Even if your Sword Pierces my Heart

 

The stench of blood still seemed to linger in the air.

 

Shouts and groans mingled everywhere. 

 

Under the ashen haze of the sky, so many people were milling about, unable to recognize each other as friends or foes, slaying and killing each other. 

 

Yesterday’s giggling colleagues were turning into corpses today. 

 

Every night, their dead colleagues would come to visit them in their dreams and blame Izak.

 

Six years of war, and all Izak had gotten out of it was terrible insomnia. 

 

Having traveled from the border to the capital without sleep, Izak’s mind was a blur.

 “Wooh!” 

A cheer woke her from her reverie. A

 

s her hazy vision cleared, she saw people coming out of the gates and cheering, covering the streets in both directions. 

 

Children and adults alike waved banners bearing the emblem of the great Empire of Rohem. 

 

On this floor of the city, people half clinging to the windows threw flower petals. 

 

One petal caught the wind and landed on Izak’s armor. Izak carefully brushed it off, then blew it away.

 

As the men walked behind their commanders, they scanned each soldier, and when they saw their families, they burst into tears. 

 

They ran to them and embraced them. The soldiers’ stoic faces crumpled as soon as they were embraced. 

 

Even the soldiers with missing limbs looked at their families, shed tears of relief, and smiled.

 “Wahh!” 

As Izak stared at the figure, a red-haired man whistled and led his horse to Izak’s side. 

 

His horse drew nearer, and Sienna, Izak’s pet mare, lifted her front hooves nervously.

 

Sienna didn’t like other horses, but she especially disliked Balzer’s horse. 

 

Balzer’s horse, on the other hand, liked her and followed her around, so she had kicked him more than once. 

 

Izak calmed her down by gently stroking her white mane.

 

“

How does it feel to see your husband after six years, Your Highness?” 

His playful question made Izak’s grip on the reins tighten involuntarily. 

 

Called cold-blooded by her peers for showing no emotion, even when people were dying in front of her, the only time Izak flinched was when she heard Cayden’s story.

 

Balzer knew this, and would often bring up Cayden, much to Izak’s annoyance.

 “You know, the Empress-to-be is a war hero, what better support could there be?”

he would say.

 

There was no malice in his words. He was merely amused by Izak’s reaction. 

 

As she’d sensed from the first time she’d seen him, he wasn’t normal, so there was nothing to be offended by. Ignore it, as always, and it would go away.

 

Izak tugged on the reins and trotted ahead.

  

Everything was fine until they reached the temple gates. 

 

But when she stopped at the door, she hesitated. If one were to ask what made Izak hesitate, it would be the sight of Cayden, whom she hadn’t seen in six years.

 

A husband she hadn’t seen since their wedding day, when she left for war.

 

‘I wondered how he had been doing. He was 14 then, he must be 20 now. Would his face be different… would he be taller?’

 

Would he… welcome me… 

 

No, it would be strange for him to welcome me. It was hard to bear to look at him. 

 

If it weren’t for the news that war had broken out with the Begril shortly after the wedding, six years ago, I would have stayed by Cayden’s side to protect him. 

 

But the unexpected war had once again forced a flight from the capital, from both her father and Cayden, and now she didn’t know what to make of his face.

 “Ahem!” 

She laughed bitterly, but the gatekeeper coughed loudly in disbelief. 

 

Raising her head, Izak glared at the gatekeeper. 

 

There was a strange misunderstanding, and the gatekeeper stepped back with a pensive look on his face. 

 

Balzer, who was behind him, explained with a gentle smile,

“Your Highness, if you look like that, the gatekeeper gets scared, doesn’t he?” 

With his trademark smirk, he appeased the gatekeeper.

 “The Crown Princess wants you to open the gate, not to slit your throat. So don’t be afraid.” 

The gatekeeper quickly straightened his back and bellowed to announce their arrival, his shout punctuated by a loud blast of trumpets on either side. 

 

The massive gates creaked, slid, and slowly opened.

 

Stained-glass windows greeted Izak first, just as they had on her wedding day six years ago. 

 

She stepped inside with several of her commanders, including Balzer. 

 

Nobles stood on either side, applauding their return as heroes of the war.

 Hooray! 

The raucous applause was accompanied by a muffled whisper of gossip about Izak. Mostly, they criticized her appearance.

 

But their words fell on deaf ears. 

 

The gossip and applause ceased as soon as Izak laid eyes on Cayden, seated side by side with the Duke of Macthurden at the head of the table.

 

As darkness fell on the battlefield, I thought of Cayden often. 

 

‘As the years passed, I wondered how he would have grown up. Had he grown into a man, or was he still a boy, his face as lovely as a porcelain doll, prettier than girls’, or was he alone?’ 

 

Perhaps because of the rumored state of the capital, perhaps out of fear of being alone.

 

When my dead comrades visited me in my dreams, I tried to think of something else, something that had nothing to do with the war, and even then I frequently thought of Cayden. 

 

My young husband, whom I had to leave shortly after our wedding because of a skirmish with the Begril on the border that eventually led to war, and Cayden, who had grown up since I last saw him. 

