I Refuse This Life, Your Highness! - Chapter 68

The atmosphere turned icy. Yuraine, realizing his mistake, quickly lifted his head, but it was already too late. The Emperor’s expression had hardened. He shoved Yuraine’s chest with a sharp motion, stepping closer to deliver a harsh slap across his face.

“Ugh…!”

Yuraine collapsed to the floor, powerless.

“It seems you’re not ready to comply just yet. Well, no matter.”

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty…”

Yuraine struggled to rise, propping himself up with trembling hands. His hair was disheveled, his clothes rumpled, and tears welled up in his violet eyes. He looked so pitiful that anyone watching might have wanted to embrace him in comfort.

“The beauty of this lies in turning that defiance into complete obedience,” the Emperor remarked, a cruel smile tugging at his lips.

“With that bracelet on, he won’t escape anyway. Remove those chains and locks—they make him look so pathetic, don’t they?”

The Emperor’s words dripped with hypocrisy, but none dared to speak against him. Rvien responded obediently.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

The Emperor grabbed Yuraine’s arm and hauled him upright with a rough yank. Yuraine staggered, barely managing to stand as he clung weakly to the Emperor for balance.

“Look at me, Yuraine.”

Tear-filled violet eyes slowly lifted to meet the Emperor’s gaze.

A single tear slipped down Yuraine’s cheek.

“What exactly is that bracelet?”

It was broad daylight, but Reseon was already surrounded by empty bottles, his flushed face and slurred speech betraying his inebriation.

The bracelet Yuraine wore was a mado-gu—a magical artifact consisting of a pair. It was a device that complemented the Emperor’s hypnotic magic, stored for centuries in the Imperial Treasury before being retrieved specifically for Yuraine.

By itself, the bracelet had no effect. However, once one bracelet had been worn, wearing its counterpart would activate its influence, making the wearer highly susceptible to hypnotic magic.

Yuraine, born resistant to mental magic due to his lineage, had proved immune to the Emperor’s powers. The Sierra family history included several members with such mental defenses, a unique trait of their bloodline.

After explaining this, Rvien sighed, only for Reseon to interject.

“My concern is…”

Reseon hesitated before continuing.

“This hypnosis. What if it’s not just for Yuraine?”

“Reseon!”

“Fine, fine. Calm down.”

“How can I stay calm? Do you realize what you’re implying?”

“It’s treasonous and unthinkable, I know. I’ll drop it, okay?”

Rvien glanced around nervously before releasing a weary sigh.

“His Majesty has a clear purpose. His goals align with our interests, which is why we’ve allied ourselves with him. There’s no reason for him to turn that power on us.”

“Yeah… you’re probably right.”

Reseon reached for another bottle, only to find them all empty. When he attempted to summon a servant for more, Rvien stopped him.

“You’ve had enough for the day. Tomorrow, we’re taking Yuraine to the forest. Once you’ve sobered up, go see him.”

“Fine.”

Reseon staggered to his feet and headed for the door. It seemed he intended to visit Yuraine immediately despite Rvien’s suggestion to wait. Rvien sighed but didn’t stop him. Whether drunk or sober, Yuraine likely wouldn’t notice the difference.

As he left, Reseon ran a hand down his face, exhaling deeply. His flushed cheeks hinted at intoxication, but his mind remained oddly clear. Perhaps the gravity of the situation was sobering him up.

Yuraine’s room, once secured with chains and locks, was now unguarded following the Emperor’s orders. Reseon knocked twice before hearing a faint response:

“Come in.”

Taking it as permission, he opened the door.

Yuraine was curled up on the cold windowsill, his cheek still faintly red from the Emperor’s slap. Thankfully, it hadn’t bruised.

“Why are you sitting there? It’s cold.”

“….”

“Come on, get in bed.”

“Alright.”

Yuraine complied with an eerie docility, settling into the bed and pulling the blanket over himself. His face relaxed slightly, the warmth seemingly comforting him. Reseon approached and tucked the blanket more snugly around his brother.

“Yuraine.”

“Hmm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. I’m fine.”

It was an empty response, devoid of the usual spark Yuraine once had. Even his smile felt hollow. He might have forgotten about the Grand Duke and Iser entirely, but Reseon knew the memories would resurface in time—though altered. When that happened, Yuraine would be free from this confinement and return to Iser, where he would…

“……”

The thought of what awaited Yuraine made Reseon furrow his brows. Despite being the family’s outcast, Yuraine had always been kindhearted, undeserving of the disdain and neglect he’d endured. Rvien had once dismissed him as little more than a pitiable neighbor’s child, and even Reseon believed he felt the same.

But now, he realized otherwise.

Reseon gently stroked Yuraine’s hair, his voice heavy with guilt.

“I’m sorry, Yuraine.”

That night, Yuraine’s eyes fluttered open in the darkness. His amethyst gaze, once vibrant like gemstones, was now dulled by the hypnosis. His mind had been half-erased, his identity consumed by the Emperor’s serpentine words.

