His Breeding Obsession

One hundred years ago.

 

Nothing existed on the plains they had rushed across after being caught in a great storm and dropped far away.

 

His grief-stricken power swept through the army that had come to capture them, annihilating the men who would have been the Crown Prince’s forces and the Imperial Army of Leanna.

 

And yet Grecan did not stop.

 

The truth be told, it’s a blur as to what happened, the thoughts I had, and the actions I took after she was gone. It was too painful.

 

There was no trace of her anywhere.

 

「A Great Witch who passes away turns to dust and sand, leaving no body behind. Mirania has gone to her rest, Grecan. So you should stop now and return to the wolves. Mirania would not want you to do this. 」

 

Grecan despaired as if he would die.

 

The Plains of Razhul had been ravaged before any other land.

 

The sight of the plains, a reminder of the terrible despair of a century ago, slowed Grecan’s pace.

 

Why do I feel her presence again?

 

Why does she… seem to be here?

 

Once on the plains, Grecan stood still.

 

A distant breeze fluttered his cloak and scattered his hair.

 

His face was as barren as a dry desert, his well-chiseled features like a dead sculpture. Then his eyes wavered.

 

‘Mirania.’

 

Grecan’s gaze was fixed on a single spot.

 

The largest of the few remaining trees, standing tall.

 

Grecan recognized it as soon as he saw it. It stood in the same spot where he’d last seen Mirania, a hundred years ago.

 Rustle— 

The leaves crunched beneath his feet.

 

Slowly, Grecan took a step forward, and then another, which turned swiftly.

 

The zelkova stood tall and sturdy compared to the dwarfed elms around it. There was something mysterious about the way it stood so tall and alone.

 

Grecan found himself falling in love with a plant he had never cared for before.

 

The scent of the tree moistened his mind as he contemplated the barren, fire-scorched land where no living thing could grow.

 

Approaching cautiously, Grecan placed his hand on the rough bark.

 

The scars on the back of his hand were grotesque and gruesome, like grooved bark, and also sadistic.

 

He stroked the rough cross-section of the tree as it was.

 

The tree was so large in circumference that a full-grown man could stretch out his arm and still barely touch it.

 “…” 

As he stroked the rough bark as he would a woman he loved, Grecan suddenly raised his fingertips.

 Crack— 

He dug his sharp nails into the wood, and the hard wood crumbled like a curd.

 Crash— 

The remains of the tree piled up at Grecan’s feet. When he had enough debris to start a fire, he stopped.

 

The tree had been stripped bare of its stark white core.

 

A doll had been buried in the tree’s immaculate trunk, like a tightly wrapped present.

 

Grecan’s throat rumbled roughly.

 

Though his energy was raging, as if he might explode at any moment, he was careful with his hands as he dug into the wood again, as if he were handling a baby.

 

At last, the hollowed-out elm spat out the young woman it had been holding.

 “Ah!” 

Grecan cradled her in his arms and drew in a shuddering breath.

 

Among the smell of old wood, there was a scent he remembered, a scent he could not forget, even in his dreams.

 

He chewed on his lip with sharp teeth, on the verge of tears.

 

As it was, his heart was pounding with such joy that he wouldn’t be surprised if it exploded.

 Thump, thump—- 

He buried his face carefully in the silver hair.

 Thump— 

Slowly, the realization dawned.

 Thump— 

‘My Mirania.’

 Thump, thump— 

‘You’ve finally returned to me.’

 Thump, thump, thump— 

‘Before I go completely insane.’

 

Tears welled up in Grecan’s ecstatic eyes.

 

‘Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, you came back to me, you.’ 

 

All who stood in his way had stepped and were stepping on the path to destruction.

 

Grecan smiled with a leaping joy at the realization that no one could stand in his way.

 

The beautiful smile was somehow decadent and wicked.

 

On his face, pale from countless sleepless nights, darkness descended like a shadow on a bright day, a lingering gloom that hadn’t gone away despite his overwhelming joy.

 

On that very day, High Lord Grecan, now head of all races, returned to the palace, bringing with him an ancient High Witch of the old era who should have been dead a hundred years ago.

  

The Encounter

 

The crystal chamber that had belonged to the Empress of the Leanna Empire for generations now belonged to Mirania.

 

Every day, Grecan waited for Mirania to open her beautiful eyes and look at him.

 

But a week after he returned with her, even as rumors of her spread, she did not open her eyes.

 

Grecan had put aside the task of eliminating the rebel seeds and stuck by Mirania’s side.

 

He pulled up a chair next to her and sat down, watching her as if he were watching something fascinating.

 “You haven’t changed a bit.” 

He beamed with delight. 

 

Watching her like this made his heart ache.

 

Grecan was happy enough to enjoy the pleasure of the pain, despite its seemingly undesired nature.

 

However, he was not comfortable with Mirania’s inability to eat.

 

If it weren’t for the turtle clan’s advice that all she could do was sleep, and that feeding her under these circumstances would cause her to choke to death, he would have fed her something.

 

Fortunately, even without food, Mirania didn’t change. Time seems to have stopped while she slept.

 “How long are you going to sleep, Mirania?” 

Grumbling in frustration, Grecan was determined to make sure she didn’t feel uncomfortable when she woke up.

 

He tended to Mirania carefully.

 

Rather than letting the servants do the work, he bathed her by hand and took her out in the sun every sunny hour of every day.

 

Elsewhere, buildings crumbled, and the land was ravaged, but the palace’s flower gardens survived.

 

The blossoming flowers and trees reminded him of Mirania, and he was glad he’d decided to keep it that way.

 “Hakan!” 

There was no one behind him, but Grecan didn’t care.

 “You called for me, my lord?” 

The answer came without delay. Hakan, who had descended from the sky, answered the call gladly and dropped to one knee behind Grecan.

 “Plant a flower garden, or rather, a forest.” 

Hakan prided himself on knowing Grecan better than anyone, but it took him some time to come to terms with this unexpected command.

 

‘Coming from a man who reigned as a brutal kind of destruction, a flower garden?’

 

But it was no longer either late for the man who had survived so many years by Grecan’s side.

 “Yes, my lord.” 

Turning to leave, he spotted the woman in Grecan’s arms.

 

‘She is the woman of rumor!’

 

He was quick and perceptive, but he couldn’t suppress his curiosity.

 

The woman the High Lord brought with him.

 

There was also a slight pride in knowing that rumors were spreading about her and he, his trusted servant, knew nothing.

 “But who is she…” 

Hakan tensed,

‘Am I asking the wrong questio

n?’ 

 

Hakan knew that Grecan had favored the oppressed and persecuted beast over the humans, but not because he liked them.

 

He needed a cat’s hand to maintain his vast palace.

 

‘But if more time had passed, even we might have been swept away by the forces of doom. I’m not sure if I could prevent that from happening myself, but I’ll make sure it doesn’t, and should the time come when the need for me arises, he’ll keep me by his side.’

 

Hakan bowed his head deeply, trusting himself more than the others. He was his hands and feet, a handy tool that could do without words.

 “You want to know?” 

Hakan’s eyes widened. Instead of being angry at him for talking uselessly, he asked.

 

‘Doesn’t this show that he trusts me?’

 

Hakan nodded politely in the affirmative.

 

Grecan’s soft voice answered,

“My lover.” 

‘Was it a mistake to think it sounded like he was boasting?’