The Wind Calms the Fire - Chapter 16

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

Episode 16
A secret chamber beneath the Official Residence.
In the narrow, soundproofed room sat only a small table and two chairs positioned to face one another.
Governor Markel, dragged here by soldiers after being seized from his bed, sat calmly in front of the table.
In truth, he hadn’t been sleeping at all—he’d been waiting for his men.
When the soldiers entered his quarters, he’d already sensed that something had gone wrong, and he’d come without resistance.
At the sound of the door opening, he turned his gaze.
The Commander-in-Chief entered with his three closest aides.
Markel smiled crookedly as he spoke.
“My, my, Commander. A bolt from the blue in the middle of the night—I haven’t a clue what this is about. You needn’t have gone to such trouble; a subtle word would’ve sufficed and I’d have sorted it out myself. What’s the problem? What is it you want?”
Carrion pulled up a chair and sat.
He set down what he’d brought with a deliberate thud on the table.
Markel’s eyes flickered.
Before him lay a charred Spear Blade.
“I’ve secured physical evidence and testimony. Let’s not tire ourselves with needless games.”
The smile slowly drained from Markel’s face.
His gaze on the Spear Blade grew complicated.
He exhaled deeply, then spoke again, his expression deliberately lightened.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Governor.”
“Ah, yes. I confess. I had expenses, so I skimmed a bit off the top. In the process, I did meddle with military supply contracts. By your standards, Commander, that makes me a criminal.”
Markel had held one thing in reserve.
He’d always known discovery was possible.
He’d even prepared an excuse for such a moment.
They’d agreed that whoever was caught at the scene would claim they’d sold goods to black-market merchants on the governor’s orders.
And indeed, Markel had traded with black-market merchants.
The rare medicinal herbs he’d obtained through Wae Gyeongmin Smuggling, he’d sold off to them.
His mind raced, calculating which connections might smooth this over.
‘If the Fourth Prince is behind this, I’ll need someone of equivalent rank to bury it. The Second Prince commands the Southwest, so he can’t intervene in the Northeast. They say the Third Prince has connections everywhere and things work smoothly through him. The First Prince handles things decisively, but he’d demand a steeper price.’
“I didn’t say it, Governor. I said I’ve secured testimony. Wae Gyeongmin Smuggling.”
Markel’s composure cracked in an instant.
His lips trembled as he forced them upward.
“If this matter is brought to superiors, they’ll dispatch investigators to Poema. Once they begin tearing through the entire region, it’s only a matter of time before everything comes to light.”
Markel gasped as if frozen, then lurched to his feet.
Luke, standing behind Carrion, thought Markel was attacking his master and moved to intervene before hesitating.
Markel crawled on his knees toward Carrion and grabbed his legs.
“Your Highness. This was my doing alone. My subordinates only obeyed orders. I lost my mind to greed and committed folly. Your Highness, please, I beg you, show mercy. It was my doing alone—truly. I have vast stores of wealth hidden away. Gold, jewels, smuggling ledgers—I’ll surrender everything.”
Even without the clue about Wae Gyeongmin Smuggling that Leah had provided, Carrion would have discovered the truth eventually.
But thanks to her, months of investigation had been compressed into mere hours.
Those caught at the scene, when pressed about the smuggling, assumed they were already discovered and confessed everything without hesitation.
Looking down at Markel’s twisted expression, Carrion felt something strange.
He wondered if this was truly the same Governor of Poema he’d known.
“Stand, Governor.”
“Your Highness. Let this end with me alone.”
“Luke.”
Luke forcibly lifted Markel up and seated him back in the chair.
⌜Many people will die. Surely you don’t wish for that.⌟
Carrion recalled her voice, lingering like an afterimage.
Until the moment before entering this room, he hadn’t decided.
As Commander-in-Chief of the Empire, covering this up would be treason against the realm.
Yet the testimony of those caught at the scene shook him.
They all claimed it was their private affair, that the governor knew nothing—weeping and begging as they spoke.
And when he pressed the governor, the governor too insisted he’d acted alone.
“Governor. Once I’ve finished my business at Poema Garrison, I’ll depart at first light.”
