Chapter 52: I’ve Finally Lost You

  Ethan woke up.

  He was in that same inn room—the hay pile by the wall, the oil lamp on the table, all just as he’d left them that night. He lay on the bed that had once been hers, his head resting on the hay-woven pillow she’d used. Even though it had been days, he could still faintly smell the lingering trace of her scent. Sunlight and the hum of the city filtered through the window—it was morning in Oufu. Ethan felt light, healthier than he’d ever been. His hands were strong, his skin firm and glowing with vitality. His mind was crystal clear; he could even distinguish the voices of individual orcs outside.

  Stepping out of the inn, he breathed in the highland morning air—it felt like it could penetrate his very bones. Orcs bustled about the streets, chatting and shouting, filling the air with energy. The half-orc innkeeper sat at the door, peeling the tough tubers that tasted like sawdust. A new group of merchants must have arrived—he’d be busy again soon. The city was alive with energy and peace. Ethan shook his head, trying to clear it; the memories of bloodshed and fear from before felt like nothing more than a bad dream.

  Fragments of memory drifted through his mind like wispy smoke. During those days when he was half-dead, he couldn’t move or speak, but he’d been vaguely aware of what was happening around him. He didn’t remember everything, but he knew—something had shifted. The person who’d been by his side was gone, and the enemies he’d once resented were no longer enemies. Now, he was just alone in a strange city, and a strange sense of loneliness washed over him.

  “Lord Sedros said to go to the City Hall when you wake up—he wants to talk to you,” the half-orc innkeeper said, glancing up at him before returning to his tubers.

  “Huh? Oh, right,” Ethan nodded.

  When he arrived at the City Hall, Lord Sedros was in a meeting with the elders of various clans, so Ethan waited in the main hall. It was as busy as ever: half-orc and human officials talked among themselves, some debating over documents; a few ogres, werewolves, and lizardmen mingled in between. Voices in different languages filled the air, and figures of all shapes and sizes weaved through the crowd—making the hall feel even more vibrant.

  General Gru entered through the main door, followed by several werewolves and ogres. The orcs were armed and armored—they looked like his combat unit. Gru met Ethan’s gaze, nodded briefly, then led his men into another meeting room.

  Ethan nodded back. Was this the terrifying enemy he’d remembered from his last conscious moment? A story suddenly came to mind: a man fell asleep in the mountains, had a dream, and when he woke up and went down the mountain, a hundred years had passed, and the world had changed beyond recognition. That’s exactly how Ethan felt now—as if he’d woken from a century-long dream.

  The world had changed. But what about her?

  The meeting finally ended. Sedros emerged from the conference room, smiling, and waved Ethan over. Ethan followed him out onto the street.

  “She’s gone back, hasn’t she…” After listening to Sedros’ account, Ethan only whispered to himself.

  Sedros nodded. “Yes. She went back on her own—back home, to get married.”

  The word “on her own” stung like a needle. Ethan couldn’t tell if Sedros had emphasized it on purpose, or if his own ears were playing tricks on him. His chest felt like it had been struck from the inside—sharp, dull, aching. He even felt himself tremble.

  “What do you plan to do now?” Sedros asked, watching him.

  Ethan fell silent, his face expressionless. The street was still bustling—peaceful, full of life. Orcs and humans walked past, ran past, shouted, talked. But the noise felt like a distant illusion, irrelevant to him. He just walked forward, step by step. Sedros walked beside him, saying nothing—just keeping him company.

  Finally, Ethan sighed. “I want to travel,” he murmured. “To see the world. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

  “Oh? You don’t want to go back to the capital to find her?” Sedros asked, surprised.

  It wasn’t encouragement—just curiosity. Young people’s feelings were usually hard to let go of.

  “If she chose to leave, she must have her reasons. What would I do if I found her?”

  “Oh… It’s rare for a young man to understand when to let go,” Sedros nodded approvingly.

