Chapter 18

‘I think we’d be a good match.’

Doha thought that but wasn’t reckless enough to say it out loud.

She kept it to herself. That wasn’t what mattered right now.

Feeling strangely tense, she rubbed the back of her stiff neck and asked,

“Do you happen to know what time you were born?”

Since she knew that his mother’s mind wasn’t intact, she figured there was a chance he might not know.

― The time I was born?

His voice carried disbelief, as if the question was so absurd that he didn’t even have the energy to get mad about it.

The boy let out a hollow chuckle.

― That’s what you’re most curious about right now?

“If you tell me, I can prove that the oracle was nonsense.”

― …You’re really weird.

Though he called her strange, he still answered willingly.

With his usual slow way of speaking.

― Around 2 PM.

The Hour of the Goat (未時).

Doha examined the eight characters of his birth chart and felt something uncanny.

It was an extraordinary fate—one she hadn’t even seen in the imperial family’s genealogy.

‘If he doesn’t become an emperor, he’ll live as a beggar.’

It was a configuration called Sagogeok (四庫格)—a fate with all four symbolic storage houses perfectly aligned.

These “storages” contained fire, water, metal, and wood, symbolizing endless prosperity and wealth—an undeniable mark of an emperor’s potential.

He was intelligent, talented, and possessed natural leadership that would attract followers. He was born to rule.

However, the land beneath his feet would be unstable from birth until death.

His ancestral and parental positions were both marked by Hyungchung (刑沖)—conflict and severance. No matter his origins, he would have to build everything from the ground up by himself.

Simply surviving wasn’t enough. He had to use that unstable ground as a foundation to overturn everything.

If he were born in modern times, his fate would have led him to be a police chief, a prosecutor, or a high-ranking military officer—positions of power and authority.

But this world was an absolute monarchy.

‘That means… he’ll have to start a war.’

If he didn’t take on great endeavors, he would be swept away by his unstable fate, never able to unlock his potential, doomed to live as a beggar.

So it was either absolute power or absolute ruin.

‘The oracle… it does align with fate in some ways.’

It was intriguing. But that didn’t change the reality of the situation.

Even if he had been born with such a fate, he was still being used as a scapegoat, a sacrificial pawn to appease the fears of the people.

Was this really the role of the temple?

“Hmm, you…”

She opened her mouth.

But what could she possibly say to him?

That if he didn’t overturn the world, he’d live as a beggar?

That he needed to start building power immediately?

That he should throw himself into war?

That he should start a rebellion?

Could she really say that to a child who was being called the “Cause of War” and suffering abuse for something he had no control over?

― You don’t have to bother comforting me. I don’t know why you’re going this far for me, but…

Before Doha could figure out what to say, the boy spoke first, sounding self-deprecating.

He didn’t seem to have the slightest expectation that she could prove the oracle wrong.

― It doesn’t matter anymore. I… ugh…!

Suddenly, he cut himself off with a sharp, pained gasp.

“What? What’s wrong?!”

Startled, Doha stammered—a rare occurrence.

― Ah… my wounds…

His voice trailed off.

As if he had never even intended to mention his injuries.

Like a wild animal, instinctively hiding its wounds so they wouldn’t be seen as weak.

Grinding his teeth, the boy muttered,

― Even if it’s not my fault, what does it change? The screams of the countless souls who died because of me never leave my ears…

I’m already…

His words grew fainter. Then, like a dying ember, he whispered,

― I’m already broken. They say that because I was born, this land will fall into chaos…

“……”

― When I think about how many innocent people will die because of me… maybe it’s better not to find a reason to keep living.

“……”

― I don’t even want to wait for winter.

It was a strange statement.

Why winter?

The northern winters were brutal, a time of harsh, unrelenting cold.

Without proper heating, people in the slums could literally freeze to death.

‘Ah.’

The Rabbit Constellation.

‘Oh, so that’s what he was waiting for.’

He had been searching for the Rabbit Star.

‘I thought he was indifferent because of his cold reaction…’

My god. It was heartbreaking… but also unbearably cute.

At that moment, Doha couldn’t help but blurt out a truth she had never intended to say.

“If I become your person, that should be enough.”

― Become my person?

“Well, theoretically speaking….”

This child was surrounded by nothing but enemies. His life would always be filled with blood and screams.

No matter how many people followed him, his turbulent fate would make him wary and distrustful—it would be nearly impossible for him to find someone he could truly call his own.

