MPNS Ch 18

Chapter 18

Even after walking just a short distance, he would pant so hard that he could taste blood in his mouth, his useless cardiopulmonary function and trembling legs betraying him with every step.

What had dragged Nikiel’s condition out of such a comprehensive crisis to this current level was none other than—

“Thank you, Director Kim Youngmu, and Bendi, the royal palace’s dedicated chef.”

Had it not been for Kim Youngmu, the director of Kim Rehabilitation Hospital and author of Nikiel’s beloved book A Healthy Body Clears the Mind, and Bendi, the palace chef capable of preparing any protein-based meal without fail, it would have been impossible to rehabilitate this garbage-like body to this extent.

“On top of that, this trash body must have indulged in every vice imaginable—alcohol withdrawal symptoms, too.”

His hands suddenly trembled and his heart pounded—turns out, it was the alcohol withdrawal.

Pouring liquor into an already wrecked body—how could it not fall apart?

“To think that even with a body like this, he went around whoring himself everywhere… No wonder he was always so irritable and treated those beneath him like dirt.”

It was obvious; a frail body fostered a sharp temper. Remembering how poor Paul had been beaten up for no reason by the real Nikiel made him want to grab the man’s head and slam it into the floor.

“For improving stamina, aerobic exercise is most effective. I should start running a little during my morning walks.”

He had already built up muscular strength first, since his lungs were so weak; now, it was time to improve his cardiopulmonary function through aerobic training.

Thinking thus, Nikiel rummaged through the royal archives. True to a kingdom with a history intertwined with magical beasts, one entire wall of the archive was dedicated to them.

Dragging along a book cart himself, Nikiel looked around the library.

The absence of a librarian was peculiar.

While it was preferable to have no one around to spy on what he was reading, the emptiness of such a large library felt strange nonetheless.

Placing books onto the cart, Nikiel eventually settled at a desk tucked away in a corner.

“Since it’s the first day, let’s just neatly organize the definition of magical beasts.”

There was no search function, so he had to check every book manually. Fortunately, the tables of contents were surprisingly well-organized.

Though the leather-bound tomes were heavy, his heart raced with anticipation at the sheer amount of material to delve into.

“But what kind of leather is this…?”

The covers appeared to be made of leather, with tightly packed scales that looked almost serpentine.

“Even python scales aren’t this big.”

But the scales were enormous, more akin to those of a snake even larger than an anaconda.

“Or maybe some other reptile…?”

Creatures born and raised in Ossinis were sometimes similar to those of his original world, and sometimes completely alien.

Ingredients, plants, flowers—the same was true; if such differences existed among flora, why not fauna? Birds and beasts could also be familiar or utterly foreign, like the scaled cover before him.

“For scales this big, the creature must be at least ten meters long…”

Murmuring to himself, Nikiel stroked the book. And in that very moment—darkness.

Like a solar eclipse striking at midday.

Ten meters? You don’t even know what that means. That hide came from a snake the size of a fortress. It and I were close… once. But it too left. Just as you left. In this cursed immortality, I alone remain.

The words resonated inside Nikiel’s chest, a voice reverberating from within, as though piercing straight through his skull.

Though he had never heard it before, the voice felt achingly familiar. Nikiel tilted his head.

So, you’ve forgotten me again. As always.

The voice erupted, shaking him to his very core. Nikiel wanted to scream—from a sorrow that cut to the bone, a sorrow born of guilt he couldn’t comprehend.

Why did he feel this crushing remorse? He couldn’t understand.

It’s fine. I’ll endure this wretched immortality here, so I hope you’ll do your best too.

The tone was steeped in resignation, devoid of expectation, and that alone filled Nikiel with shame.

He wanted to cry out an apology, but his throat constricted so tightly he couldn’t make a sound.

There isn’t much time. I cannot appear during the day, and it is so difficult to intrude upon your nights.

The words were incomprehensible, yet Nikiel wanted to nod until his neck snapped.

He wanted to show, with every fiber of his being: I am listening to you; your words alone matter to me.

Why did he feel like this? Why did this longing ache so? Nikiel couldn’t comprehend.

Sometimes, I want to brush aside that damn golden hair of yours as you sleep—so keep water by your bedside, will you?

Nikiel wanted to shout his agreement, loud enough to tear his vocal cords. But not even a rasp escaped his shriveled throat.

The larger I grow, the more you will yearn for me.

And one day, I will drown you in the very lake of longing you created.

