Chapter 34
A familiar sense of helplessness washed over me.
That cold, sinking feeling of being pushed offstage—of my body no longer being mine.
And then came the voice I’d grown used to: Hilaria’s.
“Am I supposed to take responsibility for the friction that occurred in the Imperial Palace?”
“What did you say?”
“It sounds as if every conflict between those two factions within the palace falls under my jurisdiction.”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“How is it any different?”
Ah. We’re doomed.
I squeezed my eyes shut in my mind.
What difference was there between this and throwing oil on a fire?
At the same time Hilaria spoke, I saw the last flicker in the Emperor’s gaze extinguish—replaced by an icy, frozen stare.
“So that’s what you’ve truly been thinking, Duke?”
His lips twisted with disgust, the air grew colder, and the veins in his forearms looked ready to burst.
As I teetered on the edge of panic, the body I no longer controlled spewed out the kinds of sharp, calculated words Hilaria might say.
“How unfair, Your Majesty. How does an unfortunate accident that nearly injured my disciple equate to me driving Luiaas to his death? The actual accident…”
My eyes swept over the scene—frozen Awakeners, frantic Guides, magicians who’d lost control.
“…was everyone’s fault. Was it not?”
Those who met my gaze turned their eyes away in guilt, or clicked their tongues in exasperation at my cold demeanor.
Excuse me, I didn’t want to say any of that either, you know…
“And if you want to push responsibility that far, then perhaps the blame lies with Your Majesty.”
Kaisis narrowed his eyes and let out a hollow laugh.
“With your level of magic, you could have erased that energy with a flick of your fingers. You never intended to act in the first place. And now you say you’re the one being wronged?”
He raked a hand through his hair in frustration, grinding his teeth.
“This is what you call responsibility? So light it’s imperceptible.”
His gaze, I assumed, landed on Luiaas.
I couldn’t turn my head, but I was practically dancing in my mind in anxiety.
What kind of face is he making right now?
Kaisis glanced off somewhere, his eyes momentarily pained, before locking back onto me.
“If you never intended to protect him, you shouldn’t have brought the child here.”
It had been my request.
I had wanted to show the child the palace. That made it my responsibility.
But the cold-hearted Duke Ariel didn’t utter a single word in reply.
Kaisis’s expression began to crumple—like someone who had hoped for an excuse, and didn’t get one.
His fists clenched so tightly his joints popped.
“I must have been insane.”
He spat his next words with venom.
“This is who you truly are. That repulsive tone that makes people sick—I forgot how much I loathed it.”
“Your delusion is yours to enjoy freely, Your Majesty. I don’t know what you expected from me, but I regret to say—how unfortunate.”
“Duke! You truly—!”
“Yes, Your Majesty. Go ahead.”
“Ha…”
Truthfully, I was less worried about the Emperor’s rage than I was about the child who must be hearing all this.
I wanted nothing more than to run to him, hold his trembling shoulders, and tell him everything would be okay.
It’s not your fault. This isn’t happening because of you.
But Hilaria’s body, stolen by the system, showed no signs of comforting anyone. Instead, she continued to hurl cold remarks at the Emperor.
“Duke.”
The chill in his voice deepened until there wasn’t a shred of warmth left.
“Thank you.”
“For what, may I ask?”
Because I knew how warm and soft that gaze could be—how tender it could turn in an instant.
“For helping me see that it was all my delusion. I thank you—truly, bitterly.”
And I realized, with finality, that nothing about him was mine.
I was his adversary. His villain.
The enemy of the Awakeners. His rival.
“That’s enough for today, Duke. Leave. I don’t wish to see anything of yours—not your voice, not your gestures, not even your shadow!”
“Is that so?”
“There will be no report today. Nor will we hold the noble council. I’m in no mood for such things.”
He turned on his heel and walked away, decisive.
I watched his retreating figure, and despite the dull ache in my chest, the system-controlled body replied calmly:
“Very well. Then I shall leave with the magicians.”
I thought his back faltered for a second—maybe I imagined it.
He muttered a curse under his breath as he led the way.
Behind him, the Awakeners and Guides, uncertain and uneasy, rushed to follow.
I simply stared, exhausted by my own thoughts.
Fighting with the Emperor, exchanging venomous words—it should’ve been familiar.
‘It’s tiring. I’m so tired of this.’
And with that, I felt control of my body return.
My limbs, stiff as stone, began to warm and loosen.
“Ha…”
With a deep sigh, I turned toward Luiaas.
His head was bowed, small and still, unable even to lift his gaze.
“Luiaas.”
“…!”
My cold voice startled his tiny shoulders.
My chest twisted painfully.
I too had once been a Guide who lived by the exhausting awareness of others’ moods.
But for my own survival, I still couldn’t give comfort. I couldn’t offer him warmth.
‘I’m sorry… for being such a cowardly adult.’
There had definitely been a schemer.
If this plan had a rank, it would’ve been a disgraceful low-tier ploy.
But the factions were already so at odds that even the smallest spark had been enough to ignite disaster.
‘In the original story, my relationship with the Emperor was more hostile than this. That’s why he said he was disappointed.’
I remembered the novel’s few scenes with Emperor Kaisis and Duke Ariel—cold, sharp, as if they were mortal enemies.
Their words were poisoned arrows of scorn and contempt.
And his suspicions about me being associated with the Night Faction came from that same disgust.
‘Because in his eyes, I’m someone who would rather let him die than help him.’
But ever since I possessed this body, things had changed.
Subtle shifts. I, who remembered the events of the night, had begun speaking to him more casually.
There had even been small jokes exchanged.
Hope… and then disappointment.
Had this child, too, expected something from me?
“Luiaas.”
Still, I had to do this much.
I slowly knelt down in front of him to meet his gaze.
There was a gasp—not from the magicians, but someone else—but I didn’t turn around.
His head remained lowered. I placed a hand gently on his small shoulder.
And then I saw it.
My own hand, torn open by the Emperor’s ice, still bleeding heavily.
The pain returned like a slap.
‘God, it hurts.’
The boy slowly looked up.
Tears welled like a broken faucet, and I nearly laughed despite the situation.
I stared at his bright red nose and asked,
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head—fast and desperate.
He couldn’t speak, so his tiny head wobbled frantically.
I almost brushed his hair away with my bleeding hand, but hesitated.
Didn’t want to stain him.
Then the boy, seeing my hesitation, hurriedly grabbed both my hands.
He held the injured one carefully and began scribbling something with his fingers.
—Because of me.
Probably meant to say “I’m sorry.”
I clenched my hand into a fist.
Then lowered the bleeding one and gently brushed back his hair with the other.
“No.”
Tap.
I stood, watching his wide, startled eyes.
“Let’s go home.”
“…!”
It was all I could offer—crude and frustrating as it was.
But today, I had learned something brutally clear.
In front of the system, I was utterly powerless.
