A slight wave of shame washed over him, as if he’d said something embarrassingly sentimental that didn’t suit him—but with it came a sense of release, as though a knot that had long been weighing down his chest had finally unraveled. Seiyad stared at Ressas, oddly relieved.
Ressas had remained silent the entire time Seiyad spoke. But the moment Seiyad’s words ended, his lashes trembled minutely, and he clamped his lips shut like someone trying hard to suppress something. His elegant brows repeatedly furrowed and relaxed, caught in an internal struggle. After a long silence, Ressas finally found his voice.
“…Seiyad.”
Contrary to his earlier cold attempts to push him away, Ressas had ultimately granted his request. Seiyad stepped in closer. When they were close enough that the tips of their shoes brushed, Ressas flinched and at last looked him squarely in the eye. The storm of emotion swirling in those violet irises stirred a pang of sympathy.
“Is that… what Your Highness used to call me?”
Seiyad received that deep, submerged gaze without hesitation and gently urged him again. When he asked to be called by his nickname, Ressas finally muttered it in a low, husky voice.
“…Eid.”
Ah.
A warm bloom of satisfaction and relief filled him. Hearing that nickname from none other than Ressas tickled his ears. It was just a name, just a simple utterance, and yet it made his heart swell as though something truly joyous had occurred. Unlike the past few months, which had passed like a radiant season devoid of any true happiness, this one simple moment made Seiyad feel genuinely glad.
Could emotions this turbulent really be defined as mere affection? Even he found his own reaction unfamiliar and paused to reflect. The feelings were beginning to take shape, almost within reach—but still slippery and undefined. One thing was certain for now: it was far more gratifying to hear his nickname spoken by Ressas.
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Seiyad’s expression softened. Unlike several months ago when his face was a blank slate around Ressas, his eyes now glowed with the same warmth he reserved for Cecilia. He felt proud and thankful that Ressas had granted his request.
At that, Ressas’s eyes widened. As if doubting what he was seeing, he blinked several times in disbelief, and the corners of his eyes flushed red. The emotions in his gaze flowed unchecked, soaked in both joy and sorrow.
It was a sight Seiyad had missed so terribly that, before he realized it, he was reaching out to take Ressas’s hand. Just a little further and he would’ve touched him—but at that moment, he sensed movement.
Responding to the presence, Seiyad turned his head.
A group of territory residents had stopped in their tracks and were watching them from the road that passed by the inn. They looked like ordinary farmers, likely returning from work, their tools slung across their shoulders. It was an everyday village scene.
The sight of knights in such a small town would naturally draw attention, so Seiyad didn’t find it strange. But Ressas’s reaction was different. Though he had been visibly emotional just moments before, his face now tightened, and his hand dropped toward the sword at his waist.
“…Your Highness?”
Seiyad called out quietly, alarmed by his serious demeanor. Ressas pointed toward the inn and gave a firm order.
“Eid, go inside.”
Seiyad didn’t even have a chance to ask why. The farmers who had been standing still suddenly changed direction and began walking toward them. It was highly unusual behavior—commoners typically kept their distance from nobles, not approach them unprovoked. They weren’t even the lords of this land, so what business could these people possibly have?
A strange tension prickled the air.
The farmers walking toward Ressas picked up their pace—then broke into a run. At the same time, an ominous, murderous aura, which hadn’t been present moments before, descended over their faces. Like people possessed, they rushed forward, swinging sharp farming tools in a menacing arc as they charged at Ressas.
“Die!”
“Die, you monstrous bastard!”
Spitting curses soaked in rage, the farmers lashed out wildly with sickles and rakes. Shocked by the sudden turn of events, Seiyad quickly stepped in front of Ressas and drew his sword. With one sharp motion, his blade split the wooden shaft of a tool clean in two.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Seiyad bellowed, threatening them with force. But even with their weapons destroyed, the farmers showed neither fear nor hesitation. Though knocked back by the recoil, they brushed past Seiyad like he wasn’t even there and charged at Ressas again. Not even the gleam of a deadly blade deterred them.
The uncanny sight struck a familiar chord. Just like that time in the forest when he’d encountered Aster’s knights—it was the same. These people moved as if brainwashed, without will or consciousness.
Seiyad couldn’t let Ressas fall into danger, so he raised his sword once more. But even knowing that a single swing could take their lives, his hand didn’t move. He hesitated. These attackers were clearly trying to harm royalty and by rights deserved death, and yet something about them felt… wrong. As if they weren’t acting of their own volition.
Just as that uneasy intuition gripped him—
“You needn’t worry.”
Ressas’s voice, the gentle one Seiyad had longed for, whispered to him as he stepped forward with calm resolve. As though everything would be fine, he began to subdue the attackers with only his sheathed sword. Like someone accustomed to situations like this, Ressas expertly struck pressure points and knocked them unconscious or hit the back of their necks to disable them.