  “I don’t know anything about ‘letting go,’” Ethan said. “But an old man once told me, ‘The world doesn’t revolve around how you feel.’ I think he was right. She has her choices.” His mind felt muddled, yet he heard himself spouting words that sounded wise, as if he’d seen the ways of the world.

  “Haha! That’s a fine answer,” Sedros laughed, as if delighted. He nodded, then gestured to the street like an artist showing off his masterpiece. “First—what do you think of this city?”

  “It’s good,” Ethan nodded.

  “But did you know? Two years ago, this was just a barren wasteland. The Ainfast Empire’s army was about to wipe out all the orcs on this highland—these people, who are no different from us, were about to disappear from the continent forever. Their history is just as long as humanity’s, you know—only their culture is different. They clung to their primitive ways of life and ancient beliefs, refusing to communicate, refusing to progress. As humans grew stronger, they became the ‘weak, savage ones.’ But look at them now.” His expression shifted—no longer an artist showing off his work, but a father proud of his son. “Look at this vitality. Every orc is working to build their home. Have you ever seen a city so full of life? Their old beliefs and ways died with their destroyed tribes. Those who survived the human massacres were the young—they grew up striving, working to build something new. Living with humans erased their hatred; they no longer worship imaginary gods or ancestors—they worship freedom, law, and hard work. In just two years, they built this city. It will grow even stronger—maybe even become the most powerful nation on the continent. No, it will.” He paused. “I lead them, but I’m not their ruler. They don’t need a ruler. I guide them now, in this early stage. Later, we’ll improve the laws and systems, so the people here can govern themselves. A nation that believes in order, freedom, equality, and hard work—that’s the greatest nation of all. To build a city from nothing, to found such a nation… is there anything more interesting, more meaningful?” He waved a hand, his gray hair and wrinkled face doing nothing to dim his energy and ambition. “What are trivial things like love and affection compared to a cause that can change history, change the course of civilization? They’re just fleeting sparks.”

  Sedros looked at Ethan, his eyes shining with the drive and hope of a young man. “I can tell you’re capable. How about it? Will you join General Gru and me to build this nation? Trust me—the joy of building something new, of making progress… it’s unparalleled. And you’re young—maybe one day, you’ll even lead this nation.” His words were enough to stir any young heart. “You could change the future of the entire continent with your own hands.”

  “No,” Ethan shook his head, his voice listless. “I don’t care about grand causes like that. Right now, I just want to travel freely, go on adventures.”

  “I misjudged you,” Sedros stared at him for a moment, then suddenly smiled.

  “What?”

  “You’re not ‘letting go of love’—you just don’t know how to hold on to it. You don’t know how to face your feelings. You’re scared.” The old man’s smile turned a little mischievous. “You’re too pure, too kind. But you’ve heard too many old men’s ‘wise sayings.’ Heh—sometimes, even if the truth is right, it’s better not to know it.”

  Ethan said nothing. His mind was too tangled to dwell on the meaning of those words.

  “But I still think you should go back to the capital,” Sedros said, pulling a scroll from his pocket and handing it to Ethan. “Bishop Ronis left this for you—a teleportation scroll. He said to use it when you wake up.”

  The capital. The duke’s mansion. A wedding. The thoughts flashed through Ethan’s mind. He shook his head. “I really don’t want to go back there. Starting my journey now would be better.”

  “You’d better not wander around,” Sedros said, as if remembering something suddenly. “The elves are hunting you everywhere. And if you do go back to the capital—watch out for Duke Mrak.”

  “Aren’t you on his side?” Ethan was surprised by the warning. “Wasn’t he the one helping you cover up the news of Oufu’s founding?”

  Sedros gave him a meaningful look. “Just… be careful. Sophia told me about your time in the marsh. I take it you’re the soldier who escaped from General Gru?”

  Ethan nodded.

