The Man in the Dream
“Is this… a dream? Or is it a prophetic dream?”
Even in her hazy state, what she felt was the sensation of an opaque veil enveloping her.
It felt as if she was submerged in water.
There was also a sense of buoyancy, as if floating in mid-air.
One thing was certain: whether this was a dream or a prophetic vision, Rose had no control over it.
There had never been another prophetic dream with such clear causes and effects as the one that led from Empress to Deposed Empress.
Moreover, it was often difficult to distinguish where the dream ended and where the prophetic vision began.
‘So, is this a prophetic dream today? Or just a dream? I’m tired, can you show me quickly?’
As Rose nonchalantly surveyed her surroundings, her face began to blush.
“What is… that?”
There was a man.
A completely naked man.
Rose’s face contorted.
What reason could there possibly be for God to show her such a dream?
The most infuriating part was that she couldn’t avoid it.
She couldn’t close her eyes or turn her head away.
Even though this wasn’t her will, but rather the nature of the environment, she felt incredibly embarrassed.
Rose, not knowing what to do, could only hope that he would quickly put on some clothes.
‘Are you crazy? Prophetic dream, are you insane? What kind of nonsense is this!’
Then, unexpectedly, the man tried to turn around.
In his naked state!
Just as Rose struggled to wake up, horrified, the dream began to shake, and she felt herself being pulled out.
As Rose sighed with relief at the joy of waking from the dream, she looked straight ahead, feeling something eerie.
The man was lifting his head towards the ceiling where she was.
His black eyes seemed to be looking right at her.
*** *** *** *** ***
“Ugh!”
As soon as she opened her eyes, the scene from the dream came flooding back.
Heat surged through her entire body.
Raising her head through her tangled hair, Rose muttered blankly.
“What was that? What a crazy dream.”
It absolutely must not be a prophetic dream.
Just thinking about witnessing such a thing made her face turn completely red.
“But if it’s not a prophetic dream, does that mean I’m sexually frustrated……”
Rose wanted to grab and shake the prophetic dream that was tormenting her.
However, she didn’t yet realize how persistent this dream would be.
*** *** *** *** ***
She had lost count of how many times it had happened.
Dragged into the middle of a battlefield, Rose looked at the scene of carnage and screams.
It was horrifying enough to make her nauseous, but she didn’t faint or cry.
She had experienced and seen worse things before.
Rose deliberately avoided looking at the mutilated corpses and people screaming in agony.
This was just a dream, and no matter how much she shouted, they wouldn’t know.
In the dream, she was nothing more than a helpless intruder.
Just like the relationship between her and the prophetic dreams that suddenly appeared one day.
It was when Rose, with a bitter smile, was watching this cruel dream where she wasn’t even allowed to close her eyes.
[Kill.]
As blood rained down, a voice suddenly pierced through all other sounds, making her skin crawl.
Before she could even try to look, she was already pulled to his side, where he stood alone.
Amidst the battlefield filled with rough breathing, the smell of sweat, and the stench of blood, this man stood alone.
Dark red blood flowed down his entire body, soaking his armor and dripping onto the ground.
Every time his sword swung, the hot blood of enemies showered over him like a fountain.
Covered in crimson blood, the man continued to cut down enemies relentlessly, unbothered.
Even his allies followed him with faces mixed with awe and fear.
Yet the man who was holding back the incoming enemies looked at the battlefield and death with dull eyes, as if bored.
He wasn’t afraid in any situation, and no death could shake him as he moved forward.
Sometimes he looked like a demon of murder, and sometimes he seemed unaware that he was cutting down people.
Rose watched the man fight through the prolonged war until the dark red blood dried and looked like his own skin.
His strength left a deep impression on Rose.
The man’s sword cut down enemies without hesitation, and he disregarded even his own life to clear a path for his allies.
He fought at the forefront, swinging his sword with all his might every moment, no matter who he was killing.
