The tense atmosphere that had encircled the people like mist lingering over a swamp briefly subsided with Ressas’s words. And with it, Seiyad’s once-turbulent heart found its anchor.
The House of Shildras had committed an unforgivable crime. Yet the timing of this accusation was far too calculated. Feeling the coldness in his heart grow ever more frigid, Seiyad began to organize his thoughts.
Aster had claimed he would expose Shildras’s sins for Seiyad’s sake, but it was obvious that was a lie. If he had truly wished for Seiyad’s happiness, he would have proven their mother’s innocence in their previous life.
This had nothing to do with Seiyad. On the contrary, with the unfamiliar Nir’a looming as a threat, internal conflict among the Tither at such a critical time only increased the danger for Seiyad. If Zion couldn’t fully exert his strength, Seiyad would once again be left to bear the brunt of it, just like before.
Seiyad made up his mind. He couldn’t let Aster run rampant on the scene. He had to step in before the situation spiraled any further.
“Is that what you’ve been thinking, little brother?”
Aster laughed aloud and slowly walked toward Ressas. Facing away from the forest entrance, Ressas stood tall as Aster approached, wearing a deliberately warm expression.
“There is always a proper time for everything. That someone as useless as you would gain power now may, perhaps, be the Sun’s wisdom at work—anticipating this dangerous situation. Sir Chertan could not show himself until last winter. After all, the previous Duke of Shildras was still alive.”
“Winter has long passed. If you were so certain of Shildras’s crimes and truly wished to question them, you should have spoken up in the capital.”
“I had not yet encountered Chertan at that time.”
Aster brushed it off with feigned innocence. But Seiyad knew he was lying. Instead of stepping forward to call Aster out immediately, Seiyad quietly glanced toward Cecilia, hoping she would detect the smooth deceit in Aster’s words.
To his relief, their eyes met. Cecilia’s unsettled expression showed she had sensed something, too. Even without exchanging words, he could feel the confusion churning in his sister’s heart.
“Still, many things don’t quite add up, brother. Why didn’t Sir Chertan seek out His Majesty directly? Or he could have gone to Grand Duke Brosius himself. After all, the Grand Duke is the one most involved in this.”
Ressas, after making his point, turned directly to Chertan and asked:
“Tell us yourself, Sir. I hold your courage and your fight for life in deep respect—please don’t take this as interrogation.”
As Ressas spoke, Chertan looked to Aster, eyes asking for permission. A flicker of discomfort passed across his face. Watching closely, Seiyad recalled another witness he knew—Jasper.
Jasper had survived, but he had been subjected to mental indoctrination. And if Chertan was another miraculous survivor from that place, there was a high chance he’d been brainwashed, too.
‘But if that’s the case, then something doesn’t add up. Jasper was indoctrinated to view Brosius as the enemy, yet Chertan appears to have been manipulated to reveal the truth…?’
There was a crack in the story. Sirkhan Shildras had been thorough in his cleanup. He had either slaughtered or brainwashed even the young boys hiding far in the shadows. Sparing someone as important as the commander of the knight order made no sense. Especially not when Sirkhan was a Tither nearly as powerful as Seiyad’s mother. For someone who orchestrated everything so meticulously, leaving Chertan alive was far too sloppy.
The situation was skewed in Aster’s favor. As though—as if—he already knew everything.
“Did you go to my brother, Chertan? Or was it my brother who found you first?”
Just as Chertan was about to answer Ressas’s question, Aster cut him off.
“How could he possibly go straight to the palace? Her Majesty Queen Leana, your mother, is there.”
Aster’s words, sly and calculated, aimed squarely at Ressas.
“You haven’t forgotten that Her Majesty was also present that day, have you?”
With that, Aster gave a slight smile instead of offering any further explanation. But even in silence, he left enough ambiguity to throw the entire situation into deeper complexity. Now, if anyone took a wrong step, they’d plunge straight off the cliff’s edge. Seiyad decided then—he would put an end to this wretched political game right now.
“Your Highness Aster.”
Seiyad called out with an uncharacteristically gentle tone, deliberately choosing to speak his name rather than refer to him as the crown prince. Aster turned, curious at Seiyad’s rare show of affection, only to see him smile—his lips faintly quivering with an unfamiliar expression.
It had been over ten years since he last smiled. Seiyad thought it would feel awkward, but he forced himself to recall a time when he had been happy. He remembered caring for the young Cecilia without a care in the world, offering apples in Ressas’s palace gardens, and returning home, heart fluttering with anticipation for the next meeting. Back then, his parents had welcomed him home.
That made smiling… just a bit easier.
“I appreciate Your Highness’s concern for me. I never expected such kindness. Since my mother’s death, I’ve spent a long time tormented, trying to clear her name. You’ve brought some comfort to that suffering soul.”
Like someone who had finally received the wish they’d spent a lifetime yearning for, Seiyad wore the long-forgotten smile across his face. Aster blinked. Despite all his calculations, it seemed he hadn’t expected this. For the first time in his life, Aster looked genuinely startled. His golden lashes trembled ever so slightly. It was almost funny.
At the same time, over Aster’s shoulder, Seiyad saw Ressas’s face freeze pale. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this reaction either. The biting edge with which he had been confronting Aster suddenly dulled. And in that fleeting moment, Seiyad recalled Ressas’s desperate words from long ago:
“If I become that person again… will you smile for me like that?”
What even was this smile, that it made them act like this?
Seiyad suppressed the sudden discomfort rising within him and deepened his smile. Then he approached Aster and took his hand. With his glove removed, Seiyad did as he once had in the past—he raised the back of Aster’s hand and lowered his head. His lips came so close they nearly brushed the skin.
