The sound of footsteps pounding across the marble floor echoed through the corridor. The urgent rhythm filled the air so desperately that people turned their heads to catch a glimpse of Seiyad sprinting past. Ignoring the fleeting glances, he began scouring the halls for where Ressas might have gone.
It had only been a few minutes since he’d left his seat, yet Ressas had already vanished without a trace.
“Did you see where His Highness went?”
At last, Seiyad grabbed a passing attendant and blurted the question. The desperation in his voice, almost wild, made the attendant pale as he shook his head in fear. Letting go of the seized arm, Seiyad interrogated a few more people before he eventually began throwing open random doors.
Even as they watched the duke—mad and possessed—storm through the villa, no one dared to stop him. He didn’t have a moment to spare.
He couldn’t have gone far, and yet Ressas, perhaps unwilling to show his beautiful face so easily, remained nowhere to be seen. After opening what must have been the fifth, sixth—who knows how many—door, he stopped short in front of an empty room.
He couldn’t even track down his own guide. Pathetic.
‘Idiot.’
His grip tightened on the doorknob, the metal creaking under the force. Guilt flared white-hot and scorched his insides.
‘You knew, didn’t you? You knew how deeply he loved you.’
Whether it was a man’s romantic love or simply the profound affection one person could hold for another, Seiyad had always known—he had been Ressas’s whole world. He had seen, time and again, how clearly the boy wore his devotion, following him with a fervor that left no room for doubt. That kind of steadfast love—how could he ever believe it would waver just because of Zion?
Maybe it was from that moment the Devil had clouded his eyes. From the instant he took Aster’s hand, Seiyad had only made choices that pushed Ressas away.
Still, if only his heart had been a little more honest—no matter what, he should’ve taken Ressas’s hand when he begged him not to leave.
‘He was always afraid of losing me.’
Looking back, Ressas was only ever frightened when it came to Seiyad’s well-being. Though there were countless times he was left to die and somehow came back alone, he always acted like it was nothing and carried on with his day. Even when a terrible flu left him burning with fever for days, he hadn’t uttered a single word of pain.
Not once had Ressas asked for help with his suffering.
The only times he cried were when Seiyad got hurt. The day he stupidly fell while picking apples, the time he had a brutal cough from a nasty cold, when he returned bloodied from a hunt—over the smallest of injuries, Ressas cried as if he had been the one wounded. He stayed by his side, blaming himself for being useless, for not being able to heal even Tither.
Even when Seiyad cursed him, rejected him with hatred, pushed him away—Ressas never responded in kind. He simply stared, face blank, eyes silently fixed on him.
Even in that one moment Seiyad had been sure Ressas hated him, he had been trying to save him.
He had taken hold of the Holy Death and stabbed him, said those cruel, cutting words—not to harm, but to shatter the darkness that Seiyad couldn’t see. He had said it all for Aster, the one watching from within Seiyad himself.
What exactly that lifetime’s Aster had intended, how much he’d known about Ressas’s power, how Ressas had even obtained that blade—speculation swarmed his mind, pressing in so thick he could barely breathe.
But then it hit him. None of it mattered. Not now.
Right now, all he needed to do was find the boy hiding away somewhere, swallowing his sorrow alone—and hold him.
Seiyad turned sharply on his heel and headed for the stairs. Dashing outside without pause, he made his way to the garden attached to the villa. The deeper he walked toward the tall, manicured topiaries, the clearer it became—Ressas was near. Even from afar, the soul was unmistakable.
That breathtaking soul that sent shivers down his spine at the slightest touch—it was there.
Overhead, the sky stretched cloudless, the sun beginning to dip slowly toward the horizon. As it slid westward, golden light deepened and spilled into the garden. Following the long, reaching shadows, Seiyad found him.
Ressas stood beneath a wisteria tree with cascading, lavender-like blossoms draping over him in full bloom.
“Your Highness.”
He halted, breathless, and called out. At the sound of his low, hoarse voice, Ressas lifted his head. For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed that blank, empty face.
“Why do you sound like that, Eid? Did what happened earlier upset you that much?”
Assuming his sour mood stemmed from Charlotte’s words, Ressas immediately looked concerned. Seeing him rush forward to check his feelings first—it left Seiyad speechless. His throat ached so much, he couldn’t speak at all.
“If that’s the case, I’ll speak to the Marchioness’s daughter again. It’s been bothering me that she never properly apologized.”
None of it mattered. Not a single word from someone meaningless should have meant anything. But Ressas, as always, furrowed his brows with worry over something so trivial. The emotion tinting his violet eyes was nothing but affection and concern—there was no sorrow in him for himself. And that crushed Seiyad.
“…During the last frost season, I had a dream.”
Seiyad forced out the words, even as his voice kept sinking. Each sentence scraped from his throat like it was soaked in water—wet, muffled, and hard to breathe through.
“In the dream, Your Highness appeared for the first time in ages. You looked just as beautiful as now—only older, more mature. In that place… you loathed me. So much so that, in the end, you gave me death as a gift. I believed it, always. That I was so monstrous, even you couldn’t help but come to hate me.”
Ressas’s lips parted, then closed again. The worried expression drained from his face until it turned pale, blank. His long lashes trembled faintly.
“That’s why I never saw your heart clearly. I was so caught up in the idea that you hated me, I never once stopped to consider what you truly felt. How much you thought of me… how much you wanted me to live. I didn’t realize how deeply I was hurting you… with what I was trying to do in the fog.”