He never got tired and always showed a clear direction to his allies.
Without realizing it, she quietly watched him brutally slaughter enemies, furrowing her brow at every moment of crisis that befell him.
Finally, when the man lowered his sword, a moment of silence fell.
The corpses piled on the field and the green earth were so stained with blood that the original colors were unrecognizable. When he stopped, those who had been killing and dying momentarily didn’t know what to do.
As the rough breath rising white from his mouth scattered chaotically over his face, someone among the allies, realizing there were no more enemies to cut down, let out a cheer.
The soldiers, patting each other’s shoulders and bursting into laughter, rejoiced in their survival.
However, no one approached the man who had led them to victory in this war.
While they revered and admired his swordsmanship, the man stood alone amidst gazes that didn’t see him as a fellow human.
As he lifted his head towards the sky among the piles of corpses, dark clouds quietly began to rain.
Through the blood being washed away, she discovered sun-tanned copper skin and black eyes.
It was surprising that she hadn’t noticed until now.
Black eyes and black hair.
Though not rare, it wasn’t a common color either, but Rose couldn’t take her eyes off him.
*** *** *** *** ***
After that, she dreamt of the man several more times.
On those nights, Rose was able to achieve a deep sleep for the first time in her life.
Was it because the man’s fearless eyes seemed as comforting as an impregnable fortress?
With each recurring dream, Rose began to harbor a pure curiosity about someone.
However, even such feelings did not last long.
Reality is not only more cruel than dreams but always demands more than that.
*** *** *** *** ***
From the moment Gray, who was always neatly dressed in a suit, appeared disheveled that day, Rose had an ominous feeling.
“Say it again.”
The guild master repeated bitterly, furrowing his gray-blue eyes.
“Duke Aytan has died.”
“The reason?”
“From what we’ve found out… it was old age.”
It was an utterly unsatisfactory result.
Rose stared at the ‘Guardian Contract’ in front of her.
As if glaring at it would bring the Duke back to life.
“Lady Rose, staring at it won’t change anything.”
Guild Master Gray tried to console her in her distress.
However, he knew well that this wasn’t a matter to be easily given up on.
The Duke, who had intended to become her guardian in exchange for solving the problems of the Aytan territory, had succumbed to old age and died abruptly.
A Sword Master, no less!
Just a week before the contract was to be finalized!
Rose felt resentful towards the heavens.
She wanted to grab and shake that damned prophetic dream.
This is exactly the kind of thing it should have warned her about in a dream!
Duke Aytan, whom she thought she had finally secured, slipped through her fingers like sand.
Rose, who had squeezed her eyes shut, looked at Gray.
“The successor?”
“Currently, he’s gone to get approval from the Emperor. However…”
“Go on.”
“No one has seen him. Even our informants have tried to track him down several times, but they report that he’s completely untraceable.”
Rose spoke dejectedly.
“It’s a Sword Master family, isn’t it? I’ve heard that among all the Aytan Dukes in history, there wasn’t a single one who hadn’t seen the tip of a sword. How could such a person not be able to evade a few informants? Tell them not to unnecessarily poke the sleeping lion’s whiskers and to be careful.”
“Yes.”
Rose squeezed her eyes shut.
As they say, there’s always another mountain to climb.
“Gray.”
“Yes, my Lady.”
Gray, with his gentle demeanor, waited for her words as usual.
“How old is the man who became the new Duke of Aytan?”
“Thirty.”
“What are the chances that he likes men?”
“…None, I suppose?”
“Just like Duke Klaus, the successor might not be interested in women either, right?”
Gray squinted his blue-gray eyes and gave a bitter smile.
“Well, it’s hard to say for sure since we have so little information about the new successor. More importantly, even if he’s not interested in women, a young duke of marriageable age wouldn’t live alone without an heir for his entire life.”
“That’s a harsh truth.”
Despite Rose’s words, Gray only smiled and said nothing more.