  “In two years, we’ve silenced nearly a thousand people,” Sedros said. “You’re the only one who ever escaped from Gru. He’s been busy preparing for possible battles lately, but he asked me to tell you—even though it was a misunderstanding, that fight was fun. He hopes to spar with you again someday.”

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  Ethan bitter smiled. “It didn’t feel fun to me. And I don’t want another chance like that.”

  Sedros patted his shoulder. “Go on, then. I have work to do.”

  “I said I wouldn’t go back…” Ethan murmured.

  He told himself he’d never go back. But when he tried to make that promise, his heart felt empty—devoid of all strength.

  A few days later, in the teleportation circle of the Magic Academy in the imperial capital, a blue light flashed.

  The blue-white magical glow faded around him, and Ethan found himself in the Magic Academy’s circle—gone from the wilderness in the blink of an eye.

  He’d come back after all.

  Walking out of the Magic Academy, Ethan stared at the capital’s streets, feeling lost. He’d felt this way lately—adrift. It was as if a part of him was missing, leaving a hollow ache. And yet, something else felt like it was choking him. He’d decided to travel, but he had no idea where to go. He’d wandered alone in the wilderness for days, then woken up from a lonely nap in the bushes—and somehow, he’d found himself taking out the teleportation scroll and using it.

  “I’m back,” Ethan said, pushing open the door to Sandro’s cottage. This was his home in the capital.

  Sandro was still tinkering with corpses—as if that’s all he ever did. He didn’t seem surprised to see Ethan. He glanced at him a few times. “Why do you look so lifeless this time?”

  Ethan stepped closer, staring at Sandro’s face—his beard and hair were so tangled, it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. “Because I remembered I’d have to work here again. It’s draining.”

  His heart still felt empty. Maybe staying here for a while would help. He missed the quiet life he’d had with Sandro.

  “Oh?” Sandro looked surprised. “Young people with a sense of responsibility are rare these days. Honestly, I almost forgot about that deal. I heard you got beaten half to death in the west for stealing a book? Well, I got the book anyway. Since you’re so professional, I’ll forgive the work you owed me. You’re free now—do whatever you want.”

  Do whatever I want? What do I want? Ethan stared blankly.

  “By the way—give me back that work robe,” Sandro waved a hand, glancing at Ethan. “Now that I think about it, you wearing that thing is a bit dangerous.”

  Ethan took off the robe and handed it over. Sandro spread out the legendary defensive gear on the table, then casually placed a few severed hands and feet on top of it.

  In a shop on the capital’s main street, Ethan bought new clothes with his own money—something he’d never done before. He had no idea how to choose, so he just pulled out a shiny gold coin. The shopkeeper and his assistants swarmed over him, helping him pick everything out. After putting on the new clothes, the shopkeeper insisted on combing his hair and shaving his face. When he looked in the mirror, he was shocked—he barely recognized himself. He looked no worse than the young noble knights he’d seen.

  Ethan suddenly remembered: Bishop Ronis and Duke Mrak’s official documents—Sedros had returned them to him. He should give them back. Before he knew it, he’d walked to the duke’s mansion.

  After announcing his arrival, Duke Mrak came to the door to greet him in person, his face still warm and kind. His deputy, Knight Clovis, was nowhere to be seen—Mrak was too savvy to let the wrong people meet at the wrong time.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” the duke said, leading Ethan inside. “I must thank you for rescuing my daughter from those bandits.” He smiled brightly, but his mind was racing.

  His daughter had come back on her own before the wedding—that had put his mind at ease. Sophia hadn’t talked much about what had happened while she was away, but Mrak had pieced together enough to guess the young man had reached Oufu. Which meant he might have figured out Mrak had been covering up the news of Oufu’s founding. What if he told someone? Mrak had lied to him once—lying again would be hard. Should he kill him to silence him? No—the consequences of angering the bishop would be worse. Where should he start? And this young man was so unyielding—he didn’t care about power or money. Mrak had once thought the boy was infatuated with his younger daughter, but that was clearly not the case. As for his older daughter—she’d seemed different when she came back, but she was getting married soon. You couldn’t use the same pawn in two places.

