Chapter 420 – Era of Tranquility (1)

“…Is this truly our peak?”

The cavern reverberates with the low timbre of a man’s voice.

After all his subordinates have departed, the throne sits empty.
A man who had been absent-mindedly fiddling with his necktie using his pallid hand, rises without uttering a sigh.

-Clump, clump.

Gu-seul, attired in a suit, shadows Lee Si-heon as he traverses the corridor, questioning him.

“What on earth have you been doing for three years?”

It’s been barely a fortnight since he revealed his presence in Flower.

In that brief period, Lee Si-heon had managed to expel influential figures settled in various cities single-handedly, capturing the goodwill of the citizens. The ones who resisted were silenced so swiftly they barely had a moment for their souls to quiver. It was an expected outcome. The days had been an unending sequence of battles.

As it panned out, the power of the sporadically disruptive eighth leaf consolidated around a man named Lee Si-heon.

She had surmised he might have survived, but to witness him immediately orchestrating such grand schemes upon his return after a few years was beyond her anticipation. Gu-seul found herself questioning her own eyes.

“Why does that intrigue you?”

Lee Si-heon inquires of her. His tone, unlike his time on the throne, is infinitely lighter, but it carries an undertone of implicit pressure.

“…Being the person who will cater to your needs in the future, it’s only fitting that I’m aware.”

Gu-seul attempts a smile, her voice laced with a playful note. Si-heon halts, his gaze sweeping over her face. Feeling the tension, Gu-seul swallows.

“Heh, a lot transpired.”

A person may change, but not entirely. She can’t discern if his current demeanor is a façade, but there’s a trace of his former self, the light-hearted and playful one, albeit tinged with a touch of flirtiness.

“The first year… I dedicated it to therapy.”
“…Therapy?”
“Psychological treatment. The medication didn’t take effect at all, so it required quite a bit of time.”

Depression, inclusive of symptoms of schizophrenia. Hallucinations. A mental breakdown.
Numerous mental problems had deeply infiltrated his psyche and body.

He hadn’t noticed these during the ceaseless battles, but it had come to a point where daily life was unmanageable. He had adhered to a sage’s advice to seek treatment, warning that if his state persisted, he would fail to make sound judgments and repetitively crumble.

“So, have you recovered?”
“As you can see.”

He stretches his hands wide, shrugs his shoulders and offers a small smile.

A shudder runs through Gu-seul as she swallows. Hong-Yeon, standing next to her, cautiously follows Lee Si-heon, her fingers fidgeting.

This is the first time Hong-Yeon, who had a long separation, has met Lee Si-heon in three years. On stepping down from her executive deputy role, she instantly became Lee Si-heon’s aide, but there’s no sign of dissatisfaction.

She seems to be silent.
However, she appears to be keenly focused on Lee Si-heon’s conversation.

“Did you suffer from a mental illness…?”

She gently approaches, catches hold of his shirt collar and asks cautiously. As soon as Lee Si-heon diverts his gaze from Gu-seul and sees Hong-Yeon, he lightly raises his hand.

“Is this the moment for you to concern yourself with me?”

– Thwack!

“Ouch!”

The brutal finger flick lands unflinchingly! Hong-Yeon, clutching her reddened forehead, casts her eyes downwards in a sulk.

“My words were born out of concern… It’s been such a long time since we met. Don’t you know how long I’ve waited?”

“It’s alright. It will continue to be alright.”

He seems composed, yet inscrutable. Gu-seul observes Lee Si-heon’s face closely.

‘Has he matured?’

However, to attribute it to mere human maturation seems to create a slight discrepancy. It seems as though he is always considering something, even in conversation, and his demeanor in the past week has been methodical and meticulous.

When the heresy was confirmed three years ago and Lee Si-heon was pushed towards death. Could it be that it wasn’t the surroundings obstructing Lee Si-heon, but his own tormented psyche? That’s what it felt like.

So, he has changed quite a bit.

