If I could save you by dying a thousand times, I would gladly offer up my flesh and bones. But you’re far too kind— You never run away. Even if that path leads to your death.
***
The sun.
Light, a beautiful blessing, hope that banishes the darkness, the most radiant and glorious of all things. The meanings that adorned the sun—the symbol of Solias—had always been the same. Golden hair, the royal mark, and blue eyes where the sun dwelled were considered incarnations of holiness.
But Ressas hated the sun.
Its searing heat too easily scorched all things on earth, and its brilliant light blinded one to sorrow hidden beneath. Its overwhelming strength killed more often than it saved; it was closer to death than life.
The sun was too powerful to descend to earth itself—it could not come down even to slay a Devil. So it always needed a vessel, someone who would accept it. A being so small, so pitiful, that no one could ever suspect them of bearing divine power. To fool the eyes of the Devil while the body was forged to contain divine might, the sun sought a child: wretched, insignificant, easily overlooked.
Ressas Raman Solias was born with that fate—a destiny to never be loved.
Each time the memories long buried in oblivion returned with his awakening, Ressas would fall into a fever so severe it seemed to consume his very soul. And the first thing that always came back to him—before anything else—was hunger.
The hunger of someone dying. A stomach so hollow it twisted in on itself, aching with pain as the emptiness devoured him from within. A void more terrifying than death. A loneliness so vast it made him feel like he was the only soul left alive.
It must have been a winter night at the start of the deep freeze. Ressas was dying of starvation. Alone in the desolate South Palace, abandoned on the orders of his mother, Queen Leana.
The royal palace in winter belonged to Leana. When King Cyfrid traveled to the north to fulfill his duties, the one who ruled the palace was naturally the queen. Leana used that time to erase her own failure—a failure that had always festered in the depths of her heart. A madness consumed her, a mania to erase the disgrace of having birthed the most wretched royal in Solias’ history.
She chose to pretend the black-haired monster in the palace had never existed. After all, she had never once gone to see her own child after giving birth. It wasn’t difficult. She felt no love for him. He was merely a grotesque lump born from her body. And since everyone had begun to forget the child anyway, there was no further obligation on her part.
The Queen simply chose to do nothing. And she commanded others to do the same.
It was the kind of winter where vicious snow storms swept down from the north to the capital. In the palace with no fires lit, the cold settled deep into the stones, making the interior as frigid as the outside. The dark, empty corridors no one dared enter only magnified that chill. At some point, the nanny stopped coming. The young boy, wandering the halls in search of her, instinctively knew she had left him.
There was never anyone left beside Ressas.
To shine beautifully and warmly, everything needed the touch of human hands. The corridor lanterns, the chandeliers above—every light was maintained by servants. So when they vanished, the palace became too vast, too empty. Ressas, who hadn’t owned a proper winter coat since he first learned to walk, wandered the South Palace in nothing but a thin cotton shift.
There was no food anywhere. The South Palace had neither a kitchen staff nor a storage pantry. The little he’d eaten before had been pity offerings brought by the nanny from the main palace. So of course, the kitchen was bare.
In the barren kitchen, only a crust of stale bread remained—nibbled on by rats. Only after driving them away did Ressas secure enough to last a few days. He moistened the bread with spit for what felt like forever until it finally softened on his tongue. He stayed in the empty palace, guarding it as best he could, praying someone would find him eventually—secretly wishing it would be his parents.
Ten days passed like that.
By then, even drinking water had run out. He fainted, woke, fainted again. Eventually, it was the pain that kept him conscious. The agony that tore at his stomach left no room for sleep. His throat was parched, his hunger clawed at his soul, and so he left the room. It was the coldest night of that winter. Everything around him was pitch black, even the moonlight veiled by thick clouds.
Wandering aimlessly through the silent darkness, Ressas stopped only when he saw the royal palace in the distance—resplendent and gleaming. But that was as far as he could go. His body, frozen solid, would not move. His feet had gone numb. His legs refused to carry him.
So this is the place. This is where I was born.
