Underground Palace Part 2
Mr. Good looked between the two dazedly staring at each other, his smile stiffening. He immediately sensed the strange air. Somewhat dubiously, he coughed to mediate the air. “Oh? Jel, why didn’t you let Mr. Smith know that…”
At this moment, Aldo’s lips quivered ever so slightly. He called with a voice as light as gossamer web. “Karl… Karlos…”
Mr. Good, “…”
Aldo suddenly found it hard to distinguish between reality and dreams. He could only gather up a trace of rationality to madly convince himself that this was not real. But at the same time, he feared that a loud voice would dissipate this beautiful dream.
But as much as this seemed like soft sleep talking, when it fell like a bomb in others’ ears.
Jel was floored, Roy was floored, and even Mr. Good was floored. The three of them stood in a line, their mouths agape, unfocused eyes bulging — immediately forming a completely new unit group, “The Three Corpses”.
Only Mike, who had the fearlessness of the ignorant, tugged the edge of the stupefied Karlos’s clothes. He lifted his head, very dumbly and very naively asked, “John, why did that person call you Karlos?”
Karlos looked down at him, expressionless. His eyes were so empty that it was nearly ice-cold. Mike jumped in shock as he instinctively let go and backed away.
Karlos could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat and the pulse of his veins. Like a machine that was about to be damaged, they drummed with loud “thumps”, blending his insides until he no longer had even a single bit of ability to think. It was eons later when he noticed that his heart had gone ice-cold. All of the blood had run to his limbs, leaving his fingers practically numb.
“He got the wrong person.” The words were out of his mouth without a second thought. But before he even finished the sentence, he grew aware of how irresponsible and stupid his words were. But his mind buzzed. Although his face remained cold and distant, he was not any better than the “The Three Corpses” or the “Sleepwalking White-robed Man”. So, in his moment of panic, he did something even more idiotic—Karlos scooped up Mike in his arms, and turned to head straight for the palace exit.
He could not believe that his very first instinctive action in this moment was to flee. But, his legs seemed to have left his brain’s control. Under the disdainful ridicule of his brain, they walked towards the exit, upright.
Karlos’s leaving back figure clearly stung Aldo’s mind which had been wandering between numbness and clear-headedness. Aldo shoved away Mr. Good who was in his way, and ordered sternly, “Stop right there!”
All this while, Archbishop Aldo’s voice had been very soft. As it turned out, it was not done to intentionally appear as a mysterious enchanter. Only when he yelled did everyone realize that there was likely a problem with his throat—perhaps from an injury or an illness. If he was just a little worked up and raised his voice, it would immediately hold a heart-rending hoarseness.
While escaping in despondence, Karlos was already condemning himself harshly, but Archbishop Aldo’s rather severe command lit a fuse in his heart that swiftly transformed his internal conflict into an outside strife.
So, he stopped in his steps. With his back towards Aldo, he put down Lily, lightly pushing the children on the back and giving a warm smile that left them shivering. He told them, “Go find Jel.”
Then, Karlos stuffed his hands in his coat pocket—regarding the pockets sewn on this kind of clothes, he instantaneously understood some of their uses without needing to be told —such as: to be cool or to be aggravating.
Karlos lightly lifted an eyebrow, turning to glance at Aldo ten meters away. If it was someone else, this action would likely seem a little frivolous, but for some reason, when it was Karlos, it gave off an air of an unrestrained unruliness.
His slightly thin lips arched deliberately into a sharp smile that left pain and itch in the seers’ hearts. “Your distinguished self, what do you, an Archbishop, require of me, a mere common sinner?”
Aldo choked up. For the first time, a complex human-like expression appeared on his face in front of an audience.
Reincarnations and the passage of time took away everything—all except the messy tangle of love and hatred that seeped right down into their bones.
This morning, Aldo was close to collapsing from the successive surprises that came one after another. The memories etched in his soul and the dream-like reality were turned into a sloppy mess that left only this person in his eyes. Temples, Barriers and whatnot were all thrown in a bag and tossed all away to the North Pole. Gaze disoriented, he repeated almost robotically, “No, you can’t leave, I absolutely would never allow you to leave…”
As if to prove that he kept his words, the ground trembled slightly along with his voice. The entire Underground Palace—including every kind of energy in the Temple—was stirring because of Aldo. This peerless master of spells required not even a liquid medium; even the air could become a tool at his disposal.
Mr. Good and the rest immediately backed away in fear that this was insufficient space for the two to run amok. If innocent bystanders or something ended up getting hurt due to this conflict, it would be a tragedy.
Roy, “I suddenly realized that I was never trained in spellcasting before!”
