It was Ilya’s first time climbing the Black Tower. He knew the tower stood at the far northern edge of the inner ward and was familiar with the stories attached to it, but he had never had any interest in deliberately touring a structure that was little more than a useless ruin now.
Seen up close, the Black Tower lived up to its name, exuding a grim, oppressive atmosphere. As a tower erected as the final bastion, its round exterior walls—layer upon layer of massive gray limestone—were riddled with countless scorch marks and gouges left by various weapons. The scars vividly preserved the memory of the brutal wars it had once endured.
The single entrance was sealed with a thick wooden door reinforced by iron hinges. It looked like it would take a great deal of strength and time to smash through. When the soldier standing guard opened it, the rusted hinges shrieked with a grating kreeee— sound that sent chills down the spine. Ilya clicked his tongue, covering one ear with a finger.
The tower’s structure was extremely simple. It was nothing more than a massive stack of limestone with a single room perched at the top. The narrow spiral staircase—the only path leading to that room—was infuriatingly cramped for Ilya, who was larger and taller than the average man. Twisting his body sideways as he climbed, he ended up getting dust and soot all over the clothes he’d recently had tailored to match the latest fashion.
At last, he reached the top, where another heavy door awaited him. Guards stood watch in front of it. At Ilya’s gesture, one of them pulled a large iron key from the ring at his waist and inserted it into the lock. Clank. With a deep, weighty sound, the mechanism released.
Whii—.
The moment Ilya stepped inside, he let out a low whistle. He’d heard descriptions from the physician who went in and out of the tower, but seeing the interior with his own eyes far exceeded his expectations.
The gray walls—surely just as gloomy as the exterior and the stairwell—were completely concealed beneath silk and tapestries, and the wide stone floor was fully covered in thick, soft carpets. There wasn’t much furniture, but every piece was elegant and refined. The bed in particular was astonishingly luxurious and enormous, to the point where it was hard to imagine how it had even been brought up here. On top of that, a large metal stove occupied one side of the room, radiating warmth that filled the entire space. It was, in every sense, an exceedingly comfortable environment.
After thoroughly taking in the room, Ilya suddenly realized something was missing—something that should have been there. The prisoner confined in the tower: Chaika. He walked farther in, glancing around, but the bed was empty. There was no sign of him by the chair, the table, the sofa, or even near the stove.
“…Chaika?”
Ilya called out his name, masking his surprise. In that brief instant, the image of Mihail’s reaction if Chaika had somehow disappeared flashed vividly through his mind, sending a chill down the back of his neck.
“…Yes.”
Before that chill had even faded, a soft, whisper-like reply came from somewhere in the room. Ilya exhaled in relief and turned his gaze toward the source of the voice.
“What are you doing over there?”
He asked, his voice tinged with mild confusion. Chaika wasn’t on the bed, nor on a chair, nor by the stove. Instead, he was crouched down with his back against the wall farthest from the stove. Since he was so small to begin with, curling himself into a tight ball made him easy to overlook.
Chaika didn’t answer. He simply stayed curled up in place. Even though the stove warmed the room, it seemed unlikely that the heat reached where he was huddled. He had chosen, deliberately, to sit in the coldest, hardest corner.
“Hmm….”
Ilya let out a shallow sigh, his expression troubled. Sociable and personable as he was, he’d encountered all kinds of people, but Chaika was a first. How should he put it… someone so small and fragile that he seemed like he might shatter with a careless touch, yet at the same time an omega fierce enough to ingest poison just to live as a beta? Or perhaps more than anything else, the mere fact that Chaika was someone Mihail had given his heart to made it difficult to know how to approach him.
After another quiet sigh, Ilya moved closer. Worried about intimidating him, he advanced very slowly. Even so, with every step Ilya took, Chaika’s curled body shrank in on itself a little more. If he kept shrinking like that, it felt like he might disappear altogether. Ilya began to understand why Mihail, despite feeling so deeply betrayed, hadn’t been able to treat Chaika harshly.
The height difference was already extreme, and with Chaika crouched down, there was no way Ilya could see his face. After a brief hesitation, Ilya bent his knees and crouched down as well. Only then did his face come barely into view.
“Chaika?”
When he called his name, the head that had been bowed low slowly lifted. A small, pale face turned toward Ilya. Forgetting the situation entirely, Ilya nearly whistled again. He’d seen Chaika in passing before, but this was the first time he’d properly looked at his face up close.
So this is the face he’d been hiding.
Ilya marveled inwardly while carefully schooling his expression. A small, pale face with beautifully shaped features. Golden eyelashes and mysterious violet eyes. Judging by his lashes, his hair was probably naturally blond as well. If there was any flaw, it was that he was too small. Still, there were plenty of alphas who liked that sort of thing.
