I WAS REINCARNATED AS THE MAD EMPEROR INTO THE NOVEL

Chapter 3 – A Silent Room, a Beating Heart

The sharp scent of medicine lingered in the room, mixing with the faint sweetness of incense that clung to the silk curtains. The morning light filtered through the window, casting a golden hue across the chamber.

Asharic sat upright in bed, his red eyes fixed on the woman before him.

It had only been a day since he awakened in this body. He didn't know exactly how much time had passed since he was eighteen—but he knew it had been long. Long enough for things to change, and for memories to be blur.

They believed him lost—mind and soul alike.

And yet, some still waited for his return.

The room was quiet, broken only by the soft rustling of cloth.

Mireth sat beside him, poised yet gentle, her long brown hair tied loosely behind her back. Her violet soft eyes held quiet a sadness now and still trace of hope.

A tray of herbal tea rested on the low table, untouched and cooling.

She had been here the whole day.

And she had been taking care of him the whole time.

She dipped a cloth into the nearby bowl of cool water and gently pressed it against his forehead. Her hands moved with practiced care, as if she had done this a thousand times before.

As she tended to him, Asharic's gaze remained fixed on her face.. specifically, her eyes. Violet and soft, yet dimmed by quiet sorrow. She didn't notice his stare, as she was simply used to it, mistaking it for emptiness.

"It looks like your fever's gone down a little," she whispered, more to herself than to him. Her voice was calm, carrying both relief and a deep exhaustion.

She paused, then dipped the cloth again, wringing it slowly with her fingers.

"I know… you can't speak right now. But a part of me still believes… that you can hear me." Her voice trembled. "It's been ten years… I've stayed by your side all this time, hoping... that you will get better."

She let out a small breath and glanced down at his hand before gently placing hers over it.

"I wanted to wait until you were better… but I can't anymore."

"I'm carrying your child. Another child."

Her fingers squeezed his lightly.

"I don't know if you'll ever truly return… but I needed you to know."

____________

Asharic's pov

"Another child."

Quite some time must have passed.

To think… the woman this body barely remembers is now carrying his second child. That's just… sad.

From the memories I've inherited, I know that by the age of eighteen, this body was already married to two women... both of whom were expecting children at the time. And now, Mireth says she's been by my side for ten years. That means... more than a decade has passed since then.

Still, this is my body now. And with it, I've inherited his responsibilities. I can't run from that.

But it still doesn't make sense.

How does someone who was on the verge of becoming a Sword Master at eighteen suddenly fall ill like this… bedridden for over a decade, with no cause?

I need to take a better look.

Asharic closed his eyes and focused inward. Slowly, he began to sense the flow of energy within his body.

So this is it... the body's energy—Aura, as it's called here. This is how you circulate it through your limbs, your organs, your core...

He sat still, eyes shut, examining himself.

There wasn't anything obviously broken. No sickness. No internal injury. But—

His aura… it was weak.

Less than half of what it once was. Maybe even lower.

No wonder his body was useless all this time.

Just as he was tracing the flow deeper through his core, a sudden, stabbing pain surged through his head again.

"Ghh... dammit… this pain!"

Asharic grabbed his head, teeth gritted, using his remaining aura to suppress the agony. It helped... but only slightly.

Mireth quickly noticed. She reached out and gently placed a hand on his arm, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is something wrong?" she asked softly.

Asharic didn't answer. The pain was dulling now, but it still throbbed beneath the surface.

He simply closed his eyes again.

No. Not yet. I need to know more.

_________

As Asharic sat quietly with his eyes closed, sensing the diminished flow of aura within his body, Mireth remained seated beside him, gently watching over him in silence.

The door opened without a knock.

Asharic, still sitting upright in bed, turned slightly toward the entrance, surprised. In his memory, no one had ever been allowed to enter his chambers unannounced, not when he was the Crown Prince.

He glanced at Mireth.

But she remained calm, showing no alarm. Only a subtle shift in her posture, as if she had expected this.

A quiet breeze drifted in, carrying a faint trace of the outside air.

Then she stepped in.

Clad in fitted black trousers and a white high-collared tunic adorned with a crimson sash, the woman moved with the composed grace of a seasoned warrior. A sheathed white blade rested against her waist, shifting with her steps. Her long golden hair, tied in a neat braid, brushed lightly against the edge of her tunic. Her sharp crimson eyes cold and unyielding swept across the room.

This was Anevra DragonBlood, the second queen of the Ashkar Kingdom... and his second wife.

She carried herself with quiet authority, simple yet unshakably stubborn, like someone who bore the weight of duty without complaint. Her expression remained composed.

Her gaze lingered on Asharic for only a moment before shifting to Mireth.

Mireth rose from her seat gracefully and bowed slightly before her in a courtly gesture.

"Welcome, Lady Anevra," she said in a soft, formal tone.

Anevra raised a hand in a small wave. "You may sit."