Markel sat in despair, utterly defeated.
“The cleanup from the wildfire and the remaining investigation—I leave in your hands.”
Markel’s head snapped up, his eyes wide.
He watched carefully, as if trying to discern the Commander’s true intent.
“I know something of Poema’s difficulties. But I was surprised to hear that there aren’t many starving to death there.”
Carrion rose from his seat.
“I don’t wish for innocent people to die because of the governor’s recklessness.”
Carrion pushed the Spear Blade closer to Markel as he spoke.
“Be more careful from now on. Never change who you are.”
Markel stared up at Carrion in a daze.
Just as Carrion turned to leave, Markel cried out.
“Your Highness! What—what is it you want from me?”
Carrion glanced back at him and let out a soft chuckle.
“You owe me a debt now.”
After the prince and his attendants departed, Markel sat motionless for a long time, as if his soul had left his body.
He moved slowly, reaching out until his fingers closed around the Spear Blade.
Red blood trickled from the palm where the edge had cut him.
Yet Markel felt no pain.
How could he describe the sensation of being pulled up from hell the moment his foot had touched its threshold?
His eyes burned red with tears.
* * *
By the time Carrion finished with his duties and returned to his bedchamber, dawn was breaking.
He lay staring up at the dark ceiling, turning over the strange feeling that had taken hold of him.
In the end, he had done as she wished.
He should have felt like a puppet dancing on someone else’s strings—a sordid sensation—yet only Markel’s face from those final moments kept ghosting across his vision.
He had no intention of demanding anything from the governor in exchange.
He didn’t even feel as though he’d gained leverage.
He’d spoken of a debt, but would there truly ever be an occasion when he needed the Poema governor’s aid?
And yet—having abandoned his duty as commander-in-chief without gaining anything in return—something about that choice felt oddly satisfying.
He placed a hand over his heart.
Since becoming commander-in-chief, this was the first time he’d felt warmth spreading through his chest.
A gasp tore from his throat.
Waking from a pleasant sleep, he felt a searing pain in his chest and his eyes snapped open.
As he always did when a seizure struck, he pressed hard against his chest with the heel of his hand and rolled onto his side.
He furrowed his brow and gritted his teeth.
It wasn’t as severe as last night, when he’d thought he might die.
This seizure followed the familiar pattern he knew well.
If he could endure the mounting agony for just a few moments more, it would pass.
Endure. As he always had.
He’d lived this long.
He’d never spoken of it to anyone, regarding it as a weakness too shameful to share.
Yet somehow, this carefully guarded secret had been discovered by her.
‘I don’t understand why I didn’t even consider silencing her.’
If you gave a man dying of thirst only a single sip of water, wouldn’t that make his suffering worse?
Carrion thought his current state was much the same.
He felt as though he might go mad with the urge to run to whoever could ease this pain.
He craved nothing more than for her to touch his brow with her hand.
That cool sensation washing over his entire body would be the ultimate relief.
He traced in his mind the path from his chamber to hers, then squeezed his eyes shut.
“Madness.”
He couldn’t commit another act of depravity like last night.
At least now he retained some semblance of reason—more than he’d had yesterday.
⌜……Let’s get married.⌟
Right. He’d decided to marry her.
A wave of relief washed over him.
Earlier he’d spoken of marriage as though bestowing a favor upon her, but truthfully, wasn’t he the one who should be on his knees, pleading?
‘I’m helpless—just another member of the royal blood.’
The most shameless and contemptible breed under heaven.
‘Hmm……?’
He realized, belatedly, that his body had grown calm.
He sat up slowly and pressed his fingers to various points on his body.
Though warmth still lingered, it was fading rapidly.
The seizure had occurred, yet the symptoms were far milder than usual.
Even this degree of pain, he could bear willingly.
‘It said it wasn’t a curse.’
He looked down at his own hands.
‘What does the princess know?’
For more than a decade, he had resigned himself to calling it a curse, accepting his fate without question.
For the first time, he felt genuine curiosity about the true nature of this torment that had plagued him all these years.

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