  Compared to Mrak’s swirling thoughts and worries, Ethan was like a block of wood. He followed the duke through the mansion in a daze. It was still as luxurious and beautiful as ever—servants rushed around, decorating and preparing, hanging lanterns and colored ribbons. The air was filled with joy.

  “Father! Sister’s wedding dress is ready—she wants you to see it,” Chris ran over. When she saw Ethan, she looked surprised, her eyes darting over him.

  “You come too,” Mrak said to Ethan. “None of this would have happened for her without you.”

  When he heard the invitation, a strange feeling stirred in Ethan’s chest. It was a feeling of finally finding something he’d been looking for. He suddenly understood why he’d come back, why he’d wandered to the duke’s mansion without thinking—he’d wanted to see her.

  He followed the duke down a short corridor. It felt like the hardest, most heart-pounding walk of his life. With every step, he could hear his heart thudding, pushing blood up to his head.

  Finally, after turning through a door—there she was.

  She wasn’t wearing the dirty adventurer’s clothes anymore. She was in a snow-white wedding dress, like a fairy from a myth. Her thick black hair was neatly pinned up—no longer tied back carelessly. Her cheeks were lightly blushed, her eyebrows slightly made up. She’d never looked so beautiful.

  Boom. Ethan’s empty chest felt full in an instant. That empty spot had been her all along.

  She saw him. First, she looked shocked—disbelieving—then a flush spread across her cheeks, making the blush on them look dull by comparison. She tried to hold back, but her eyes glistened with tears. Her body trembled slightly.

  It was as if all the emptiness from before was being filled at once—no, more than filled. It was a storm, a tidal wave, crashing inside him. Countless fierce urges collided and tangled, threatening to burst out of his chest. When he saw the glisten in her eyes, his heart ached—sharp, like a knife.

  If she called out to him. If she took one step. If she made a single gesture, a single look—he would rush over, let the storm inside him explode. It didn’t matter if this was the duke’s mansion, the imperial palace, or a battlefield surrounded by thousands of soldiers—he would draw his sword, take her hand, and fight his way out. To hell with “their own lives,” to hell with “how the world works.”

  But in the end, she held back. She blinked, and the glisten in her eyes disappeared. The traces of emotion faded, leaving calm. She even bowed to him, like she would to any other guest—and smiled, softly.

  Ethan could almost hear the sound of his insides breaking—crushed by the tidal wave in his chest.

  Duke Mrak’s narrow eyes flickered between them. With his sharp insight into human nature, he saw everything.

  “My dear daughter—you’re the most beautiful bride in the world,” Mrak thought. No one could tell what was on his mind. He looked like the perfect loving father, embracing his daughter and kissing her cheek. “Take your time getting ready. I have business to discuss with Mr. Ethan.”

  “Come with me,” the duke said, patting Ethan’s shoulder.

  Ethan followed him like a sleepwalker into a room. The duke closed the doors and windows himself. Only then did Ethan realize this was probably the duke’s bedroom.

  Bedrooms were for sleeping. People only let their guards down completely when they slept—so a bedroom was the “home within a home,” a true “nest,” a place that belonged only to oneself. Such a private space was never used to receive guests casually. If it was—there were only two possibilities: either there was no other room (and the duke’s mansion had plenty), or the conversation was the most private, most secret kind.

  Duke Mrak looked at Ethan. “Sophia will marry the day after tomorrow. To the son of a marquis from the Erney family—Knight Clovis.” Strangely, his usual warm smile was gone, replaced by cold indifference.

  Ethan made a sound like “oh,” his face expressionless, his voice empty.

  “But Sophia doesn’t like him—she hates him, in fact. And he doesn’t like her either. But they’ll still get married. Do you know why?”