"You called for the royal physician," Anevra said plainly, her voice cool and steady. "Is everything all right?"

Mireth looked up and nodded lightly. "Yes, Lady Anevra. His fever rose again yesterday... but it seems to have gone down."

Anevra studied her for a moment. Then, a touch more gently, she said,

"You should take better care of yourself too."

"I am fine, Lady Anevra," Mireth replied. "I wish to remain by His Majesty's side."

Anevra didn't respond, but her eyes narrowed slightly in silent disapproval. Still, she said nothing more.

Then she stepped closer to Asharic.

Without a word, she leaned in and placed her forehead lightly against his. It was not a display of affection, but of quiet concern.. calm, restrained, and sincere.

After a moment, she straightened.

"Looks like it went down a little," she murmured, almost to herself.

Her face remained serious, but in her eyes… a faint, weary sadness lingered.

__________

Asharic's POV:

So this is the second wife of this body…

Anevra DragonBlood.

She's also his cousin—the daughter of the Grand Duke. One who shares the same bloodline, and from the memories I inherited, the one he spent the most time with during childhood.

Even now, she still carries herself like a swordswoman. And she hasn't changed much...

Just her appearance. She seems more a lady now than the girl I remember.

The DragonBlood runs strong through her—golden hair and crimson eyes, just like this body.

_______

Anevra moved from Asharic's bedside and settled gracefully beside Mireth, her eyes heavy with quiet exhaustion. The seriousness in her expression hadn't faded, but there was a trace of weariness now, too, one that didn't go unnoticed.

Mireth, sitting with her hands folded on her lap, turned to her softly.

"Lady Anevra... you look tired. Is everything all right? Is there anything I can help with?"

Anevra let out a faint breath, brushing a hand through her braid. "It's just work," she said, voice flat but not cold. "No one's sat on the throne for quite some time now. Managing the capital, keeping the noble families in check… it wears you down. But you've already been a great help by staying here with His Majesty."

Mireth lowered her gaze, then hesitated for a moment, fidgeting with the corner of her dress. "There is… something I must tell you, Lady Anevra."

Anevra turned her head slightly, waiting.

"I… I am pregnant again." Her voice was barely a whisper. "With His Majesty's second child."

A brief silence followed. Anevra's crimson eyes widened for a heartbeat, caught off-guard. But then her expression hardened again, unreadable.

"I see."

She stood up slowly, arms crossed over her chest. "You'll move to the Rose Palace immediately."

Mireth's head snapped up. "No, it's all right. I can still look after His Majesty. It's still early, and I've been careful—"

But Anevra cut her off sharply.

"You'll go," she said, her tone stern, unflinching. "Do you even understand who you're carrying? That child is of DragonBlood lineage."

Her voice rose... not loud, but sharp enough to cut through the quiet of the room like a blade.

Mireth flinched. Her shoulders fell, and she bowed her head. "Understood, Lady Anevra," she whispered, her voice tinged with disappointment. She clearly wished to remain longer, but dared not push further.

She stood, taking one last look at Asharic.

"But… if I leave now, who will take care of His Majesty?" she asked, her voice soft as she looked back at Anevra.

Anevra narrowed her eyes for a moment, then gave a slow nod. "That's true… but don't worry. I'll figure something out. You should go."

She turned toward the door.

"Guard," she called out, her voice firm.

The guard who had earlier fetched the physician stepped in along with a maid.

"Escort Lady Mireth to the Rose Palace," Anevra instructed. "Ensure she gets there safely and that the physicians assigned to the Rose Wing are informed."

Both the guard and maid bowed slightly. "Understood, Lady Anevra."

Mireth cast one last glance toward Asharic before silently following them out.

Time passed quietly.

The room, once filled with quiet tension, was now still again. Anevra remained seated beside the bed, reviewing a handful of documents a maid had brought in and laid out for her upon request. Her crimson eyes flicked through the contents, though her mind was only half on the words.

Asharic, meanwhile, sat motionless with his eyes closed, continuing to listen and process everything. He had heard every word, understanding more about this world and his place in it by the minute. Quietly, he focused on circulating his aura again... slowly, steadily trying to map out the new limits of this weakened body.

Then, suddenly a pain struck again.

"Ahh..." he groaned, clutching his head lightly. "I have to circulate my energy again—up to the head—to suppress this pain…"

Anevra noticed the subtle shift, the faint sound of discomfort. In an instant, she set the papers aside and moved to his side. Without hesitation, she took his hand and closed her eyes, channeling her aura gently into his body to assess what was happening.

The moment her energy flowed into him, the pain that had been tormenting Asharic began to fade—as if her presence alone had calmed the storm within.

She opened her eyes slowly, surprised. Her brow furrowed as she looked at his sleeping face.

"...Now what's this?" she muttered under her breath. "Is he circulating his aura… even in unconsciousness? That shouldn't be possible..."

She said nothing more... but in her eyes, for the first time, there was something else.

Hope.