READING GUIDANCE
" This is a direct sentence in the present time."
" This is a direct sentence in the past time."
' This is a character's inner thought in the present time.'
' This is a character's inner thought in the past time.'
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the present time.]
[ This is a direct sentence in sign language in the past time.]
HAPPY READING!
It's been almost a year since Irisha and Arisha began living in the Empire Malum. After the first house didn't work out for them, they decided to buy a house outside of the Empire Malum's three main districts. It was slightly far from the capital, about thirty minutes by horse, but it was a much friendlier place than anywhere in the capital. Yes, 'friendlier'—a place where someone like her could live in peace. It was a semi-city residence, with houses set on wide plots of land and spaced far enough apart to provide privacy yet remain reachable. The area was built on flat fields and near a forest, which Irisha and Arisha loved dearly. They always scheduled trips to the forest, known to be safe, as it was close to civilization. Even though Rosan and Haya grumbled about the security not being tight enough in this neighborhood, the neighbors were all kind to her and Arisha.
"Good morning!" As always, every morning Arisha greeted the neighbors with her bright smile. She walked ahead with her usual excitement along the cobblestone road that led to the first gate, while Irisha quietly followed behind, leading their horse.
"You both are always early! Please be careful!" said an old woman passing by.
"Okay, Grandma!" Arisha replied first, then relayed what the woman said to Irisha. At first, Irisha was surprised by how differently people treated them compared to their previous residence. Of course, at first, they were shocked upon learning of Irisha's condition, but they understood it wasn't their business to meddle, so they chose to leave them be. Another reason Irisha considered was that this neighborhood was unlike their previous one. It was home to families of average- means, many of whom struggled to rent in the capital. They were too busy with their own affairs to care about matters like hers.
[Let's go.] she said, lifting Arisha into the saddle before mounting herself and riding smoothly behind her. Even though they had done this several times, it still felt a little dangerous—but somehow, they managed it.
'Maybe I should just buy a carriage,' she thought. Not for safety, but because sometimes she had to deliver documents to the palace. She recalled one time bringing a pile of items alone from her house to the palace on horseback, which made Tara furious for not being informed.
But Irisha simply didn't want to rely on that. Even knowing her position and the things she could afford, she chose not to.
"Lisa invited me to go fishing with her parents this weekend. Can I go?" asked Arisha, looking back at her. "She also asked if you want to come, but if you're busy, can I go by myself?"
[What time is it?] Irisha asked.
"In the morning," Arisha answered.
Irisha was silent for a moment. [I think I can take a day off.]
"Really?!" Arisha exclaimed.
Irisha nodded. [Maybe we should make them something special to eat, what do you think?]
"Yes!" Arisha said brightly, her eyes sparkling. "I'll tell Lisa at school!"
[Okay.] Irisha replied, pleased to see her little sister so happy and excited. Arisha then ran into her academy's gate, quickly surrounded by other children. Whether in the palace or at their residence, Arisha naturally attracted attention.
'She is so popular,' Irisha thought. Even though Arisha seemed to grow too fast—an observation that brought a tinge of melancholy—Irisha looked forward to it with happiness. In the end, her only purpose was to provide Arisha with a good life.
'I hope you will always smile like that.'
It was her sole wish, the reason she continued persevering. A deaf and mute girl in this kind of world, she had poured herself all into reaching this point. It had never been simple. The obstacles she faced drained her energy and mind, making her often want to scream everything out.
Even now, as she spoke in meetings with high-ranking businessmen under the Imperial name, there were always some who resented the fact that a woman led them in these agreements.
"Are you trying to disgrace me? To give a woman who is deaf and mute as the representative?" Of course, she could not hear him, but she could imagine how loud he was now, his face flushed red as Tara tried to reason with him.
The disgusted expressions of those around her, all staring at Irisha, who just sat there calmly, were astonishing. Somehow, she felt a quiet pride in remaining composed despite the chaos. Perhaps it was because something like this had happened so often that it no longer fazed her.
