ISBD 05

Chapter 5

I Possessed Her, But I Have Depression (5)

Iago Lihue was a young king from the southern region—a ruler of a kingdom slowly being consumed by desertification due to abnormal climate changes over the past ten years.

“Wasn’t his nickname something like… the Dark King?”

He was the one who, backed by powerful military force, stormed the northern lands and kidnapped the Saintess.

He was the only source of conflict in what was otherwise a typical fluffy romance, so Ilena remembered him clearly.

“But that episode doesn’t happen until later in the story, right?”

Ilena tried to think more about it but quickly gave up out of apathy.

“Whatever. As if the original story matters. The moment someone with depression possessed the female lead, everything was already screwed.”

So she just kept staring at the kind of male beauty she had never seen in her past life.

“No matter how many times I look… he’s beautiful. There’s something so decadent about him… A very good face.”

The man, who had been staring at her briefly, turned his gaze out the window.

Ilena followed his eyes.

Sure enough, the sky outside was still thick with dark, gloomy clouds.

“And I was even asleep… yet still it’s like this.”

Ilena thought bitterly.

“At least with that damned sun covered up, it’s a bit better.”

An unexpected voice rang out.

Surprised, Ilena turned her head. The man was smiling as he looked at the cloudy sky.

“What’s up with those greedy Northerners giving up their Saintess? And for something as measly as a mine? Fools.”

“Ah. So that’s what happened. They traded me for a mine.”

Apparently, the villains up north had hidden the fact that something was wrong with her.

“Secondhand deals should be made cautiously, pretty boy. There are a lot of crooks in the world.”

As Ilena stared blankly, lost in thought, the man slowly approached her.

His violet eyes, locked on her and glowing with eerie beauty, felt like they could pull her in.

Ilena couldn’t look away, caught in his gaze like she was under a spell.

He raised a large hand and gently caressed her chin.

Flinch.

His touch, delicate yet persistent like brushing against silk, sent a shiver down her spine.

The man smirked again.

“God, he’s really handsome. And when he smiles, even more so.”

While Ilena was blankly admiring his face, his thick arm landed beside her face.

While she’d been distracted by his beauty, he had positioned himself above her, gazing down at her body.

“If I make you cry, maybe it’ll rain even in this desert.”

His long, rough finger traced along her lower lip.

Ilena blinked slowly, her expression blank and empty.

“He’s so f**ing handsome, seriously.”*

Her face remained lifeless on the outside, but internally she was marveling at his beauty.

The man was just… good-looking. Incredibly so.

Of course, the original male lead—the Crown Prince—had also been handsome. But his first impression had been terrible.

And besides, Ilena, who had always preferred more “mature” types, wasn’t really into dainty prince-like guys.

“Look at this desert man, would you.”

A thick torso. Strong arms. Smooth, sun-kissed skin. A sharply chiseled nose on a rugged face.

“…What are you thinking about?”

A soft, low voice brushed against her ear like a whisper. Curious. Intimate.

“That you’re totally my type.”

Thankfully, this time, her thoughts didn’t slip out of her mouth.

The sedative must have finally worn off.

When she didn’t respond and just stared at him blankly, the man leaned in closer.

Neither of them looked away.

Golden eyes met violet ones in the air.

Just before their lips touched—he stopped.

“…You’re not going to resist?”

Ilena only blinked.

Still, her face remained emotionless.

“……”

“Yeah. So what if he’s my type?”

Ilena sighed inwardly.

Yes, he was stupidly handsome—but her feelings were dull, like she was staring at a well-carved statue.

In short, she didn’t feel any romantic interest at all.

It was one of the symptoms of depression.

Along with a loss of appetite, came a loss of sexual desire.

Back in Korea, Ilena had been popular.

Pretty face, rich family, bright and confident personality.

Unless someone was twisted inside, most people liked her.

In her early twenties, she had freely dated and enjoyed youthful passion—but everything changed after she entered her grandfather’s company.

Excessive competition for succession.

Constant surveillance wherever she went.