He had never been fond of this plan from the beginning, and it seemed he hoped she would change her mind.
But that was not possible.
Considering not only herself but also the Chaos Merchant Guild, the numerous families connected to them, and the branches intertwined like a spider’s web, this was something that had to be done.
The prophetic dreams had never been wrong, and as their leader, Rose had to be prepared.
In that sense, the Dukes of Aytan and Klaus were perfect pieces of the puzzle for her.
However, the person in question was already dead.
All she had in her hands was a tiny bit of information about a successor she had never even seen.
“Ha!”
Rose closed her eyes and spoke, frustrated by the god’s ambiguous response, not knowing if it was helping or tormenting her.
“Gray, I need to go to Aytan.”
“I’ll make the preparations.”
Rose grabbed the contract on the desk.
‘Damn it.’
*** *** *** *** ***
The northern region of Terran, Aytan territory.
The new Duke of Aytan was wearing black formal attire, indicating a period of mourning.
Khan, with his rare black hair and eyes, sat on the sofa, looking out the window at the heavy snowfall.
The man, with a face burned from fighting wars in the wilderness and beautiful features tinged with a languid sensuality, seemed somewhat bored.
Jack, the butler, swallowed a sigh as he observed his master’s arid appearance, which hardly seemed like someone in mourning.
Although Jack had developed a stern appearance from always keeping those around him on edge, he approached Khan quietly, revealing a softer expression only for him.
The old butler set down some hot tea and cautiously attempted to start a conversation.
“How did you find the North after eighteen years?”
“Just the same.”
Hearing the Duke’s stiff, inhuman tone made Jack’s heart ache, which he thought had become numb after more than sixty years.
He became anxious, wondering if this young master would also live without emotions, like the previous Duke Klaus.
“If the late… previous Duke had seen you, young master—no, Your Grace—grown up like this, he would have been truly happy. Although he didn’t show it, you were his only grandson, so he must have missed you a lot.”
Though he said this, Jack himself didn’t know if it was true.
Duke Klaus was the man who had thrust a sword into the hands of his barely eight-year-old grandson and pushed him into the battlefield of the wilderness.
‘But he too was a victim of the family…’
The Duke’s black eyes, which had been drinking tea, turned to Jack, who was reminiscing about the past.
“I didn’t know you were so good at lying.”
His voice, somewhat awkward as if he hadn’t spoken much while wandering the wilderness for a long time, even had a slight metallic quality to it.
Still, it remained a voice that could bewitch people.
The butler quietly smiled and poured more tea into the Duke’s empty cup.
“But did you only stay on the battlefield? Your way of speaking has changed a lot. You omit many subjects, so I’ve had a hard time adjusting.”
“There’s no need for long words when killing people.”
Jack, momentarily at a loss for words, rubbed his eyes that were about to well up with tears and carefully asked.
“Have you visited the grave?”
“Is there any need to go to a place where clothes are just laid out for people to see? As you know, we don’t even leave corpses behind.”
“But…”
Jack felt only pity as he looked at the Duke, who didn’t seem to feel any sense of loss despite losing his only family.
The butler hesitated but finally asked the question he had been contemplating.
“How is your heart? Has it… ever raced?”
“It’s still fine.”
Jack genuinely felt relieved.
“That’s a relief.”
“What’s so relieving about it?”
Realizing he had touched a sensitive spot, Jack took a step back at the sharp question.
“Forgive me.”
Every time the Duke’s cold gaze fixed on him, Jack broke out in a cold sweat.
Instead of punishing Jack, the Duke asked one thing.
“Tell me how the spies we were supposed to capture are doing.”
“We’re identifying and investigating their backgrounds, but they haven’t confessed yet. We suspect that the local influential forces and Duke Dukan from the capital are involved. And there have been no attempts to infiltrate your quarters or… ahem, the bathroom.”
Jack, feeling embarrassed, glanced at Khan while making his report.
