Shadow's Oath

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Chapter 75: A Confession Just for Two

After Ram left, Jedrick kept watch outside the cave for a long time.

Peeking through the cracks in the stones Ram had placed only gave him a limited view, so he mostly had to rely on sounds to understand what was happening.

Sometimes, voices could be heard—occasionally, conversations in the language of the Gerons came from quite close by.

Though he couldn’t discern the exact words, the murmurs were unmistakably nearby.

As he anxiously waited for those sounds to disappear, he also found himself hoping for different sounds.

The pounding hooves of warhorses galloping from the south.

The shouts of knights rallying for battle...

But no such sounds came.

When the sun had completely set, even the faint hope of hearing them vanished.

Why haven’t they come yet?

Jedrick tried to picture what might be happening at the camp.

When Aikob had led everyone to this place, he’d been bold and decisive in making decisions, but sluggish when it came to execution.

He’d weighed down the wagons by loading them with provisions, delayed the departure by meddling with the composition of the cavalry, and moved so slowly it was frustrating to watch.

Terdin must have noticed this too.

He’d even seen them preparing meals before their departure.

Knowing that, he probably wouldn’t feel the need to overreact and send a rescue party just because they were running a bit late.

But what if someone had overreacted?

If it were Rusef, he’d already have sent a cavalry unit, no question.

Since they didn’t know the exact route, he’d probably have coerced Ikarum into providing a guide—or better yet, forced his brother to take the lead and galloped straight toward the temple.

Jedrick was placing his hopes less on Damion reaching the main camp and requesting reinforcements and more on Rusef’s impulsive nature.

And what about Terdin?

He’d often shown distrust toward Aikob.

Even when Aikob had first proposed coming here, Terdin hadn’t liked the idea.

Any small problem would likely prompt him to act.

Terdin was the type who would rather verify that nothing was wrong, even if it meant unnecessary effort, than regret not taking action later.

Jedrick’s father had often said that Terdin’s meticulous nature made strategic planning difficult, praising him as a “cunning strategist who fights like a pig in the mud.”

Right now, Jedrick was desperately hoping Terdin would embrace his “pig-in-the-mud” meticulousness.

But neither scenario came to pass.

Had something unexpected happened?

Did Damion make it back safely?

He kept picturing Damion being caught by the pursuing party, dragged back here in chains.

What if Ram suddenly appeared through the waterfall, shouting “Run”?

What would he do?

Worse still, what if it wasn’t Ram but Halles who emerged from the shadows?

But somehow, he didn’t dwell on that possibility.

Ram returned after what seemed like an hour.

“Is everything all right?”

A whispered voice came from near the pool of water.

Now that it was dark outside, the interior of the cave was almost invisible.

“Yes,”

Jedrick replied as softly as possible.

The wind outside made it unlikely their voices would carry, but he remained cautious near the cave entrance.

“What about Lady Charlon?”

Charlon answered for herself.

“I’m fine too.”

“I meant your physical condition.”

“I’m not in pain at all, actually,”

Charlon replied brightly.

For the past hour, Charlon hadn’t groaned or shown any signs of distress.

Though her face wasn’t visible in the darkness, her breathing sounded normal.

“In that case, I’ll check back in another hour,”

Ram said, disappearing again beyond the waterfall.

Of course, Jedrick couldn’t see him leave.

After making sure no one was nearby, Jedrick moved to sit beside Charlon, worried about her condition.

The fact that she claimed not to feel pain didn’t seem like a good sign.

“Where are you?”

He asked, moving toward where he thought she might be.

“Over here.”

He reached out in the darkness, his hand brushing against her skin—it was her ankle.

He sat down next to what he assumed was her side.

“You lied to Ram, didn’t you?”

Jedrick asked.

“Yes. I’m not completely fine,”

Charlon admitted.

“Let me feel your face.”

Jedrick reached out slowly.

His hand found her shoulder, then her neck, and finally her cheek and forehead.

Every spot he touched felt alarmingly cold, as if there was no warmth left in her body.

“You’re freezing.”

“You should’ve told me sooner.”

“You needed to keep watch outside.”

“Keeping you safe is more important.”

But could this really be called “keeping her safe”?

If the Tagda soldiers found the cave, there was little Jedrick could do to stop them.

“If they find the entrance, there’s nothing I can do. But keeping you warm—that I can manage.”

‘If you could even call it “managing”... it’s more like that’s the only thing I’m capable of doing.’

Jedrick sat behind Charlon and wrapped his arms around her, not bothering to ask if it was okay.

