I am the man of men, the king of kings, the killer of death, the sailor of a thousand seas, the ruler of the seven realms, the burner of stars, the monster of the world— coughing repeatedly —

  Forgive me, for a moment I was lost in the past. Well… the past has passed.

  Let me tell you of the present. The smell of iron has filled everything. The scent comes from my own blood—it is spilling—and it feels strange. With every breath, I grow calmer, as if all the burdens that had piled upon my shoulders from the day of my birth are becoming lighter and lighter.

  Just moments ago, the executioner—after weeks, perhaps months, of torturing me—ended both his torment and mine, and with the word “fire,” sent five arrows into my chest at once.

  I do not know how deep my wounds are, nor how much blood I have lost. I cannot see.

  No, truly, I cannot see—because they took my sight from me. I do not remember how long ago. It does not matter.

  After so much pain, torture, and sorrow, I want only one sleep—the peaceful sleep of a newborn—stretching across an entire lifetime.

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  Now I lie dying in a chamber of my own prison, in the basement of my palace. It is not so bad.

  I spent years in the fields of war and witnessed hundreds of thousands of deaths.

  But never had death come to meet me with such closeness and clarity.

  I always thought death was a grotesque demon, appearing only along battle lines or at the bedside of the sick. But in these moments before dying, I realized I was wrong. Ah… (deep breath)

  Do not be afraid—I am not dead yet. Hahaha. Only a heavenly scent is in the air. After being in this narrow, damp underground cell, I had grown used to the taste of moisture and the stench of the rotting corpses around me. Until this celestial fragrance caressed my senses.

  The sound of footsteps now reaches my ears. Whoever it is, they are not wearing military boots.

  Why are they so close? Do they not know that I am the final prisoner here?

  Hey! Do not come any farther down. You are not permitted.

  Does that mean someone has come to the top of the stairs of my prison?

  I know my brother is there, and I have permission from the Prime Minister to meet him.

  Strange world… the very moment I made peace with my blindness, I began to long for it. I wish I could see him without him seeing me.

  It does not matter.

  Even if it were him, I would not allow him to come any lower than that.

  Now these two soldiers will escort you out of the prison.

  Thank God. It was close—almost, the pain of seeing my brother would have taken from me the peace of death.

  Ah… (heavy breath)