Chapter 17.
Rain, Tears, and the Desert (2)
“H-Huh? Together? Me too?”
“Yes. Is there a problem?”
At Ilena’s question, Regulus’s face turned red like it might explode.
“O-Of course, there’s no problem. I-I have no prejudice against such things! It’s just…”
Ilena blinked, staring at him.
‘What kind of situation is this?’
All she said was to have dinner together, and suddenly he’s talking about prejudice? Was he trying to say he didn’t have any bias against Northerners?
Ilena, confused, momentarily lost for words, just stared at him.
And Regulus’s already-handsome face only got redder.
The Black King, who had been watching them with clear displeasure, finally spoke.
“Regulus. You don’t look well. You may leave now.”
At the cold dismissal, Regulus hastily left, his face still flushed and stealing glances at Ilena.
‘Men of Riehu… I’ll never understand them.’
Ilena shook her head as she watched him go.
‘Men of Riehu… really impossible to understand.’
Ilena thought the same thing again over dinner.
The main course was a fish dish.
Since Riehu was an island nation, the Black King calmly explained, seafood cuisine was well-developed.
Well, she supposed he could explain it—up to that point, it was normal.
“…Your Majesty is unexpectedly considerate.”
Ilena muttered offhandedly.
She didn’t have much appetite, and she certainly didn’t feel like deboning a fish just to eat it.
So she halfheartedly picked at it, and then, without a word, he took her plate.
‘What, is he saying I shouldn’t eat if I’m going to do it like this? Stingy, for someone so rich.’
To her surprise, the Black King was carefully deboning the fish on her plate.
His knife skills were remarkably delicate.
“You’re unexpectedly meticulous.”
Ilena added, her gaze indifferent.
At her words, the Black King’s face turned pale.
‘Huh?’
Ilena turned from the neatly dismantled fish to look at him.
But when she looked closely, his face was as cold and stern as usual.
‘Did I imagine it?’
“What do you mean by that?”
he asked, looking like he might slit someone’s throat with the table knife.
“…Just what I said.”
“This is a tradition in Riehu. When a guest visits, deboning fish for them is etiquette.”
He said it with a glint of ice in his eyes, still holding the knife.
“Riehu has such unique traditions.”
Ilena replied flatly as she turned her attention back to the fish.
After a short pause, the Black King finished deboning and handed her the plate again.
‘Delicious.’
She took a forkful of the thick, tender fish, and it melted in her mouth with the sweet sauce.
Strangely, the Black King said nothing for the rest of the meal.
“I’ll escort you back to your residence.”
‘Really? That’s awkward…’
Ilena didn’t say it outright, but her displeasure was clear on her face.
The Black King, who had suddenly deboned fish for her, had remained silent like a clam ever since.
With no conversation during dinner, the awkwardness had nearly given her indigestion.
‘Then why did he even invite me to dinner? Was it some new form of torment?’
Surely by now he knew she wouldn’t cry that easily.
Ilena frowned.
Iago pretended not to notice her feelings on purpose.
‘Not today, huh.’
The truth was, he’d come to see her today because of Erther.
He wanted to make sure nothing had happened.
Erther had been so riled up yesterday, Iago thought he had already begun his “make the priestess cry” operation—but apparently not.
‘Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on her tomorrow too.’
That thought brought him a strange sense of delight.
‘Wait. Delight? Why?’
He should be feeling guilty about deceiving Erther, frustrated as a king for not fulfilling his duty…
‘Well, I am helping an innocent person avoid suffering. That’s good, isn’t it?’
Iago comforted himself with the thought.
‘Anyone would feel good doing a good deed. Yeah. That’s it.’
He glanced sideways at the priestess’s profile.
She was expressionless, eyes lowered.
Her long lashes half-covered her lemon-honey eyes like delicate lace curtains.
‘Her lashes are really long… What’s she thinking about? Maybe about me, even just a little?’
A cool breeze swept by, fluttering her sky-blue hair near her cheek.
