Chapter 23
The Things That Comfort the Night (1)
Ilena absentmindedly scooped up a handful of rough sand.
“This must be part of their ‘Make the Priestess Cry’ plan too, right?”
First it had all been silly little tricks, but suddenly the difficulty level spiked like this?
“So… it really was just a ploy to get me to lower my guard until now.”
She should have known better than to trust anyone. And yet, even after being deceived, over and over… had she still longed for human warmth?
“What am I, an idiot?”
She felt like a stray puppy—pelted with stones and kicked around—panting happily just to trail after someone.
A strange lump rose in her throat.
But still, no tears came.
“Ha… I must really be broken.”
If only it would rain instead.
“I’m so thirsty…”
Even with dark clouds blanketing the sky, no rain fell. The desert sand radiated hot, humid air.
It felt like she was trapped in a sauna.
Dragging her feet weakly, Ilena soon came upon a small rock.
She crouched beneath it in solitude.
A dry, sandy wind blew.
No map, no compass, nothing.
She had no ability to make it rain right now.
‘So this is how I die.’
The thought of dying was frightening… yet oddly, there was also a sense of relief.
‘Maybe… I already died in that office.’
Wasn’t it usually after death that people found themselves inside a novel?
It wouldn’t have been surprising if she had died from overwork.
Back then, she’d been trying to pay off a debt of 120 billion won, sleeping less than three hours a night, barely eating.
When she thought maybe she really had died… she’d actually felt a little relieved.
Then, when she opened her eyes again on this island, she’d been slightly disappointed.
Perhaps that’s why she’d burned out the moment she possessed Ilena’s body.
‘I just… want to rest.’
I’m exhausted.
Ilena closed her eyes again.
“Did you take care of it?”
A deep, subdued voice—Utter’s—echoed in the dark room.
His face had grown noticeably gaunt in just one day.
“Of course. Do you take me for the kind of man who makes mistakes?”
The bearded man gave a rough laugh.
“…Right. You don’t make mistakes. That’s why I entrusted you with it.”
Utter’s brow furrowed bitterly.
“You’re sure you left her close enough to the capital? Within walking distance for a woman alone?”
His tone was anxious as he asked again.
The man nodded.
“Of course. If she were born and raised in the desert, she could read the skies and get out from there anytime.”
“Wait. What did you just say?”
Utter’s head snapped up, his voice urgent.
“If she were born and raised in the desert…”
“Damn it!” Utter suddenly swore violently.
“No! She wasn’t raised in the desert!”
“What? You never told me that, my lord!”
The man’s tone was full of protest.
Utter bit his lip hard, his face going pale.
‘My mistake. Of course he wouldn’t have known the priestess was from the North.’
What now?
How was he supposed to fix this?
The sun was already setting. Desert nights were bitterly cold.
Just as Utter was spiraling into panic—
“What… did you just say?”
A low, chillingly soft voice came from behind.
Utter jumped as if burned, trembling as he turned around.
“Y-Your Majesty…”
Even in the dark, Iago’s eyes glinted coldly like those of a wild beast.
He asked again, in a voice soft enough to make the skin crawl,
“Utter, I asked—what did you say?”
“T-that is…”
Utter’s lips quivered as he explained the situation.
He knew well—his king only grew calmer the angrier he became.
“I-I just left the priestess… in the western desert… I thought I’d make her struggle for maybe half a day, a day at most—”
“Utter!!”
The thunderous roar slammed into the room.
The pressure was so overwhelming that everyone in the room dropped flat to the floor.
Out of the corner of his eye, Utter saw the assassin kneeling beside him trembling all over.
‘His Majesty may be gentle and mild by nature… but he is still the King of Rihu.’
On the battlefield—or in anger—he was more terrifying than anyone.
When he lost himself and swung his sword like a ghost, even Utter, who had known him since childhood, felt his blood run cold.
“…It’s all my fault. Please kill me, Your Majesty.”
Utter pressed his forehead to the floor, his voice heavy with despair.
The reply came, icy and furious, from above.
“I’ll deal with you both when I return. Prepare my horse at once!”
Utter shot up and tried to stop him.
Even if he were to die, he was still the king’s vassal.
“Your Majesty! I’ll send out a search party! Heading into the desert alone at night is suicide!”
His hands trembled, but his voice rang with loyalty.