 

Wondering if he’s doing well in the palace, standing up to her father, and curious about how he’s turned out. 

 

As my conscious mind drifted back to him, the sense of guilt was strangely lifted. 

 

The voices of my companions, questioning why only one of us survived, blurred.

 

She had imagined him for countless days. But when she saw him in person, nothing about him matched her expectations.

 

His face, which had become a man so beautiful that women were drawn to him, was a shadow of its former self. 

 

But it wasn’t his appearance that surprised her. His face, which sometimes showed an uncanny variety of expressions, felt nothing. 

 

There were no tears in his eyes as he vented his frustration at her.

 

When they met again, he was dead in spirit.

 

Izak was the first to avert her gaze, staring blankly at Cayden, forgetting to breathe. 

 

If Izak stared any longer, it seemed he would scream. His clenched fists trembled as if they might burst.

 

Just then, the High Priest began the victory ceremony.

 

Priests in white robes came forward and sang chants to honor the souls of those who had died on the battlefield. 

 

They also blessed the survivors. 

 

The ceremony was far from over, though they were moving through the steps.

 “The Emperor himself will descend for the heroes who defended the Empire.” 

The Duke of Macthurden spoke at the end of the ceremony, and Izak’s eyes widened as she stood there, dumbfounded. 

 

As if Cayden had been one of the Duke’s puppets, as he had once been rumored to be, he rose to his feet and made his way down the stairs.

 

As he drew nearer, her heart began to beat faster. In contrast, her blood ran cold. 

 

Cayden’s steps halted in front of Izak. 

 

A distinctive scent, one that he couldn’t quite place, whether it was floral or aquatic, wafted into the air and into Izak’s nostrils. 

 

Izak kept her gaze fixed on the floor, unable to look at him properly.

 

Cayden took another step closer. Her gaze fell on his leather shoes, visible through the blue fabric that dragged him to the floor. 

 

His scent was thicker. It was suffocating. His gaze seemed to rest on Izak for a moment, and she bit the inside of her mouth until it tasted bloody. 

 

Then Cayden, who had been staring at her the entire time, spoke,

“Thanks to your bravery, the Empire of Rohem is finally able to welcome spring after a long winter.” 

His words had once been so rich with emotion that it would have been strange to hear them as a child, but now his voice was as emotionless as cold snow.

 “I and my people are truly grateful to you, and we will never forget your service.” 

Izak knew what had driven him mad. Her father, the Duke of Macthurden, whom she respected and loved more than anyone.

 

Cayden turned as if he had finished speaking, but the Duke of Macthurden descended the stairs and stopped him.

 “Your Highness, this is your wife of six years.” 

Raising her head, Izak glanced at Cayden, who stood with his back to the Duke of Macthurden, her blue eyes shaking violently. 

 

Then the Duke of Macthurden spoke again, this time with more emphasis.

 “A small token of affection, please.” 

Everyone watched them, but Cayden ultimately said nothing.

 “I’m tired.” 

It was the only thing he said, and then he walked away. 

 

The High Priest finished the victory ceremony in a huff. 

 

Izak stared for a long moment as Cayden rose from his seat and disappeared beyond the shuffling nobles.

 

He was no longer in sight. The nobles and priests were gone. All that remained was his scent. 

 

Alone, Izak stood there for a long moment, reaching out into the air as if to catch what remained of his scent, then clenching a fist. Nothing was caught.

  

The victory banquet was deafening. In one corner, lively music played continuously, and servants bustled about carrying food and drink. 

 

Ladies and nobles dressed like colorful peacocks mingled and danced and chatted, but their eyes were fixed on Izak, leaning against the wall.

 

Balzer, with a chocolate-covered pie in his mouth and a goblet of wine in each hand, held one out to Izak.

 “He was a child six years ago, but he’s grown up a lot in that time, hasn’t he? He’s like a man now.” “…” “Though he still looks a little young.” 

Izak sipped her wine, expressionless. 

 

Balzer chuckled softly, as if he didn’t care whether she answered or not, and wondered what was so amusing.

 “Do you know what they’re talking about now? They’re talking about the Crown Prince who looked at you like you were a pebble in the street at the victory ceremony and then left, and how you were disrespected by him. Is that how one should treat a wife who has fought in battle, risked her life, and returned victorious?” 

Emptying the wine in one swift gulp, Izak set the empty glass down with a clatter on the window sill.

 “Where are you going, Crown Princess?” 

Balzer called urgently as Izak turned around.

 “You’re not going to beat your husband to death, are you?” 

Ignoring him, Izak stormed out of the banquet hall and headed for the door, her brisk strides halting in front of the Crown Prince’s palace. 

 

Izak hesitated, knowing she would not be welcomed. But as Izak was about to step inside, soldiers suddenly blocked her path.

 “Your Highness, the Crown Princess,”

they said.

 “What are you doing?”

she asked.

 

They glanced at Izak, obviously puzzled and trailed,

“Oh, it’s…” “Tell me straight.”