Bound To The Dead: The Deceptive Class-E Farmer-Chapter 66: When The Past Stands Still

Aiah spoke gently, but her voice carried across the quiet room.

"I think... after the ceremony, I’ll speak with Princess Mikaela. About Velcro. About what they’ve done. Maybe she doesn’t know everything."

There was a small pause, just enough for hope to breathe.

Then Isaac spoke.

"That conversation would be pointless."

His arms stayed crossed. His tone didn’t change.

"Mikaela has a marriage pact with King Azar. Her father arranged it."

The air shifted.

Like someone had tugged the warmth out of the room.

Aiah stared at him.

"...How... how do you know that?"

Isaac didn’t respond. He didn’t look at her. His gaze drifted to the corner of the room, like it no longer mattered.

The silence stretched awkwardly until Elder Peter cleared his throat, his voice soft but steady.

"Let’s not forget, Isaac came from Carreon."

Aiah turned her eyes down and gave a small nod.

"Right... he would know."

Elder Peter’s brows lowered, the lines on his face drawing deeper with thought.

"A marriage alliance. It’s an old move... for those desperate to hold onto power."

Corpuz, leaning on the edge of the table, scoffed.

"Or desperate not to lose everything."

Aiah lowered her gaze, not speaking, but her thoughts were loud in her head.

’So Mikaela’s part of the game too... Isaac was right. Her father’s not just cruel, he’s a threat. And maybe... she’s not innocent either.’

No one had the strength to keep talking after that.

Elder Peter slowly pushed himself up, using his staff for balance. The gentle tap against the stone floor broke the tension like glass.

"We’ve had enough for today," he said kindly. "Rest. Tomorrow, we face the world with whatever strength we have left."

Chairs slid. Footsteps echoed softly as one by one, they began to leave.

Aiah lingered near the table a moment longer, eyes distant.

Isaac stood silently by the door. He didn’t say anything.

And then... he walked out, leaving the weight of the room behind him.

—----

Outside the palace, Isaac walked quietly along the stone path. The air was cool. Torches flickers every few steps, but most of the garden paths were left to the moonlight.

It was peaceful. For once.

He stopped.

There was a soft grunt, familiar.

He turned his head slowly.

Tethered lazily to a wooden post, just near the stables, stood a large albino horse. Its white coat almost glowed in the dark. The horse lifted its head and snorted.

Isaac’s chest tightened.

"...Gaspar?"

The horse let out a low whinny and trotted over with heavy steps. His ears twitched as he leaned in, pressing his head against Isaac’s shoulder.

Isaac couldn’t help but smile, the corners of his mouth lifting.

"You’re still ugly," he muttered. "Still loyal."

His hand moved over the horse’s thick neck, fingers brushing the soft fur.

"You survived... I’m glad to see you. What are you doing here?"

Gasper snorted softly and stayed close, like always.

Isaac closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the horse’s muzzle. The steady warmth calmed him. It was a strange comfort.

Just for a moment... he allowed himself to feel safe.

Then...

"...Isaac?"

His eyes snapped open.

He didn’t move.

He knew that voice.

Behind him, in the soft torchlight, stood a figure. Frozen.

Arthur.

He was holding a small piece of bread. It slipped from his hand and landed in the dirt.

Arthur’s voice trembled.

"That... can’t be..."

Isaac said nothing. He didn’t move. His heart was calm, but heavy.

Arthur took a slow step forward.

"Arthur?"

Another voice called from behind.

Arthur turned around, startled.

Sheena stood there, holding a folded paper. She looked annoyed, but her voice was light.

"I’ve been looking for you everywhere."

Arthur looked down, trying to steady his voice.

"...Sorry."

Sheena studied his face. "You okay?"

He hesitated, then glanced back toward the stables.

The space was empty. No Isaac. Just the quiet post and the fading sound of a horse walking away.

Arthur lowered his head.

"I thought I saw... never mind. It’s nothing."

Sheena didn’t ask further. She stepped beside him.

"Come on. We should get back."

The two of them walked into the torchlight, slowly disappearing from view.

High above, from a quiet, shadowed balcony, Isaac watched them.

His gaze stayed on Arthur and Sheena for a long moment.

I’m glad you’re both alive, he thought.

—------

Morning has come, the day of coronation.

The wind was gentle. It swept over the open courtyard with a quiet rhythm, carrying the scent of flowers and earth. The sky above was clear, as if the world itself had paused to watch.

Isaac stood at the edge of the gathering, behind a row of stone columns. He wasn’t exactly hidden, but no one noticed him. That was how he wanted it.

The shadows covered just enough.

He didn’t belong among the nobles or foreign guests. He had no title. No reason to stand in the open. And with Mikaela here and the two childhood friends who once knew him well, he didn’t want to be seen.

The courtyard was filled with people, Bulcan’s citizens, warriors, and refugees. They stood shoulder to shoulder, some with tears in their eyes, others holding their breath. For the first time in years, they were not mourning the loss of a kingdom.

They were watching it rise again.

Aiah stepped onto the central platform, dressed in ceremonial red and gold. She moved slowly, her hands clenched at her sides. Her lips were set in a firm line, but Isaac could see it, she was nervous.

And then, from the corner of his eye, he noticed movement.

Blue and silver.

A figure standing with Carreon’s delegation. A woman in a formal dress, posture straight, expression distant. A veil covered part of her face, but the wind shifted. Light touched her hair, pale gold.

Isaac froze.

Her eyes, clear and bright, reflected the sunlight. Blue, just like he remembered. The same eyes that once pulled him in without a word.

Mikaela.

Isaac didn’t move. He couldn’t.

’She’s really here...’

It had been a long time. But just seeing her stirred something in his chest. Not anger. Not longing. Just the quiet weight of something left unfinished.

He hadn’t seen her since the day she turned away.

She looked calm. Beautiful. Untouched.

Meanwhile, Aiah was now kneeling before the priest. The crown was raised above her, and the people leaned forward in anticipation.

Isaac tore his eyes away from Mikaela.

This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the place.

But the feeling didn’t leave.

Even now, after all this time, Mikaela’s presence still reached him like a distant echo.

Something warm that had long since turned cold.

Something that never fully disappeared.