“Utter.”
A cold face. An unyielding tone.
“Then what of the priestess, alone in this desert?”
At times like this, there was no stopping him.
Iago burst from the palace, mounted his black horse, and spurred it into the night.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!”
Utter called after him in anguish.
How was he supposed to know where she might be in the vast desert?
Without even a waterskin, how could one person find another out there?
‘What have I done…?’
Utter sank to the floor, crushed by despair.
‘It was like a sauna in the day…’
The desert night was bitterly cold.
In a thin dress that revealed her silhouette, Ilena’s teeth chattered uncontrollably.
She still crouched beneath the rock.
She wanted to move, to find some solution, but it was impossible.
‘The weather was fine—so where did this sandstorm come from?’
Suddenly, a whirlwind of sand blasted through the desert.
It was so fierce she couldn’t take a single step outside the shelter of the rock.
‘Could it be… because of me?’
Her emotions affected the weather.
Ilena stared blankly into the storm from under the rock.
What she felt now wasn’t quite the heavy gloom or lethargy of dark clouds.
‘Then what is this feeling?’
She had learned from birth how to make money and deal with people—but not how to understand her own emotions.
‘No one ever taught me.’
Or maybe… she had been the one to push others away.
Pretending to be strong, to be fine on her own, to not be lonely.
‘If my heart is like this sandstorm, no one can find a place to rest by my side.’
Her thoughts kept growing weaker, more fragile.
Depression pulled her mind into darker currents.
It felt like the sadness, the loneliness, the harsh reality… were all her fault.
‘If that’s true… then maybe I should just…’
She buried her face deeper between her knees.
That’s when—
“Ilena!!”
Someone was calling her name.
“…Black King?”
Was she dreaming? Ilena dazedly lifted her head.
Through the whirling sandstorm, a man’s silhouette emerged.
Black hair whipping wildly. Beautiful violet eyes.
It was the Black King.
He ran straight through the storm and, upon seeing her, swept her into a fierce embrace.
Then, as if to confirm she was real, his hands moved urgently over her from head to toe.
“Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere?”
“N-no…”
He exhaled a long breath of relief, holding her as if she might break.
“It’s alright… You’re safe now… Haa… you’re safe.”
‘Safe? I’m… not going to die?’
“I’m safe? I’m… safe now?”
Ilena asked vacantly against his chest.
“Yes. I’m here now. You’re safe… you’re safe.”
His large hand stroked her hair over and over.
At those words, warmth suddenly spread through her chilled body.
‘Ah… warm…’
Only now did she truly feel the vivid heat of his body against her skin.
In that solid, warm embrace, Ilena closed her eyes and passed out.
The sandstorm subsided.
As if the violent winds had been a lie, the night sky was perfectly clear.
“Was it affected by the priestess’s emotions…?”
Iago recalled the sight of her, shivering, trapped in a storm of her own making.
If she’d been stuck in the desert since daylight, she must have been parched—so why hadn’t she made it rain?
And what was that sandstorm, anyway?
He looked down at her sleeping face in his arms.
Could it be…
“She doesn’t know how to control her power?”
If so, everything began to make sense.
Why the North had kept her hidden away for ten years, only to trade her for a single mine.
Why she’d been oddly friendly toward their enemy, the Kingdom of Rihu.
Why she’d suddenly given him a business idea.
But why had she hidden it until now?
“Well… I have plenty of things I don’t care to talk about, myself.”
In any case, the truth could wait.
First, he had to get her somewhere safe.
He lifted her small body with ease.
His horse had bolted at the storm, leaving him on foot.
‘Foolish… I didn’t even bring a waterskin.’
She likely hadn’t had a drop of water all day.
In this dry desert, she needed water quickly.
He lifted his gaze to the night sky.
There—the Big Dipper.
If he headed north from there, he’d reach an oasis.
‘That’s where I’ll go.’
Once his direction was set, he moved without hesitation.
The deep sand sapped one’s strength with every step, yet even carrying a person in his arms, there was no hint of fatigue about him.
His endurance was astonishing.
After walking for who knew how long, even he began to breathe a little heavier.
And then, at the edge of the endless sand, a welcome splash of green peeked into view.
An oasis.
“We made it.”
Reinvigorated, he quickened his pace—careful not to wake the woman in his arms.