With dying eyes, the boy stared quietly at the palace. The warm lights flickered invitingly even from afar. He could hear voices, a distant murmur of people. Having lived in silence for so long, Ressas watched the bustle with a dazed fascination. Just seeing signs of life chased away some of the loneliness.
He couldn’t even think of going inside. Slowly, he crouched down, curling his useless body as tightly as he could and resting his cheek against his knees. It was strange. A grand castle glowed right before him—so why was everything around still so dark?
Why was someone like me… still alive until now?
His eyelids grew heavy. His dimming vision went completely black. The wind howled viciously past his ears. The monster in the darkness—just like the one his nanny used to tell him about—felt close enough to strike at any second. Fear began to swell. The gale roared like a storm and slammed into his frail frame. His body, nothing but skin and bone, couldn’t endure. He collapsed to the ground.
The sound of his pitiful fall scattered into the wind.
At that moment, the distant sound of footsteps stopped. Maybe I imagined it, he thought, just before the wind threatened to snatch even that thought away.
Then came the sound of leather boots. Getting closer.
“Wait a moment. There’s someone here.”
A pleasant voice rang above his head. Ressas, unable even to open his eyes, assumed it was a hallucination.
“Good heavens. In the royal palace, of all places… What in the world happened here?”
“He’s alive.”
Soon, warmth spread across Ressas’s cheek—so warm it almost felt like it might burn.
“He’s alive. Let’s take him.”
“But can we really take a child from the royal palace without permission? I think it would be best to find a servant and hand him over. This isn’t the time for this. You’ve only just awakened, and the ritual must come first. You must go see His Highness Aster.”
“Quilly.”
The voice, somewhere between a young man’s and a boy’s, was so composed it made the heart stir just to hear it. There was kindness wrapped within his refined tone.
Who was this person—this person who touched someone like him, someone everyone hated? A sudden yearning surged within Ressas’s dying heart.
He strained with all his might to lift his eyelids. Through his blurry vision, he caught the shape of a smooth jawline and sharp nose—just a glimpse, but enough to guess this was someone incredibly handsome.
As he blinked, desperate to see more, his body was lifted. The firm arms that supported his back and legs were far too strong for a boy his age.
“This is the most prosperous place in the entire kingdom. If a child is dying in a place like this, isn’t it obvious what kind of life he’s lived?”
“Hearing you say that… I can guess who might be responsible. You could get in trouble for this, Lord Seiyad.”
“It’s fine.”
The boy lowered his gaze to the child in his arms.
Ressas, stunted in growth from malnourishment, fit easily into the arms of the broad-shouldered boy. As the boy adjusted his hold, he noticed Ressas was awake. In that moment, as fear rushed in and tears welled in his violet eyes—
“It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
A soft smile rose on the boy’s face. His charcoal-gray brows arched gently, and the eyes beneath them curved with warmth. Behind the boy, a giant moon began to rise in the distance. The storm clouds that had swallowed the night sky drifted away, and light poured into the world—gentler than any glow from the royal palace.
The northern winter resembled Seiyad. Though it looked harsh, the landscape beneath was white and tranquil. Winter was the season where life took root. It gave rest to animals hiding from predators and allowed the plants that bloomed tirelessly all year a chance to breathe.
That’s why Ressas liked winter. Or rather—anything that reminded him of Seiyad, he liked.
“Your Highness.”
With the creak of a door, a cool breeze blew into the cabin. Ressas paused from stoking the fireplace and turned around in a hurry.
Seiyad had arrived, carrying the scent of autumn wind.
“Were you patrolling the forest again?”
When winter neared, Seiyad always donned a thick fur cloak. The cloak, beginning to show its age, had been made from the pelt of the white wolf Ressas had hunted for the first time.
He ran to Seiyad and took his hand.
“You must be cold, Eid. Come sit by the fire.”
“I’m fine. I imagine Your Highness is the one feeling the cold.”
“You’ve been calling me that a lot lately. Using honorifics too. I don’t like it, Eid. Please don’t call me that.”
