Chapter 65
The Foreseen End
“Ah, she’s already gone. I wanted to see her a little longer,” Yvette said regretfully, holding a basket of pastries and bread.
The shaman had already disappeared.
“A real shaman… Of course, there’s a skilled shaman in the Empire too, but still, a shaman from Trinidad? That’s something truly amazing. For someone like me, this might be a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”
As Yvette mumbled with disappointment, Lasilia gently patted the back of her hand.
“I should’ve told her to wait a bit.”
“Oh, I’m being so childish. No, please don’t say that, Your Majesty. It’s only because you treat me so kindly that I keep letting my guard down. I’ll be more careful from now on.”
Yvette’s startled reaction no longer felt strange.
“It’s alright. You know I wasn’t born into royalty, right?”
“Oh, don’t say that! You’re His Majesty’s only consort—of course, you’re our Empress!”
Though Yvette spoke firmly, she shyly glanced at Lasilia and asked hesitantly:
“Um… I mean, would it be alright if I, well… spoke a bit more casually with you? No, wait—that’s not right. That would be improper… But maybe just a little more… friendly? Ah, even that sounds rude. What should I say?”
“Friendly sounds nice. Please speak to me that way. I like it too.”
“Ugh… I can’t believe I’m hearing this in my lifetime.”
Yvette took Lasilia’s hand, which had been patting hers, and gently pressed her cheek against it.
“Is it really okay for me to do something like this? Honestly, I was a bit envious of Lady Len…”
“As long as it’s not too often.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll try to restrain myself. But really, holding your hand like this—it feels so warm and soft… Oh, is it odd for me to say such a thing?”
Yvette laughed sheepishly and released her hand.
“Piiiii.”
At that moment, Pipi flew in with sleepy eyes from the bedroom.
Pipi had various sleeping spots, one of which was the middle drawer of Lasilia’s vanity. Lasilia had emptied it out and filled it with soft fabric to create a bed for Pipi.
“He says he’s sleepy and wants to go to bed now.”
Lasilia spoke to Yvette while receiving Pipi in her arms.
“Oh, he’s been sleepy all day. I noticed he was always napping whenever I didn’t see him.”
“Piii.”
“He says he used a lot of energy today, so he’s tired.”
“Ah, I see.”
Lasilia stroked the half-closed eyes of drowsy Pipi.
“Why don’t you go on ahead and sleep in the bed? I need to wash up and change.”
“Piiiii.”
Leaving a faint “hurry back” in his tone, Pipi fluttered back toward the bedroom.
No doubt he would be sprawled right in the middle of the bed.
“Then I’ll prepare your bath and nightclothes, Your Majesty,” Yvette said, jumping to her feet.
“Alright. Thank you.”
“Oh, it’s nothing.”
✦ ✦ ✦
Now that there was no need to hide the mark, bathing had become easier.
After a long carriage ride, Lasilia soaked herself in the bath.
Yvette, delighted with a new soap, enthusiastically helped wash her.
The clean scent of soap mingling with the warm water was pleasant even to Lasilia.
She reclined in the tub and let her head fall back.
“This is such luxury.”
When she had been a prophet, this kind of indulgence had been unthinkable.
There was no bathtub—only a well inside the temple from which water had to be drawn.
Even washing alone was considered indulgent. Prophets shared cold water with the Dreamers. Summer was bearable, but in winter, the icy water stung so much it brought tears.
“Now that I think of it, the temple was actually quite wealthy. So why did I think it was normal to live without a tub?”
In Delarta, the temple was second only to the royal family in terms of wealth. With healers among their ranks, they had a constant influx of donations.
It had practically felt like a business.
Even as a child, Lasilia had questioned it—and frequently argued with the High Priest.
But as a prophet locked in a windowless room dreaming all day, there wasn’t much she could do.
She had prayed for a prophecy condemning the temple’s money-making schemes. It never came.
“It still makes me angry.”
Even as a prophet, there was nothing Lasilia could have, nothing she could do.
The temple merely locked her away in a room to dream.
The one who used those dreams to make money was the High Priest.
“Why didn’t I realize I was imprisoned back then?”
The answer was simple.
She hadn’t known any better.
