Chapter 42

During the entire ride back to the estate, Grondil repeatedly assured Lino that there was no need for immense concern. By the time Lino reached his bedchamber, he was a hollow shell, mechanically parroting empty affirmations like, “Yes. Yes, of course. I understand,” with dead, vacant eyes.

Had this been the Grondil of the past few days, the Duke undoubtedly would have harassed him relentlessly inside the limousine, followed him directly into his bedroom, and aggressively demanded they execute his ‘punishment.’ Today, however, Lino’s profoundly disturbed reaction seemed to have dampened the man’s mood; Grondil merely instructed him to rest well before vanishing into his study.

“What in the world… I don’t understand a single thing,” Lino muttered to the empty room.

Collapsing onto the mattress without even bothering to wash, Lino desperately attempted to organize the chaotic storm raging in his skull. The exquisite taste of the rare desserts he had consumed at Erin’s restaurant had been entirely wiped from his memory. Instead, the horrifying exposition Grondil had delivered regarding the ‘Letia’ clamped around his brain and heart like an iron vice.

A new breed of humanity, burdened by divine wrath yet granted forgiveness and the miraculous ability to conceive across species: that was the Letia. The defining criteria were absolute: striking physical beauty, a robust constitution, and dense divine power. And most crucially, they were exclusively male.

Of course, the statistical probability of locating a Letia using those parameters was astronomically low. It was an undeniable fact that the population of the Terne Continent consisted overwhelmingly of ordinary, unattractive men rather than robust beauties. Filtering that already minuscule pool for those possessing divine power narrowed the margin to practically zero.

Translating those percentages into actual population numbers meant that even if one dedicated their entire life to the search, finding a Letia was a fool’s errand.

That was precisely why Grondil was searching for the ‘divine mark.’ Fortunately, regardless of social standing, every single citizen on the Terne Continent underwent a mandatory divine power assessment at some point in their lives.

Even if one possessed divine power, its density dictated whether they would live an ordinary life or enter the clergy. Serving as a cleric wasn’t a lifelong sentence; it required a mandatory conscription ranging from six months to five years. Furthermore, many individuals possessing divine power actively volunteered for the clergy, making it exceptionally easy to track down those who met the first criterion: ‘individuals with dense divine power.’

Filtering that group through the second criterion—’robust physical beauty’—was equally straightforward. While clerics generally possessed higher concentrations of divine power, those with robust physical constitutions inevitably enlisted as paladins rather than clerics. The public perception of a cleric was overwhelmingly that of an intellectual—someone sequestered in a temple, offering prayers, leading worship, and engaging in political maneuvering, entirely divorced from physical conditioning.

Thus, Grondil had systematically scoured the various nations of the Terne Continent, filtering candidates through these exact parameters. After enduring a grueling, agonizingly long search spanning numerous New Years, he had finally arrived at his ultimate destination: the Zetina Kingdom.

Haa… my life is truly… how can I possibly have this level of catastrophic bad luck?

Lino viciously pounded his own head with his fists, kicking his legs wildly into the empty air. Since arriving at the ducal estate, he had experienced the distinct, terrifying realization of ‘Fuck, my life is ruined!’ multiple times, but this felt like the absolute pinnacle of being utterly fucked.

What if I am the Letia…?

Merely entertaining the hypothesis triggered a violent full-body shudder, goosebumps erupting across his skin.

He would vastly prefer having his backside forcibly breached by the Duke three times a day. Why the hell would he want to be penetrated by an impotent Emperor, get pregnant, and give birth to a child? All in absolute, suffocating secrecy, hidden from the world. Furthermore, the child he birthed wouldn’t even be acknowledged as his own; it would inevitably be claimed as the Empress’s offspring.

What kind of utter bullshit is this—

Springing up to his knees on the mattress, Lino yanked a pillow between his legs and ruthlessly battered it with his fists.

Eeeek! If he’s impotent, he should live quietly like an impotent man, or just adopt! Does being the Emperor give him the right to do whatever he wants? What era are we even living in that he’s pulling this unhinged garbage just to produce an heir?!

