“Whenever I hear her groaning, it’s clear he’s having nightmares, yet he shows no sign of waking. Is reality more painful than nightmares…? That’s what I find myself thinking. When the mind is unstable, illness naturally follows the body.”
Valen looked like a fairy-tale princess pricked by a spindle. His lovely features were frozen stiff like wax, utterly motionless. Argen thought lifting the curse would be enough. But the human body is so fragile and finicky.
What on earth is tormenting you, keeping your eyes closed?
“…I need to get more blankets.” Argen went outside and returned after a long while.
Hearing a thudding sound, Nadol opened the door to find a pile of blankets taller than Argen herself. Startled, he hurriedly took more than half of them.
“Wait, how did you carry all this?!”
“Cover him.”
Argen plopped the pile of blankets onto Valen’s stomach. A muffled groan escaped from his sleeping mouth. But Argen didn’t stop. She unfolded each blanket Nadal had taken and began stacking them layer upon layer.
“This should be enough.”
“I’m not sure if this is right.”
“Should be plenty even for a snowy mountain.”
“His complexion isn’t just red—it’s turning pale. His blood doesn’t seem to be circulating.”
“……”
She stared down at Valen for a moment. Only when his face turned purple did Argen and Nadol, sensing danger, frantically toss the blankets aside.
“Gasp, huff…”
Valen’s head, which had been lying straight up toward the ceiling, suddenly fell sideways.
“No Name No.38!!”
Nadal shouted.
“He’s fine. He’s still breathing.”
“Bouquet… I thought I would have to get funeral bouquet!”
“Whoever No. 38 is they aren’t Zephyr.”
Having never nursed anyone before, everything she did was a complete mess. But she couldn’t just leave Valen, who was moaning and sweating cold sweat the entire time, so Argen headed to his bedroom whenever she had a chance. She spent far more time by Valen’s side than in her own bedroom. When the Elders sought Argen, they naturally ended up knocking on Valen’s bedroom door.
Occasionally, when Argen had to step away for official duties, Nadol and Zephyr would come looking for her. With Valen, who had turned the Demon King’s Castle upside down for three months, nowhere to be seen, rumours began circulating among the demons.
“Lord No Name is ill.”
“Did he collapse from high blood pressure? Who messed up this time? The kitchen staff?”
“I know a high-ranking demon lord who was imprisoned by Lord Argen. I hear there’s a lot of talk about it in the council too.”
“Come on, is she the type to be lock demons up? It’s definitely a heart attack. A heart attack.”
The concept of visiting the sick didn’t exist among demons. When ill, recovery through self-healing was natural, not relying on doctors or nursing care. They learned just how pitiful human self-healing was because Valen hadn’t left his bedroom for over a month. They were also surprised once more by Valen’s fiery temper.
“When he beat someone to death with a club, was he really trying to kill them…?”
“We survived because we’re demons. If we’d been human…”
Already feared among demons, Valen had unwittingly earned the title of ‘even more terrifying being’.
Yet many demons missed Valen. Without him, the kitchen’s cleanliness and flavour began to slip. Clumps of tissue paper rolled through the corridors that had once gleamed without a speck of dust. Even at the training grounds, people waited for Valen seeking love advice.
Eventually, demons began lingering near his bedroom, wishing for his recovery. After someone spread the word that ‘humans bring flowers when visiting the sick,’ bouquets piled up thickly before his door. It was unfortunate that chrysanthemums happened to be the most popular flower in the demon realm these days.
Argen brought the flowers from the door and spread them out beside Valen’s bed. “If he never wakes up like this, what happens to him?”
“He’ll die.”
“…If he fled into dreams because he hated reality, I thought it might be okay to let him escape like this for a while. But it shouldn’t end in death.”
It would have been better if he’d fallen asleep from pricking his finger on a spindle. He had locked his consciousness within the cage he himself had built, so there was no way to open the door from the outside.
Argen leaned forward and placed a hand on his chest. As she drew closer, Argen’s hair cascaded down, brushing Valen’s cheek, and their breath mingled hotly. They were close enough that their noses could touch. His eyelashes, like crescent moons, densely embroidered his eyes. His handsome brow was furrowed as if in pain. Argen traced Valen’s face with her eyes.
‘If you are running away from torment, I hope at least you should be at peace there.’
They say the princess pricked by the spindle awoke from her eternal sleep with a kiss from her beloved. If she opens her eyes, she can spin the spindle as much as she likes. Anything is fine.
“There are many here who would kiss you.”
“Oh no. Not me.” Nadol grimaced.
Wind flew in through the open window. Argen, who had been staring at the documents for a long time with her head tilted back, placed them on her face. Inside her eyelids, all sorts of letters twisted and flew about. Had she been too absorbed?
Whoosh. Another gust blew the papers fluttering to the floor. She bent down, stood up, and looked outside. By now, the boundary between sky and earth had been smudged into darkness. As she quietly watched the landscape stretching out like one vast passageway, Valen naturally came to mind. Was he seeing the same sky in his dreams?
As Argen pushed back her chair to stand, Zephyr, who had been snoring beside her, startled awake. Heavy sleep had settled over his face. He looked painfully exhausted.
Petitions from the Electors and local nobles arrived daily. They demanded proof of the king’s worthiness by executing Valen.
‘The subjects suffer because of an inadequate King.’
Argen removed the cloak she wore and draped it over Zephyr’s knees. She had intended to drape it over his shoulders, but the meager scrap of cloth failed to fully cover his back and fell to the floor with a thud.
“Don’t get up. Rest.”
“Yes…” Zephyr’s head fell back onto the table.
Argen quietly opened the door and stepped out, crossing the corridor connecting to Valen’s bedroom. She looked up at the sky and thought of Valen, but it wasn’t that she wanted to see him. Her legs moved of their own accord. Yet, there was no reason to turn back either.
Argen cautiously grasped the doorknob. Suddenly, she felt a sense of alienation from her own actions. She was hoping Valen would wake up, yet she was tiptoeing in to prevent him from waking. Was this right?
“……”
Argen flung the door open with all her strength.
“……Argen?”
Her eyes widened like lanterns. An unexpected visitor had arrived first in Valen’s bedroom.
“Finn.”
But calling it a visitor was misleading. Finn’s fangs had grown so large they seemed poised to tear Valen’s flesh, and both hands were wrapped around his neck.
As Argen narrowed her eyes, a fierce gust of wind swept in from the front, sending Finn flying. Without a chance to resist, he was helplessly hurled away, crashing into the wall like a piece of wood.
Finn didn’t utter a sound of pain, only looked up at Argen with a flustered expression. But as she approached Valen’s bed, her expression changed instantly. Beyond mere displeasure, a look of irritation crossed her face as she rose.
“I won’t scold you this time. Stop it now.”
Before he could take a step, Argen spoke. Her voice held not a shred of anger. Only her characteristic languor, a weary indifference. This everydayness made Finn feel even more miserable.
“Why don’t you ask me anything?” His precarious voice sank to the floor.
“Do you think if I asked it would make you feel better?” It wasn’t sarcasm; she genuinely wondered. If you want me to, I’ll ask. If asking makes you feel better, that is. Once, Argen’s tenderness had been nothing but sweet. So good he wanted to keep it in his mouth all day.