A blizzard swept through. Harsh winds mixed with white crystals tore sharply through the forest, and Ressas slowly lowered his head in its midst. At the end of his gaze lay a lifeless man. His pale white face was drained of color, and his half-open gray eyes were dull, devoid of vitality. Blood that had spilled from his pierced chest dyed the snow a deep red.
Ressas stared blankly at the sight of the blood seeping into the snow. His dry, emotionless expression was so stoic that no one noticed the blue veins bulging on the back of his hand. No one realized the palm gripping the sword was mangled and torn, or that his fingers clutched the hilt with all the blood drained from them—no one but Ressas himself.
“…Your Highness, let’s return now. If you keep the sword any longer, the Crown Prince will realize it’s been taken.”
Just as Zion placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke, tears that had welled at the corners of his eyes dropped soundlessly to the ground. Tears that even the dying man hadn’t seen vanished as if they had never been there. Ressas slowly turned his body, guided by Zion’s grip, his eyes locked on Zion’s without so much as a blink.
Zion appeared tormented by his younger brother’s death, but not sorrowful over the death of the Grand Duke. Nova and Stella were the same. They showed signs of bitterness and unease, but their eyes didn’t suggest they understood who they had lost.
They had already forgotten he was the companion they once followed and loved so dearly.
The young man who had admired and devoted himself to Seiyad as much as Ressas had, now wore only the expression of someone who had killed his enemy. That image overlapped with how he used to chase after him, calling, “Hyung,” and it tore Ressas apart. From the moment just before he stabbed Seiyad, his broken soul had been writhing in agony.
“…I’ll be right behind you, so go on ahead. Zion, return the sword before my brother notices. Nova, Stella—collect the dead with the other knights and give them all a proper cremation. This was a grueling battle, so disband the unit afterward. Don’t worry about me.”
Ressas recited his orders with forced calm, afraid that even a single crack in his expression would cause him to fall apart. The others nodded in response, casting one final glance at Archduke Axid’s corpse before turning away. After handing the sword to Zion, and only once everyone—including the knights—had withdrawn, Ressas bent at the waist. As he silently lowered his body, a harsh cough erupted from his lips, spilling blood.
Crimson blood fanned out across the snow. From the moment he had pierced Seiyad, he’d been holding back the shock-induced blood, and now it burst out in a raw, agonizing cough. After vomiting the blood as if he were retching, he wiped his mouth with trembling hands. Every time he exhaled, his chest heaved violently.
His body burned. It felt like his skull had been struck hundreds of times, his organs shredded, and his eyes were about to burst from heat. He bore the mind-numbing pain and turned around. The sight of Seiyad lying still passed through his vision, and with a silent scream, Ressas collapsed.
Kneeling on the bloodstained snow, Ressas fell over Seiyad’s body. No words could come out—only beast-like sobs escaped his trembling breath. He fumbled and pressed down hard on Seiyad’s cold chest. Though the man had likely died the moment the blade pierced his heart, his movements were desperate, as if trying to revive him even now.
“Eid, this is a lie….”
The murmured words spilled out, broken and barely intelligible, echoing faintly in the air.
“Those words… they weren’t for you. There’s no way, no way it was for you… Someone as kind as you….”
Just thinking of those gray eyes, shaken by the revolting, cruel words he had uttered, made him want to die. If guilt and sorrow alone could kill, Ressas would have died the moment he stabbed Seiyad. To say such painful things—not to anyone else, but to the one person who deserved only beautiful, loving words—was enough to drive him mad.
But it had to be done. The moment that “thing” facing him through Seiyad’s soul sensed that Ressas was trying to save him, the chance would vanish. If he had shown even a flicker of his intentions while that being, already suspicious of the Sun’s interference, was watching through his awakening—Seiyad’s soul would have crossed the point of no return alongside it.
Fortunately, true to its greedy nature, it had overreached. In its desire to drag Seiyad into the deepest, darkest abyss, it had yearned for more—even up to today—granting Ressas a single opportunity. So yes, it had to be done. To shatter the seed planted in the soul and break him free from its grasp, there was no other way.
He knew that. He knew—and yet…
That didn’t erase what he had done.
Fearing the snow might pile atop Seiyad’s body, Ressas covered him with his own. His white clothes soaked up blood and snow, becoming heavy and stained. He held the unfeeling body in his arms, trembling violently, and kept pressing against Seiyad’s chest with a quivering hand, his blurred eyes staring down at his face.
It was the same as before. Gray hair fluttering in the wind, pale skin, eyes shut neatly, lips devoid of color. That face, which looked like it was only peacefully asleep, made it all feel unreal. As if any moment now, he’d open his eyes and glare at him—but no matter how long he waited, Seiyad did not rise.
