Aya Ran Away - Chapter 10

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 10
Even Bardal found himself momentarily staggered by that intensity.
There was only one thing capable of turning Nahal’s indifferent head—only one subject that could ignite his passion.
Bardal knew it well enough, yet there was nothing he could do about it.
“If you’re dead, it’s over. Then who repays the debt?”
In that instant, Bardal realized he had seized the advantage.
The ease that had lingered in Nahal’s expression was finally beginning to fracture.
Nahal fell silent for a long time.
“……Nothing changes just because you stand together.”
The words he finally managed were fragile as air, ready to scatter with the slightest touch.
Bardal let out a hollow laugh.
“And you’ll stop volunteers from enlisting?”
He tilted his chin up with a confidence so absolute it bordered on arrogance.
Nahal at last raised the white flag.
“Fine. I’ve no power to stop moths hurling themselves at the flame, not even if I tried.”
Only after hearing the confirmation did Bardal’s face brighten.
He smiled with relief and gave Nahal’s shoulder a light tap.
Bardal, who had walked beside Nahal since childhood, had always allowed himself such unguarded moments.
“Knew it. I knew you’d put up a fight first.”
Nahal brushed away Bardal’s hand before it could ruffle his hair and grasped the door handle.
Bardal watched shadow cross that strikingly handsome face and spoke with deliberate cheer.
“See you at supper!”
Nahal shook his head as if sick of such shamelessness.
* * *
“I need some air. I’ll be back shortly.”
Nahal rose as he spoke.
A few drunkards lurched to their feet to restrain him, but Nahal moved far more swiftly.
He walked for some time without direction.
Breaking free from the clamor of drunken voices, he let his mind settle into quiet.
Soon the sound of people faded, and stillness returned.
The only noise that reached him was the faint chirring of insects.
That had been quite a raucous supper.
Though he hadn’t drunk heavily, something in the atmosphere had intoxicated him—his stomach churned uneasily.
The faces of those soon to be sent into the battlefield seemed far too bright, too unshadowed.
“Thank you for trusting us!” they had cried, and he could find no words with which to answer.
He could not match the trust and affection they showed him.
Because in this coming battle, many of them would die.
That was what the king desired.
Feeling cool wind brush his cheeks, Nahal walked into the Temple courtyard.
His robe brushed against wild grasses, rustling softly.
His hand, rough and weathered, gently touched the leaves of a mulberry tree planted for ornament.
Beneath the white moonlight, the back of his hand was covered thickly with scars both great and small.
This was a place he loved dearly.
It saw few visitors even within the Temple, and it held for him old memories he could never forget.
Above the great tree at the courtyard’s center, white moonlight fell like a cascade.
The tree’s shadow wavered across the ground like rippling water.
Nahal exhaled a long breath and stroked the massive trunk.
“Sigh……”
For some time now, he had always stood in the heart of the battlefield.
He had endured moments of cruelty where humans seemed more repellent than demons.
Thrust into wasteful wars, he had hunted demons and been first to answer the call whenever bandits threatened the borders.
Behind each fleeting surge of exhilaration came a tide of deep exhaustion.
His tattered body sometimes felt like parched, crumbling earth.
There were days when pain seized him so wholly he feared he might collapse and shatter into pieces.
Yet each time, a certain voice had given him strength to endure.
Nahal lived for the sake of hearing that voice once more.
“Where are you now……”
He recited one of the prayers he had memorized.
“A wretched sinner, lost in darkness, cries out in anguish……”
The wind passed through his hair.
“Have mercy, I beg you. Do not abandon this wretched soul.”
* * *
‘Hmm…….’
Aya sat propped against the headboard, studying the jewelry box intently.
She tried to estimate the worth of the meager handful of gems by sight alone.
‘Is this one the most…… valuable? Could this be the most expensive?’
But she had never bought or sold jewels before, so how could she possibly tell what was precious and what was not?
When the King sent gifts, she simply accepted them gracefully; she’d never truly examined them closely.
‘I should have listened better when Chipor was chattering away about it.’
The more she looked, the more confused she became, and doubt only multiplied.
‘Surely the largest one has to be the best, doesn’t it?’
Aya selected one of the gems and drew it out.
It was a ring set with an opal the size of a pebble.
Whatever else might be true, the lustrous sheen unmistakably marked it as a fine piece.
‘It’s beautiful.’
It gleamed with a radiance that put her own ashen eyes to shame.
Aya stood gazing at it, lips parted slightly, until she heard footsteps—then hastily rolled the ring into her inner sleeve.
To be safe, she pocketed a few more pieces of jewelry as well.
Then, feigning innocence and looking away, she quietly reached down and locked the jewelry box.
“Your Highness?”
It was Yesili.
“What were you fussing about so intently?”
Aya shook her head as though it were nothing.
“You asked me to let you know when Nahal enters the palace.”
At Yesili’s words, Aya nodded vigorously.
Before he left, he had made it clear he would come to meet the King. So Aya had been waiting for the moment Nahal entered the palace.
“He’s supposed to enter today. If you go to the Main Palace, you should be able to encounter him.”
‘Where in the Main Palace?’
Aya was about to ask, when she suddenly understood the answer and her face grew troubled.
‘He must have gone to the Royal Throne Hall.’
She had no courage to venture that far. And yet she absolutely had to meet Nahal today.
While Aya wrestled with this dilemma, Yesili laid a garment across the bed.
“And this is a Priest’s Robe. This is what you asked for, isn’t it?”
Aya nodded.
In her ordinary clothes, moving about the palace would draw unwanted attention.
As for palace attendant dress—it covered half the face and extended to the ankles, making one conspicuous in any setting.
Moreover, palace attendants could be subject to random inspections, making that option far more dangerous.
But priests could claim prayer and ritual as pretexts, giving them a measure of freedom from inspections and surveillance.
Aya pulled the robe over her shoulders.
She tucked the jewels into a pocket in the sleeves and took hold of the staff.
Yesili stood quietly, watching her transform.
‘I’ll be back soon.’
Aya waved her hand gently and slipped slowly from the room.
As her figure receded through the open doorway, Yesili murmured softly to herself.
“……You look good.”
* * *
“I thought you’d run.”
The King murmured this, watching Nahal kneel in the Royal Throne Hall.
Rebar’s “most valiant warrior” was crouched low, like a cornered beast.
A thin shaft of light that had slipped through seemed to pass over his shoulders.
And the evil spirits that had been crawling toward Nahal like tentacles attached to his flesh were visibly charring and withering away.
The King made no attempt to conceal his displeasure.
He summoned an attendant and began to drawl on meaninglessly, wearing down the resolve of the man who knelt unmovingly before him.
It was punishment in all but name.
Just as Nahal was beginning to feel the strain of this one-sided war of nerves.
The attendant, who had been speaking all this while, was the first to falter, and misspoke.
“Thus……ah, um…….”
His concentration wavered—or perhaps he bit his own tongue—and his words tangled.
The King, his expression hardening slightly, dismissed the attendant with a wave of his hand.
“Your Majesty! Have mercy! Your Majesty!”
The attendants standing behind him seized both his legs and dragged him out across the floor.
Something between a scream and a plea echoed through the palace, sharp and terrible.
Does the king truly take a life so lightly—over a bitten tongue?
Nahal raised his eyes upward, turning the thought over in his mind.
The king regarded human life as weightless.
Far more so than one who had walked the battlefields and survived.
“……Do you truly believe I sent you there with the intention of taking your life?”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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