Despite the situation where they might have missed a spy, the Duke surprisingly accepted it calmly.
“Yes. That makes sense.”
Khan turned his interest away from the matter and looked out the window at the heavy snowfall.
Jack recognized this as a sign to leave.
Placing the hot teapot on the table, the butler quietly left the study but stopped.
He couldn’t bear to leave, feeling concerned for Khan, who was lying on the sofa with his eyes closed.
Perhaps it was because he had seen the boy leave at such a young age.
The image of his young master, who had learned nothing from his family and received no warmth, kept lingering in his mind.
Khan had grown taller than the sofa he used to curl up on, but the old man felt pained, thinking his master had grown into an adult only in appearance.
‘I will… protect you, my lord. So please, live a long life.’
Jack lowered his watery eyes and firmly closed the study door.
*** *** *** *** ***
Khan opened his eyes at the sound of the closing door and sat quietly for a moment.
He thought many things would have changed over time, but the North remained the same.
The wind was still bitterly cold, and the snow fell endlessly.
Slowly rising from his seat, he moved a few books in the study.
As he placed his hand on the desk, a round magic circle emitting a blue light appeared and wrapped around Khan’s wrist.
After staring at it blankly for a moment, he touched the wall behind him.
A blood-red door suddenly appeared, but Khan turned the handle without hesitation.
The open doorway was eerily dark and somewhat damp, but Khan walked in without a trace of hesitation.
Unable to use any light-emitting tools, he had to walk blindly, yet his movements were sure.
‘Khan, this is a tomb. Soon I’ll be buried here, and someday, you will too.’
Khan paused briefly as his grandfather’s voice came to mind, but soon resumed walking.
His grandfather, who had revealed everything about the family without reservation, lived solely for the family.
He was curious about only one thing.
‘So, were you satisfied?’
After passing through a long, tedious tunnel, Khan finally faced an enormous library.
Standing before the family records room, which one typically visits only once or twice in a lifetime, he looked up at the ceiling.
It was an old method of illuminating the space by reflecting light with mirrors.
The fact that no one had bothered to change this seemed typical of Aytan.
After all, they were a breed interested in only one thing.
He walked between the bookshelves carved out of stone.
Countless ancestors’ names were preserved in single volumes.
Finally, he found the person he was looking for.
[Klaus von Aytan.]
He pulled out his grandfather’s diary.
Khan opened the first page, looking down at the name engraved in red on the smooth leather cover, like human skin.
The life lived as Klaus was written in his grandfather’s familiar handwriting.
He stood reading the diary for a long time.
There was hardly any mention of other people in the writing.
The diary, filled only with dry reason, contained only the author, “Duke Klaus.”
When he was down to the last few pages, Khan’s eyes trembled.
[My heart beats slower and slower.
Even as a Sword Master, I could sense that the accelerated aging had finally reached its end.
Ironically, only on the brink of death could I feel even a fragment of emotion.
For the first time, I thought of my son’s madness, my daughter-in-law who died because of it, and my grandson who, like me, never learned emotions under mental abuse.
Yes.
It was the first time.
For the first time, I thought of Khan not as the heir to continue the family line, but as my grandson.
Having lived only for duty, I couldn’t understand what this feeling was.
But when I thought of him, my heart ached.
It was painful as if my breath would stop, and sometimes I couldn’t even eat thinking about that child.
I was worried I might die like this.
Although these weren’t pleasant experiences, they were far more satisfying than feeling nothing at all, so it seemed a bit of a shame to die right away.
So I decided to think about him a little less.]
It was typical of an Aytan man, who had devoted his entire life to the family but was fundamentally self-centered.
After the brief mention of Khan, his grandfather returned to talking about himself.
[My decision to live for the family’s continuation was right, but as an individual, my life was a failure.
Born human, a life unable to feel affection for anyone is no different from being dead.]
After standing and reading for a long time, Khan finally reached the last page of the diary.
[At the age of eighty, I can finally end this unbearably boring life.