“…”

The moment Gu-seul comes to this realization, Lee Si-heon abruptly halts. After deeply contemplating something, he murmurs.

“Well, what to do now?”

Has he really changed?

Gu-seul is puzzled.

“Uh, where did we leave off?”

“…Mental illness.”

“Ah, right. For the remaining two years, I focused on navigating dungeons.”

“Dungeons?”

“I had someone to save. Incidentally, I had to learn how to wield the king’s power.”

“The king’s power…!”

A single utterance from Si-heon’s lips sends Gu-seul into high alert. The benevolence, the crown, and the power of King Mokryeong. That power, which Flower and the World Tree of Purity had been so cautious of, has finally sprouted within him.

Perhaps he has transcended the norm, becoming one of the rare monsters in the world.

Lee Si-heon has completed his three-year preparation.

He has healed his body, adapted to his power. He has now revealed himself to the world and successfully subjugated the power of the Eighth Leaf.

He commands an independent force, not part of Flower. He has acquired the prowess to stand against Flower and the World Tree of Purity with dignity.

“…What will you do next?”

“I wonder.”

Lee Si-heon clenches his hands and looks at Gu-seul and Hong-Yeon in turn.

“The prophecy has yet to fall.”

All the groundwork has been laid. What to do next? A rough battle will soon ensue.

“For now, I intend to rest.”

He must savor this momentary peace, however fleeting.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

Every so often, something comes to mind.

The World Tree of Purity.

Now, the connection with the World Tree is completely severed, and I can’t use the status window or anything else, so I can no longer hear her voice.

– Beep!

In an uncanny manner, the sound of her crying echoed our daughter, her voice subtly endearing.

Our daughter, Shiba, I wonder how she has fared. The yearning to see her is not an unfamiliar emotion.

Presently, I am far from the spotless individual who could be deemed a proud father. Even so, my shame prohibits me from seeking her out.

Yet, when all is said and done, perhaps before the cold hand of death claims me, I harbor the desire to see her again.

“Why not simply meet her then?” a voice interjects.
“Easier said than done. Have you forgotten the nature of my deeds?”

The house of Tae-yang, which I had not visited in some time, was immaculate, radiating the warmth of a loving home.

Post the absorption of the Flower’s power, a brief period of respite was granted.

“You speak wisely. Do you not have duties to attend to? Is it permissible for you to idle here?” I asked.
“Would I be here otherwise?”

A sudden arrival usurps power. It is a structure prone to the emergence of insurgent forces.

The brief reunion of Hong-Yeon and Gu-seul is also momentarily turbulent, attempting to seize the power of the eighth leaf.

“But the king…”
“I am entitled to some respite.”

Even if it seems absurd, rest is mandatory when one is weary. This principle is even more vital when one wields the power of a king.

I softly stroke the child nestled in my lap, murmuring gently, “Isn’t that so?”
“Hm?”

A child, barely a year old, adorable as can be. Even here, in what was once the abode of Tae-yang and Aori, a new life has blossomed, a beacon of hope.

Mok Hae-nul. Unlike the ruggedly handsome Tae-yang, she bears a resemblance to an angel.

“Seems like she fancies you a great deal,” someone notes.
“I’ve always had a knack for charming children.”
“Really?”
“Indeed. If the larger child clinging to my back is any indication, it seems I’m correct.”

The larger child in question. Aori, who is currently nestled against my back, her arms securely wrapped around my neck.

“Your Majesty,” she coos.
“Yes?”
“Aori can now move her arms quite adeptly. She can even throw punches like a robot.”
“That’s good to hear.”

Little child, larger child. Astonishingly, Tae-yang has become a capable father, raising two children even amidst these economically troubling times.

Of course, he doesn’t do it alone. A woman has been sharing his domicile for a few years now.

“Would you care for some coffee?” she asks.

Silver-haired, sightless. How she managed to entice Tae-yang, who lamented about his inability to perform, is a mystery. Yuli offers a warm smile as she extends a cup of coffee.