Lino unleashed a silent, screaming tirade that would have guaranteed his immediate decapitation had the Cartian Emperor heard it, unleashing his fury entirely upon the innocent pillow. Smack! Whack! Pow! He hammered it with such violent desperation that before he even reached his tenth strike, the casing violently ruptured, detonating a massive cloud of white feathers into the air.

“Gah! Cough, cough!“

Because he had been panting heavily during his assault, a thick mouthful of feathers rushed straight down his throat the moment the fabric tore. Achoo! Phhbbbt! They clogged his nostrils as well.

He spent a miserable several minutes violently coughing and hacking, pulling damp feathers from his tongue and furiously blowing them out of his nose.

“Haha! Hahaha… Fuck. Literally nothing is going my way.”

A few pathetic punches had transformed his bed and the surrounding floor into a catastrophic disaster zone. White down clung statically to his clothes and hair, but he lacked the energy to brush them away. He felt an overwhelming, desperate urge to abandon his post as an escort knight, abandon the estate, and just flee into the night.

Thump.

Lino collapsed backward, sprawling spread-eagle amidst the feathers to stare blankly at the ceiling. It felt like only yesterday he had moved into this room, giggling to himself about how luxurious the mattress was, admiring the elegant molding, and wondering when he would ever experience such opulence again.

“Mmph…”

Tracing the intricate patterns on the ceiling, Lino squeezed his eyes shut. The elegant, complex lines burned a temporary afterimage into his retinas before dissolving into pitch-black darkness.

Though it was early evening and the sun still shone outside, the heavy curtains he had drawn upon entering kept the room shrouded in gloom. Without the lights on, the chamber would soon be consumed by total darkness the moment the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Well… as long as I don’t die, it’s fine.”

As long as I’m alive, I can figure something out. Lino aggressively deployed his signature optimism. They say even if you’re dragged into a tiger’s den, you can survive if you keep your wits about you.

There’s a chance I’m not the Letia. If that were the case, the title defaulted to Yuneria. If it truly was Yuneria, it would be a tragic fate for the bastard… No, actually, he might absolutely revel in it. The youth had thrown himself at Grondil with every ounce of seduction he possessed, desperate to eliminate Lino from the picture. He would probably be ecstatic at the prospect of bearing a child for the Emperor—a man far more powerful than a Duke—acting as the Empress’s surrogate, and securing a massive fortune in the process.

Given his devastating beauty, he might even be elevated to the status of a royal concubine. While modern nobility legally enforced monogamy, kings and emperors frequently maintained concubines under the convenient pretext of securing the royal lineage.

Lino vividly visualized Yuneria standing regally beside the Emperor, draped in extravagant finery. In this mental projection, Yuneria’s stomach was distinctly rounded. The fact that he could so easily visualize this proved that Grondil’s explanation—that the Letia could sustain a pregnancy within a male body—had deeply infiltrated Lino’s psyche.

But what if it isn’t Yuneria? What if it’s me?

“……”

Lino visualized himself standing beside the Emperor, his own stomach heavily swollen. Gasp— His breathing hitched violently, and his heart launched into a chaotic, rapid tachycardia. A wave of intense nausea crashed over him, accompanied by a sudden, chilling sweat. He realized with terrifying clarity that entertaining this specific hallucination was catastrophically detrimental to his mental health.

Grondil had omitted the specific methodology used to locate the divine mark the Letia purportedly bore. Lino strongly suspected it wasn’t a peaceful process. Even if Erin had claimed it was a joke, the casual suggestion to slice open a stomach haunted him. Suddenly, the memory of Yuneria’s mysterious ‘jaw injury’ surfaced. How exactly had he injured his jaw? Had the Duke resorted to brutal physical violence while searching for the mark?

As I suspected, it would be best to flee right now, wouldn’t it?