Mr. Good, “Wake up, the two of you. The Temple is about to crumble. This isn’t the time to take lessons.”
The circulating cyclone of air twisted into a spell indecipherable by modern users. Transforming into a giant net, it attempted to envelope the green-eyed man.
Karlos turned sharply, His long windbreaker cutting through the air. The man let out a cold laugh. “If I want to leave, can you even stop me?”
A greatsword suddenly broke through a corridor window, glass shards shattering all over the ground as the sword flew straight into Karlos’s hand. It looked simple and old-fashioned. Even its sheath was spotted with rust, as if flakes could be chipped off with just a simple touch. But Karlos found no difficulty in pulling out the sword from the sheath it had been glued for eight hundred years.
No glint could be seen from the sword edge, but it still seemed capable of clearly cutting apart the air. Coagulated with murder intent that forced others back, Karlos gripped the sword with his hands very naturally, precisely cutting apart the spell that was the source of the chaos.
From one end to the other. Not an inch off the mark. It was a clean and sharp strike.
Jel held his head. “He finally fulfilled his dream of shattering glass.”
“This isn’t the point…” Roy spoke blankly.
“The point is,” Mr. Good pointed at the sword in Karlos’s hands. “Isn’t that the symbol of Clerics? Shouldn’t it be in your office right now, Roy?”
“Don’t look at me.” Roy shrugged. “Alright, I hadn’t locked the cabinet when I left—But the issue here is that it was that rusted, so I had thought it’ll be difficult to even shave a pencil with it!”
“No, no, no.” Jel shook his head in confusion, trying hard to clear his head. “I don’t think that’s the point either. The point is…”
What was it?
Mike “Sharp” Shelton’s young voice interjected, “Why did they start fighting?”
The three adults who were completely out of it looked at each other. Mr. Good’s brain which had taken a break finally remembered its job quietly. He sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “No, cease fighting, the two of you! Please cease!”
With a “boom”, Karlos, who couldn’t move half of his body with his arm bound by an unknown spell, left a long crack in the ground that sent rocks flying. The resounding energy resonated with the countless spells in the Underground Palace, creating an unbearable rumble echoing throughout the palace.
No! The approaching Christmas holiday was the peak tourist season. Having a team of construction workers around would ruin everything!
“Lily.” In this precarious situation, Jel pulled his niece’s hand. “Cry. Cry loudly.”
A strange man had suddenly popped out of nowhere, and John who promised to bring them to the Sinister Museum started ignoring them and instead, ran off to start a fight!
Men! They were such unreasonable creatures!
So, Lily was very cooperative. She decided to use her trump card, exercising the privilege that girls had—she broke into a loud, shocking bawl that soundly interrupted Aldo and Karlos’s demolition of the building.
With his desire to fight yet to dissipate, Karlos glanced at Aldo coolly—in the eyes of everyone, this man had always been as bright as the sun; they had never seen such a dark expression on him before. In the next instant, he harshly cut apart the spell restricting his movements. The sword tip dragged on the floor as he walked past Aldo, and towards the wailing Lily.
The breeze that his steps left sent Aldo’s wavy hair flying. He gripped Karlos’s wrist at once — it was his thousandth time to reach out for his wrist despite himself, but the scene of his hand going right through him did not happen for the thousandth time.
He was grabbing onto a warmth that existed. As if Aldo had just woken from a dream, he turned his head in astonishment and disbelief towards that familiar but cold face only an arm’s reach away.
The man’s eyes, which had been so overbearing as if their owner had gone mad, violently contracted. As if scalded, he suddenly released Karlos.
“Karl!” Aldo’s pale lips began to quiver.
Karlos’s gaze firmly fell onto the ground, waiting for his dictation.
Silence that left everyone on pins and needles permeated the place. Aldo suddenly found himself no different from the first time he was called on to answer a tutor’s question in front of everyone. He was completely dumbfounded, unable to force out a word even after eons.
It was only when Karlos’s sword’s light scrape against the ground emitted a nervous shriek against the ground that he somehow forced out a sentence. “I’m sorry!”
Karlos’s cheeks tightened, and he even clenched his jaw hard enough to show his masseter muscles. It was a while later before he lowered his eyes, and spoke up in a courteous, polite but emotionless voice, “No. I apologize for my impropriety. Your distinguished self, please forgive me.”
He even bowed slightly. Then, he brushed shoulders with him without another look. Picking up Lily in his arms, he carefully wiped away her tears and snot, and unconcerned with its dirtiness, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Okay, little princess. Don’t cry. I’ll bring you to that ‘Terror Memorial Museum’.”
