Inas left the room, telling Nigel repeatedly not to fall asleep before he came back. A few minutes later, he returned carrying a small basket.
He gently set it down on the bed. Something about the basket looked familiar, and as Nigel stared at it like it was a ticking bomb, a small head suddenly popped out from between the bundled cloth.
“Rhino!”
He looked a bit different from how Nigel remembered, but there was no mistaking him. Seeing that puppy form he hadn’t seen in so long made Nigel gasp softly in awe, and Rhino’s fuzzy ears perked up. His jet-black eyes turned toward Nigel.
Nigel carefully picked him up and laid him on the bed. Abandoned by his mother, the scrawny puppy swayed weakly. Starved for affection, Rhino squirmed closer to the stranger showing him warmth. And before long, he began nodding off, still clearly lacking sleep.
The Rhino that twenty-three-year-old Nigel had known was a large, imposing dog. But now he was just the size of Inas’s palm—adorable, yes, but so fragile it made Nigel nervous. He glanced between Inas and Rhino, unsure what to do.
“Wouldn’t it be better to take him back? I was about to sleep.”
“Sleep with him.”
“What if I crush him by accident…”
Truthfully, he wanted to. But Rhino was just too small. It made him anxious.
“You don’t even budge in your sleep.”
“But what if Rhino wants to get down?”
“I’ll keep an eye on him. Or you can call for a servant, if you’d rather.”
Nigel hesitated for a moment at Inas’s suggestion.
“I don’t mind, but… you don’t like Rhino, do you?”
“I don’t dislike him. Don’t worry, Nigel.”
It would’ve been easier to just send him away, but that little warm body curled up at his side was hard to push away. In the end, Nigel couldn’t resist and gave a small nod.
“No need to call anyone. Just stay.”
“Alright.”
Inas gave him a faint smile. It was soft and warm, and it tickled something in Nigel’s chest, making his face flush all over again. Pretending nothing was wrong, he laid down and pulled the blanket over himself. He must have been more tired than he thought—preparing for the banquet all morning had worn him out—and sleep came quickly.
Just before drifting off completely, he felt the bed shift slightly as Inas sat beside him. A hand reached out to pat gently over the blanket, and a low voice murmured:
“I just don’t understand you. To me, nothing besides us matters. And yet you worry over everything… even get angry over something as trivial as death…”
“…”
“I don’t think I was wrong. I only did it because I love you. It’s not like I did anything bad to you.”
The words were shameless. After bringing Rhino just to lull him to sleep, now he was picking a fight? But Nigel was too tired to argue. He just moved his lips in a sleepy mumble, unable to respond properly.
“But, Nigel…”
Inas didn’t seem to be looking for an answer—he continued speaking on his own.
“If it’s what you want… then yes, I suppose I should change the way I do things.”
His voice carried the weight of real thought. It didn’t come off completely sincere—but it was enough.
Relieved, Nigel finally fell into a deep sleep.
- ··
Rhino collapsed in the freezing rain, his body cold to the touch.
Nigel nearly passed out from the shock, but he quickly realized it was a dream. As soon as he understood that, the memory of what had happened before came flooding back.
Rhino had taken a sword meant for Inas. Being half Worulf, he was far tougher than any normal dog. Even after being slashed by sharp blades several times, he didn’t fall—he stood his ground, fending off the knight who tried to kill his master.
But the wounds kept piling up, and the more they did, the slower he became. Eventually, Rhino collapsed, unable to move.
His dark, flickering eyes stared up at his master. Even as a fatal amount of blood spilled from his body, his gaze pleaded only for Inas’s safety.
Inas, badly injured himself, had used the time Rhino bought to drink a potion and recover just enough strength. Covered in blood, he barely managed to rise and carry Nigel away in his arms. Rhino watched his master’s back fade into the distance, then closed his eyes.
Nigel, who could only watch, clung tightly to Inas.
“Wait—Inas, your dog…”
“It’s too late. He can’t be saved.”
Inas answered, his voice deceptively calm.
“Don’t cry, Inas…”
“I’m not crying.”
His voice was dry—so dry it seemed like crying might’ve been the better option.
Rhino had been with Inas ever since he arrived at the ducal house at sixteen, until he was twenty-seven.
He’d raised the mangy, pitiful thing himself—fed him, let him sleep beside him, walked him every day once he was strong again, took him hunting, even fought in the Great Battle with him. They were more than pet and master—they were companions. Family. Their bond was so close, it could stir jealousy.