Lately, Seiyad had been putting more distance between them. He still treated Ressas as he always had, but more and more often, he would use formal speech or refer to him by title.
Seiyad said it was because Ressas would soon come of age, and even when they were alone, proper etiquette would be expected. But that wasn’t what Ressas wanted.
He preferred living like Seiyad’s knight—away from the royal palace.
He didn’t want to be a prince, just a hollow title of no use.
He lacked the power of Purification, had no healing ability. Better to die protecting Seiyad as a knight—that much was clear.
“…Only when it’s just the two of us, Ressas.”
When Ressas’s violet eyes welled with sorrow, Seiyad finally gave in. At just those few words, the grief on his face turned to joy.
Seeing his brightened expression, Seiyad let out a soft laugh.
With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he clasped Ressas’s hand.
“I’d like to stay here longer, but there are guests at the castle. I need to head back. Come with me, Ressas.”
“Guests?”
“Zion’s here. With the Duke of Shildras. It’s been half a year—if I don’t go soon, he’ll start pouting.”
Seiyad covered the firewood with ash to snuff the flame, then led Ressas out of the cabin.
Originally built as a resting place during their patrols before winter, the little cabin had become Ressas’s favorite place. Though tiny and narrow compared to his chamber in the South Palace, it was more precious than anything—because it was a place for just him and Seiyad.
“Is it because of what happened in the southern forest? When Nir’a went missing?”
“Seems like it.”
They were walking through the woods when—thunk—a soft thud rang out nearby. Both turned toward a tree stump.
There, a small robin lay. Its movements were weak, clearly too injured to fly. It was a gray robin, a species found only in the north.
It looked pitiful. But leaving it there was the way of nature. Forest creatures could be influenced by Nir’a, so even a tiny bird could be dangerous.
Ressas turned his gaze away, trying to let go of his lingering attachment—
But Seiyad slowly changed course.
He walked a few steps and stopped before the robin. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently scooped it up.
“Eid, are you really going to take a forest creature with you?”
“I think I can save it.”
He said it calmly and inspected the bird with care.
“It’s not acting aggressively—so it probably hasn’t been corrupted.”
“It might just be injured. But if it scratches you later, there’ll be a lot of people upset about it.”
As Ressas bristled with concern, Seiyad gave a lopsided smile, eyes narrowing in gentle amusement.
He nodded.
“I’ll treat it and then release it back into the forest. That should be safe enough. It’s better for it to live here, anyway.”
After saying that, Seiyad carefully slipped the robin into a pocket inside his cloak. It was only natural—Seiyad had never once passed by a creature in trouble or suffering. He had power, and he was devoted to his duty: to protect every life that lived in Solias. That was what Seiyad wanted to do more than anything.
Ressas watched the scene with an expressionless face. As someone who distrusted the world and disliked people, Ressas often worried about Seiyad’s heart. Kind people get hurt. The world was not always benevolent, and often, kindness was repaid with betrayal.
It was simply human instinct. When faced with someone who offers what they themselves lack, people don’t respond with gratitude—they respond with resentment. That anger, more often than not, ends up directed at the one who gave.
He was about to speak up, still unsettled by his thoughts, when Seiyad’s knights came running toward them from the distance. Vine and Rigda were two of the people Seiyad had saved while traveling south to meet Zion; from that day on, they had pledged themselves to him, becoming loyal members of the northern guard.
Because Seiyad cherished them so much, Ressas also tried to behave like a normal person around them. Just as a faint, practiced smile began to form on Ressas’s usually unreadable face, Vine and Rigda stepped in front of Seiyad.
“Lord Seiyad, the Grand Duke is asking for you. We were ordered to bring you quickly. Of course, we should’ve known you’d be with His Highness.”
“It seems to be more serious than expected. Not only the Duke of Shildras, but His Highness Aster is here as well. The order comes from His Majesty the King.”
Beautiful moments passed by with cruel swiftness, while agonizing ones always dragged on endlessly.
From this day forward, the brilliant days came to an end.
And ever since then, Ressas’s time had remained frozen in this winter.