"If you continue like this, I'll call the guards," said Tara.
"You shut up, woman!" The old man, his face boiling with anger, grabbed Tara's collar, forcing Irisha to stand. "It is because women like you, who do not know your place or position, that our world starts to crumble!"
"What do you mean by that?! Let me go! I have the authority to put you in jail, sir!"
He laughed cruelly. "Who is the man with authority you've seduced to make you so arrogant as to say that?" He leered toward Tara, smirking disgustingly. "...Your body isn't that worth it to anyone, though—"
SLAP!!
Tara lost her control and slapped the man across the face, making him glare at her in rage. He raised his hand to strike her, but Irisha pushed Tara aside, and she thudded hard to the floor as the man's strength threw her back.
"GUARD!" Tara screamed just as the guards rushed into the hall.
The man laughed defiantly. "What are you going to do? I am the owner of the land your empire desperately wants. So pick these whores and bring me other men to finish this annoying business!" He ignored the glare Tara gave him.
"Arrest him!" she shouted. The guards immediately restrained his hands behind his back as he struggled.
"YOU CANNOT DO THIS TO ME!" he screamed.
"I AM THE LORD!"
"I WILL KILL YOU—"
He continued yelling as they dragged him away, leaving the meeting hall in stunned silence. The other men involved were confused, not expecting such treatment for someone of his status.
'...I can't hear all of it,' Irisha thought, exhausted by trying to understand the situation from their expressions alone.
"Are you okay?" Tara asked, holding a handkerchief to her cheek.
Irisha smiled and kept it there a moment longer, standing while ignoring how sick this incident made her feel. [They are all outside Empire Malum; perhaps they don't understand our courtesy.]
"...Let's just think about yourself first—" Tara began.
[Tell them we will cancel the meeting and proceed with the other one after they send us the letter of agreement.]
Tara stopped speaking and followed Irisha's instructions, letting her leave the hall alone. She did not accompany her, knowing how Irisha always forced a smile in the presence of others. Year of working as her assistant had shown Tara that Irisha never allowed herself to release anger or cry in public.
"You are not okay, are you?" Tara had once asked, after a similar incident, as Irisha continued her work calmly.
Irisha simply smiled and replied, [I am okay.] Tara could tell it was forced. Even when these incidents never targeted Tara personally, she felt powerless watching someone so kind and sincere be treated this way.
"...But what can I do?" Tara thought miserably, her heart aching. "You won't even let me help you..."
.
.
.
"You are a sinner."
"You are the one who murdered them."
"YOU ARE A MURDERER!"
Irisha gasped, hearing the screams vividly in her nightmare. She squeezed her eyes shut and then opened them, desperate to erase the image. Her hands trembled violently, dropping the handkerchief from her cheek. Sweat dripped down her face, and her knees weakened.
'I know... I am the sinner, and yes... I am the murderer.'
Even so, the pain of living with such unbearable torment was overwhelming. Her heart, filled with the screams she could not release, weighed heavily. The anger she could not express burned inside, making it hard to breathe. Tears refused to fall.
When she saw the blood dripping onto the floor, she closed her eyes.
"This is your punishment."
The woman, covered in blood, smirked. Nausea surged in Irisha's throat, and a sudden movement jolted her awake.
"IRISHA!"
The golden eyes staring straight at her were the last thing she remembered before losing consciousness.
***
.
.
"Both Sir Higrid and Sir Asthon agreed with Ms. Irisha regarding this matter. That is why the meeting was held. It concerns the land they could use to support the trading business," Ray explained, standing behind the man seated at the edge of his own bed — the very bed now occupied by Irisha.
Castra had returned to the royal palace carrying her in his arms. He immediately ordered a specific Imperial Physician to be summoned. When she arrived, confused by the urgency, she examined Irisha and then said something that made the room feel heavier.