Colleagues who laughed to her face but gossiped behind her back, calling her a parachute or saying she was incompetent.

Living like an apple tree rooted in sand with no one to lean on, depression crept up on her one day. And she broke up with her boyfriend.

Since then, no more butterflies. No more intense relationships. Everything felt like a hassle.

When Ilena didn’t react at all, the man sighed.

“It was rude of me to act that way toward someone who’s unwell… It wasn’t intentional.”

He got off the bed with a heavy motion.

“You’ll be staying here from now on. For three months.”

“Hmph. So even though I’m broken, he didn’t completely discard me as the Saintess.”

Ilena kept a blank face but quickly analyzed the situation.

Seeing that she didn’t react even when he talked about her future residence, the man opened his mouth again.

“Our kingdom of Lihue hasn’t seen rain in ten years.”

“What? Ten years?”

She knew desertification was progressing, but she hadn’t realized it was that severe.

Ilena stared at the man’s serious face.

“We import water from the east at a tremendous cost, but even that isn’t enough. As the Saintess, you can manipulate weather, right? These dark clouds covering the sun must be intentional.”

“……”

Ilena kept her mouth shut.

“Not that I expected the Northerners to hand you over without a trick up their sleeves.”

His eyes turned cold as he glared at her.

“I’m not doing it on purpose though.”

She debated whether to explain that her powers were “broken,” but shook her head.

Once again, this world had no concept of depression.

Even the kind-hearted male lead had tortured her brutally once he found out she couldn’t use her powers.

Remembering those horrors, Ilena shivered slightly.

And this man—he was the main villain of the original story.

A cold-hearted ruler of the desert.

If she said the wrong thing, she wouldn’t be electrocuted—she’d be buried alive in desert sand.

“Better to let him think I’m doing it on purpose.”

“So, you’re not going to talk? You won’t last long.”

His beautiful violet eyes turned icy.

“This Dark King will make you speak eventually.”

Yep. He was still the villain through and through.

Unlike the male lead, the villain hadn’t lost his character.

“What did he do to the Saintess after kidnapping her in the original story again?”

Ilena tried to remember.

…Nothing came to mind.

It had been a cutesy, silly romance without any real challenges or hardship—so any conflict was resolved quickly and clumsily.

“…For now, rest. You’ve come a long way.”

After a brief pause, the man muttered something awkwardly and quickly turned to leave.

“Rest? What? The villain says things like that?”

It was unexpected.

But of course—

SLAM—!

He slammed the door on his way out.

“Was he trying to break the door? Should’ve slammed it even harder!”

Ilena clucked her tongue, remembering what her mom used to say when she slammed doors as a kid.

What a temper… Still, he was a villain after all.

…But.

“Actually, this might be a good thing.”

Ilena flopped to the side again.

Back in the north, she had started feeling guilty.

It wasn’t the king or the prince she was worried about—it was the people.

If her presence here helped even a little by covering the sun, then that was enough.

And if things got bad? She’d just bring down lightning strikes again.

“Looks like I can lie around like this a little longer.”

Ilena mumbled apathetically and went limp once more.

SLAM—.

“Ack! That scared me!”

Iago flinched, his broad shoulders tensing as he stared at the closed door.

His heart pounded in his chest like crazy.

He wanted to open the door and shout, “That was just the wind!”

He reached toward the doorknob with his large hand—but stopped, letting his hand fall limply.

What would he even say if he went back in?

“Sorry if I scared you?” “I’m not actually like that?”

He was the Dark King, ruler of a harsh desert.

He couldn’t show weakness.

He had to break this ten-year drought.

He clenched his fist and stepped away from the door.

“Yes… I have to make her cry. No matter what.”

He spoke aloud like a vow and recalled the Saintess’s image.

Soft sky-blue hair scattered on the bed. Expressionless lemon-colored eyes.

The feel of her lips when he brushed them with his finger.

“Her lips… were so soft…”

He rubbed his thumb and index finger together, as if remembering the sensation.

“…Absolutely.”

Reaffirming his resolve, Iago finally turned and walked—his footsteps heavy—toward his office.