“Tae-yang.”
“Yes?”
“How exactly did you manage it?”

Could this be the miracle of life? As I continue to stroke the child, now peacefully asleep within my arms, Tae-yang coughs awkwardly, sighing deeply.

“Well, it’s a condition called anorgasmia…”
“That’s enough,” I interject.

I can surmise Yuli’s initiative from his words. Seeing Tae-yang quiver slightly, the situation is painfully obvious.

Still, it’s quite remarkable. While I was busy grappling with the tribulations in the dungeon, a wholesome family has been formed in my absence.

“Is that the nature of Yuli and Tae-yang’s relationship? It’s a tale that could make a rather beautiful film or novel.”

“Aori, how do you manage, always being so observant?”

Aori had become quite accustomed to using her ethereal form. Activities once deemed impossible were now miraculously achievable.

She couldn’t wield magic, but she could engage in combat, aided by various artifacts.

Perhaps what stood out the most was Aori’s position, caught up in the midst of such fiery newlywed life.

“Observant?”

Yes, indeed. There was no reason for her to be so aware.

“As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

Tae-yang and Aori had entirely distanced themselves from the front lines. That had always been the plan, and most of the organization members, originally from the Termite lineage, had embarked on their individual journeys. Yuli, not being present here, was a prime example.

Tae-yang, with a smirk, lifted his coffee cup.

“Aori and I are doing well, all thanks to you. We can’t predict what the future holds, but reach out if you ever need anything.”
“Will there ever be a need, I wonder?”
“How did things turn out with the King’s Favor?”
“The Favor?”

Discussing that matter could lead to endless talk.

Unlike the crown, it despised me to an extreme. It would snarl at the slightest conversation.

It had received the King’s power; however, even after trying to maintain a congenial approach, considering the disadvantages of a strained relationship, nothing worked. The cold war had persisted for a staggering three years. Not that it meant I couldn’t wield the King’s power, but the thought of a parasitic entity within me was naturally unsettling.

“You might be the only one to liken the King’s Favor to a parasite.”
“Is that so?”

Anyway, it feels good to meet after such a long time.

Seeing Tae-yang, who seemed to have been through a lot, could be irksome, but the thought of him finding his life brings satisfaction.

“Don’t end up like me. Let Hae-nul take good care of you.”
“Of course, brother. And, thank you. Honestly, what should I say? Well, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.”
“Is that so?”

Having finished my coffee, I rise from my seat. I hand over the sleeping Hae-nul to Aori.

“Your Majesty? Are you leaving already?”
“I have matters to attend to.”
“Brother, you’ve just arrived. Stay a while longer.”

Tae-yang’s tone was slightly regretful, but he made no move to hold me back. He knew what I had to do.

“I need to ensure a good life for your family.”
“You worry about everything. Worry about yourself for once. Do they even know you’re still alive?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“…Well, I suppose that’s true…”

I understood his intentions clearly. But personal feelings couldn’t obstruct the path ahead.

Now that I had this ability, I had to utilize it to its fullest.

“Brother.”
“Yes.”
“…I hate to say this, but you’d make a good father, too. I realize that now.”
“Your words are appreciated.”

As for Shiba, I wonder. Will she remember me?

The growth of the treefolk is known to be swift. If you factor in the use of the Arbor Ring, the rate of growth quadruples. This, in turn, slows down subjective time.

From Shiba’s perspective, for a human equivalent, I may well be a father whose face she can’t recall, having been separated at the tender age of eight.

“But, brother,” she said.

“Mm-hmm?”

“Three years have gone by. Surely you haven’t been caught up in some kind of mishap during that time?”

“What mishap?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe another child?”

A sheepish grin spread across my face.

“…No way. No matter how prolific I’ve been. That’s unlikely.”

“I couldn’t care less about an obituary, just so long as it isn’t news about you being struck down from behind by a woman.”

Her joke was a touch grim. My lips quivered slightly as I shrugged, wetting them with my tongue.

As for mishaps, they hadn’t been entirely absent.