“It… It’s ‘Sinister Museum’.” The girl hiccuped—Stupid John! There was no way he would be able to get a wife in the future!
An extremely forced smile flashed past Karlos’s face. “Whatever you say. C’mere, Mike.”
But Mike didn’t move. This boy who had displayed an extraordinary keenness was hugging his backpack to himself and he raised his head to ask loudly, “Karlos is you, John?”
This clearly ungrammatical sentence accurately conveyed everyone’s thoughts at once. Aldo’s gaze looked like it was about to burn a hole through Karlos.
Karlos was silent for a moment. Then, he shrugged. “Yes, honey. I used to have that name.”
The air seemed to congeal, leaving people with a difficulty to breathe.
All of a sudden, Karlos grew aware of his cowardice. That fear weighed him down, leaving him incapable of looking up. A child’s harmless words had peeled off the final layer that hid him, exposing him bare in front of everyone. He only appeared strong on the outside. In truth, the most gentle morning breeze could harm his body.
A thousand years ago, Karlos Fraruitt was a man who shamed his respectable family name. Yet, a thousand years later, he was not that great hero everyone knew of either.
No one understood what he did or who he was better than himself. Those “glory” forcibly adorned on him was downright a greater humiliation.
He even refused to ponder over why Aldo, an associate who should have been “dead” for a thousand years, would live again and stand in front of him. He refused to look at Jel’s expression.
“Oh…” Mike thought for a moment, mumbling as he pulled out that hilarious poster from his bag. He tiptoed to stuff it into his hands. “Okay then. This is for you. I promised.”
The man’s hand was as cold as a corpse. It made Mike’s little hands draw back quickly.
Karlos shut his eyes, accepting it with his hands. Some blood finally returned to his lips as he let out a rather unnatural smile. His voice was soft. “Thank you. But I think I look far more handsome than him. What do you think?”
Mike shrugged, objecting, “But I find him much cooler than you—hurry and let’s go to the Sinister Museum!”
Only children could be this direct. They would never have that many emotions so complex that they could not make sense of. They would not care who Karlos was, who John was, nor whether he was a great hero or a despicable man. They would voice out whatever they want, and were always well aware of what they should be doing.
Their goals were always outright, and the constant same.
“It’s my honor to serve you.”
Underground Palace Part 2
Mr. Good looked between the two dazedly staring at each other, his smile stiffening. He immediately sensed the strange air. Somewhat dubiously, he coughed to mediate the air. “Oh? Jel, why didn’t you let Mr. Smith know that…”
At this moment, Aldo’s lips quivered ever so slightly. He called with a voice as light as gossamer web. “Karl… Karlos…”
Mr. Good, “…”
Aldo suddenly found it hard to distinguish between reality and dreams. He could only gather up a trace of rationality to madly convince himself that this was not real. But at the same time, he feared that a loud voice would dissipate this beautiful dream.
But as much as this seemed like soft sleep talking, when it fell like a bomb in others’ ears.
Jel was floored, Roy was floored, and even Mr. Good was floored. The three of them stood in a line, their mouths agape, unfocused eyes bulging — immediately forming a completely new unit group, “The Three Corpses”.
Only Mike, who had the fearlessness of the ignorant, tugged the edge of the stupefied Karlos’s clothes. He lifted his head, very dumbly and very naively asked, “John, why did that person call you Karlos?”
Karlos looked down at him, expressionless. His eyes were so empty that it was nearly ice-cold. Mike jumped in shock as he instinctively let go and backed away.
Karlos could almost hear the sound of his own heartbeat and the pulse of his veins. Like a machine that was about to be damaged, they drummed with loud “thumps”, blending his insides until he no longer had even a single bit of ability to think. It was eons later when he noticed that his heart had gone ice-cold. All of the blood had run to his limbs, leaving his fingers practically numb.
“He got the wrong person.” The words were out of his mouth without a second thought. But before he even finished the sentence, he grew aware of how irresponsible and stupid his words were. But his mind buzzed. Although his face remained cold and distant, he was not any better than the “The Three Corpses” or the “Sleepwalking White-robed Man”. So, in his moment of panic, he did something even more idiotic—Karlos scooped up Mike in his arms, and turned to head straight for the palace exit.
He could not believe that his very first instinctive action in this moment was to flee. But, his legs seemed to have left his brain’s control. Under the disdainful ridicule of his brain, they walked towards the exit, upright.
Karlos’s leaving back figure clearly stung Aldo’s mind which had been wandering between numbness and clear-headedness. Aldo shoved away Mr. Good who was in his way, and ordered sternly, “Stop right there!”