"It seems her trauma triggered an episode," the physician said nervously. "...I tried to approach her after informing her about her condition before. Since then, she has avoided me."
She hesitated when she noticed the crown prince staring silently at the unconscious woman.
"For a patient like her, she must want treatment herself. It has to come from her own will. If we force her, it will only complicate the condition."
Ray could only reflect silently. The woman contributing so much to the empire carried a secret known by only a few people — one of them being the infamous crown prince, a man never known for gentleness.
"Tell Derik to send troops to that proud man's land."
"Pardon?" Ray asked, startled.
Castra said nothing more.
After a brief pause, Ray lowered his head. "As you wish, Your Grace." He endured the suffocating pressure in the air — the prince's aura thick with restrained fury — before excusing himself.
Silence filled the chamber.
Castra gently brushed a strand of her brunette hair away from her face. It felt soft beneath his fingers. The steady rhythm of her breathing, the faint sweetness of her scent — it drew him in unconsciously.
Then her eyelids fluttered open.
She jolted upright too quickly, wincing as a sharp headache struck her. Her body swayed, but Castra caught her smoothly, one arm steady around her while his other hand reached for the glass of water Ray had left on the bedside table.
"Drink this first," he said.
He did not use sign language, yet she understood.
As she slowly calmed, her observant gaze began scanning the room, just as she always did.
[Where am I?]
"My room."
Confusion crossed her face.
Her gaze slowly adjusted to the dim light as she observed the room around her. It was spacious — far too spacious — with dark wooden walls carved with faint dragon patterns and heavy crimson curtains that blocked most of the light. A large desk stood near the window, covered with neatly arranged documents, and a sword rested against the wall within reach. There were no unnecessary decorations, no warmth in the arrangement — everything looked firm, controlled, and cold. Even the air carried a faint scent of leather and ink. It did not feel like a bedroom, but a place of authority. And for her to be inside the crown prince's private chamber — sitting on his bed — felt strange, almost wrong, as though she had stepped somewhere she did not belong.
"You fainted. I brought you here."
[Why your room? Why not the infirmary?]
"No one there could help you," he replied evenly. His expression was serious — far more serious than she had ever seen from him. "And you don't want everyone to know about it. Even though... eventually, they will."
Her brows furrowed.
[What are you talking about?]
He reached out and gently touched her cheek.
"You suffer from hemophobia," he said quietly.
She froze.
"You experience episodes when triggered by severe stress or blood. That is what happened today."
Shock spread across her face. She needed a moment to process his words. Slowly, her expression shifted from disbelief to something more fragile.
[How do you know?]
"How wouldn't I?" His voice softened slightly. "Even the man who used to stand beside you knew."
His thumb brushed her cheek lightly.
"Go and seek treatment."
[It is not your business, Your Grace.] She slowly removed his hand.
"Do you want to keep living like this?"
[I don't have an issue—]
He laughed softly, without humor. "Of course. No issue at all." His tone turned faintly sarcastic. "Maybe it's just me who witnessed it. But what if one day... Arisha—"
[I don't want that!]
The fury in her eyes startled even him.
He fell silent.
[I am not crazy! I don't need to see anyone. There is nothing wrong with me—]
Though she made no sound, the rage and desperation were unmistakable. Her fragile body trembled as control slipped from her grasp. She clutched her head tightly, pain surging through her.
"Ssh... it's okay."
He pulled her into his embrace, steady and protective. He guided the glass back to her lips, then gave her a mild sedative.
Her fingers tightened in his clothing, gripping as if to anchor herself. Gradually, the tension in her body loosened. Her hand fell away as sleep claimed her once more.
Carefully, he laid her down and brushed his fingers through her hair again, far gentler than anyone would expect from him.
"No one can hurt you," he muttered.
The image of her pale face, blood at the corner of her lips, and the fury she had just shown replayed in his mind.
He traced her healed lips with his thumb and leaned closer, whispering near her ear,
"No one... not even yourself, Irisha."
***