Iago, oddly envious, stared at that hair like he was entranced.
He felt a sudden, inexplicable urge to touch that soft-looking cheek.
But she merely brushed her hair behind her shoulder with an indifferent motion.
That careless gesture stung, as if she had pushed him away.
They arrived at Ilena’s door just then.
Still lingering with a strange reluctance, Iago hesitated. Ilena’s typically nonchalant voice broke the silence.
“What’s this?”
Iago snapped out of his daze.
“That?”
At her door lay an envelope neither of them had seen before.
There was no seal or name on it.
‘No way…’
A chilling premonition flashed through his mind.
Before he could stop her, Ilena opened the envelope with her delicate hand.
Inside, something metallic gleamed coldly—he saw it clearly.
“Watch out!!”
Iago shouted and lunged at her.
Smack—!
His hand roughly knocked Ilena’s away.
A scattering of light metallic noises followed as something fell to the floor.
“Are these… tacks?”
Ilena cried out sharply.
Inside the envelope were sharp, pointed tacks.
“Who would leave something like this at my door…?”
She murmured, looking at the floor—then suddenly, a single drop of blood fell.
Ilena looked up in alarm.
Blood was dripping from the Black King’s index finger.
“You’re hurt!”
‘This was meant for me. He got hurt because of me.’
Ilena quickly grabbed his hand.
He flinched and pulled back in panic.
“H-Hey. That’s too close… This is nothing!”
“Ugh, just hold still for a second!”
Regardless of her depression, she hated the thought of others getting hurt because of her.
She leaned closer and tried to inspect his hand, but he kept backing away.
‘Who could have…? Wait. He got hurt instead of me. If he planned this, he would’ve known. So… is someone else trying to make me cry?’
If it was really an attempt on the priestess, would they have only used tacks? This wasn’t some schoolyard prank.
Her mind, trained in dirty schemes and trickery, immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.
‘What if the tips are poisoned?’
She hadn’t woken up for days after ingesting some sleeping herb on her way from the North.
She had to check the wound.
“Stop fussing! Just show me!”
‘Why is he being so dramatic? Does he hate me that much?’
Ilena snapped at him without realizing it.
“What’s so hard about showing me your finger? Just hold still.”
“I-I mean… That…”
Backed into a wall, the Black King froze.
Trapped with nowhere to go, he trembled.
“Now you’ll hold still.”
Ilena muttered, reaching around him and slamming a hand against the wall by his face—trapping him.
He was now caught in her arms, like he was in a wall-pinning scene from a romance.
This shouldn’t have been possible, given their height difference.
But the Black King’s knees had buckled, as if he lost strength.
‘His legs gave out from a few tacks? Suspicious.’
Ilena spoke seriously.
“There might be poison on the tacks. I have to check it now.”
“W-What? No, there’s no way…!”
“How do you know that?”
“I mean, no one would go that far…”
He looked away, mumbling.
“Oh no. He’s showing symptoms.”
Ilena looked down at him with a grave expression.
His face was red, his breathing uneven.
Gone was his usual cold, commanding demeanor—he was flustered, stammering like a completely different person.
She made up her mind, her face the picture of resolve.
“I have to suck it out before the poison spreads.”
“W-What?! W-With your mouth? No way…”
The Black King, uncharacteristically, stammered.
If he hated the idea, he could easily push her away—but instead, he just trembled, arms pulled in like a scared rabbit.
His eyes even shimmered slightly with tears.
‘Damn it. Who… Who could’ve done this to him? This has to be a serious neurotoxin, messing with his mind.’
The human brain is delicate. If damaged, it could be beyond recovery—even with advanced medical treatment.
Ilena couldn’t stand by and let someone become permanently impaired because of her.
“Don’t resist. I’ll be gentle.”
Ilena roughly grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips.
“N-No! Don’t… do… ah!”
The Black King’s pitiful plea turned into a faint, strange moan.
