DMEC | Chapter 6

Alexander’s vision turned white.

I forgot that child too. Did we all get hit by some kind of spell? How could we forget that child, the queen?

“Your Majesty! How could you forget the queen!”

Even though he had forgotten too, Alexander shouted.

“The queen, Prince Lute from Synthsis! The prince you cherished so much, Your Majesty!”

Lute.

Hearing that name, the Emperor’s expression gradually softened. His tense features eased as he blinked slowly, lost in thought.

He recalled the scene he had witnessed just yesterday—the moment that lingered in his mind like an unshakable dream.

A white body had emerged from the lake with a splash, water cascading down in shimmering trails. The figure sat on the ground, glistening droplets clinging to pale skin. Long, jet-black hair flowed over delicate shoulders, draping like a silken robe, concealing everything yet revealing just enough.

The contrast was mesmerizing—the ethereal whiteness of skin against the dark, liquid sheen of hair.

And those jewel-like blue eyes never left him.

“No way.”

The emperor muttered unconsciously and covered his mouth with his hand. Unable to suppress the sudden nausea, he retched and clung to the back of the chair, vomiting.

“Your Majesty!”

Experiencing this sensation for the first time, the Emperor raised a hand, signaling for Alexander to stay back.

Fortunately, he had eaten nothing—only yellow stomach acid spilled forth. He panted heavily, “Haa, haa…!” his vision blurring as he squinted against the overwhelming nausea.

Why does my chest hurt?

He did not possess a heart like ordinary men.

Long ago, he had exchanged it—the very core of his magic—for Peridexion, the only artifact capable of slaying the Basilisk.

‘You want to kill the basilisk? The basilisk that even the mages of the Seven Kingdoms couldn’t kill, you?’

‘Yes. I want to kill the basilisk and…’

Joel clutched his chest, which throbbed painfully, and looked at Alexander with a pale face. Memories of the past flashed across Alexander’s face.

‘I will destroy Synthsis. And I will rescue my only sibling, Ratea.’

‘Very well, hero with a sacred soul. Give me your heart. Then I will give you the Peridexion, which can pierce the basilisk’s heart.’

Mages cast magic through their hands—but Joel was different.

Beneath the gloves that concealed them, his palms bore deep scars, remnants of the torment he had suffered in Synthsis.

Back then, his magic—offered as tribute to the Basilisk—had been too powerful. Fearing the prophecy that foretold of a hero destined to slay the Basilisk, Empress Eliana had ordered forbidden magic to be engraved upon Joel’s palms and the backs of his hands.

‘Aaaah!’

When the hot iron tore through his flesh, mages approached and chanted in an ancient language. Joel endured the excruciating pain of having forbidden spells, which should never be cast on a mage, engraved on his palms to prevent him from using magic.

You want to stop me from using magic with my hands?

Then I will use the only holy sword, Peridexion, to wield magic.

“Why does my heart hurt?”

The emperor muttered with a blank face.

“I don’t have a heart, Alexander. Right? But… why does thinking of that child make my heart… ugh!”

Alexander approached the emperor, who was clutching his chest in pain.

“Your Majesty, how could I know something you don’t?”

At Alexander’s obvious words, the emperor snapped, “Ugh!” and pushed Alexander away.

“Just take off your clothes already! Damn it, I need to go to the Emperor’s Forest and see the fairy. Maybe seeing something beautiful will make me feel better.”

The Emperor unleashed his frustration over the searing pain in his chest upon Alexander. Fortunately, the ache subsided quickly, leaving him feeling as if nothing had happened.

Impatiently, he urged Alexander to remove his Knight Commander’s uniform.

Now left standing awkwardly in nothing but his undergarments, Alexander looked at the Emperor with pleading eyes.

“Your Majesty, my clothes…?”

At Alexander’s earnest question, the emperor snorted and said,

“How should I know what you don’t? Figure it out yourself!”

And with that, the Emperor vanished, teleportation magic whisking him away into the depths of the Emperor’s Forest.

Left standing in nothing but his undergarments, Alexander—who had suddenly been rendered a pervert in the eyes of any onlookers—still managed to find a silver lining.

At least it’s a relief.

Soon, a squire would come to fetch him. Until then, he decided to sit back and enjoy the remnants of tea and snacks.

Just as he spread his legs and settled into a chair, the door swung open.

“So, yesterday…”

A group of maids stood there to clean the large reception room.

Seeing Alexander, hairy and in just his underwear, holding a cookie, they stared at him with blank faces.

“Aaaah!”

“Kyaaah!”

In the next instant, screams erupted in unison.

Alexander, face burning with shame, hastily covered himself and scrambled under the table. Meanwhile, the maids—cheeks flushed a deep red—let out startled cries before fleeing outside in a flurry of skirts.

