The Eden of Three Brothers - Chapter 2
2. The King of Void
"Did you sleep well?"
"……"
The silver-haired man who had been reading a book asked after me in a gentle voice. There were several reasons I couldn't respond to this ordinary greeting normally.
First, embarrassingly, it was because he was too beautiful. If there were a person sculpted by divine blessing, it would be him. Dazzling sunlight and dim backlighting cast shadows across his sculpted face. His cold, brilliant silver hair cascaded over his shoulders, back, and waist, swaying like a swing.
His eyes, veiled by thick, pure silver eyelashes, shone with a golden radiance. It was as if silver and gold threads had been sweetly woven together. His breathtakingly beautiful eyes and elegant nose bridge seemed otherworldly. When my gaze fell on his full, glossy lips, I felt breathless. Was he a demon or a fairy? In any case, his appearance was utterly enchanting.
Second, I had just been hit by a car. Though my new body seemed perfectly fine, breathing and alive, I was utterly disoriented.
Third, everything was too sudden and unfamiliar. The man before me, the bed I lay in, even my own body, which had changed to a strange color—I resented the goddess who had rushed through everything, making me doubt whether she had truly respected my choice.
And fourth—this was the most critical part.
Oh, goddess. I cried out to the very deity who had done this to me. She had clearly referred to me as a child, but her "child" was far too large. Excessively so. No matter what I had imagined, this surpassed it all.
The moment I opened my eyes, basic knowledge of this world flowed into my mind. The average height for adult women here was around 190cm. For men, it was around 210cm.
If she had changed my hair to pink to match the colorful hair and eye colors of the people here, she should have adjusted my physique as well. But I remained unchanged. My hands and feet were exactly as I remembered, so I knew my height without measuring—a perfectly average 160cm, neither taller nor shorter.
As for the man before me, I couldn't even guess his height. All I knew was that he was far taller than the average height of this world. To me, he seemed like a giant. One thing was certain: he was larger than anyone I had ever seen.
Next, my role in this world came to me.
I was to bear the king's egg. Considering that children in this world were also born through ordinary intercourse and the man before me possessed colors permitted only to the king, the conclusion was clear: I had to have s€x with this giant.
"……"
My confusion-filled mind solidified into a heavy mass. My trembling gaze swept over the man's lightly clad form. I knew my eyes lingered particularly lower, but I couldn't look away. Through the thin fabric, I glimpsed something thick and substantial.
As threatening as his large physique—something the size of an adult forearm hung between his legs. In stark contrast to his fairy-like face, it was a prominent weapon too bold to be fully concealed by clothing.
"Do you... have three legs?"
After a long silence, my absurd remark twisted the man's expression into something peculiar. Even I knew this was inappropriate. I tried to salvage the first impression.
"I mean that thing, that leg—no, not a leg...!"
I had to admit it. My efforts were in vain.
"…Is the priestess concerned about consummating with me?"
"Do we... really have to do that?"
"Do what?"
"That... that thing! Se—s€x!"
"S€x?"
He seemed unfamiliar with the word "s€x." I hid my burning face in my palms, resigned.
"Consummation."
His beautiful face took on a troubled expression. Ah. A small sigh escaped me. Simultaneously, I felt resentment toward the goddess. An important fact had only just surfaced.
The destruction of the world. It was truly an insane world-setting. If I didn't have s€x with the king of this land and bear his egg, when the king died, this world would vanish with him. Considering this was a world with a billion people living ordinary lives, the structure was absurd.
As if in compensation, the king could never die from illness or injury. After a century passed, he would simply close his eyes peacefully, without pain. So, if I didn't produce an heir, this world would end the moment this man's lifespan did.
"Am I not to your liking?"
Not to my liking! Even the lotus in the water would shy away from blooming before his beauty. I felt almost apologetic hearing such words from a peerless beauty. While looks aren't everything, they could be an absolute standard when choosing a one-night partner.
I was already confused about whether this was reality or a dream. I didn't hesitate to escape and avoid facing it. For the sake of my mental health, I decided to think simply. I had avoided the worst-case scenario of surviving on a battlefield. Ultimately, it meant I just had to have s€x with this king a few times and lay one small egg that wouldn't burden the mother's body. This insane world could avoid destruction just like that.
This wasn't even my real body—just a new one with the same mind. Since it wasn't my world, I could treat it as a dream without any difference. If I could sleep with a man who looked like that without any burden, why not? Under the circumstances, it was better to take it lightly. I would do as asked, live luxuriously under the king's protection, and then return to my world.
Then, the king spoke.
"I have two brothers."
"Huh?"
Bewildered, I scrambled through my memories. The kings of this generation were triplets. Three kings born from a single egg, meaning there were three kings. In such a case, the priestess had to receive the essence of all three kings to bear the king's egg. Simply put, it meant sharing a bed with the three brothers.
"I don't have to be the first. If I don't meet your expectations, you may meet the other two kings first. But ultimately, you will have to return to me."
The king, seated on the edge of my bed, lightly brushed my cheek. His hand, smelling of a faint breeze, was intensely cold.
Was he feeling sorry for me? His eyes were filled with sorrow. Perhaps that was just his natural expression. After all, the kings of this world could only be souls who had offered miserable devotion.