From the earliest memories she had, she had been a prophet—
And that memory began in that dark, windowless room called the Prophet’s Chamber.
She had been very small and frightened of the dark when left alone.
She remembered yearning desperately for someone—
The one who left her for a while and always returned.
“…Nanny.”
Splash!
Startled, Lasilia flinched and water sloshed over the edge of the tub.
She shot up.
“There was a nanny.”
She had called that person nanny—not a Dreamer, but nanny.
“A nanny… in the temple? Then…”
How could a non-clergywoman live in the temple?
“…But then, I’m the same.”
She was a child, barely able to speak.
Her nanny had taught her to read.
“Even if it’s difficult, you must learn. There might not be anyone left to teach you after I’m gone.”
The nanny’s voice echoed in her mind.
“It’s not just reading. No one will teach you how to eat properly, or how to walk. You’ll have to learn it all on your own. That’s why you need to know how to read.”
The more she recalled, the paler Lasilia’s face became.
Nothing made sense.
Why had a small child been living in the temple?
When the nanny was around, Lasilia hadn’t been a prophet yet.
Of course—how could a toddler who could barely speak deliver prophecies?
And the nanny wasn’t a Dreamer either. If she had been, Lasilia would never have called her nanny.
“One day, the nanny disappeared… Yes. And after that, I think I started dreaming.”
She had a dream, and told someone about it.
She remembered the High Priest’s bewildered face as he interrogated her.
From that moment, Lasilia became a prophet.
Which meant she hadn’t always been one.
“I was in the Prophet’s Chamber even before I became a prophet, wasn’t I?”
It had no windows. No mirrors.
The room was always dark. No bathtub, no washroom.
The High Priest had said it was because prophets should not be distracted by what they could see.
“But that’s not true. I was already there before I had any visions.”
She had been imprisoned—
Without even realizing it.
And she still didn’t know why her nanny had disappeared.
Some things the nanny said were true. Others weren’t.
After she became a prophet, the clergy had begun teaching her about the world: history, geography, the political state of nations, royal lineages, noble houses.
All for prophecy, they said.
But as the nanny warned, no one had taught her how to hold a spoon, wash herself, brush her long hair, or care for her sick body.
Those things were left to the Dreamers.
They brought her food and clothes—
Which were always bland and humble.
The ever-burning incense in her dark room made her sleepy.
Back then, none of it had seemed strange.
Only now did she see it clearly.
“What happened to me… Where did I come from?”
As she furrowed her brow, trying to chase the truth memory couldn’t provide—
Ssssshhhhh…
A small whirlpool formed in the bubbly bathwater.
“…!”
Lasilia bolted upright.
The whirlpool, churning as if to swallow the entire tub, suddenly stopped.
Not a single drop spilled.
It was as if that space had been cut out and separated into another dimension.
From within the ominous purple vortex, a voice echoed:
“Do you want to know?”
She couldn’t speak.
She wanted to scream, but her voice wouldn’t come out.
All she could do was stare as if being pulled into it.
“I’ll tell you. Where you came from.”
Tell me who you are first.
Who are you to say such things?
“You were born from the vilest and most despicable form of human greed.”
What…?
“They coveted something no human should possess. And they used their petty shamanic tricks to conceal it.”
What are you saying?
What did I covet?
“The price of that greed is coming due.”
What price?
“You cannot have him. The power you used will be shattered, and the man you bound will break free and bring you to your end.”
Who?
What binding?
What did I do wrong?
“When that time comes, I’ll take your body. I’ll bury you in an eternal darkness where not even a god can resurrect you.”
Who are you?
Who the hell are you to do that?!
“…to do that!”
Lasilia screamed, forcing her voice out as if expelling the words invading her mind.
Splash!
The whirlpool vanished.
“Haah… haah…”
She clutched her chest, gasping.
Her hands trembled. She wasn’t physically hurt, but she felt utterly violated.
It felt like she had dipped one foot into that eternal darkness the voice had spoken of.
“The end… What does it mean?”
She whispered, ignoring the burning in her throat.
And then, something returned to her.
“If this is love… then I don’t want it.”
The golden eyes that had watched her as she died—
Cold and detached.
That had been the vision shown to her by the god.
Her foreseen end.