‘You can hate me. You can beat me to death. I don’t care—as long as I get to see you alive in this world.’
From the moment his memories returned, that was the one thing Ressas had wished for. No matter how excruciating every encounter with Seiyad had been, he preferred the pain that came from a living Seiyad. Even the contempt and hatred he received—he was grateful for those.
“I’m sorry….”
The apology he had held back out of shame finally slipped out. Ressas whispered hoarsely, grinding his teeth to hold back tears.
“It hurt, didn’t it? It must’ve hurt so much. So much that you couldn’t even speak….”
He wanted to slice off the wrist that dared to stab him. Tear out the tongue that dared speak such cruel things. Even if he did that, it wouldn’t be enough to earn forgiveness. He wanted to sever himself into pieces. If he could kill himself in such a way, he would have done it immediately. But not yet. There was still one thing left to do.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I’m sorry—I did something unforgivable….”
Though he knew the dead could hear nothing, Ressas murmured as he rubbed his face against Seiyad’s chest. His mind vacant, acting like a madman, he only snapped out of it when he sensed someone’s presence in the distance and jerked back, gasping.
That thing’s gaze could be watching anyone, at any time, through anyone. Ressas couldn’t allow himself to grieve where others might see. No one could know that he loved Eid.
Staggering to his feet, he slowly wiped all trace of sorrow from his face. He cleaned the blood from his lips, tore off the grief clinging to his body, and erased his expression like a man who could no longer feel anything. Swallowing the rising tide of self-loathing, Ressas began to walk. But he didn’t even take two steps before stopping.
‘I can’t… I can’t leave you behind.’
A bottomless sorrow surged up as though the ground beneath him had crumbled. The very idea of leaving that beautiful man here, even for a moment, in this frigid place—of letting him lie here all alone—drove him to madness. Weighed down by regret, he turned his head. And there Seiyad still lay, in the exact same place.
What do I do?
How could I leave you behind? I know how cold you’ll be… how lonely. I know better than anyone how those hollow gray eyes of yours, every time we met, were silently yearning for warmth. So how—how can I just leave you here…
His breath caught in his throat. Somehow managing to hold himself upright, Ressas once again endured the kind of pain that felt like dying, and headed toward Axid Castle.
Just as footsteps always leave marks behind, so too did the fierce life he had lived carve scars into his soul. Turning back time didn’t erase what had happened. The things that once existed had already left their imprint on the fabric of time—God merely painted over it.
Even when the snow that fell through the night covered the ruins in white, the tragedy that had unfolded there did not vanish. The soul followed the remnants of a forgotten life. Sometimes, a death leaves a deeper scar on the one who loved them than on the one who died. The second life Ressas had faced was twisted by just such a scar.
The darkness sensed something had shifted in its world. Guided by its sharp instincts, it knew it would need to act differently than before. Demons had always been particularly skilled at seducing wounded souls, and this time, it chose to act through humans.
As the time for awakening approached—marked by a fever that felt like it melted the body—the god removed His hand from Ressas’s eyes. As soon as the body was ready to receive divinity, Ressas too began regaining his memories. With the agony of fragmented lives merging into one, he awoke from his shallow slumber.
And contrary to his hopes, he was met with despair at the tragedy that had befallen the kindest person of all. The fact that the man who had once been so beloved by all was now branded a devil—hated by everyone—drove Ressas to the brink of insanity.
It was the god who stopped him from rushing straight to Seiyad. Being a divine being that had once dwelled high above in the heavens, the demon instinctively knew the god had interfered and began to move accordingly. The god who had once promised Seiyad could be saved now delivered only despair to the newly awakened Ressas.
“It’s already too late. That thing has sown despair into the heart of the Moon. A despair that can only be purified through death. From now on, you must move to obtain the relic. Do not approach the Moon. The moment it senses my power in you, it will take him.”
Such a great being, and yet so powerless—always slower than it. Unless it borrowed a human vessel, that immense divine power could only melt the world around it.
And yet, despite resenting that helpless aid, Ressas could not turn away. It was because he was even more pitiful—a fool who could do nothing without even that powerless god.
Every living second had been excruciating, but still he endured. Every time he saw Seiyad without a smile for him, his heart writhed in pain. Every time Seiyad threw him into danger without hesitation, he suffered—but he still moved, hoping that one day, he could bring peace to that man. His life existed for that purpose alone, so the pain that came with it didn’t matter.
So he thought he’d be fine. He had known this day would come, had grown sick of guilt and suffering, had believed he could endure it somehow…
But he wasn’t fine anymore.
