat from his brother's brow, eyes sharp with quiet concern.