The kings here neither aged nor suffered injury. They ruled the world in peaceful tranquility until meeting a painless death. If such an excessive role were given to anyone, it would be unfair. Or was it a price?
The king was chosen from among souls with tormented past lives. The more painful that past, the more beautiful their appearance and the greater their power. Yet, all of it, given as if a price, could not be welcomed in the slightest.
Kings were not granted the blessing of forgetfulness. They all had to remember the excruciating past lives for which they were chosen.
It was a cruel price. Resenting the goddess who orchestrated this was only natural.
But the goddess had her reasons. One of the missions given to me was related to this.
Painful memories affected the soul to that extent. These were souls so wounded that a hasty reincarnation would be poisonous. The position of king was a sanctuary for wounded souls—a kind of purification chamber to heal their memories.
I had to purify the king's memories. I had to understand their pain. Become their sole understanding and offer comfort. For their painful pasts. For the regrets they couldn't forget even in death.
I felt sorry for this king who didn't press me. For some reason, he was the first to greet me. If he had won the right to meet me first among the three kings, he should have been more cunning. As the first, he should have kept me by his side longer and used me as intended.
Only by receiving his memories could his heart find peace. Yet here he sat, like a still life, holding onto the one remedy that could allow him to lay down his ageless memories—neither hurrying nor urging, simply embracing those memories.
"I want to see your memories."
I naturally knew what to do. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer until our lips nearly touched. Even with easy prey right before him, he didn't greedily pounce.
"There's no need to rush. I know this world must feel strange and unfamiliar to you. You must be confused and afraid."
"Like when you were first born into this world?"
"That was long ago for me."
His cold gaze met mine. It was as solid as an impenetrable fortress. He seemed to think, "What could someone like you possibly understand?" Perhaps he was wary, guarding his painful memories.
"Don't think it will be easy."
But it was too late. I already felt a kinship with him. And foolishly, I empathized, sympathized, and pitied him.
"You should be more afraid of being trapped in my memories."
I watched his lips, which issued repeated warnings. He let out a breath like a sigh. To him, I must have seemed like an immature, reckless girl. He could have been angry, thinking I took his pain lightly, but he wasn't.
"You ask for punishment, so I must give it."
A cold breath flowed from his lips into mine. Snowflakes fell inside my mouth. Starting from my tongue, my body froze, unable to move.
Hell unfolded before my eyes.
***
When the king was male, the goddess bestowed a Priestess; when female, a Priest. The goddess placed the king above the Saint—the term encompassing both Priestesses and Priests. Considering that the Saint's necessity originated from the king's recovery, this was natural. Most Saints, pure souls raised in peaceful worlds, overlooked this point. The Priestess in front of him was no different.
Her smoothly curved eyes gradually contorted. Her white face, wrinkled with furrowed brows, groaned as she bit her lip with a crack. He forced her jaw open to prevent self-harm. A piercing scream erupted, as if something held back had finally burst.
"Agh! H-h, ugh!"
He quietly watched the screaming Priestess. His eyes held no emotion. Not even a hint of gratitude shone for the Priestess suffering in his stead. He felt only the emptiness of the weight in his chest loosening in this brief time.
'For whom does this pain exist? Is it something that can vanish so easily? If so, why have I... carried this until now?'
If a peaceful 100 years was the price for a painful past, he didn't need it. It would be better not to remember. If he could discard this loathsome thing by being reborn as a lowly beast, he would surely do it. Having lived as a general on the battlefield, a human king, a ruler, he could endure the humiliation of becoming livestock. Such were his memories.
They were not memories an ordinary human psyche could withstand. If left like this for a few hours, the unsuspecting Priestess would go mad. Only the king possessed the power to extract her from the memories. The poor Priestess had to remain trapped in hellish memories until he pulled her out.
"Ahhh!"
Her voice soon grew hoarse. Desperate screams fragmented his memories, making them distant like unfamiliar recollections of another. It was empty. He felt no urgency about the terrifying speed at which things disappeared. His heart was already worn down, numb.
He rescued the Priestess at an appropriate time. Freed from hell, she flailed her limbs and clung to him desperately. Her trembling eyes opened. Her blurred, dilated pupils couldn't focus properly.
"Are you in pain?"
He asked quietly. The Priestess hadn't recovered enough to answer.
After pain, sweet pleasure. After punishment, a corresponding reward. He meticulously licked her sobbing face. The Priestess's tears were sweet. Even her bodily fluids became his strength. Another of the shackles binding him loosened and fell away.
Her limp white arms rose to his shoulders. This small body tried to comfort him. She was likely the most fragile-bodied Priestess in history. Feeling some pity for the pain endured by this tiny frame, he gently enveloped her.
Her now-clear gaze looked directly at him.
"Naasen."
She called his name. It was his true name, one he had never taught her.
Her dreamlike purple eyes shone mysteriously. Lonely and vast. Much like his own golden eyes.
"Naasen."
She called his name again. She already knew him.
The first and only one who understood. Naasen finally felt the necessity of the Priestess. Simultaneously, he realized why so many kings became obsessed with their Saints.
* * *
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