You Were My Sl*ve - Chapter 55

The next morning, Elona’s plans to consult Lady Miriam were thwarted when she learned the elder priestess was too unwell to see her. Left with no other options, Elona decided to visit the Temple of Lu alone.

“Elona! You’re here! Did you have breakfast yet? Sister Urt made a batch of fig jam yesterday—you must try some!”

Aslan, ever cheerful, greeted her warmly. As he spread the jam onto a piece of flatbread with childlike enthusiasm, Elona hesitated before broaching the subject that had weighed on her mind all night.

“Aslan… do you know much about Zahhak Omar?”

“Hmm? Zahhak Omar?”

Aslan tilted his head, puzzled by the unexpected question. Seeing the serious expression on Elona’s face, he nodded slowly.

“If you’re asking about the heir of the Omar family, then yes, I know quite a bit about him. Come to think of it, didn’t he cause a bit of a stir during the recent celebration? Attacked the tournament champion out of the blue, and even made the ridiculous request to claim you as a reward from the king?”

Before Elona could respond, her breath caught as a familiar voice interrupted from behind her.

“What a coincidence. Speaking of me already, Princess?”

She spun around in alarm to see none other than Zahhak himself, leaning casually against a stone pillar near the temple’s gardens. His lips curled into a wry smile as their gazes locked.

“How did you…? The Manok Palace is a restricted area—how did you even get in here?” Elona stammered, her voice tinged with panic.

“Do you think slipping past a few guards would be difficult for me?” Zahhak replied smoothly, his tone almost mocking.

Had he snuck in to exact revenge for Samira? Elona’s heart raced, her mind unable to make sense of his intentions.

“The king isn’t here,” she said hastily. “If you have no other business, I suggest you leave—”

“Don’t be so stiff,” Zahhak cut her off, his grin widening. “I came to see you, Princess Elona.”

The word princess fell from his lips with a sneering undertone, as if mocking her title. Elona glanced nervously around her surroundings.

They were standing by the garden’s pond, a wide-open space visible from almost every angle of the garden. Thankfully, there was no one nearby, but the visibility reassured her. If Zahhak tried to harm her, at the very least, she could scream for help. And surely, given that he’d snuck in, he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.

Zahhak noticed her unease and chuckled, shaking his head as though amused by her fear.

“Why are you so nervous? Did you wrong me in some way?”

“N-no,” Elona stammered, her voice wavering.

“Exactly. Then answer my question,” Zahhak said, his piercing gaze holding hers captive.

“Princess, you had a slave in Parsion, didn’t you?”

“…Yes. I had a female slave,” Elona replied, just as she had when Irid had once asked her the same. She carefully avoided mentioning Kazan. Fortunately, Zahhak didn’t seem to press the matter.

“The female slave, then. What was her name?”

The inevitable question. Elona steeled herself. From this moment on, her answers would shape her future.

“Her name was ‘Samira.’ Why are you asking about her?”

Zahhak’s faint smile faltered, his expression tightening slightly. He didn’t answer her question directly, instead shifting the topic.

“Did you treat her kindly? Samira, I mean.”

“I tried my best,” Elona said earnestly.

Zahhak let out a short, bitter laugh. It wasn’t the laughter of amusement—it was hollow, almost mocking.

“Oh, really? You tried? And yet, you’re here alone without her?”

Though his tone remained casual, there was an unmistakable undertone of accusation. Zahhak’s true intentions were difficult to read. Before Elona could find the words to respond, his voice turned sharper, his questions more pointed.

“She was your slave, wasn’t she? Then why were you alone in that tower? Where was Samira? Did you set her free? Or did you… give her away to someone else?”

He doesn’t know.

Relief washed over Elona—Zahhak didn’t know what had become of Samira. But the danger wasn’t over. If he didn’t know, it meant she would have to lie.

“Where is Samira now?” Zahhak pressed.

“Samira is…”

She had to lie. But the words caught in her throat, refusing to come out. Zahhak’s intense, sorrowful gaze bore into her, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe.