The real issue was pheromones…. He hadn’t smelled any yet, so he couldn’t be sure, but for some reason, he felt like Chaika would give off an intoxicatingly sweet scent. If Nile hadn’t hidden him away and had properly fed and trained him, he could’ve become a high-class commodity rivaling Nile himself. In fact, it wasn’t impossible that Chaika might have been sold here instead of Nile.
“You’re not even fully recovered yet. Why are you sitting in a place like this? It’s cold here. Hurry and lie down on the warm bed.”
Ilya spoke with deliberate concern. He knew very well that his appearance was generally likable, and that speaking gently and kindly tended to disarm most people immediately. Mihail knew that too—that was why he’d sent Ilya to check on Chaika.
“…There’s no need.”
Chaika murmured, his small lips moving as if he might speak—or might not. His voice was so quiet it was hard to make out. Watching those small, reddish lips, Ilya thought to himself that this must have been Mihail’s type. Outwardly, he softened his tone even further.
“Aren’t you cold? The floor must be hard too. If it’s hard for you to move, should I carry you to the bed?”
“…I don’t deserve to be somewhere warm and comfortable.”
“…….”
“Because of me, Lord Mihail….”
The end of his sentence trailed off, tinged with faint moisture. Seeing the guilt-ridden look on Chaika’s face unsettled Ilya. Anyone watching might think Chaika had stabbed Mihail with a knife. …Then again, learning that the first person you’d ever given your heart to was actually an omega—the very thing you despised—was a betrayal worse than a knife.
As Chaika lowered his head again, Ilya noticed that there was no trace at all of the pheromones unique to omegas. All he could smell was the familiar bitter scent of medicinal herbs that always clung to him. He’d heard that the dosage was being reduced day by day, yet it was still like this. That Bellagie substance must truly be vicious.
“…Is Lord Mihail not coming?”
Chaika asked hesitantly. His voice was so soft that Ilya had to strain his ears to hear it.
“Well….”
Ilya replied ambiguously, then paused before asking in return,
“Why? Do you want to see him?”
The bowed head slowly lifted. Violet eyes shimmered with moisture. His small lips moved again, and after a long moment, they finally parted.
“…Yes.”
Answering in a voice barely loud enough to hear, Chaika curled his body even smaller and continued.
“I really, really miss him. But he won’t forgive me, will he?”
“Well….”
Once again, Ilya could only give an uncertain answer.
“The medicine…. If I just take the medicine again…. If I take it.”
Chaika murmured. With nothing he could say in response, Ilya wore an awkward expression.
After muttering to himself for a while, Chaika’s mouth closed tightly and his expression shifted slightly. Then he lifted his head and asked,
“How is Lord Nile? Is he doing well? Did Lord Mihail perhaps…?”
Given the determined look on his face, Ilya had expected something serious—but it was concern for Nile. Ilya let out a small snort of laughter.
“He’s doing well. Just like always, so don’t worry.”
Relief washed over Chaika’s face.
“Lord Nile gets lonely very easily. Without me, he must be even lonelier… and worrying a lot…. Could you go and tell him that I’m doing well, Count, so he can rest easy?”
“I will.”
“While you’re there, could you keep him company a bit? I was the only one he really talked to.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Thank you very much.”
As Chaika thanked him, a bright smile bloomed across his small, pale face like a flower coming into full bloom. Ah, so that’s it. Ilya finally understood one of the reasons Mihail had given his heart to Chaika.
***
After sending Ilya to the Black Tower, Mihail found himself unable to do anything. He drank tea without tasting it, stared at documents without comprehending a single word. In the end, he stood by the window, glaring relentlessly at the Black Tower, barely visible in the distance.
After waiting for several hours, a knock finally sounded.
“You’re late.”
Mihail snapped coldly the moment Ilya stepped inside—and only then noticed Nile standing behind him. His already frigid expression hardened even further.
“It’s fine. Come in.”
As if shielding Nile, Ilya stepped forward, placing himself between them. Nile hesitated for a split second at Mihail’s expression, then approached alongside Ilya with a resolute look.
“So you were late because you were busy doing something unnecessary?”
At the words something unnecessary, Mihail shot Nile a sharp look before turning his gaze back to Ilya. Ever since Chaika had been taken from Nile’s residence, Nile had come to see Mihail several times a day. Mihail had refused to meet him every single time. And now, Nile had come again—this time bringing Ilya with him.
“I heard from the Count that Chaika is being well cared for in a comfortable environment.”
As he said that, Nile’s eyes briefly flicked toward the window behind Mihail. From there, the Black Tower was faintly visible.
“Thank you for not treating him cruelly. But how long do you intend to keep him locked up there?”
Nile stood with his hands clasped tightly in front of him. Beneath his calm exterior, he was clearly summoning every ounce of courage he had. If Mihail had seen Nile’s face a day—or even two days—earlier, he would’ve struck him without hesitation. Fortunately, today wasn’t that day. Instead of answering Nile’s question, Mihail brought up something else.