Of course, the one responsible for this absurd spectacle had already arrived confidently at the Emperor’s Forest, standing before the Sacred Lake—now clad in the Knight Commander’s uniform.

Joel let out a long breath, his gaze falling to his gloved hands.

‘Joel, does it hurt a lot?’

Damn it, why? Why am I starting to remember again? It was the most painful memory I wanted to forget.

‘When I grow up, I’ll erase all of this for you. So you can become a mage again, I promise…’

The once blurry memories were becoming more vivid over time. It was a bad omen. Knowing that stopping here would allow him to return to his relatively peaceful life, the emperor’s feet still led him to the forest where the fairy had been.

“I need to forget…”

The emperor muttered, fiddling with his lips.

At that moment, he heard the sound of someone pushing through the bushes from the opposite side. The emperor immediately smiled and, without realizing it, shouted, “Fairy!” and ran forward.

But upon seeing the person facing him, his face turned expressionless.

“Your Majesty, it’s been a while.”

It was none other than Melik Jordancho, the knight commander who had held his wrist during the torture. As soon as the emperor saw him, he clenched his fist and gave a chilling smile.

“Yes, it’s been a while, Melik?”

“You remember my name.”

“How could I forget? You were one of the few survivors present when I was tortured at just sixteen.”

The emperor walked steadily toward Melik. Melik squinted at the knight commander’s uniform the emperor wore.

Not wearing the emperor’s uniform but the knight commander’s… Could he have truly forgotten Lute? Thinking of Lute, who was like a son to him, suffering and groaning, came to mind. Lute, who had never been sick even after swimming for hours at the lakeside, except in early spring or autumn.

But now, he was so severely ill with a fever that he couldn’t regain his senses, all because of the shock that Joel had forgotten him.

‘Joel…’

Even in his delirious state, he cried and searched for Joel. Lute, in his confused state, mistook himself for Joel and murmured in a pained voice.

‘I’m sorry… I’ll apologize on behalf of my mother. I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll take all the punishment… Please love me again… okay? I’m sorry. I was wrong…’

Because of the grave sin he had committed, Lute was sentenced to ten years of confinement in the Emperor’s Forest. Considering the crime of insulting the Emperor, it was a lenient punishment—most who dared such an offense were executed without question.

But another consequence had followed.

The kingdom of Synthsis ceased to exist, annexed by the Great Empire of Killen. Eliana Synthsis, once an Emperor, was stripped of her title and reduced to a mere king. And after that disgraceful downfall, she became nothing more than Eliana, barely surviving as a tenant farmer.

Yet, what could she and her noble-born family—who knew nothing of a commoner’s toil—possibly do? Though granted a house and property as a final mercy, even that meager inheritance was squandered within months.

As the time for divorce drew near, they began sending desperate letters, demanding as much alimony as they could seize. And when their anger surged, they turned their hatred toward Lute, cursing him, blaming him for their suffering, and even pleading for him to take his own life so that they would no longer have to endure their misery.

Some days, their letters professed love for Lute. Other days, they spewed venom, cursing him as the cause of their downfall. And on other days… they simply begged. The increasingly bitter and hollow words exhausted those around him.

The ones who grieved the most were Melik and Anna. They had given Lute more parental love than his own family ever had. They had tried, again and again, to persuade him to sever ties with them.

But Lute, despite Anna’s insistence and his family’s rejection, clung to a single, unfulfilled hope—repeating the same words like a mantra every day.

“Joel will come. He said he would.”

And so, he waited.

For ten years.

Every day, he would walk to the very edge of the Emperor’s Forest, to the furthest point the shackles of his curse would allow, and wait for the Emperor.

Lute, who had to farm potatoes and sweet potatoes just to survive another year.

Lute, who had to mend and wear maid uniforms Anna brought him because he had no clothes of his own.

Yet despite everything, Lute still held love for the Emperor.

The sight of him, waiting in blind faith, pressed upon Melik’s shoulders like an unbearable weight—a debt he could never repay.

So when the fist came flying toward him, Melik did not move. He did not avoid it.

He took it.

Thud!

“Why?” Lute’s voice trembled with bitter resentment. “Why don’t you grab my wrist and pin me down like back then?”

Melik collapsed without even a groan of pain, then slowly knelt. Lowering his head, he placed his hands firmly on the ground, pressing his forehead to the earth in deep reverence.

“Your Majesty… have you truly forgotten our prince?” His voice wavered, but his sincerity remained unwavering. “Do you not remember Prince Lute Synthsis?”

“Our prince… he believes you have forgotten him.”

“But Your Majesty… don’t you remember?”