He figured he’d stop if she resisted, but when he placed his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer, she didn’t protest.

Her back pressed against his chest, and her green hair—always shimmering mysteriously in the sunlight—now lay dull and unseen in the darkness.

She felt as cold as ice.

At first, she had remained still in his embrace, but as the cold started to thaw, her body began trembling uncontrollably.

It was a familiar reaction to Jedrick.

He held her tighter, pressing his face against hers.

Charlon neither accepted nor rejected his touch—she simply stayed still.

Then, suddenly, she gripped his arms tightly with her hands, curling herself into a ball and pulling her feet up to her chest.

“Do you think our voices will carry outside if we talk here?”

Charlon asked.

“The wind was strong out there. If we keep our voices low, I don’t think they’ll hear us. Even Ram wouldn’t hear us over the sound of the water.”

“Then we can talk a little, right?”

“As long as you whisper.”

“It’s scary to sit in the darkness without saying anything. It feels like you might disappear at any moment.”

“I won’t ever leave your side.”

“I know you won’t. I know that. But it just feels like you’ll disappear.”

“Then talk to me. I’ll keep listening and responding so you’ll know I’m still here.”

“Thank you.”

Charlon stayed quiet for a long time before suddenly speaking again.

“About that story earlier. The one about the murderer…”

“What murderer?”

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“The one where the village woman supposedly killed her husband and then herself, but Maraka found the real murderer.”

“Oh, that one.”

Though it had been just yesterday, it already felt like a long time ago.

“That story doesn’t make sense.”

“What part of it?”

“Did Maraka really find the murderer? If he could find the true culprit so easily, why couldn’t he prove the husband’s innocence from the start?”

“Maraka’s magic can locate a person but can’t establish guilt. And it wouldn’t hold up as evidence in court.”

“That's not true. You said the real murderer was a drifter. A wandering thief secretly entered the house, killed the couple, made it look like they killed each other, and then ran away… If magic could reveal that much, it should have been able to determine from the start whether the husband or the wife was the real murderer. If magic could identify the drifter as the murderer, figuring out the opposite should have been even easier.”

“Then who exactly is this drifter supposed to be?”

“It’s a complicated case, even just hearing about it from you. But things get simpler when you just point to some random drifter as the murderer. And it gets even simpler if you capture and execute him on the spot.”

“How does that make things simpler?”

“A drifter with no ties? Once they’re dead, it’s over. And then this village is free of ‘the murderer of their own child’ and ‘the wife who killed her husband.’”

Jedrick felt as if he’d been struck on the head.

Not one person in the village had thought of it like that—or rather, no one had dared to challenge Hak’s authority.

“Did Maraka really accuse Ram of being Mantum’s murderer?”

Every word Charlon uttered, even as if she were tossing out idle thoughts, was sharp and piercing.

At the same time, she seemed to be finding it increasingly difficult to speak.

“In the banquet hall, Maraka simply threw the dagger. From the start, he intended to accuse the prince of being the murderer… But Ram wasn’t the kind of person who would just let a dagger aimed at the prince hit its mark. And yet Maraka used that moment to claim Ram was the murderer.”

“He just said that?”

“Like how he pointed to some random drifter as the murderer.”

“You’re saying it was just a coincidence?”

“It was.”

“No one can just get everything right by coincidence.”

“No. Think carefully. What if, instead of Ram, it was you who ‘just so happened’ to block Maraka’s dagger? Then Maraka would have accused you of being the one who killed Mantum. Imagine: a son murdering his own father! Maraka would’ve secretly told only your brother, Ikarum. Then Ikarum would have given you that medicine you’re carrying. And you would’ve died. Didn’t you say that poison leaves no trace? Neither Damion nor I would have known why you died. And it would’ve ended just like that. Ikarum would think he had avenged everything by himself, and the truth would disappear. And Maraka? He would once again be hailed as a great Shaman.”

Jedrick couldn’t say a word.

If things unfolded as Charlon theorized and Ikarum called Jedrick aside to say, “You killed Father, didn’t you?”—how could he deny it?

He was guilty of removing the protective talisman, and that guilt weighed heavily on him.

He would have confessed.

Hak Maraka’s sorcery would have been proven true.

Jedrick found himself unable to refute any of Charlon’s words.

Not because her deductions were brilliant, but because she wasn’t speaking to uncover the truth.

“All of this—it's nothing but superstition. Hag Olga simply exploited our fears. The prophecy was fake. The only thing real was her plan to use the Tagda tribe to exact revenge by sending us to this temple. Everything else is false.”