Ressas stared for a long time at the fireplace, the light within it slowly dying. When he heard the sound of someone opening the door and entering, he turned his body. His mangled, bloodied hand held a small book. The title, The Story of the Little Star, was barely legible on its cover—worn and tattered from being read too many times in too short a span.
“…I was told you called for me.”
The woman with long silver hair bowed to Ressas. Her quiet voice, lifeless and small, was stained with guilt.
“If you summoned me to punish the blood of a sinner, I’ll accept it willingly. My mother and now my brother… our family has committed terrible crimes.”
Ressas studied her face—so strikingly similar to Seiyad’s—in silence for a long moment before slowly rising to his feet. As he walked toward the entrance of the study, Cecilia bowed with a face drained of color.
“I have something to ask of you.”
“…What could you possibly ask of someone like me, who has no abilities at all?”
“No, you…”
Ressas parted his lips to explain, but stopped—realizing there wasn’t much time left. The world was going to collapse soon anyway, so he chose to speak only of what truly mattered.
“Your brother fulfilled his duty. He was faithful to his responsibilities and never once turned his back on them. Even when you were away from this place, he guarded the castle and protected the North.”
“Why are you saying this now, all of a sudden? Even Your Highness treated my brother with contempt all this time…”
Guilt and remorse spread across Cecilia’s face. As if his words had stirred the long-held torment coiled within her heart, her voice rose slightly, tinged with bitterness.
“So do not be ashamed of your brother. That is why I called for you. Tonight, pray for his soul. And if you feel another power stirring within you… stop his soul in this moment, by any means necessary.”
“…What are you talking about?”
“Cecilia, you carry the blood of Brosius as well. When calamity strikes the world, the Tither of the North awakens another power. Something will happen tonight. Without fail.”
Cecilia’s face twisted with an expression that showed she couldn’t understand a single word he was saying. Watching her furrowed brows and her confused gray-silver eyes, Ressas reiterated, more firmly this time:
“When that time comes, you must stop Eid’s time.”
Perhaps it was the way his violet eyes burned so fiercely—almost madly—that Cecilia opened her mouth but couldn’t bring herself to protest. Ressas, eyes locked on her troubled gaze, turned away.
“In your next life, stay by your family’s side.”
He mumbled words she couldn’t possibly comprehend, then left the study, leaving her behind. As word of the Grand Duke’s death spread, the once-bustling halls of Axid Castle quickly emptied, and his hollow footsteps echoed through the void. It was a night so dark that even the moon did not rise.
Leaving the castle behind, Ressas returned to the forest. Back to the place where his one and only lay sleeping—walking alone through the snowstorm. He passed the cabin where they had once shared laughter, passed the tree where the robin Seiyad had healed used to play, and finally arrived at the spot where Seiyad now lay alone.
The demon had deliberately left him there. So that even in death, the lonely soul would see its own reflection in the end—overcome with grief. So that, drowned in solitude, it might mistake a wicked hand for salvation.
Ressas slowly knelt beside Seiyad. Carefully, with both hands, he brushed away the snow covering the body. When Seiyad’s white face was at last revealed, he gently stroked it. With death already embraced, Ressas placed the dagger that would slash his throat beside him. Before he died, he simply looked at Seiyad’s face, endlessly, as if to memorize it one last time. And then, his gaze landed on those lips—drained of blood, pale and still.
A yearning long trampled down and left for dead suddenly reared its head. The same desire that once stirred in him when he saw that reddish tongue savoring a candied apple—a simple, selfish wish to press his lips against his master’s, just once—was still there, untouched.
Ressas slowly raised his hand and cupped Seiyad’s cheek, lowering his head toward him. A heart that had never dared to want anything from the living man now bloomed in full for the first time.
Their lips touched.
The cold, rigid lips couldn’t be called soft by any measure, yet the sensation was so achingly sweet that it took his breath away. Sweet and sorrowful. And in that moment, Ressas realized—what he held for Seiyad was not merely admiration, longing, or affection. It was love—deep, desperate, reverent love.
His unfocused eyes blurred with tears. Pressing his forehead against that cold, lifeless face, Ressas raised the blade in silence and slit his own throat.
As the chilling pain sliced through his windpipe, he whispered:
I’m sorry… my love.
Please, don’t forgive me.
I’m a pitiful man who doesn’t deserve your love.
And that was why, even after hearing such a beautiful person’s confession, Ressas couldn’t bring himself to feel joy like a fool. Though he had longed for Seiyad’s love more than life itself, when it finally turned toward him, Ressas became terrified—like a child who had wished for something they were never meant to have.
Because more than anyone, Ressas knew—he was a sinner. A man who had killed the one he loved with his own two hands. A man unworthy of Seiyad’s love.
Ok, i cant stop crying😭😭😭
Help me