All this while, Archbishop Aldo’s voice had been very soft. As it turned out, it was not done to intentionally appear as a mysterious enchanter. Only when he yelled did everyone realize that there was likely a problem with his throat—perhaps from an injury or an illness. If he was just a little worked up and raised his voice, it would immediately hold a heart-rending hoarseness.
While escaping in despondence, Karlos was already condemning himself harshly, but Archbishop Aldo’s rather severe command lit a fuse in his heart that swiftly transformed his internal conflict into an outside strife.
So, he stopped in his steps. With his back towards Aldo, he put down Lily, lightly pushing the children on the back and giving a warm smile that left them shivering. He told them, “Go find Jel.”
Then, Karlos stuffed his hands in his coat pocket—regarding the pockets sewn on this kind of clothes, he instantaneously understood some of their uses without needing to be told —such as: to be cool or to be aggravating.
Karlos lightly lifted an eyebrow, turning to glance at Aldo ten meters away. If it was someone else, this action would likely seem a little frivolous, but for some reason, when it was Karlos, it gave off an air of an unrestrained unruliness.
His slightly thin lips arched deliberately into a sharp smile that left pain and itch in the seers’ hearts. “Your distinguished self, what do you, an Archbishop, require of me, a mere common sinner?”
Aldo choked up. For the first time, a complex human-like expression appeared on his face in front of an audience.
Reincarnations and the passage of time took away everything—all except the messy tangle of love and hatred that seeped right down into their bones.
This morning, Aldo was close to collapsing from the successive surprises that came one after another. The memories etched in his soul and the dream-like reality were turned into a sloppy mess that left only this person in his eyes. Temples, Barriers and whatnot were all thrown in a bag and tossed all away to the North Pole. Gaze disoriented, he repeated almost robotically, “No, you can’t leave, I absolutely would never allow you to leave…”
As if to prove that he kept his words, the ground trembled slightly along with his voice. The entire Underground Palace—including every kind of energy in the Temple—was stirring because of Aldo. This peerless master of spells required not even a liquid medium; even the air could become a tool at his disposal.
Mr. Good and the rest immediately backed away in fear that this was insufficient space for the two to run amok. If innocent bystanders or something ended up getting hurt due to this conflict, it would be a tragedy.
Roy, “I suddenly realized that I was never trained in spellcasting before!”
Mr. Good, “Wake up, the two of you. The Temple is about to crumble. This isn’t the time to take lessons.”
The circulating cyclone of air twisted into a spell indecipherable by modern users. Transforming into a giant net, it attempted to envelope the green-eyed man.
Karlos turned sharply, His long windbreaker cutting through the air. The man let out a cold laugh. “If I want to leave, can you even stop me?”
A greatsword suddenly broke through a corridor window, glass shards shattering all over the ground as the sword flew straight into Karlos’s hand. It looked simple and old-fashioned. Even its sheath was spotted with rust, as if flakes could be chipped off with just a simple touch. But Karlos found no difficulty in pulling out the sword from the sheath it had been glued for eight hundred years.
No glint could be seen from the sword edge, but it still seemed capable of clearly cutting apart the air. Coagulated with murder intent that forced others back, Karlos gripped the sword with his hands very naturally, precisely cutting apart the spell that was the source of the chaos.
From one end to the other. Not an inch off the mark. It was a clean and sharp strike.
Jel held his head. “He finally fulfilled his dream of shattering glass.”
“This isn’t the point…” Roy spoke blankly.
“The point is,” Mr. Good pointed at the sword in Karlos’s hands. “Isn’t that the symbol of Clerics? Shouldn’t it be in your office right now, Roy?”
“Don’t look at me.” Roy shrugged. “Alright, I hadn’t locked the cabinet when I left—But the issue here is that it was that rusted, so I had thought it’ll be difficult to even shave a pencil with it!”
“No, no, no.” Jel shook his head in confusion, trying hard to clear his head. “I don’t think that’s the point either. The point is…”
What was it?
Mike “Sharp” Shelton’s young voice interjected, “Why did they start fighting?”
The three adults who were completely out of it looked at each other. Mr. Good’s brain which had taken a break finally remembered its job quietly. He sucked in a deep breath and yelled, “No, cease fighting, the two of you! Please cease!”
With a “boom”, Karlos, who couldn’t move half of his body with his arm bound by an unknown spell, left a long crack in the ground that sent rocks flying. The resounding energy resonated with the countless spells in the Underground Palace, creating an unbearable rumble echoing throughout the palace.
No! The approaching Christmas holiday was the peak tourist season. Having a team of construction workers around would ruin everything!
