The Threshold of Blood

The mural was massive. And heavily faded. I looked up at the dragon petrified on the wall, my head tilted back as far as it could go. It was impressive, but I wasn’t in the state to stand there lost in awe. I was far too exhausted for an art appreciation session. Who on earth digs a cave this deep? Honestly, it was tedious. It felt more like, “Finally, we’re here.”

Lamier, who had been holding on through sheer willpower and the responsibility of serving a frail Grand Duke, slumped to the floor and then just sprawled out flat. I wanted to sit too, but I knew if I did, it would take an eternity to get back up. I leaned against the wall instead. I wiped my sweat-soaked forehead and winced. It was scratchy with stone dust. I rubbed it vigorously with my sleeve. A sharp stone chip must have been mixed in, because I felt the skin on my forehead graze.

Anyway… we finally made it.

I shifted my gaze from the dragon painting downward. At the end of the cavern, beneath the dragon, sat a single boulder. It was almost embarrassing to call it an altar.

Once again, I felt a sense of respect for the original Kallios. He had sprayed his blood without hesitation on an altar that looked like a random rock fallen from a collapsed ceiling. Having been adopted into the Imperial family at ten and raised as the Crown Prince, he must have known various Imperial secrets, unlike me, who was a Prince in name only. Yet here I was, knowing exactly what was inside, and even I was feeling doubtful.

Was he that desperate? Did he want to get out alive that badly?

Since the original Kallios wasn’t a being I could truly understand, I tried to imagine what my brother Kallios—the one I’d known for ten years—would have done. Hmm. I can only imagine him smashing his way through the collapsed entrance. With one burst of his spirit, the piled stones would fly away, and he’d walk out without a speck of dust on him. The knights waiting outside would fall to their knees, voices choked with emotion, shouting, “Long live the Emperor! Long live! Long, long live!…”

I missed Kallios. And Sierra. Isaac, Ilios, the timid Viscount Timothy, and even the (former) Baron Bartman, now Count Rostion, whom I hadn’t even met yet. I reached into my pocket and headed for the altar.

The flat, round thing was the platinum pocket watch Kallios gave me; my middle finger brushed against the handkerchief stained with the messy tears and snot of Lamier; a rustling sound came from the candy I’d packed to tease Isaac; and lying at the very bottom of the pocket was… the fountain pen filled with sparkling purple ink.

Will this work? I gripped the body of the pen and pulled it out. Opening the cap revealed a sharp gold nib. The thought of stabbing my own flesh with it made my skin crawl. Still, it was better than dying trapped in a cave.

I reached the altar. It was about waist-high and half the width of my bed. It was flat on top, but the surface was rough and unpolished. I slowly walked around it. No decorations, no ancient script that might serve as a hint. It looked like a mundane rock where a hiker might take a short break if they were tired… Is this really an altar? I looked around, but there was nothing else that could be called an “altar” besides this.

A rustling sound came from behind, followed by a dragging footstep. It was Lamier.

“Stay there.”

“Your Highness?”

Good. He’s very obedient. The footsteps stopped immediately.

“Just wait a moment.”

I spoke soothingly as I placed my hand on the altar. My hand was shaking. Because I hated the idea of making a mistake, I had never even played the knife game everyone else did—the one where you spread your fingers on the floor and poke the spaces between them with a pen. I used to think the guys who messed up and poked their fingers were pathetic. Now, it wasn’t a game; I had to stab myself with a pen on purpose.

But this really breaks with my blood, right? If not, I’m just hurting myself for nothing…

No. I won’t just be hurt; I’ll be dead. If we’re lucky, we’ll be found as two sets of white bones decades or centuries from now.

I pondered where it would hurt less while producing the most blood, but there was no way I’d know that. I just raised the hand holding the pen and aimed for the center of my palm.

“Aw, sh*t…”

It hurt enough to bring tears to my eyes, but not much blood came out. Would more come if I pulled it out? If it didn’t, I didn’t have the confidence to stab myself again. I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed down harder. Trying to drive a blunt piece of metal into my hand felt like I was dying. The sickening sound of muscle tearing—crrk—was horrifying. What if it wasn’t muscle, but bone or a nerve? I’m glad there are no smartphones in this world. It’ll be less inconvenient if I can’t move my fingers a bit. Isaac and the others will handle everything else.

“Your Highness, what are you… Your Highness?”

Lamier arrived at the perfect time. I wanted to cry from the pain, but the urgent voice made the tears recede. Of course, it still hurt like hell.

Lamier grabbed both of my wrists and lifted them. Blood was pooling on the altar where my hand had been. Not a lot, but some. Ah, I really did just put a hole in my hand with a pen. In the pooled blood, the sparkling powder from the ink was floating around.

“What are you doing right now?”

“…Let go.”

“Your Highness!”

“Let go of my hands, Lamier.”

The startled Lamier didn’t release his grip easily. Worry is only welcome when you’re in a state to appreciate it. Right now, while I wasn’t dying, I wasn’t exactly having the time of my life either. I suppressed a rising surge of irritation.

“Lamier. Do I have to say it three times?”

I know it’s jarring for the Grand Duke to suddenly appear and commit self-harm, but it’s just as jarring for me to be summoned here and have to do it. I wished he wouldn’t look at me with eyes demanding an explanation. He looked back and forth between my face and my hand for a long time before biting his lip.