Yet, a faint whisper lingered—a pull, an instinct.

He didn’t belong here. He couldn’t stay.

His mind insisted that he loved the Emperor. But an unidentifiable voice kept whispering otherwise: No, that’s not true. The one you love is someone else.

Yuraine slid out of bed. The cold air of the summer villa seeped through the walls despite the lit hearths and braziers. Barefoot, he wandered across the room, the chill biting at his skin. Dust gathered in the corners of the unfrequented space, clinging to his feet as he moved.

The door creaked slightly as Yuraine pushed it open. It offered little resistance despite its weight, swinging wide as though beckoning him forward. Barefoot and clad in only his pajamas, Yuraine wandered the cold, dimly lit corridors of the villa, his steps aimless, as though drawn to an even colder, unknown destination.

The next day, Rvien placed Yuraine on his horse, settling him securely in the front saddle. Yuraine sat without complaint, his body rigid yet limp, his vacant gaze fixed straight ahead. The narrow forest path allowed only a single horse to pass at a time, and it took hours before they arrived at a modest, well-maintained cottage nestled deep within the woods.

“From today onward, you’ll be staying here, Yuraine,” Rvien announced.

“Okay,” Yuraine replied.

“There are two servants here to care for you. It’ll be more comfortable than the villa.”

“Thank you, brother.”

Still wearing the thick cloak he’d donned for the journey, Yuraine’s voice was distant, dreamy. Though Rvien knew this detached compliance was to be expected, a pang of unease twisted in his chest.

“You can take that cloak off now.”

Wordlessly, Yuraine shed the garment.

The woods here were cold, but not as harsh as those surrounding the summer villa. The cottage was modest in size, allowing the warmth of its central fireplace to permeate every room. Even a single layer of clothing sufficed to fend off the chill.

“These are the servants. Introduce yourselves,” Rvien instructed.

Two servants stepped forward and bowed deeply to Yuraine. Their faces were shadowed by the low light, and Yuraine paid them no mind.

“You must be tired from the ride. Would you like to bathe?”

Yuraine tilted his head slightly, prompting Rvien to correct himself.

“You should bathe. The servants will prepare it for you.”

“Okay.”

Yuraine’s responses had grown increasingly mechanical, his passivity verging on lifelessness. Rvien suppressed his frustration, reminding himself that this was temporary. Once the Emperor brought Yuraine to the palace, everything would change.

Surely, the Empire’s future Empress wouldn’t remain in this state.

“I need to leave now, but I’ll visit often.”

“Okay. Be careful, brother.”

“I will.”

Rvien ruffled Yuraine’s hair lightly before mounting his horse and departing. The dense forest surrounding the cottage acted as a natural barrier, making escape impossible for anyone unfamiliar with the terrain. Yuraine, having never been here before, was effectively trapped.

He stood by the doorway, watching silently until Rvien’s figure disappeared into the distance. Only when the male servant informed him that the bath was ready did Yuraine turn and shuffle inside. After a slow bath and a change into fresh clothing provided by the servants, Yuraine stood at the window, gazing at the oppressive forest outside.

Rvien had told him to wait here until everything was ready. What exactly was being prepared? It had to be something to do with him.

Him?

Who was he?

When Yuraine opened the window, damp, frigid air rushed in, prickling his skin. The male servant scolded him, warning that he might catch a cold. Reluctantly, Yuraine closed the window, though the desire to step outside lingered. Yet, he refrained. He sensed, inexplicably, that he wasn’t permitted to act on his own.

Still, strange thoughts bubbled to the surface. Stop, stop.

Focus on the Emperor.

But the image of the golden-haired man wavered, dissolving like mist under sunlight. A dark-haired figure emerged in his place, persistent, intruding. Yuraine flinched.

Who was this person? Why did the thought of him make Yuraine feel like this—like this?

“Sir, it’s time for your meal,” a soft voice interrupted.

“…Okay.”

The female servant led Yuraine to the dining table, where a bowl of steaming stew awaited. Outside, the male servant could be seen chopping wood. As she set a small container of pepper beside Yuraine, the female servant leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“…Your Grace.”

“…!”

The unfamiliar title struck Yuraine like a bell tolling in a distant memory. Or was it unfamiliar? His head snapped up, his wide, glassy eyes locking onto hers.

The servant rested a steadying hand on his shoulder, her tone urgent yet gentle.

“Please stay calm. He mustn’t notice.”

He?

Following her gaze to the male servant outside, Yuraine felt a strange sensation—something stirring faintly in his mind. It was as if a veil of fog had momentarily lifted, only to settle again just as quickly.

-“My brother… Penbril Hospital…”

“Pen… Penbril Hospital.”

“Yes, Your Grace. My brother is at Penbril Hospital.”

“Ah…”

The name surfaced like a forgotten relic.

“Miria,” Yuraine murmured.

The servant’s lips parted in a faint smile as she nodded.

“Yes, Your Grace. Miria, the one you helped.”

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