Charlon was crying.

She was trembling, not from the cold, but from fear.

“So, it’s all fake. Everything we’re seeing now is fake. Isn’t that right? It’s fake. That’s not sorcery, nor is it an illusion created by Hag Olga.”

“What are you seeing, Charlon?”

Even though Jedrick was standing so close to her, he couldn’t tell where her gaze was directed.

He looked around, but he couldn’t see anything.

It was pitch black, devoid of even a sliver of light, yet Charlon seemed to be looking at something.

“It’s just my fears creating an illusion. It can’t hurt me. Isn’t that right, Jeje?”

“Is there something there?”

“No, there’s nothing. Nothing at all. There never was, and there never will be.”

Charlon tilted her head back slightly, but even that small movement seemed to require great effort.

Jedrick leaned in closer, trying to meet her gaze.

Their faces were so close they almost touched.

Yet it was so dark that he couldn’t make out her features.

The only sign of their closeness was the feel of her breath on his face.

“Jeje, you still have that vial of medicine, right?”

“Why are you asking?”

“Give it to me.”

“No.”

“Let me hold onto it. It’s the medicine that lets you die without pain, isn’t it? If I’m going to be captured and die in agony at the hands of the Tagda tribe, I’d rather use that medicine to die peacefully.”

“That won’t happen. I won’t let that happen. So don’t ask for the medicine. It’s mine to take. I’m the only one who will die here. Not you!”

Jedrick’s voice was firm and resolute.

“Whatever you’re seeing—it’s just an illusion. Maybe Olga cast some spell, or maybe the Tagda tribe’s Hak is channeling magic into this place, making you see these hallucinations.”

“Olga didn’t only create illusions.”

“What else?”

“Dreams. The dreams we all had at the same time.”

Jedrick shivered without realizing it.

He hoped Charlon didn’t notice, but it didn’t matter either way.

He no longer wanted to lie to her.

“Whether Olga caused it or it was just a coincidence, I don’t know. But in that dream, I was sincere. In that dream, I abandoned the prince and chose you. The dream felt like it had seen through my heart, and that terrified me. But now, I can say it. Jeje, I like you. I’ve liked you since the moment I first saw you, but I tried to suppress it. The more I ignored it, the stronger it grew. That was a betrayal of the prince. So I hid it. When I performed the soul-sharing ritual, the truth I wanted to confess was this. But the prince ignored my feelings. I wanted to say more, but he wouldn’t let me. And you tried to stop me too, didn’t you? If not, then tell me. You knew what I was about to confess, didn’t you?”

Jedrick couldn’t deny it.

He knew if Charlon said those words, no soul-sharing ritual could fix what followed.

“No one wanted to hear my heart. So listen to me, Jeje. It’s just the two of us here. You’re the only one listening. You promised to listen and respond, didn’t you?”

“All right. I’ll listen and respond.”

“Jeje, I love you.”

Jedrick couldn’t lie.@@novelbin@@

Not because of the soul-sharing ritual, but because what he’d always dreamed of was now standing before him.

“I always thought about my father and mother’s relationship.”

As if possessed, Jedrick began speaking the thoughts he’d kept buried his entire life.

“They married to strengthen ties between tribes. It was a transaction. That transaction was important, and they tried to fulfill their marital duties. But my mother only ever saw my father as an Ehodin. She never once told him she loved him. She’d often say she fulfilled her duties as a wife by giving him two heirs. So my father sought the love he didn’t get from her with Olga. My brother had to marry a woman from another tribe—not out of love but because it was ‘necessary.’ They married in haste, and I’ve never once seen them truly speak to each other. I’ve heard them in bed, but I’ve never seen them exchange genuine feelings. It was the same with my parents.”

Jedrick recalled overhearing the sounds of his parents’ perfunctory intimacy in the chief’s house.

“So I’ve always thought: I want someone who loves me as much as I love them. Someone who truly understands me. And I want to understand them too. When we talk, I want us to understand each other. When we embrace, I want us to truly connect.”

Jedrick knew he shouldn’t say these things, but he couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“When I first saw you, I wished you could be that kind of woman.”

More than anything, Jedrick wanted to see Charlon’s face at that moment.

But it was too dark to see anything.

Was she smiling?

Crying?

Saddened?

Angry?

Awkward?

He couldn’t tell.

But her voice was the most honest thing he’d ever heard.

The darkness made it feel even more genuine.

“I think I can be that kind of woman.”

Her voice gave him courage.

So he said it.

“I love you, Charlon.”

“I love you too, Jeje.”

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