To him, Samira must have been someone precious. His violet eyes, brimming with sadness and longing, pinned her in place.

“How can I see her again? Tell me,” he pleaded.

“…I’m sorry. That’s impossible,” Elona whispered.

“Why?” Zahhak demanded.

Elona lowered her head, unable to meet his gaze. She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye as she prepared to speak her lie.

“Is she… dead?” Zahhak’s voice cracked as he asked.

Elona nodded, her eyes clenched shut in fear of what his reaction might be.

“She died seven years ago,” she said quietly. “She fell ill.”

Samira was dead. The Samira that Elona had once rescued from Antonio, who had endured so much, had ultimately perished three years later—burned alive at Antonio’s hands.

Elona held her fists tightly clenched as she awaited Zahhak’s reaction.

“Dead… Samira is dead…?”

Elona mustered the courage to lift her head. Zahhak stood there, his gaze lost, not even looking at her. His eyes seemed to wander in search of something unseen, as if chasing the ghost of Samira.

Eventually, he raised one hand to cover his eyes.

“…I’m sorry,” he muttered.

Elona’s heart sank with guilt over the lie. But even so, she believed this was better—for both of them. Telling the truth about Samira’s horrific fate would only cause him unbearable pain, and it might destroy them both.

Still, Zahhak’s next question caught her off guard.

“Then… where is Samira now?”

“What?”

Zahhak’s sudden and cryptic question caught Elona off guard. He wiped his eyes and asked again, his voice trembling slightly.

“Her resting place—I mean, where she was buried. When I went to Parsion, I saw countless graves. Unlike us, you honor your dead by burying them, don’t you? So Samira must have been buried somewhere, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Tell me where she’s buried,” Zahhak pressed.

Elona hadn’t thought this far ahead. She hesitated, her mind racing. If she claimed there was a grave, Zahhak might rush to Parsion to search for it. He might dig up countless graves in a futile attempt to find her, creating a fruitless, meaningless tragedy.

There was no grave. There was no body.

Although her lie had been necessary to protect herself, she couldn’t let it lead to such pointless despair.

“Samira was cremated,” Elona said finally, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “She died of a contagious illness, and everyone who died like that was burned together. So… there’s no grave.”

The lie came out smoother than she expected, perhaps because it felt like a kindness—an untruth to protect him.

Zahhak exhaled a shaky sigh, his large frame trembling as though it might collapse under the weight of his despair. “No grave… So, what am I supposed to do now?”

He leaned against a nearby tree, his broad shoulders hunched, his usual strength and confidence crumbling. Elona felt a pang of guilt but wasn’t sure whether to offer comfort or apologize.

Then, the sound of footsteps broke the heavy silence.

Both Elona and Zahhak turned toward the pond, startled.

“Elona, what are you doing here…?”

It was Kazan. He had spotted her through the trees and approached without realizing she wasn’t alone.

But before either Zahhak or Elona could react, Kazan’s gaze shifted past her and locked onto Zahhak.

Elona realized, for the first time, how quickly someone could draw a sword.

“…What are you doing here?” Kazan growled, his voice sharp and cold. The tip of his blade hovered just below Zahhak’s throat, a single drop of blood forming where it touched.

Elona instinctively stepped back, startled by the icy gleam of the sword. But then her eyes widened in shock—Zahhak had drawn his dagger at the same time, holding it steady, aimed directly at Kazan’s chest.

The despair and tears that had softened Zahhak’s features moments earlier were gone without a trace. He now wore a calm, almost playful smile as he stood his ground, completely unshaken.

“Your Majesty, don’t misunderstand. Hard as it may be to believe, I truly haven’t done anything,” Zahhak said calmly, his tone measured but firm.

“Is that true?” Kazan’s sharp gaze flicked toward Elona, his violet eyes narrowing with suspicion.

Elona, startled out of her daze, quickly reached out and grabbed Kazan’s sleeve.