“Lily.” In this precarious situation, Jel pulled his niece’s hand. “Cry. Cry loudly.”
A strange man had suddenly popped out of nowhere, and John who promised to bring them to the Sinister Museum started ignoring them and instead, ran off to start a fight!
Men! They were such unreasonable creatures!
So, Lily was very cooperative. She decided to use her trump card, exercising the privilege that girls had—she broke into a loud, shocking bawl that soundly interrupted Aldo and Karlos’s demolition of the building.
With his desire to fight yet to dissipate, Karlos glanced at Aldo coolly—in the eyes of everyone, this man had always been as bright as the sun; they had never seen such a dark expression on him before. In the next instant, he harshly cut apart the spell restricting his movements. The sword tip dragged on the floor as he walked past Aldo, and towards the wailing Lily.
The breeze that his steps left sent Aldo’s wavy hair flying. He gripped Karlos’s wrist at once — it was his thousandth time to reach out for his wrist despite himself, but the scene of his hand going right through him did not happen for the thousandth time.
He was grabbing onto a warmth that existed. As if Aldo had just woken from a dream, he turned his head in astonishment and disbelief towards that familiar but cold face only an arm’s reach away.
The man’s eyes, which had been so overbearing as if their owner had gone mad, violently contracted. As if scalded, he suddenly released Karlos.
“Karl!” Aldo’s pale lips began to quiver.
Karlos’s gaze firmly fell onto the ground, waiting for his dictation.
Silence that left everyone on pins and needles permeated the place. Aldo suddenly found himself no different from the first time he was called on to answer a tutor’s question in front of everyone. He was completely dumbfounded, unable to force out a word even after eons.
It was only when Karlos’s sword’s light scrape against the ground emitted a nervous shriek against the ground that he somehow forced out a sentence. “I’m sorry!”
Karlos’s cheeks tightened, and he even clenched his jaw hard enough to show his masseter muscles. It was a while later before he lowered his eyes, and spoke up in a courteous, polite but emotionless voice, “No. I apologize for my impropriety. Your distinguished self, please forgive me.”
He even bowed slightly. Then, he brushed shoulders with him without another look. Picking up Lily in his arms, he carefully wiped away her tears and snot, and unconcerned with its dirtiness, he shoved the handkerchief back into his pocket. “Okay, little princess. Don’t cry. I’ll bring you to that ‘Terror Memorial Museum’.”
“It… It’s ‘Sinister Museum’.” The girl hiccuped—Stupid John! There was no way he would be able to get a wife in the future!
An extremely forced smile flashed past Karlos’s face. “Whatever you say. C’mere, Mike.”
But Mike didn’t move. This boy who had displayed an extraordinary keenness was hugging his backpack to himself and he raised his head to ask loudly, “Karlos is you, John?”
This clearly ungrammatical sentence accurately conveyed everyone’s thoughts at once. Aldo’s gaze looked like it was about to burn a hole through Karlos.
Karlos was silent for a moment. Then, he shrugged. “Yes, honey. I used to have that name.”
The air seemed to congeal, leaving people with a difficulty to breathe.
All of a sudden, Karlos grew aware of his cowardice. That fear weighed him down, leaving him incapable of looking up. A child’s harmless words had peeled off the final layer that hid him, exposing him bare in front of everyone. He only appeared strong on the outside. In truth, the most gentle morning breeze could harm his body.
A thousand years ago, Karlos Fraruitt was a man who shamed his respectable family name. Yet, a thousand years later, he was not that great hero everyone knew of either.
No one understood what he did or who he was better than himself. Those “glory” forcibly adorned on him was downright a greater humiliation.
He even refused to ponder over why Aldo, an associate who should have been “dead” for a thousand years, would live again and stand in front of him. He refused to look at Jel’s expression.
“Oh…” Mike thought for a moment, mumbling as he pulled out that hilarious poster from his bag. He tiptoed to stuff it into his hands. “Okay then. This is for you. I promised.”
The man’s hand was as cold as a corpse. It made Mike’s little hands draw back quickly.
Karlos shut his eyes, accepting it with his hands. Some blood finally returned to his lips as he let out a rather unnatural smile. His voice was soft. “Thank you. But I think I look far more handsome than him. What do you think?”
Mike shrugged, objecting, “But I find him much cooler than you—hurry and let’s go to the Sinister Museum!”
Only children could be this direct. They would never have that many emotions so complex that they could not make sense of. They would not care who Karlos was, who John was, nor whether he was a great hero or a despicable man. They would voice out whatever they want, and were always well aware of what they should be doing.
Their goals were always outright, and the constant same.
“It’s my honor to serve you.”
