Chapter 73: Whispers of Fate and Hidden Truths

So, is it fine if we just discuss things separately without meeting in person?

That would be fine.

Although the meaning was the same, Creon, in his simple-mindedness, didn’t pick up on it and nodded cheerily. Karlahee patted Creon’s head affectionately.

Elina II (Kim Bing-ui), who had been watching from afar, quickly covered her mouth.

‘That mysterious man named Creon from our household… was actually the Emperor’s lover.’

He wasn’t an adopted noble, nor was he a servant or employee—just some guy making his way in the world. Of course, his striking beauty and his role in the royal court made it hardly surprising…

‘Did the Emperor hide his lover in a noble household to shield him from endless threats?’

So does that mean this story is a BL novel? And that I’ve somehow become part of that tale? With this startling realization, Elina II trembled. Could she really survive among these homosexuals? Suddenly, all she wanted was to go home.

‘Mom…I miss you. And Dad…I’d rather not see Kim Bing-chan too much.’

The thought of her older brother, Kim Bing-chan, made her lose her appetite. At the same time, tears welled up and slid down her cheeks. Not far off, Mikhail, who was seated nearby, stole a glance at Elina II quietly wiping her tears.

‘Was it because of Elina II that Lara asked about exorcism last time? That woman is hardly one to tear up. After all, she left someone else’s place in complete disarray without a care…’

It seemed the rampage of that day had left a heavy residue. Mikhail was convinced that another soul resided within Elina II as he quietly lowered his eyes.

He figured that since it wasn’t yet Lara’s turn, a nap might be in order.

The match was briefly interrupted when Lady Elina III’s wig slipped off. Devastated by the revelation of her true gender, she realized that, despite her careful concealment, once her noble secret was exposed, her life as a knight was over.

Damn it!

Stepping into an empty building, Lady Elina III slammed her fist against the wall. She struck it so hard that thick, ketchup-like blood smeared her hand. The Demon Sword, quietly nestled in its scabbard, flinched in response.

Lady Elina III slid down against the wall and collapsed. Too drained to do anything more—not even fetching her wig—she lay there dejectedly, while the Demon Sword, unusually resolute, seemed to straighten its blade.

“Man! Life throws highs and lows your way—you win sometimes, you lose sometimes. Don’t let this beat you down!”

“My life as a knight is over.”

“Then tell me! If that’s the case, what future does a Demon Sword have if it suffers defeat?”

The illustrious title of ‘Formidable Demon Sword Champion of the Swordsmanship Tournament’ was gone, replaced by the label ‘The Filthy Sword that Lost at the Tournament.’ The Demon Sword now regretted its choices. Perhaps a life of rigid discipline would have been easier.

‘If only I could turn back time…’

If only it could all be reversed to before the defeat.

Like a vibrating café bell, the very scabbard began to tremble, and soon the Demon Sword’s consciousness drifted into a haze. The world turned white.

Morning sunlight burst through white curtains, tickling delicate lashes. The Demon Sword opened its eyes. Lying under a familiar ceiling, it turned its head and saw a carved bedpost entwined with leaf-like patterns on a massive pillar. After a couple of blinks, it suddenly sat up.

A room filled with fine, light beige furniture came into view. The scene starkly contrasted with its last clear memory. Glancing down at its neck, the Demon Sword froze in place.

‘My body has shrunk…’

Despite a nagging discomfort, the fabric of its pajamas was incredibly smooth. Lost in thought while fiddling with them, it was startled by the sound of a door opening in the hall. A woman entered carrying a bowl of water. The woman, bearing a familiar scar etched on her cheek, was Nurse Laniosa.

“Young Master, you really are something. Up early because it’s your birthday? Hehe, at moments like these you look just like a child.”

“Now then… Man! Are you really Laniosa? Are you Laniosa?”

“What kind of dream have you been having to get yourself like this? Yes, I am the nurse for the Demon Sword family. Now, wake up from that dream.”

As if uttering a name heard for the first time, the Demon Sword kept murmuring, “Laniosa.”

Surely, over a thousand years must have passed since Laniosa died… yet here she was, the very woman who once cared for him as a child, standing before his eyes. The Demon Sword quickly sensed that something was gravely amiss.

Shaking off an overly thick blanket for early summer, the Demon Sword walked to the window. Though the chilly air inside and the cold floor sent a shiver through him, nothing could have prepared him for the shock that awaited outside—it felt like a harsh blow to the back of his head.