“Thank you, Your Highness.”
A whispering breath grazed Aster’s hand, and the faint sensation made Aster flinch. When Seiyad looked up again, Aster’s blue eyes sparkled with joy, like a radiant lake catching sunlight.
“My star.”
Aster grasped his hand in haste. Seiyad let him take it and slowly surveyed their surroundings. The confusion was palpable—everyone was uncertain, unsure of what rhythm to follow in this dance.
Seiyad had once felt the same. If he hadn’t lived through that previous life, he might have been swayed by Aster’s cunning tongue and lost sight of what truly mattered.
“As much as I believe in my mother’s innocence, the atrocities committed by House Shildras must undoubtedly be condemned. But for now, isn’t the subjugation of the forest our highest priority? His Majesty the King declared that he would use this opportunity to establish the rightful heir to Holy Death. Surely, the matter of Shildras can be handled afterward without delay.”
Holy Death was a national treasure of Solias, passed down to the king. Whoever claimed it would essentially be confirmed as crown prince. When Seiyad mentioned the name of the sword, Ressas turned to stare at him. His violet eyes were deep and unreadable.
“So, please tell us—what exactly are we meant to find within the forest?”
Aster was annoyingly quick to catch on to things, so Seiyad made every effort not to seem like he was deliberately trying to mediate. He wasn’t gifted at dealing with people or playing a role, but he was unbearably accustomed to enduring pain. Treating his revulsion like pain and forcing himself through it made the task bearable.
Blue eyes scanned Seiyad, reading into his intentions. A cold pressure like a blade to the chest hovered near his heart. Through their joined hands, Seiyad felt Aster’s energy flow into him, bringing with it the familiar, numbing sensation that stabbed through his core.
“According to the excellent intel provided by Duke Bridehit, the core of the forest is a vessel that seals the Devil’s power. Nir’a is wandering the area to protect it. So, if the previous Duke from the southern lands really did awaken a Devil, the forest core must also be showing signs of that disturbance.”
Thankfully, Aster adapted his stance to follow Seiyad’s lead. Bridehit, clearly uncomfortable with the situation, was quick to echo the crown prince’s statement.
“Grand Duke Axid, you destroyed a core last winter, so you should know. The core takes the shape of a red sphere that holds the Devil’s soul. If the core in the southern forest is acting differently than those in other territories, that alone may be proof that a Devil was awakened.”
“Which means we’ll see with our own eyes—beyond just Sir Chertan’s testimony—that House Shildras colluded with the Devil.”
Aster added on to Bridehit’s explanation. Seiyad listened silently for a moment, then looked between the two men before asking:
“You said the core is the Devil’s power.”
“That’s right,” Aster replied smoothly.
“Then, if we destroy all the forest cores, won’t the Devil die regardless? In that case, Your Highness, we’ll need Zion Shildras. He should be the one to erase the traces of the Devil with his own hands—if only to atone for his father’s sins.”
With that, Seiyad turned his back. Zion Shildras, clearly stunned that Seiyad would be the one to mediate this situation, looked both ashamed and anguished. When their eyes met, he quickly turned away. A gesture of rejection, of trying to hide his discomfort.
That sort of behavior was easier to deal with. It made hating and resenting him simpler.
Turning away from Zion, Seiyad looked to Aster. Though he was smiling, there was a small, subtle crack—an unease that only Seiyad, who had watched him for years, could recognize.
And with that, he became certain.
Aster did not want the Devil dead.
He possessed a power capable of driving a Tither into Rampage—and he was aware of it. The way he had once used it on Seiyad in the past, and the behavior he displayed now, pointed to a single conclusion.
Aster was tied to the Devil. Undeniably.
“As your Tither, I will kill the Devil without fail. That will solidify Your Highness’s position even further, will it not?”
Seiyad smiled as if moved to the core, his voice imbued with blind devotion. It was a tone meant to sway, to assure. Aster’s blue eyes, which had been piercing him just a moment ago, curved slightly to mirror his expression.
“If that is your will, then there’s no harm in deciding House Shildras’s fate afterward.”
Aster turned with practiced ease to look at Ressas, then cast his gaze toward the forest. With a sweeping gesture, he issued his command.
“Go and kill Nir’a with everything you have.”
His voice rang with force. Having spoken, Aster turned and led Chertan back toward the camp. He called for Bridehit and appeared to give him instructions, after which he assigned him a squad of royal knights and Adena, the captain of his guard.
Then, in what was clearly an attempt to set the narrative as he pleased, Aster declared that no knight from House Shildras would be allowed into the forest. Instead, Adena and Bridehit would serve as his official witnesses. Preparations were already complete, and with the group selected, the only thing left was to enter the forest.
It was Bridehit who gathered the scattered and tense Tither forces. Zion remained silent like a walking corpse, and Nova clung to her father with visible discomfort. Seiyad, having confirmed that Stella was bringing Cecilia along, glanced toward where Ressas had been standing just before they entered the forest. The movement was unconscious—but Ressas was gone.
Frowning, unsettled by his sudden disappearance, Seiyad quickly realized that Vine and Rigda were also nowhere to be seen. It was unlike them—especially considering how Vine had stayed to watch until the very end last time.
‘Did they return to the barracks?’
The thought of them vanishing after throwing him off since morning irritated him. Suppressing that annoyance—and the more complex emotions beneath it—Seiyad stepped into the forest.
Though it was broad daylight, a strange, chilling air brushed against his cheek, as if night had already fallen.
He had a bad feeling.
