Aya Ran Away - Chapter 11

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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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Chapter 11
It was the first question the King had posed to him since he had knelt upon the floor.
The voice, dense as fog and deeply settled, carried an ominous weight.
Whether hallucination or reality, a strange sound echoed with each word—as if fingernails were scraping across stone.
The attendants, standing motionless like still-life objects to avoid offending the King’s temper, trembled at their shoulders.
Now that he thought of it, all of the King’s attendants appeared to have changed.
It had been only days since the King had summoned and received him in audience.
“Answer me. I am curious what you think.”
The King, wearing a twisted smile, posed the question.
“I am the blade born for Revar, fashioned to serve Revar. My thoughts hold no consequence.”
“A hollow answer.”
Between the mockery, it seemed he could hear someone’s contemptuous laugh.
“You wish to flee.”
“I will not flee.”
Nahal replied in an even tone.
“My teacher never taught me how to run away.”
What he thought now, what his own impressions might be—these were not the matters at hand.
He had been given only impossible tasks, and he would see each one through.
“Your teacher was a fool.”
The King sneered at Nahal and leaned slightly against one armrest.
Then, as if conversing with many people at once, he began to mutter to himself.
“…No, no. That carries too great a risk.”
“Then is there another way?”
“…I do not fail to understand. But…”
“Yes, yes. My thoughts incline the same, though…”
“What if that …were found?”
The ceaseless muttering swelled and faded.
He grew excited and snapped out words, only to fall calm again—a cycle that repeated.
Even had all of this been feigned theatre, it would have seemed strange; but this King’s ravings were no performance.
Even the ever-composed Nahal looked up at the King in bewilderment.
The King’s wandering gaze, darting this way and that, suddenly fixed upon Nahal.
“…Are there still more?!”
The King’s cry pierced the air above Nahal’s bowed head.
Attendants rushed forward to restrain the King.
Nahal bowed lightly in obedience to the King’s command—”Disappear from my sight at once!”—and withdrew from the King’s Throne Hall.
Behind him came a brutal, rumbling sound.
Unmistakably the voice of a single man.
Nahal exhaled a long breath inwardly.
Whether the King had lost his mind or not, there was nothing Nahal could do about it.
One way or another, with the audience concluded, all the formalities had ended.
Now only remained to depart the capital with his companions.
“…General! The Crown Prince requests an audience with you.”
At that moment, a palace attendant who had hurried after him called him to a halt.
Unfamiliar with the title of General, Nahal’s pace slowed and stopped.
“I shall show you the way.”
Nahal gave a small nod, swallowing a weary sigh.
With a gesture he conveyed that the attendant should lead on; the courtier, bowing with excessive courtesy, set out at once.
Nahal walked in silence.
He proceeded for some time along a corridor, passing between buildings.
It was when he turned a corner and entered beneath a corridor that connected to yet another structure.
Nahal suddenly came to an abrupt halt.
His face showed genuine surprise as he slowly turned his head.
His gaze shifted toward the Palace Garden, and he narrowed his eyes as if to confirm something.
…It sounded as though he heard singing.
“Is something the matter, sir?”
The attendant guiding him asked carefully, but his words did not reach Nahal’s ears.
Nahal blinked his wide eyes slowly, trying to discern whether what he heard was a hallucination or real.
It was a mistake.
As always, it was a phantom sound born of deep fatigue and listlessness.
Yet despite this certainty, his feet seemed rooted to the ground, unable to move forward.
“Can you hear it too?”
Nahal murmured as if asking the empty air.
“Hear what, sir?”
The palace attendant tilted her head in confusion.
“Did you not just hear singing?”
Even as he asked, doubt crept into his voice.
The palace attendant, who had been watching Nahal come to an abrupt halt with a puzzled gaze, tilted her head as if to ask what he meant.
“Singing……”
Muttering to himself in that way, he suddenly stepped into the garden.
It was quick and sudden—no one had time to stop him.
He could hear voices behind him trying to hold him back, but it hardly mattered.
‘Could I meet her?’
The thought consumed his mind entirely.
It was that song—the one he’d searched for without fail, day after day.
One of the attendants hurrying after him suddenly gasped aloud.
“I hear it too. It sounds like a Hymn.”
A song the priests of the Temple sang.
Someone seemed to be humming it softly.
The melody was so faint it threatened to scatter on the wind.
He couldn’t tell if his head was spinning or if blood was draining from his face.
His heart began to race wildly.
He could feel the pulse even behind his eyes.
‘If I were to meet her……’
What would he even say?
He walked without hesitation, his steps betraying no uncertainty.
Even as the fragmented notes faded entirely, he knew where the sound had come from.
Yes.
He could know it even if he couldn’t see or hear it.
‘What should I say?’
Or rather, what should I ask?
His thoughts chased their own tails in succession.
At this point, his feet followed where his thoughts led.
Grass bent beneath Nahal’s relentless stride; his clothes grew soiled.
“……General!”
As someone cried out as if in alarm, something inside seemed to shatter with a tremendous crash.
“General!”
It was then that his senses suddenly snapped back into focus.
At the alarmed shouts of those around him, his gaze dropped—and there, directly ahead, lay a pond.
It didn’t look deep enough to drown in, but it would still have been embarrassing to fall in.
‘To be so lost in thought.’
He was startled at himself.
It felt as though he’d been enchanted by something.
Like waking from a vivid dream, bewilderment clung to him.
“A priest from the Temple visits from time to time. I believe they come and go from the Annex, which is not far from here.”
The attendant spoke as if the sound might have come from the Annex.
“Why would a priest visit the Annex?”
Nahal barely maintained his composure, his voice carefully restrained.
“The priest has a deep connection to the Princess—that is, they come to the palace often to help the Princess.”
The attendant, who had nearly misspoken, quickly corrected herself.
‘It might not be her.’
So he shouldn’t hope.
Even as he tried to steel his heart this way, the mere possibility made it race uncontrollably.
His breath caught in his throat, overwhelmed by surging anticipation.
“What is this priest’s name? I have something to verify with the Temple.”
Did his voice tremble as he spoke?
He couldn’t be sure of even that.
He only felt his hands trembling, vibrating with barely contained tension.
“As for the priest’s name……”
The attendant turned back, searching for someone who might know the priest’s name.
It was then that someone answered from behind.
“I am Yesili Kina.”
Nahal turned his head toward the voice and found a woman in clothes different from those of the palace attendants standing before him.
She regarded him with a composed expression and spoke.
“Were you looking for me?”
* * *
Aya paced the courtyard near the King’s Throne Hall, uncertain whether she should turn back.
The mere thought of crossing paths with the King sent a chill down her spine.
Yet she could not abandon her purpose, and so she wandered through the surrounding buildings like one tracing a circuit.
A few palace attendants cast sidelong glances, but none stepped forward to stop her.
Only a limited number of priests were permitted within the palace, and most of them had connections to those of high rank.
They held back out of caution—afraid that this priest might be intimate with someone of standing.
Relying on this tacit permission, Aya lingered at a distance from the King’s Throne Hall, watching and waiting for Nahal to emerge.
But no matter how long she waited, he did not appear.
The longer she waited, the more certain it became that he would not come out.
At that point, a thought occurred to her.
‘Has he already left?’

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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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