Thanks to that dog’s sacrifice, the two of them had barely survived. But they’d only bought time. The situation was still hopeless. Maybe dying together would’ve been better. Yet remembering those desperate, pleading eyes—eyes that only wanted their master to live—made Nigel feel like living a bit longer was the right answer, too.
Inas didn’t set Nigel down until they were far from the battlefield. He didn’t stop to rest long—just sat down briefly to check his potion and weapons. In the middle of that silence, he glanced back in the direction they had come from.
“I tied him down on purpose. He always breaks the leash, so this time I used chains… but he still got out. I don’t know how.”
Inas murmured in a tormented voice.
“Why does he always ignore what I tell him?”
Trained military dogs didn’t disobey their masters. The fact that Rhino had ignored Inas’s orders was news to Nigel. He stared at Inas, realizing how much he didn’t know. The sorrow radiating from Inas struck him hard.
“I won’t raise another dog again.”
“Inas…”
“It’s always the same. Every time. So damn stupid. It’s not like I told him to throw himself in the way…”
His voice, laced with irritation, was full of self-directed blame. Inas bit his lip, secured his sword, and bent to adjust his shoes. Without showing his face, he murmured softly:
“So next time, Nigel—you raise Rhino.”
“Next time?”
“Yes. If you raise him next time, he won’t have to go through anything like this again.”
“…Alright. I will.”
Rhino had only bought them a moment. It was obvious Nigel and Inas wouldn’t survive long. At the time, Nigel couldn’t fully grasp what Inas meant by “next time,” but Inas looked so pained that he agreed without hesitation.
“I’ll cherish him and love him. I’ll spoil him so much he won’t even look at me when I call. So…”
“…”
“So don’t cry.”
Inas raised his head. Nigel had been sure he’d be crying, but there were no tears. Only grief—rotted, festering sorrow and rage buried deep beneath the surface.
“Please do that, Nigel.”
“I will.”
“Promise.”
As he gave a weary smile, Inas’s face slowly drifted away.
- ··
Nigel awoke to someone shaking him. He forced his heavy eyelids open and saw Inas leaning over him.
“Nigel.”
“…Ah.”
“I’m sorry. It looked like you were having a bad dream.”
Nigel shook his head slowly to say he was fine. At some point, the corners of his eyes had grown damp.
“I guess… I had a dream.”
It was shaped like a dream, but it must have been a memory—something he had once lived through. Nigel looked at Inas. The Inas in the dream had seemed like a dried-up well, long past the point of producing tears. And now, it might be impossible to even find traces of that well anymore.
“…Do you hate dogs?”
“I think I used to like them.”
“Used to?”
“Because now, nothing matters to me except you.”
Nigel remembered the conversation they’d had in the previous loop. It left a heaviness in his chest.
“Inas… I want to wash my face.”
“Of course. One moment.”
Rather than summon a servant, Inas went out himself to fetch water. Nigel gently stroked the still-sleeping Rhino. The tiny puppy let out a soft whimper in response.
His mind felt hazy. The Inas who had once grieved so deeply over someone else’s death—it was hard to reconcile that man with the one before him now. Surely, Inas had loved other things in the past. Even if the weight was different, those affections must have existed.
What had caused him to let go of something he loved so much? Had time simply eroded it, until the memory of that love faded away? How many goodbyes had Inas endured like that?
“Is Inas really okay?”
Maybe Nigel was the last lingering attachment Inas had. The one thing he couldn’t let go of, after discarding everything else.
Nigel waited in a troubled silence. Soon, Inas returned carrying a bowl of water.
But for some reason, Etna was standing behind him.
“Brother?”
Nigel looked startled. Etna smiled brightly. Whatever he and Ruder had discussed the night before, it must’ve gone well—Etna now walked the mansion openly without covering his face.
“Nigel, good morning! Did you sleep well?”
“Uh, yeah, I slept fine… But, are you really allowed to be out like this?”
“Yeah. It turned out that way.”
Etna answered casually and walked over to sit near the bed. For someone who’d only just been resurrected after dying a year ago, his relaxed demeanor was bizarrely normal.
Well… he was always bold. Still dazed, Nigel splashed water on his face and wiped it off with a towel Inas had brought. Etna smiled proudly as he watched.
“You’re even good at washing your face now.”
“I’ve always been good at it… Is that why you came?”
“No, I came to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“I heard you’ve been worried about Glarus. That there’s a bit of a problem.”
“…What?”
“This guy told me. Isn’t it true?”
Nigel turned to stare at Inas in shock.
What the hell did you say? Why would you be that direct?
Inas, as usual, wore a face of pure innocence.
