Editor 65

The Queen’s Garden (2)

‘Wow, this is amazing!’

‘Haegupseong’s Slash’ was a shared skill given to a swordsman who breaks through a siege by cutting a path with their sword. It was a technique symbolizing indomitable courage.

It was a skill bestowed on those who never gave up and fought on even in desperate situations, a technique that symbolized indomitable courage.

‘A protagonist is a protagonist. There’s no need to explain—he snatches up whatever he needs, even if his ether level is lacking.’

Clink—

Arthur, who had done all the fighting himself, sheathed his spotless sword and walked over briskly. His collar was torn and his hair disheveled, but he didn’t seem injured otherwise.

“Just now, when I was surrounded by monsters and slashed my sword down, something flashed and a message popped up!”

“What, did a shared skill activate or something?”

“Ugh! You’re like a ghost! Yeah! I got Haegupseong’s Slash!”

“Now you’ll be able to break free even if assassins grab your arms and legs. That’s great.”

Arthur looked like he wanted to jump for joy, but Kleio was too tired and exhausted to share in his happiness.

“We’ve already cleared the first barrier, so we don’t have to rush. Let’s rest.”

“Yeah, you really need a break.”

Putting aside his personal joy for a moment, Arthur soon checked on Kleio’s condition. He was astonishingly calm for someone only seventeen.

‘Focus and kindness both come from stamina in the end.’

Annoying as it was, the fact that that guy was strong and this body was trash couldn’t be changed, so Kleio, turning off “Perception,” slumped down right there.

Having defeated the monsters at the barrier, they would be safe from monsters’ range for now.

Arthur, loosely sitting next to Kleio, was rolling the magestone he had earned on his own in fascination.

[Amber of the Shrub

: Preservation magestone. You can harden anything in the world inside it.]

“Wow! This is amazing, its name floats in the air. Amber of the Shrub? I have no idea how to process this or what makes it different from other gems… How does preservation work?”

“Look.”

Kleio examined the amber, about the size of a baby’s fist, resting in Arthur’s hand. He remembered what he’d read in the “List of Magestones” at home.

‘It’s nice having the “Memory” ability.’

“You use the [Imprint] magic circle on it. That way, you can preserve anything inside. To retrieve what you put in, you use the [Restore] circle.”

“How do you know all that?”

Arthur’s boyish face was filled with awe.

“Did you forget I’m the son of the family that owns Albion’s best trading company?”

“Oh wow, I really did pick an amazing companion.”

“Now you know, treat me with even more respect.”

After some more playful bickering, their conversation faded out. It was only natural after staying up all night, getting soaked, and fighting.

Inside the dungeon, you could call up the time limit display just by thinking, but there was no real sense of night or day.

Above the vast garden, suspended in the void, was a shape like a sun eclipsed by the moon. It probably wasn’t a real star or satellite, though.

‘This is just an artificial space, a condensation of a world that once existed.’

When he tested it by thinking about the time, golden letters appeared again. There was still plenty of time left.

[—Remaining Time / Time Limit:

22:02:51 / 24:00:00]

‘If I’d come in with no information, I would’ve had to search this entire garden for the “Master Clock.” A day wouldn’t be enough—probably not even a week. Why has the time gotten shorter?’

Even though this was the first dungeon, the “Master Clock,” which was the key point, had a unique form.

It seemed designed so you wouldn’t just clear it and leave immediately, but get used to the space first.

In the previous draft, even the skilled nineteen-year-old Arthur and Isiel had to turn the entire garden upside down. At that time, there was plenty of time.

‘But this draft is different. If you don’t know the strategy, there’s not enough time to even find the “Master Clock.”’

Even as he was thinking all this, he was conscious of the time, so the clock before his eyes kept blinking at regular intervals.

It was odd.

The dungeon’s notification message was identical in form and function to the “Promise” messages.

‘Outside the door, it seems like only I can see these, but inside, everyone can see them. Maybe it’s because, for me, outside the door is also another world?’

Out of habit, Kleio rubbed the smooth surface of “Promise” on his left index finger.

At that moment, Arthur, who had been staring at the sky for a while, muttered. Kleio reflexively looked up too.

“The moon doesn’t move, and there are no constellations. Now I really feel like I’ve crossed into another world.”

Other than the sun, which glowed orange only at the edge where it was hidden by the moon, there was not a single star in the round sky.

‘I’m already in another world, you idiot.’ But Kleio could only nod vaguely. He kept yawning.

“Should we really get some sleep before moving on?”

“Yeah. You?”

“I can go three days without sleep.”

“At level 5, you’re already like that, so when you become a Sword Master, you could probably go a month without sleep. Alright, I’ll nap for two hours, so stand guard.”

“Sure. See? This is what treating you with respect looks like.”

“Ugh, enough.”

Kleio, right where he sat, slumped sideways as if sliding down. He used his bag of supplies as a pillow and buttoned up his coat. It wasn’t bad at all.

Just as he was drifting off, Arthur murmured something.

“Ray, you called me ‘Your Highness’ in front of Aslan.”

“Yeah… you like hearing that?”

“Mm. Not as much as I thought.”

“Right? When you become king, I’ll call you ‘Your Majesty,’ so until then, forget about titles.”

Arthur, quietly laughing, spoke softly.

“Now that I’m here, this place feels oddly familiar. With the eclipse, it’s like the coronation is going on forever.”

“You’ve never even seen a coronation.”

“I’ll probably see one in a few years. Father’s on his last legs already.”

Indeed, King Philip would die soon. In a way very different from what everyone imagined.

‘Should I tell him? But would he believe me… could anything really be changed?’

To be blunt, his father’s death itself would actually work in Arthur’s favor.