Just as he was about to say I’m sorry, Ressas raised his hand. A flicker of pain passed through his eyes, but then he smiled—as if none of it mattered.
“Don’t mind what I said back in the forest. There’s nothing for you to worry about, Eid. Just rest until the Marquess arrives. You don’t need to think about me.”
Though Ressas had always approached him without hesitation, now that Seiyad was the one trying to show concern, he pulled away. As if about to flee, he turned his back—but Seiyad spoke.
“How could I possibly leave Your Highness alone?”
“There are knights here. I’m not in danger. The sun is setting, and right now, I need to be alone.”
“But I know now—nothing like that can touch you anymore. Didn’t you break through their illusions in the forest?”
“Eid, I…”
He couldn’t let him run away again. In one swift motion, Seiyad closed the distance and grabbed Ressas’s arm. Pulling him close with the clear intent to keep him by his side, he drew him in. Holding onto a man taller than himself, Seiyad reached out and gently took hold of Ressas’s chin as he turned away.
Forcing him to look at him, their eyes met.
His gaze was flushed, and the moment those violet eyes—darkened with moisture—landed on Seiyad, they turned hazy. Ressas’s delicate brows crumpled, and as his lips trembled, tears suddenly streamed down his pale cheeks. His face became soaked in an instant.
Seeing Ressas weep in silence made the ground beneath Seiyad feel like it was giving way.
“Your Highness, you’re crying…”
He’d seen him cry before, but every time, Ressas had wiped those traces away with a smile before Seiyad could even ask. This—this was the first time he’d truly let it all fall. As though unable to endure the pressure any longer, the tears that had built up over time came pouring down.
He didn’t make a sound. Moisture welled at the tips of his long lashes, dripped down, then gathered again.
“Please don’t cry. If Your Highness is this sad…”
It felt like the whole world was weeping. The once-beautiful garden lost its color, and even the air seemed stripped of life. Something in him kept plummeting, and if he didn’t hold onto Ressas, Seiyad was afraid he might dissolve into nothing.
He had no idea how to comfort him. Grinding his teeth, he clenched his fists—and then surrendered to instinct.
Like cradling a child who had hidden away to cry, he pulled Ressas into his arms and held him tightly.
Cupping the back of the taller man’s head, guiding it gently to his shoulder, Seiyad felt Ressas exhale a trembling breath and wrap his arms around him in return. Holding him firmly with his other arm, Seiyad whispered softly, just as he had in childhood.
“Ressas.”
At the sound of his name, Ressas shuddered violently. His hands gripped Seiyad’s back with a desperate, trembling strength. Clinging to him like something precious, Ressas pressed his lips to the nape of his neck. The warm dampness of tear-soaked lashes brushed his skin.
“Please, don’t die, Eid. Please… Even if you hate me, don’t go anywhere. Just… live. Never again… don’t ever think of letting go of yourself.”
He murmured like a soul adrift, folding himself tighter and tighter into Seiyad’s embrace. Pressing his lips against the beating pulse at his neck, listening to his heartbeat where their chests met—as though needing proof that Seiyad was alive.
“I will. I won’t ever think of something so foolish again. If it’s what Your Highness wants, I’ll do anything. So please… please stop crying. Just tell me what I can do.”
In a state of near-madness, Seiyad ran his fingers endlessly through the soft strands of Ressas’s hair. Then he left a kiss on his ear. With every brush of his lips, the sorrow-soaked scent of wisteria blossoms drifted from Ressas’s hair.
He held him like that, without the slightest gap between them, until Ressas finally said what he wanted.
“…Call my name.”
“Yes, Ressas.”
“Just one more time.”
“Ressas.”
“Say you…”
Ressas finally looked up. His eyes—so full of fear yet desperate longing—looked down on Seiyad. His soaked black lashes fluttered, and in a voice barely audible, he whispered:
“Say you like me… just once. Just this once.”
Like someone asking to do something forbidden, Ressas’s face was filled with guilt. A simple phrase, something that might mean little to anyone else—he asked for it like it was the greatest wish of his life. His gaze trembled with terror, as though he might die if Seiyad said no.
I like you.
He mouthed the words in silence.
Now that he thought of it—he had never once said those words to Ressas.
Even though Ressas had whispered them to him countless times, Seiyad believed he couldn’t say it back because he didn’t feel the same. Even after months spent thinking of him, yearning for him—he never said it. That phrase had always felt like it didn’t belong to someone like him. Someone as cold, as desolate, as Seiyad Brosius—he had never believed himself capable of truly liking someone.
But now, faced with the pain of just seeing him cry—he realized there was no other word that could hold this feeling.
Even when unconscious, he thought of him. When he saw something beautiful, he wanted to give it to him. He would do anything just to make him smile.
And every one of those instincts led to the same truth.
“…I like you.”
Seiyad Brosius had been blind to the truth all this time. He had lived so long with his eyes shut that he hadn’t even realized what he felt.
“I like you, Ressas. I… like you.”
I love you, Ressas.
I love you.
Maybe even in that moment when I hated you… I still loved you.
Even if it wasn’t the same as now.
I only hurt because I loved you too much. Because I thought the one I cherished so dearly had come to treasure someone else. Because I believed… the place I held in your heart had shrunk.
Damn I’m about to cry too
Omg l cant belive it finally 😭😭😭