Springing to his feet, Lino bolted to the dressing room. Tucked in the corner sat his battered, completely out-of-place suitcase. He hadn’t fully unpacked it in his previous room, and he certainly hadn’t bothered unpacking it here. It contained a few worn garments, basic toiletries, and the meticulous transcriptions he had copied from the Isberg texts in the Duke’s library.

I can leave the clothes, but I have to take the manuscripts. Yet, the book he had left half-read yesterday tugged at his conscience. If it were an ordinary paperback, he might have simply stolen it. Tragically, the tome was bound in exquisite leather, the corners reinforced with intricate metal guards. The title was embroidered into the spine and cover with literal gold thread.

Merely holding the object communicated its astronomical value and rarity.

Lino agonized over his options. Should he abandon the book and flee immediately? Should he risk staying just long enough to finish reading it? Or should he delay his escape until he completely transcribed it?

Of course, a successful escape wouldn’t magically eradicate his current anxieties. In fact, it was highly probable it would entangle him in an even more complex, lethal web. Grondil knew the truth about his connection to Baron Haklan, and Lino had committed the grave sin of deceiving a Duke. Fleeing now meant evading the ‘punishment’ he had sworn to accept gracefully.

Furthermore, there was absolutely no guarantee his impulsive escape would succeed. It wasn’t a calculated strategy; it was a frantic, desperate reaction born of pure terror. Calling it a ‘plan’ was embarrassingly generous.

After glaring uselessly at his suitcase for an eternity, Lino finally slumped his shoulders and trudged back into the sitting room. Normally, his steps were light and completely silent, but his mood had plummeted so severely that his feet dragged, producing heavy, shuffling sounds against the floorboards.

It’s fine. He said Yuneria would be returning shortly.

Once the Duke located the mark on Yuneria, all of Lino’s problems would instantly vanish. I should just read the book I haven’t finished while I wait.

Using the half-finished tome as a convenient excuse, Lino retreated to the bedroom. Yet, despite his self-justification, he didn’t so much as glance at the book resting on the nightstand. He swallowed a gulp of lukewarm water and collapsed back into the feather-strewn disaster of his bed.

Subjected to a relentless barrage of unpredictable shocks throughout the day, his head throbbed viciously, and a faint, feverish chill wracked his body. Wriggling deep beneath the heavy blankets, Lino crushed a spare pillow tightly against his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. In moments of such profound terror and anxiety, it would be wonderful to have someone beside him to offer comfort.

Someone like me doesn’t deserve comfort, he mocked himself bitterly.

Lino patted his own arms and shoulders, offering himself a pathetic simulacrum of solace. You’ve endured everything alone perfectly well until now; what are you so terrified of? Even if someone were here, the moment the Baron closed in on you, you would abandon everything and run anyway.

If that was his inevitable reality, it was infinitely better to remain utterly alone until every problem was perfectly resolved. How devastating would it be for a loved one if he formed a bond out of sheer loneliness, only to vanish into the night?

Therefore, rather than doing that, instead of that, anyway, I am—

Damn it.

Feeling the corners of his eyes burn with sudden heat, Lino viciously scrubbed his face against the pillow he clutched. The soft fabric absorbed the meager traces of moisture. He kept his face buried for a long time, only pulling away when the lack of oxygen forced him to gasp. Then, entirely unprompted, a wet snort of laughter tore from his throat. Pfft—

“What a pathetic mess.”

Three distinct gray smudges stained the pristine white pillowcase. They were undeniably the ugly remnants of tears and snot. If I had drooled, I could have passed it off as a facial mask, he mused darkly.

Lino desperately tried to stifle the pathetic giggles leaking from his lips, ultimately pulling the heavy blanket entirely over his head. Hehe— The giggles rapidly devolved into breathless, broken gasps. Haa, hah… hic. To anyone listening, it was the unmistakable sound of someone sobbing uncontrollably.

At times like this, the best thing to do is sleep and turn off your brain. Wriggling miserably within the suffocating cocoon of his blankets, Lino aggressively chased an elusive slumber.

***