The path to becoming emperor would be anything but smooth.

He could very well end up recorded in history as nothing more than a mad murderer, having lost all justification for his actions.

On the other hand, Doha’s birth chart symbolized a forest formed by trees.

Trees willingly burn when they meet fire. They turn to ashes and return to the earth, even if it means complete destruction.

Even if all that was left of this child was a dying ember, she could become the vast forest that fueled it into a raging inferno.

Their fates aligned. If they stayed together, they would sit under the same sky, looking in the same direction.

‘Maybe I could make him emperor.’

If a rebellion succeeded, who would dare call an emperor the “Cause of War”?

Even if he slaughtered thousands, tens of thousands, an emperor was still an emperor.

Just like Lyon I, the Emperor of Abyssus.

Just like the Grand Duke of Kredel, the Lord of Azure Moon.

‘If that happens, I could personally place an untouched, unaffiliated emperor on the throne with my own hands.’

It was a staggering thought. If it became reality, it would be ideal.

But with six imperial sons vying for the throne, it was also a massive gamble. And more than anything—

‘To truly benefit from this compatibility, we’d have to be deeply entangled… probably through marriage.’

But that was just too much.

Even thinking about it made her feel like she was about to be shackled with silver handcuffs.

‘How lacking is the imperial bloodline that I’m even considering something like this?’

Doha let out a small, amused scoff. It wasn’t worth considering.

“Don’t listen to what others say. Not even if they claim to be gods.”

Instead of continuing down that train of thought, she said what she truly wanted to say.

The truth behind his suffering.

“The issue isn’t whether or not you’re the Cause of War.”

― That’s… not important?

“Yeah.”

Blaming a child was a convenient excuse. It was a tactic used by the weak and incompetent to comfort themselves.

Because children were the easiest and most defenseless targets.

To pacify the public, they needed someone to blame. So they directed their resentment, their hatred, and their violence at a helpless child.

It was a despicable, shameful aspect of human nature.

But during times of widespread death, such cruelty happened far too often.

“Whoever declared that oracle… they threw you into the jaws of death as if your life didn’t matter.”

― ……

“You’re being persecuted over an oracle that hasn’t even come true yet. Do you really think this is right?”

The boy remained silent, as if he had never considered it that way before.

‘Ah, he’s too soft-hearted.’

But what could she expect from a nine-year-old?

This child had spent his whole life believing it was his fault—because the entire world told him so.

And that was what made it all the more vile. How could they crush the seed of a child before it even had a chance to sprout?

“The oracle from nine years ago—the one that said a child with black hair and black eyes would bring a tragedy like the Great War. Do you know what that really meant?”

Doha took a deep breath, trying to keep her anger in check.

But she couldn’t stop her face from twisting in fury.

“It meant: Don’t rebel against the empire and demand compensation for the damages of the Great War. Instead, we’ll throw you a scapegoat—so take your anger out on this black-haired child instead.”

As an adult, she wanted to apologize. She wanted to make amends.

Even though she was trapped in the body of a ten-year-old, even though she wasn’t originally from this world, she couldn’t help but feel that way.

‘I just want to go and hug him.’

But she had already tried once to request to be sent to the slums, only to be flatly rejected. She was stuck here.

‘Ha…’

Doha swallowed a sigh.

‘Was I too blunt?’

But sugarcoating it wouldn’t help.

This child wasn’t a sheltered flower in a greenhouse—he was thrown into the wild, surrounded by enemies.

He needed to know the truth.

“You’re not someone who will drive innocent people to death. It’s the people who want to drive you to death that are the problem.”

What do you think?

She asked,

“Are you really okay with being sacrificed because of people like that?”

Of course not.

She could hear the boy’s rough breathing—his anger was plain as day. So she drove the final nail in.

“That’s why you have to live.”

― ……

“Survive, no matter what.”

― You…

His voice trembled as he struggled to contain the storm of emotions raging inside him.

― You… want me to live?

It was a strange question.

As if he was searching for a reason to exist within her words.

For a moment, Doha hesitated.

“…….”

But in the end, she couldn’t bring herself to tell a child on the verge of collapse not to find a reason to live through her.

After a brief pause, she made her decision.

“Yeah. Live. For a thousand years, if you have to.”

Then, the boy finally spoke.

― Damian.

“Huh?”

― My name… it’s Damian.

A child destined to rule the world.

A boy whose name meant the bridge between gods and men.