But Nikiel knew. That being could never kill him.

Wasn’t he circling endlessly, too afraid even to let a single hair of Nikiel’s come to harm?

Tears welled in Nikiel’s heart—then, suddenly:

“Your Highness!”

Someone shook his shoulder. Nikiel’s head was slumped on the desk; he didn’t even realize when he had fallen asleep.

What was that…?

He had dreamt something, but couldn’t remember what.

The librarian, who must have found him, was shaking him frantically.

Annoyed, Nikiel slowly brushed the hand away.

“Stop shaking me. Why are you doing this?”

“But, Your Highness…”

The librarian hesitated, glancing nervously at the open book before looking at Nikiel’s face.

“Your Highness… you’re crying.”

What?

Nikiel blinked, stunned, then touched his cheeks. His hand came away wet.

Why… why was I crying?

Why indeed…?

Nikiel’s dazed eyes stared into the distance. Sunlight, filtered through tapestries hung over the windows to preserve the books’ humidity, split across his face in perfect halves.

He raised a hand to block the light—mimicking an eclipse, shielding his face until the sun was gone.

He learned from the librarian that books could, in fact, be checked out from the archives.

The librarian seemed bewildered that the once-idiotic prince would borrow books at all but nevertheless lent him a cart.

When Nikiel left, pushing the cart piled high with books, the librarian’s face went pale.

“Your Highness! Why are you pulling the cart yourself?”

“What, should I pull it with my feet instead? What’s wrong with using my hands?”

At Nikiel’s dry reply, the librarian turned white as chalk, stammering, “I-I’ve committed blasphemy, p-please execute me,” unable to even pronounce the words properly as he trembled pitifully.

Leaving the man behind, Nikiel shoved the cart through the heavy doors and exited without a backward glance.

The massive doors slammed shut behind him with a boom, but he didn’t even look back, heading straight for the prince’s palace.

The attendants of the prince’s palace, familiar with the sight of Nikiel lugging pig-bladder dumbbells and copper rods for training, glanced at him briefly and assumed he was at it again—perhaps this time using impossibly heavy books as weights.

“Welcome back, Your Highness.”

“Mm. Keep Paul tied up somewhere—he’s a bother. And put some water by my bedside, will you? I can’t bear how parched I get at night.”

The attendant bowed low and hurried off to follow Nikiel’s orders.

One of Nikiel’s eyebrows rose as he continued pulling the cart.

He’d meant what he said about tying up Paul, but the request for water? He had no idea where that came from.

He never felt thirsty at night. If anything, once he fell asleep, not even being carried off would wake him.

Thirst implied high sodium intake at dinner, and dehydration was the enemy of muscles.

Nikiel followed a strict low-carb, high-protein, low-sodium diet—one faithfully maintained by Bendi, the palace chef.

So why would he wake up parched in the middle of the night?

“Why did I even ask for water?”

Puzzled, Nikiel headed toward the study adjoining his chambers.

The study was clean—though, to be fair, it had always been clean.

During the days of the “real Nikiel,” that is.

Back then, it had been clean for an entirely different reason: the only books within reach had been erotic picture books.

Nikiel, whose motto was “a healthy mind in a healthy body,” strove not only to cultivate his body but also his mind.

Because the memories lingering in this body sometimes haunted his dreams.

It was awkward enough to wake in the mornings and see that thing standing tall. His arms and legs were gradually becoming his own, but what hung between them still felt alien enough to make him feel guilty even when relieving himself.

“Why is it so… pink?”

Yes, even its color was different.

It felt like it didn’t belong to him, leaving him constantly ill at ease. And so, he absolutely hated waking up to find himself embarrassingly aroused in the mornings.

“And why the hell am I dreaming about rolling around with men?”

Every time he woke like that, he recalled dreams of himself tangled with some faceless man.

Nikiel assumed they were remnants of the “real Nikiel’s” memories.

A healthy body couldn’t possibly harbor such a lecherous spirit, so Nikiel pushed his brain to the brink, cramming it with text in hopes of expelling those memories over the past month.

Paull’s expression at first had been one of pure disbelief.

“Your Highness… did you just say to gather every book in the prince’s palace… except the erotic ones? Not only the erotic books? You mean, exclude only the erotic books?”

Unable to believe his ears, he asked multiple times.

And every time, Nikiel patiently affirmed.

Considering how stupid the real Nikiel had been, Paul’s reaction wasn’t excessive at all.