The eyes that should have shown the turmoil and pain expected from someone injured instead watched Seiyad cautiously, devoid of any such emotion. Noticing how the once-gentle expression on Seiyad’s face had hardened, Ressas lowered his head and spoke softly.
“You really don’t have to worry. When the sun returns, people won’t remember what just happened, and they won’t come after me. No one died, so don’t let it trouble you.”
His excessively calm demeanor made it feel as though nothing had ever happened. If not for the visible wounds and bloodstained clothing, one might truly believe it. But the mere sight of him—so pale and hurt—sent a wave of nausea through Seiyad. The overwhelming dread made his lips twitch, and then Ressas’s absurd words pushed him to raise his voice.
“Do I look like that’s what I’m concerned about right now…?!”
Normally, Seiyad would suppress his emotions when angry, lowering his voice or masking his expression. But not this time. Even Ressas, who had remained composed until now, blinked in surprise at the unfamiliar outburst. The mature, elegant beauty vanished in an instant, replaced by the boy Seiyad had once known.
That fleeting regression brought a wave of relief—and intensified the anguish of seeing someone so delicate wounded. “Pain” was too mild a word. It felt like flesh being torn from bone. It ached more than if it were his own injury.
“Instead of protecting Your Highness, my knights harmed you. No, it would be more accurate to say I failed to protect you. I…!”
Fearing he would lose his temper further, Seiyad stopped himself mid-sentence and tore his cloak to press it against Ressas’s wound. He had to at least stop the bleeding and find a physician. The fact that the wound would heal quickly thanks to the Guide’s power didn’t matter. Once he’d made a crude bandage, Seiyad finally spoke in a lowered voice, his tone heavy.
“I hate that Your Highness is hurt. I hate even more that you’re acting like it’s nothing, as if this nightmare doesn’t matter. Why…?”
Frowning, Seiyad clenched his brow. Was he this shaken by the aftermath of the slaughter—or was it simply because Ressas was the one who’d been hurt? There wasn’t much to consider. He hadn’t reacted like this even when his own knights had been injured. It was because it was Ressas.
“Why do you tell me not to get hurt and yet never care for your own body, which is far more precious?”
More than the moment in the forest when Ressas took the blade for him, a deeper, more desperate terror welled up. If he hadn’t altered the sword’s trajectory—if Ressas had reacted just a second too late—he might not be alive. The Guide was not immortal. They too could die if their head was cut off or their heart pierced.
Death meant absence. To no longer exist.
And Seiyad had never once lived a life without Ressas. Even in the times he’d tried to hate him with all his being, Ressas had still been there. So he’d never even imagined such a life. But if Ressas were to no longer exist…?
Just four months had nearly driven him mad. The pain that came even during that short absence had been unbearable. He couldn’t fathom how much worse it could get.
“Eid.”
Maybe it was the sudden swell of despair. As Seiyad stopped pressing the wound, Ressas gently cupped his cheek. The one he’d longed for even in his dreams was finally touching him, and a searing heat rose from within. He exhaled shakily and lifted his gaze.
“May I touch you?”
Unable to suppress the impulse, Ressas had already reached for him—only to belatedly ask. Seiyad furrowed his brows and snapped in a frustrated tone.
“You’re already touching me. Why ask now?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, Ressas tried to withdraw his hand, but Seiyad stopped him. A large hand pressed over Ressas’s, holding it firmly in place. No matter how strong Ressas was, he couldn’t overpower Seiyad.
“Just stay like this.”
“…Alright.”
Despite the improper command, Ressas didn’t look the slightest bit offended. In fact, he finally showed the expression Seiyad remembered. His violet eyes fluttered with joy, and a blush rose to his ears.
“You know, Eid… are you really worrying about me right now? Everything I see and hear feels so dreamlike, I can’t believe it’s real.”
Murmuring that, Ressas gently caressed Seiyad’s cheek with trembling fingers. The warmth of his palm was a soothing balm against the chill that had settled on Seiyad’s skin. Without thinking, Seiyad leaned into the touch. The sensation was soft and sweet—almost intoxicating.
As he relaxed slightly and tilted his head, his lips brushed against the palm. The pure violet in Ressas’s eyes deepened instantly. Seiyad felt the subtle tension of fingers tensing against his cheek.
“Yes, I’m worried about you.”
Seiyad whispered. The warm breath and tender touch of his lips tickled Ressas’s hand. Ressas clenched and unclenched his fingers as if trying to withstand something, then abruptly pulled away, as though he couldn’t bear it any longer. He let out a low, ragged cough, his chest heaving. The sound was a deep, anxious rumble from his throat.
“It’s supposed to be my job to keep you from worrying… But seeing you act like this—so heartbreakingly sweet—I feel like I’m going insane. Someone like me… do I even deserve to feel this happy…?”