“What on earth is…”

Positioned about five paces from the window, the Demon Sword could only stand frozen. Beyond the glass lay an entirely white world, a realm utterly different from the one he knew. Is this some kind of dream? He pinched his hand; the sting was all too real.

“Man! Winter in early summer? There’s no way it’s snowing now…”

“Young Master? Did you have a nightmare or something? Oh dear, you don’t seem to have a fever…”

“Laniosa, what on earth is today’s date?”

Glancing at Laniosa, who had placed her hand on her forehead, the Demon Sword asked urgently. Hearing such absurd words first thing in the morning, Laniosa tilted her head in confusion.

“It’s the 652nd year of the Continent.”

“So this is… 652 AD? Then my age…”

“You’re seventeen, Young Master. You don’t seem completely awake—perhaps you should sleep a bit longer? Breakfast will be ready in a little while…”

“Man… What about Mother and Father?”

“The heads of the Demon Sword family are having tea in the second-floor study.”

“I’m going to see them right away!”

“Young Master! Please, dress properly…!”

Brushing aside Laniosa’s scolding, the Demon Sword bolted out of the room barefoot. Hurrying down the stairs, he paid little mind to the startled glances of the servants. His only priority was seeing his parents.

Normally, he would have observed proper etiquette, but he flung open the study door without a second thought. There, at the center of the room, his parents were seated around a tea table and turned their heads in surprise.

“Demon Sword?”

“What happened, my child?”

When warm, concerned gazes reached him from both of them, the Demon Sword finally relaxed. Relief flooded him so powerfully that his legs nearly buckled. Smiling broadly despite his inner turmoil, he stepped forward and embraced them both.

“Such sweet affection first thing in the morning. Hehe, our seventeen-year-old little one.”

“No matter how old you get, you’ll always be our child, dear. Now, Demon Sword, is something the matter?”

“Damn, I had a terrible nightmare… and I missed you both so much.”

Thank goodness—it had all been just a dream…

Seeing his unchanged parents restored his grip on reality. Shaking off the lingering fragments of his nightmare, the Demon Sword managed a small, relieved smile.

Meanwhile, Lady Elina III suddenly glanced down at her waist and found the sword that had hung there was completely gone. As she pondered if she’d dropped it during her dash, she turned to see a tall man staring down at her.

With neat dark blue hair falling cleanly at his nape and piercing blue eyes, the man exuded a heavy, authoritative aura. He was none other than the Emperor—the royal figure reputed to carry the blood of a dragon or even a Pokémon, and notorious as a tyrant.

“Your Highness…”

Lady Elina III’s mouth went numb in shock. It seemed he had tracked her during the match.

Having been exposed as a woman during the match in front of the Emperor, she had no defense against the punishment for deceiving the royals. She had fooled the entire country—even if beheaded, words would fail her now.

“I’ve been watching your match. …Kyung, lift your head.”

As expected, Lady Elina III, though trembling, lifted her head. The Emperor’s eyes shone a terrifying, icy blue in the dim light.

“Your hair is very long.”

Karlahee reached out and grasped a handful of Lady Elina III’s hair.

“Wearing a wig over such long hair must suffocate your scalp. I understand the cruelty of our superiors, but must you hide like this so recklessly?”

“…I’m sorry. I never meant to deceive anyone with a wig.”

“Hair lives through the scalp. If the source of life is damaged, the hair will fall out—you surely know that, right? Why don’t you cherish your own body?”

“…Your Highness.”

Karlahee felt a tightness in his chest. Continuing to wear that wig would surely damage her scalp and lead to hair loss. Yet, looking at the shocked face of young Edgar III, he couldn’t help but withhold his anger.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper. But I was truly worried all along.”

Instead of letting go of Lady Elina III’s silvery hair, Karlahee took her hand and slowly placed something in her palm. Sharing a meaningful smile, he then disappeared into the shadows of the corridor.

Lady Elina III looked down at what had been placed in her hand: it was a sample of anti-hair loss shampoo. Reading the note attached, she slowly bit her lower lip.

[I recently got a recommendation to try this shampoo, and it really seems to prevent hair loss. I’ll test the sample, and if it works, I’ll order it.]

Even after being exposed as a woman, it was the first time someone had treated her consistently—with the respect due to a human being, making her feel that hair loss is a shared worry for everyone and that the world is truly one. Overwhelmed by these feelings, Lady Elina III found herself moved to tears.