It was a life without a single flaw, but if given the chance to choose again, I would… rather go mad like my son.
After all, for a life that only leaves behind a diary, to hell with the heart seal.]
Khan briefly flipped through the diary, wondering if this was the end, but it really was the last entry of his life.
The grandson, somewhat irreverently, smirked and placed his grandfather’s diary back on the shelf.
The end of his grandfather, who always demanded emotional suppression and restraint, was regret.
Life gradually began to return to Khan’s dry black eyes.
He had gotten all the answers he wanted.
And he decided.
To try to love someone, no matter how terrible the outcome.
Looking at his grandfather’s diary, Khan said.
“Until then, I’ll fulfill my duty as you wished.”
But even Khan couldn’t have predicted what form that duty would take.
Fulfill the Contract
After a few days, the bustling Duke’s household regained its stability.
As Jack observed the orderly moving servants, he was overwhelmed with emotion, recalling the late Duke Klaus.
“Still, I’m grateful that he stayed with us for such a long time.”
Compared to other masters who barely reached their twenties or even failed to reach adulthood, living to the age of eighty was nothing short of a miracle.
Although Duke Klaus himself might not have been very happy, Jack wished for his master’s to live long lives, no matter what.
Thinking of the deceased, Jack suddenly remembered the young master who died at an early age.
As soon as he thought of Khan’s father, Jack shook his head.
“No, why am I thinking of him?”
The butler hurried to his office, as if to shake off the ominous thoughts.
Although it was underground and narrow, it was quiet enough to work in.
Jack, who was coughing briefly due to poor ventilation, frowned at the miscellaneous expense list submitted by the intelligence unit.
“Damn it. They think this is their chance, don’t they?”
Unlike the previous Duke, who rarely utilized them, Khan was using the intelligence unit to the fullest.
Knowing this well, Jack scolded their spending instead of criticizing his master.
While organizing the pile of receipts, he found a note.
[Butler, if it’s difficult to resign, could you at least grant me a leave of absence?
If I keep living like this, I’ll die of overwork…]
Jack immediately crumpled the paper.
“Why is the head of the intelligence unit whining like this? How much work has he done?”
The man Khan sent as a liaison a few years ago was skilled enough to become the head of the intelligence unit in no time.
However, he claimed to be a salaried worker and only worked as much as he was paid for.
The more Jack thought about it, the more absurd it seemed, and he shook his head in disbelief.
Then, he widened his eyes at the news delivered by a servant.
“Who did you say came?”
The Chaos Merchant Guild, which had been completely forgotten due to Duke Klaus’s death, had arrived.
Jack, looking distressed, hurried to the Duke.
Shortly after, the butler, who came out again, frowned.
“The Duke already knows everything? How did this happen? Could it be…”
With a doubtful expression, he took out the crumpled note from his pocket.
[I might die of overwork.
Oh, and the Chaos Merchant Guild will visit around noon today.
But you wouldn’t know that, Butler, because you crumpled the note I gave you.
Uh, well, don’t blame me. I did report it, but you didn’t read it.]
“You damn rascal! You should have written that at the beginning!”
It was clear that he was taking revenge for the delayed payment.
Grinding his teeth, Jack headed to the entrance where the Chaos Merchant Guild was.
*** *** *** *** ***
“Sorry for the delay in greeting our guests.”
Jack bowed politely first, and the head of the trading company, Gray, also greeted him in return.
“No, we apologize for arriving unannounced. We know you are in mourning, but we had to come urgently, so we came without shame.”
“The Duke has been expecting you.”
Gray’s eyes became peculiar as he looked at the butler.
It wasn’t particularly hidden, but it meant that their movements were fully exposed.
Gray hesitated for a moment and then looked back.
After exchanging glances with Rose, who was among the group, he spoke to the butler.
“Please guide us.”
Gray, calming his reluctant heart, held the contract in his hand even tighter.
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