“Good boy.”

Lamier slowly let go. My wrists throbbed from how hard he’d gripped them. Even so, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as my punctured palm.

“Stand back.”

“Your Highness…”

I took a deep breath as I heard his hesitant footsteps retreating. I let go of the fountain pen, which I’d been gripping so hard my knuckles were white, then gripped it again. If I’m going to do this, I should do it properly. It’s better to hurt once. I really couldn’t bring myself to stab it again.

Grittering my teeth, I twisted the pen and pulled it out.

A few drops of blood splattered onto the altar. Then, blood began to leak steadily from the hole. I didn’t have the luxury of being happy that I’d pierced it well. I shouldn’t have twisted it; I should have just pulled.

The blood flowed along the rough surface of the altar. I thought it was flat, but it seemed to be slanting slightly inward.

I stared at the altar, listening to Lamier calling out to me anxiously.

Open.

Open up.

The blood kept flowing, but there was no change in the altar.

Open, please open. Please. Is there not enough blood?

I acted calm because there was a kid relying on me, but I was just as terrified. To be summoned out of nowhere from my own room just to starve to death? What kind of illogical, horrific ending is that?

I had come here certain it would open, but as I saw no movement despite losing quite a bit of blood, anxiety set in. I squeezed my arm to force more blood out, my eyes closed as if in prayer.

This is a novel, isn’t it? I threw the original plot to the dogs, but it’s still a story, and Lamier Weaver is the protagonist. Author-nim, Dragon God-nim. Let’s save this kid. And save me while you’re at it. If this doesn’t open, we die. So…

Crr-ack, crack.

The sound of something solid splitting apart echoed.

“F*ck…”

I muttered, clutching the wrist of the hand that was still leaking blood.

It worked. I lived.

It really did open with my blood.

Tears welled up, not from the pain, but from relief. Lamier caught me from behind as I stumbled. I grinned and gestured with my chin toward the wall with the dragon painting, but it was a wasted effort. Lamier’s jaw was hanging open as he stared at the massive wall—no, the door—splitting open.

“See. I told you it would be okay.”

I used my good hand to push his jaw shut and said my piece.

I felt like I’d earned the right to brag a little… but then I thought of Kallios, who always turns away coolly after doing what he needs to do, and I felt a bit embarrassed. Still, pride is pride, so I decided not to be humble.

I opened and closed the hand Lamier had treated.

The treatment was nothing more than tearing his clothes and tying them tightly, but at least the bleeding had stopped, so it was fine. Once I got back to the Imperial Palace and received some magic healing, it would vanish without a single scar.

Lamier went inside the ruins. He told me to wait until he came back, saying he’d check for any danger.

There won’t be any danger. There are no monsters in these ruins, and no suits of armor that come to life to guard the treasure. There is something like a personality test, but the original Lamier passed it easily. The current Lamier will do fine too.

By the way, I wonder how long it will take. Novels sometimes take several chapters to describe things that happen in minutes, or condense months into a few sentences. I know what Lamier will experience inside, but I don’t know the actual time it takes. I pulled out the pocket watch, checked the time, and closed it. 4:00. Likely the afternoon.

Isaac must have been very startled by my sudden disappearance. Kallios and Sierra too. If I’d known this would happen, I would have at least written a note before leaving. Well, if I could have predicted a situation like “I thought it was a phone call but it was a Portkey!”, I’d be a god, not a Grand Duke.

Anyway, I miss them.

I shouldn’t have turned them away when they came to see me. Even if I was angry, I should have seen their faces before letting them go. I should see them as much as I can while I still can. Just because my body hurt a bit less, I acted like I’d live forever.

I won’t do that when I get back. First, I’ll give them a big hug and tell them I love them…

I curled up with my back against the wall. Perhaps from the blood loss, I felt a chilly shiver and drowsiness washed over me. I folded my cold hands against my chest and closed my eyes.

I hope I’m back in my room when I wake up.

‘Child.’

It was a husky, low, pleasant voice. I let out a groan and shrugged my shoulders. Because I’d been lying on my side on the hard floor for a long time, my arm was numb and painful. Still, I didn’t want to open my eyes. I was too tired. Not since I was born… but since becoming a Kaian, it was the first time I’d walked this far, and the first time I’d lost this much blood. So, I’m going to sleep more.

‘Why are you staying out there? Instead of coming in.’

The voice, which would have suited an R&B song perfectly, spoke again. I wanted to ignore it and sleep, but the tone and the words were so kind that I couldn’t. I mumbled back.

“I wanna sleep.”

The owner of the voice had a very pleasant laugh as well.

‘It would be quite a sight if you caught a cold and became a snot-nosed brat sleeping in a place like that.’

I tentatively opened the eyes I had been stubbornly keeping shut. I knew better than anyone else how stubbornly a “cold” could torment a person.

“I’m sleepy though…”

I complained because I was disappointed to be woken from a rare, sweet sleep, and the owner of the voice laughed again. I sat up and brushed my cheeks. Stone dust fell in showers.

‘Come in and sleep.’

I gave a long yawn and then nodded.

The door, which had been open just enough for one person to enter, opened wide as if telling me to hurry. I looked into the pitch-black doorway and then shuffled inside with unsteady steps.