Grant me Your Grace Chapter 44

Dahlia, clutching her hand, took a few steps back and spoke. Her large eyes now clearly reflected resentment.

 

She couldn’t forgive herself for the intimacy that had never been part of her plan, for the sinful act committed in the sacred space of the goddess, and for the fact that, despite it all. She still longed to hold onto Hissin’s warmth.

 

Nor could she forgive Hissin, who had led her to this point.

 

“The pain will come for me.”

 

“I won’t come to you.”

 

“Even if it’s unbearable?”

 

“Yes. Even if it’s unbearable.”

 

Dahlia drew a firm line.

 

“People were right. You were never a gift from the gods.”

 

Tears welled up in her reddened eyes. Clutching the robe tightly, she glared at Hissin.

 

“You’re nothing but a vile, filthy offering of the devil.”

 

Her sharp words scratched her own heart before they could even reach Hissin.

 

No matter how much she cursed him for defiling her, the princess, in the most sacred of places, it still wouldn’t be enough.

 

Strangely, her chest ached as if it had been wounded. It felt stifling and uncomfortable, as though she had forced out words she didn’t want to say.

 

“Even if I’m a confined princess… you have no right to violate me like this.”

 

‘Do you really think that? Was it against your will? After all the times you’ve let him touch you, did you not see this coming?’

 

“You’re truly horrible.”

 

‘Was it really so terrible to be held by him?’

 

Her heart seemed to ask these questions, stabbing at her relentlessly.

 

Dahlia, who had been glaring at Hissin with murderous intent, was the first to turn away. But she couldn’t take more than a few steps before she had to stop.

 

“You’re still not being honest until the end.”

 

His voice, striking at her core, caught her ankles.

 

“What will you do if you really can’t see me anymore?”

 

His meaningful words made her look back. She hated Hissin for humiliating her until the very end. Yet his words hooked deep into her chest, unsettling her heart.

 

If she could never see him again, if she were to fall back into the terrible agony of the curse…

 

‘It doesn’t matter. No matter how painful it gets, it’s not worth enduring this shame.’

 

With the resolve to pull out the hook embedded in her heart, Dahlia hurled curses at Hissin.

 

“I don’t care if someone like you… dies.”

 

They say curses consume the life force of the one who casts them and grow more poisonous. With the first cruel words she had ever spoken, Dahlia felt as though her chest was being crushed. 

 

It hurt even more because she had forced resentment into words she didn’t truly mean.

 

Perhaps he saw the vulnerability in her distorted gaze. Hissin, who had been wearing an odd expression, let out a soft chuckle.

 

“Even if I die, I’ll die by Your Highness’s hand.”

 

“…”

 

“So, don’t go far. Stay where I can see you.”

 

‘Then I’ll gladly die in your arms.’

 

His final words echoed in her ears like an auditory hallucination. Hissin bowed to Dahlia in the manner of royal etiquette, then turned and disappeared beyond the temple.

 

Left alone, Dahlia glared in the direction he had gone. She should have been consumed by rage, calling for people to punish him for dishonoring the princess of Baran.

 

But strangely, instead of burning anger, she felt a stinging saltiness in her chest. 

 

On the verge of tears, she had to constantly tighten her throat.

 

This wasn’t what she had wanted. She hadn’t wanted to open herself up in such a miserable state. 

 

Today, she had genuinely wanted to comfort Hissin, to fully understand his heart.

 

But Hissin had rendered her intentions useless in an instant. He had used her pure desire to comfort him to force her open and invade her. He had found the red marks she had wanted to hide, making her into the woman who had come to him because of those marks.

 

“No, no… That’s not it.”

 

Covering her face with her hands, Dahlia erased all the forced justifications swirling in her mind. When she cleared away the selfish resentment, only one feeling remained.

 

The feeling that she hadn’t wanted to be held by him in this state. Not because of the red marks. 

 

Not as the body of another man’s wife, but as just Dahlia, a woman who wanted him.

 

‘But how could that ever be allowed for someone like me?’

 

In the end, all this resentment wasn’t directed at Hissin, but at her own miserable fate.

 

Wiping the tears beneath her palms, Dahlia struggled to swallow her emotions. It would be difficult to see Hissin now. 

 

No matter how much he might want to, he wouldn’t seek her out after what she had said.