  “No,” Ethan replied automatically, still in a daze.

  “Power,” Mrak said. “An alliance between my family and the Erneys will strengthen both of our influence—especially mine. My position and authority in the court will soar because of this. You’ve been to Oufu, seen that orc city. Do you know why I risked so much to help them cover up the news of their city’s founding?”

  Even in his stupor, Ethan was shocked by the duke’s bluntness. He shook his head. “No.”

  “Again—power,” Mrak said. “Oufu’s founding will shake the empire. If I ally with the Erneys now, I can ride the wave of political chaos to the top. Maybe even become the most powerful man in the empire—second only to the emperor himself.” A hawk-like glint flashed in his narrow eyes—a look no one had ever seen before. “But do you know why I crave power so much? Why I’m so obsessed with it?”

  “No,” Ethan said, more shocked now. He could feel the urgency in the duke’s words.

  Mrak locked eyes with Ethan, his voice sharp as a knife—nothing like his usual gentle tone. “Because I was once like you. I watched the woman I loved be taken by someone else—someone who wasn’t even half the man I was.”

  “I was younger than you then. Just as free, just as reckless. I wandered the world, fought in battles, drank and sang to my heart’s content. I loved a woman, and she loved me. I thought my sword was enough to protect her—that I didn’t need anything else in the world. But I was wrong. The world isn’t just for two people. She had to become a nobleman’s concubine to save her family’s status and fortune. Then she died in the war, caught in the crossfire. That’s when I realized: in a society made of millions, one person’s strength is nothing. Only power is strength here. So I climbed—faster than anyone, higher than anyone.”

  Ethan stared at the man who’d always seemed so calm, so unshakable. Now, his passion and madness were more intense than the wildest zealot’s.

  Mrak’s face was alive with real emotion—something no amount of acting could mimic. Even a clumsy speaker, when sharing their true feelings, could move others, even if they couldn’t convince them with logic. And Mrak was far from clumsy.

  “I can tell Sophia likes you,” he said. “She’s my daughter—I know her. And I can tell you like her too. I see myself in you, back then. But this marriage can’t be changed. It’s tied to political struggles—maybe even the lives of thousands. At this point, there’s no room for personal feelings.”

  Mrak’s eyes held Ethan’s, his expression a mix of sorrow, pity, authority, and salvation—like a martyr. “Does it hurt? Are you sad? Do you feel powerless? Want me to tell you how to overcome this pain?”

  Ethan stared blankly at the duke, listening.

  Mrak held out his hand. “Join me. You’re capable—you have a bright future. I’ve told you all my secrets. You can ride this coming storm with me, rise to the top. Only by seizing the greatest power—by standing above this society—can you stop being controlled by it. Only then can your feelings transcend it. Only then can you get everything you want, and never feel this pain again. You’re luckier than I was. You might even get back what you’ve lost.”

  True emotion was the most precious thing anyone had. The more sophisticated a person was, the less they showed it. But those who dared to use even this most precious thing as a tool—they were the true masters of manipulation.

  No one could remain untouched by another’s sincere outpouring—especially when that passion echoed the words hidden in their own heart.

  Mrak saw the fire ignite in the young man’s eyes.

  No young person was immune to love. No young person could resist the ambition to conquer the world. When the two merged, it was enough to make the fire of youth in their veins boil, burn—even consume themselves.

  But with a long sigh, the fire in the young man’s eyes died out.

  Ethan pushed the duke’s outstretched hand back. “No. I think I’d rather live a simpler life. And… she wouldn’t want this for me. I’m grateful you told me the truth. Don’t worry—I’ll never tell anyone about this.”

  He fled—too afraid to even glance back at the room where she was. He feared that one more look would make him throw caution to the wind and agree to the duke’s offer.

  He hurried around a corner and crashed into someone. He tried to step aside, but the person let out a happy exclamation and pulled him into a tight hug.