He had always been a highly skilled knight, so he subdued the frenzied farmers with ease. After confirming that Ressas wasn’t killing them, Seiyad—having hesitated briefly—also moved to neutralize the attackers who kept coming without restraint.
Subduing untrained commoners was no challenge. Now certain he didn’t need to kill them, Seiyad swiftly knocked the farmers unconscious. Just as the confrontation was about to conclude, two of Seiyad’s knights emerged from the inn. Scanning the area as though searching for their lord, they easily spotted Seiyad and Ressas.
“My lord, are you all right?”
Alarmed by the unusual scene, the knights rushed toward him. Their timing couldn’t have been better. Seiyad signaled with his eyes and gave a command.
“Come here and move these fallen ones. They assaulted His Highness—wake them up and interrogate…”
“Eid, don’t.”
Ressas hurriedly stopped him. Seiyad turned toward him in confusion, but the moment the knights laid eyes on Ressas, they froze in place. A chill crept up the back of Seiyad’s neck. A formless, dreadful sense of foreboding crashed down on him—and then the knights drew their swords. Without an ounce of hesitation, they thrust their blades toward Ressas.
“Your Highness!”
A knight’s ambush must never be taken lightly. No matter the difference in skill, one could never afford to leave an opening. But never had he imagined that his own knights would suddenly turn against him—so Seiyad’s reaction came a beat too late.
The blades, aimed swiftly at Ressas’s heart and throat, flashed past Seiyad’s eyes. It was a clean, lethal strike. Had it landed, it would’ve ended him instantly.
Instinct acted before thought. Without time to think, shadow surged upward and engulfed the knights. The darkness, sharpened to a spear, pierced their attacking arms, shifting the trajectory of their blades. It all happened in an instant.
The knights didn’t manage to kill Ressas—but Seiyad couldn’t prevent him from being wounded. One blade pierced his shoulder; the other sliced deeply across his torso. His thin cloak was shredded, falling to the ground.
During the brief opening caused by their botched attack, Ressas, face unreadable, moved. He struck one knight in the head with his sheathed sword, then kicked the wrist of the second as he lunged forward. The knight lost his grip on the sword from the impact.
Moving swiftly behind the staggering knight, Ressas hooked his arm around his neck. His thick forearm locked with precise pressure. The technique was that of a seasoned predator. In the blink of an eye, the two knights who had ambushed him collapsed face-first to the ground.
Thud—a heavy sound of impact echoed as the chaos settled. In the span of a few breaths, the tranquil evening had become a battlefield. The sheer bizarreness of it all left Seiyad frozen. He couldn’t grasp what had just happened. The knights who had looked perfectly normal inside the inn—why? And before that, why had the farmers attacked Ressas in the first place?
No—what mattered more now was Ressas. There was no time to be lost in questions.
Tearing his gaze away from the fallen knights, Seiyad rushed to support Ressas. The moment he got close, the metallic tang of blood stabbed his nostrils.
“Your Highness, your wound…!”
His chest constricted as he scanned Ressas’s upper body. Since he’d moved with such ease even after the attack, Seiyad had hoped the strikes had missed—but he’d been mistaken. His vision whited out, his mind unraveling in dark spirals. The brief joy of earlier had already vanished. Guilt over letting Ressas get hurt—guilt that he had caused it—and despair that he nearly killed his own knight, surged together in a storm.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t react in time. Because of my failure, Your Highness…”
The words barely made it out. The stench of blood rose so thick it made him nauseous. Through the torn cloak and shirt, blood-stained flesh was visible. His once-white shirt rapidly soaked crimson. Just looking at it was enough to make the world feel like it was collapsing.
“I’m all right, Eid. These wounds will heal quickly. What matters more is your knights—they’re the ones who’ve suffered because of me. They did nothing wrong, and now they’re caught up in this mess.”
Rather than reprimand Seiyad for failing to protect him, Ressas tried to soothe him. For a second, Seiyad thought he’d misheard. He stared blankly up at Ressas.
‘What is this…?’
To brush aside everything that had just occurred and worry about his knights—there was nothing normal about it. The way Ressas acted made the entire horrifying event feel almost routine.
“Why are you so calm, Your Highness? My knights just tried to strike down a royal. In a situation like this, even charging me with treason would be justified…!”
At last, Ressas seemed to realize how inappropriate his reaction had been. He let out a soft ah and gave a sheepish smile.
“This is why I didn’t want to stay by the Duke’s side… I’ve made another mistake. Your knights aren’t at fault. This wasn’t their will.”
What made Seiyad feel like he was losing his mind wasn’t any of that—yet Ressas was once again focused only on comforting him.