 

“Maybe it’s for the best. This kind of thing… couldn’t have gone on forever anyway.”

 

Dahlia muttered to herself, trying to steady her heart. But a hollow emptiness in her chest made her shoulders tremble faintly.

 

Was this emptiness due to the sadness of never being able to see Hissin again? 

 

Or the despair of losing the salvation she had barely found?

 

She turned away from the question she didn’t want to answer and left the temple.

 

The answer to that question would come to her precisely a month later, when news reached her.

 

✨

 

An unknown plague had broken out in the southern regions. 

 

This fever, which began quietly and without warning in a small rural village, silently and insidiously consumed the village.

 

Those infected with the plague suffered from high fever, dehydration, and severe skin rashes. No medicine or treatment proved effective.

 

Most endured a long and agonizing illness before succumbing to death, and even those who barely survived were left with grotesque scars. 

 

Countless lives were lost, and the survivors were forced to live out their remaining days with disfigured faces.

 

Upon hearing the news of the plague’s outbreak, Emperor Khankundra asked with a grave expression,

 

“How is the plague being managed?”

 

“We have imposed a lockdown on the entire village and sealed all entrances, Your Majesty.”

 

Khankundra let out a heavy sigh. If only they could use divine power to cure the plague. 

 

However, according to imperial law, divine power could only be used during the Maksru season.

 

Though secretly, the royal family and nobles had been treated using divine power, this was strictly their own secret.

 

Moreover, the number of plague victims had already surpassed hundreds of thousands. 

 

If they were to use blood to heal all those patients, Dahlia would surely die first.

 

Mindhu stepped forward and replied, “We have stationed troops to ensure no one can escape, and once the entire village is consumed by the plague, it will naturally die out.”

 

Plagues with high mortality rates typically have lower transmission rates. Mindhu intended to sacrifice one village to quell this disaster.

 

But perhaps that complacent negligence ended up provoking the wrath of the plague god.

 

Despite strict quarantine measures, the plague managed to break free from the village. 

 

It pierced through the high walls of containment and began spreading to neighboring villages.

 

Without anyone knowing how or where it had leaked out, the plague quickly devastated the surrounding villages. 

 

As if it had grown stronger after being concentrated in one place for so long, the plague spread faster than before, raging like wildfire.

 

Alongside the plague came another calamity: the death of the land.

 

Around the time the plague first broke out, the Levithia flowers across the nation had suddenly withered for no apparent reason. While other plants remained unharmed, the Levithia flowers had all turned yellow and died, prompting an investigation.

 

But within days, the crops began to wither just like the Levithia flowers.

 

No matter how hard they tried to save them, the crops died without a chance of recovery.

 

The crops, which had died before bearing any grain, eventually turned the land barren as well.

 

An unknown blight and an unprecedented plague. These two calamities, one on top of the other, plunged Baran into chaos in an instant.

 

However, Emperor Khankundra only focused on the capital and its surrounding areas, which had not yet been touched by the disaster. 

 

Strictly speaking, this was because the nobles and officials from each region had failed to properly report the situation to the emperor.

 

They were too busy filling their own storehouses and squeezing every last drop from the people before the emperor could order relief efforts.

 

As a result, the farther one went from the capital, the more dire the situation became. With the plague and famine overlapping, the people’s anger began to burn like wildfire.

 

Those searching for someone to blame turned into bandits, striking at the heart of the nation. 

 

The damage fell squarely on the innocent citizens, and their tears and cries of anguish echoed mournfully to the heavens.

 

Amid the worst chaos, a spark was finally struck over the oil that had spread across the land.

 

“Hissin is not a gift from the gods but an offering of the devil!”

 

“We must punish him. We must punish him for daring to mock the will of the goddess and beg for her forgiveness!”

 

At some point, people began reviving rumors that had nearly been forgotten, shouting for his downfall. The sharp arrows of resentment reached the emperor’s ears faster than the cries of the starving people.

 

“Your Majesty, the people’s resentment toward the divine gift is piercing the heavens.”

 

“Even in this dire situation, the divine gift has done nothing.”

 

“If we do not resolve this crisis immediately, the entire nation will fall into chaos.”

 

Though the empire was already rotting away in places beyond the emperor’s sight, Mindhu and the officials cleverly diverted his attention, shifting all responsibility to the temple.

 

More precisely, to Hissin, the new master of the temple.