While he hesitated, drowsiness took over and he missed his chance to reply.

Arthur continued talking, not seeming to mind.

“While you were going toe-to-toe with Aslan, the others and I decided: all the magestones we get this time, we’ll give to you. I’m a swordsman, so they’re useless to me. A magician could make better use of them.”

“That’s the best thing you’ve said all day.”

Even as his eyelids drooped, Kleio was quick to respond to talk of being given things.

“You have no reason to risk your life for me, but you do anyway. I should repay you somehow.”

‘A reason to risk my life….’

Isiel and the twins supported Arthur to inherit their families, and Chel for political influence. But Kleio had no such motivation.

‘Instead, there’s the author’s compulsion.’

It was a purpose Arthur might never know. The duty to guide this story in the right direction.

To do so, there was something he needed to confirm first.

Somehow, Arthur seemed to be in a rare, sentimental mood, so now was a good time.

“About your mother’s prophecy, is there anything else you remember?”

“…Back then, Ray, you said this world revolves around me. I thought it was kind of strange, but thinking about it now, that must have been your prophecy too?”

“Mm.”

“Mother said similar things, over and over. ‘All this hardship is for the sake of glory, and you will come to know that the world moves for you.’”

It was as if he saw a tattered manuscript being torn from all sides. Kleio’s stomach felt sore.

“To be honest, I didn’t believe it. It was the kind of phrase that comforts a child who lost his mother early. That I’m special, that my pain has meaning. But it can’t be true.”

Kleio didn’t know whether to praise Arthur’s cold self-awareness or lament that this world wasn’t built on such objective laws.

“Mother often told me that if I wanted to be king, I must find a magician of my own generation with great power.”

“You believed that?”

“No. Since Professor Zebedi, there hadn’t been any great magicians… until you showed up.”

“…Your mother must have been a remarkable person.”

‘Melchior alone is trouble—now his mother too?’

“She was so remarkable she couldn’t live long. Queen Zuleika wanted to kill my mother and finally succeeded. Then she dismissed all the prophecies as lies.”

“How….”

A long silence fell between the two boys.

Kleio’s head felt heavy, processing the sudden new information. Drowsiness pressed in and made it hard to keep his eyes open.

Still on alert, Arthur looked down at Kleio, sprawled out without care.

Because of this classmate, Arthur Riognan finally found the answer to the question that had bound his whole life.

“But your words proved it. Mother was right.”

With everything quiet, Arthur’s soft voice carried clearly.

Even with his eyes closed, Kleio could feel the wary prince looking at him with trust, and felt a twinge of guilt.

‘I absolutely must never let him find out the truth…’

If he knew the real reason—so that the land I bought doesn’t go to waste if you die—things would not end well.

Not expecting an answer, the prince quietly began to recount his past beside Kleio.

Arthur’s mother, Theophila, was a priestess and orphan raised in a quiet rural area.

In an era when trains and telegrams crossed the continent.

The followers of the goddess of time were rapidly decreasing. Officially, prophecy and divine power were fading away.

Even priestesses usually lost their powers when they left the church, but after an unwanted union with King Philip and giving birth to Arthur, Theophila did not completely lose her abilities.

His mother spoke to Arthur about events yet to come, as if she had already witnessed them. In the ambiguous language of prophecy.

[‘This time, I am not wrong. My son, my king, you who will rewrite the world.

The youngest and most powerful magician will come in your era. He, too, is someone who knows what has already been spoken.

Find the magician. If you do, my son, you will gain the throne.’]

A few years after moving to the summer palace, his mother was killed on the orders of Prince Aslan’s mother, Zuleika.

Arthur was left alone at the summer palace in the Kishion domain, far from the royal castle.

It seemed his only stroke of luck in life was catching the eye of the Kishion viscount’s fencing instructor.

For several years after, from dawn to dusk, he held a sword until his hands were calloused and studied until his eyes closed.

And in his eleventh year—

After showing his skills at the youth fencing tournament, he met his so-called brothers for the first time.

The second prince, who obsessively tried to harm him, the elegant but cold first prince.

Though they shared the same father, they were all just enemies.

After making a [Pledge] with Isiel, he spent years quietly gathering strength.

Arthur remembered everything his mother said in her lifetime. But he couldn’t fully believe her words. There were no powerful magicians of his generation.

There was a magic class student who had made a name for himself for a while, but he soon broke his ether vessel.

By then, whether his mother was right or wrong didn’t matter. However it happened, a prophecy that is realized becomes the truth.

When he returned to the capital, Arthur made up his mind.

He would repay the truth to those who branded his mother a madwoman and killed her. By any means necessary.

Therefore, he had to become king.

“Maybe the person who couldn’t believe my visions or my mother’s prophecies the most was me.”

Arthur’s voice was low.

It wasn’t for Kleio, who was already asleep and unresponsive, but for himself.

The visions that had marked him as a cursed child were not only prophecies of the future.

They made him live through the present two or three times.

That, too, was one of the curses he bore.

Even at the moment Isiel knelt before him for the [Pledge], Arthur was not surprised.

Looking down at Isiel’s nape, her red hair cut short like a boy’s, he knew.

That it was something that had already happened.

Arthur had memories that were not his, but had to be his.

Events that happened twice nearly drove young Arthur mad.

Of all the memories he had, the only truly one-time events were the moments when his mother spoke her “prophecies.”

The words his mother whispered as she held him tightly were single, unduplicated voices.

But after his mother died, his refuge disappeared.

He adapted to this fragile world made of events that could not be fixed as only one.

People who really knew Arthur called him a mature boy, calm in any situation.

But in truth, it was the calmness of someone who had lived through things multiple times.

But that magician was different.

To Arthur, Kleio was always the first, never repeated.