“Your Highness can do whatever you wish. Why do you insist on suppressing yourself like this? You’re no longer a child abandoned in a forgotten palace.”
Ressas had never sinned alongside Seiyad, and yet he always acted as if he had no right to anything. That way of measuring everything solely by Seiyad’s standards was both touching and painful. Seiyad just wanted Ressas to live according to his own desires.
“…It’s because you’re so kind, Eid. That’s why I didn’t want you to see me like this. Because I knew it would hurt you.”
Ressas straightened his back, as if trying to rein in his emotions, and looked down at their surroundings. Seiyad, too, came to the realization that the situation needed to be addressed.
“First, I’ll call for a physician to tend to Your Highness’s wounds. I’ll have the knights gather and keep watch over the others, and interrogate them once they wake.”
“No. My wounds are already healing. No one must see me while night still lingers. What you witnessed just now—it’ll happen again.”
“Are you saying they weren’t acting under someone’s orders?”
Seiyad questioned in disbelief, unable to accept such an absurd notion. But what came from Ressas’s lips was even more unbelievable.
“Night is the source of the Devil. Wherever darkness dwells, there’s no place beyond his gaze. He visited everyone who knew of my existence and implanted a suggestion in them—that they must kill me.”
“But I never once had such a thought.”
“That’s because you’re a Tither. Tithers and Guides are souls sent to this world to resist the Devil. They can’t be swayed by his power.”
Only then did Seiyad begin to understand why Ressas had surrounded himself with unfamiliar knights. That faint aura he’d sensed from them—that subtle feeling of clarity and calm he’d always associated with Guides—had been present, albeit weaker.
“The knights who protect Your Highness… they carry Guide blood, don’t they?”
Ressas smiled, visibly impressed that Seiyad had deduced it so quickly.
“That’s right. Only those born with even a trace of royal blood can resist the suggestion. My knights are loyal and strong-willed, but the Devil… he can even break through sheer will. He crafts situations that torment a person’s soul, no matter what.”
Having said that, Ressas fell into thought. Seiyad, troubled by his words, lapsed into silence as well. Ressas had said Tithers and Guides couldn’t be swayed by the Devil’s power. But Aster, a Guide, had acted alongside the Devil. And Seiyad himself had once followed Aster’s will, powerless to resist.
If Ressas’s words were true, such a thing should never have happened.
“…Is it possible for a Tither to fall under the Devil’s influence because of a flawed Purification?”
The question struck Seiyad like lightning. After a brief hesitation, Ressas nodded.
“Purification is a power that touches the soul. The only ones who can reach a Tither’s soul are Guides—and if that Guide is corrupted, then yes, they can affect the Tither. But full control isn’t possible. The Devil merely plants seeds in the soul—seeds that serve as his eyes.”
Ressas murmured, but the moment he said the word seeds, he abruptly clamped his mouth shut, as though realizing he’d gone too far. With a conflicted look, he quickly changed the subject.
“It’s late. You should head inside, Duke. I’ll stay out here. It’s not because of you. There are innocent people in the inn—I’d planned to step out once the knights were stationed. The villagers weren’t hurt, so wake them and send them home. Just handle the knights for me.”
The phrase planting seeds pierced somewhere deep in Seiyad’s chest. Something crucial danced at the edge of memory, threatening to surface—only to vanish as Ressas turned to leave, without waiting for a response. Knowing that he would end up sleeping outside in the cold if left alone, Seiyad hurriedly reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Don’t go far. If the night deepens, I’ll come find you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
Ressas’s brows drooped, his face wavering in uncertainty and fear.
“Is it really okay for me to stay by your side?”
“Didn’t I already say I’m taking those words back, Your Highness? That means you must forget that foolish thing I said months ago.”
As each word fell, forming full sentences, Ressas’s expression transformed. He’d been blinking like someone lost in fear, but once Seiyad’s meaning sank in, his face lit up in pure joy. A dazzling smile blossomed across his pale face.
“Then… is it alright if I act foolishly again, like before?”
“I’ve never thought of you as foolish.”
It was just… too unfamiliar. Too awkward. A rare and beautiful emotion that had never existed in Seiyad’s life.
“So do as you wish.”
He’d said something similar once before. Back then, it had been a cold, rough statement—offering himself without care or condition. But this time was different. Seiyad spoke not as a bargain or a demand, but simply to see Ressas smile.
And his wish was granted.
Ressas curved his cherry-colored lips into that smile Seiyad had longed for so desperately. The face he’d always thought beautiful now shimmered with such brilliance it eclipsed everything else in the world. Seiyad could only stand there, frozen, staring in awe at the sight.
It was just a smile. Just a man smiling.
But his heart began to race—wildly, like he’d been sprinting a great distance.
