Did it make him feel sick?
Seiyad silently reached for the water bottle, pretending not to notice Ressas’s gaze. In the future, perhaps he would be used to it, but for now, Ressas had likely never lived in a place where people died regularly. A wound like this might have been enough to ruin his appetite. Seiyad, too, wasn’t fond of exposing his injuries to others, so he calmly adjusted his arm as if nothing had happened. The gash from the dagger was on his right wrist, but since he was left-handed, it didn’t inconvenience him much.
“…Why do you have a wound like that?”
It was an unexpected question. When he looked forward, he met Ressas’s purple eyes, watching him intently.
“Your guide should’ve treated it already.”
It sounded like a reprimand—but there was something else layered beneath it. Listening to his low, subdued voice made the headache feel like it was ebbing away, almost as if it were an illusion. It wasn’t a comment that could be brushed off lightly, especially with how Ressas kept glancing at his arm.
“It’s not a wound serious enough to require treatment.”
Seiyad replied curtly. A fleeting thought passed—should he have answered differently? But there wasn’t really anything else to say. What happened with Aster wasn’t something he could tell anyone.
“A wound that bleeds that much, and you say it doesn’t need treatment?”
Ressas’s thick black eyebrows curved downward, and his lips pressed together in a firm line. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, but it was clear he wasn’t pleased.
Still the same as when he was a child.
Even now as an adult, those traces from his youth remained. Whenever something displeased him, he would act like he was holding it in—just like now, with his furrowed brows. He was a child accustomed to restraint, so it wasn’t surprising he’d developed such habits.
“You were always like this. You never say what you should.”
Seiyad narrowed his eyes. When he looked at Ressas as if to say he couldn’t agree, Ressas ran a hand through his hair. Pale veins stood out across the back of his white hand.
“Caring for your body is also a Tither’s duty. Don’t speak like that.”
After quietly listening to Ressas, he spoke.
“Listening to you, it almost sounds like you’re concerned for me, Your Highness.”
He knew it was nonsense when he said it, but Ressas didn’t bother denying it.
“I’ve taken the name of Solias. Of course I care about a Tither. No—regardless of that, wounds should be treated.”
Even though Ressas despised him, Seiyad had assumed he would still offer the power of a guide—because of things like this. Ressas could never ignore someone in need. He always helped those who were hurt. That compassion of his was both a great strength and an easily exploited weakness.
Too soft.
Even while thinking that, Seiyad decided to take advantage of it. Staring straight at Ressas, he said flatly,
“If it bothers you that much, why don’t you perform a purification, Your Highness?”
The moment the word “purification” left his mouth, Ressas’s expression hardened. What had seemed like a slight softening vanished, replaced by a chill like that of someone deeply wounded. Twisting his lips slightly, Ressas spoke bitterly.
“Is that why you suddenly changed your attitude? To mock me in a new way?”
Rather than raising his voice, Ressas lowered his lashes with a grief-stricken expression—as if he’d found a new reason to be disappointed in someone who should’ve had none left.
But even showing emotion like this meant there was still room for dialogue. The Ressas of five years in the future wouldn’t have reacted no matter what Seiyad did. He would’ve just maintained a blank expression and ignored him.
“I wouldn’t go to the trouble just to insult you.”
It was a misunderstanding, and a natural one. Rather than trying to coax him or acting out of character, Seiyad chose to be direct.
“You will become a Guide, Your Highness. That’s why I made the suggestion.”
Before he could even finish, Ressas let out a dry, humorless laugh. His gentle expression turned ice-cold in an instant.
“Let’s stop, Duke. I’m not in the mood to entertain your mockery.”
He looked exhausted. With eyes full of resignation, he lowered his gaze and said no more. Seiyad, weighing the heavy silence, decided to finally speak the one thing he had never told anyone.
“Cecilia saw the future.”
At the mention of Cecilia’s name, Ressas flinched. Seiyad was telling the truth. It felt unreal, like something buried deep in memory and never spoken aloud—but it had really happened, long ago.
“The Duke’s sister isn’t even here. Saying that changes nothing—!”
“It happened around the time the former Duke was executed.”
Even just uttering the word ‘mother’ felt disturbingly unfamiliar. It must’ve been the same for Ressas—he fell silent. Seeing the surprise flicker in his violet eyes made something ache inside Seiyad’s chest. It was annoying. He had never shown anything related to his mother in front of Ressas before. Ever since he’d seen him standing beside Zion Shildras, Seiyad had been convinced they were incompatible.
It had been doomed from the start. As Aster once said, Ressas was Queen Leana’s bloodline, with traces of the Shildras family as well. And to top it off, fate itself had drawn him close to Zion. There was no place for Seiyad beside Ressas.
“As Your Highness said, yes—I do hate you. Just as you can’t keep me near, I am the child of the traitor who tried to assassinate Her Majesty the Queen, am I not?”
A cold glint flickered in Seiyad’s gray eyes. That he could bring himself to say such words meant much of his hatred had already faded—but even so, they were not easy words to speak. His mother’s death was his recurring nightmare.
“But there is something more important than that.”
That was what Seiyad had come to understand just before his death.
There were things in this world more important than his hatred and resentment. Protecting innocent lives and fulfilling his true duty had to come before emotions.
“Whether or not you listen is Your Highness’s choice.”
The sharp, argumentative edge that had defined Ressas just moments ago slowly faded away. He went completely still—so quiet, even the sound of his breathing was absent. Maybe it was the lighting in the room, but his eyes looked oddly red. For the briefest second, a look crossed his face like that of a child who knew he’d done something terribly wrong.
A desolate light lingered in his eyes. His long lashes blinked slowly, and a small breath slipped past his pink lips.
“…I’ll listen.”
His soft voice trembled, perhaps just a little. Seeing Ressas like that stirred something sickly in Seiyad’s stomach. It was as if the nausea he’d briefly suppressed had returned, though he brushed it off and finally spoke.
“There is a future that Cecilia saw that year.”
Cecilia, Seiyad’s younger sister, despite being of ducal blood, was born with a unique ability unlike other Tithers. Cecilia had seen far into the future. But that miraculous foresight hadn’t been of any use in preventing Nir’a’s death. And so, despite its mystery, her power was often dismissed as useless. Even then, Cecilia had no control over what she saw—her visions came from wildly distant times.
The visions she received were so far removed that verifying their truth required the passage of immeasurable time. So even the veracity of her ability remained ambiguous. But now, looking back, Seiyad was certain—Cecilia had truly seen the future.
“Cecilia dreamt of a vision in which Your Highness led a number of Tithers and killed Nir’a. She couldn’t say exactly when, but the version of you she described didn’t seem too far off from the present.”
That time was something Seiyad had experienced firsthand, and he remembered Cecilia saying those words in the past. It had been one of the things she told him in an attempt to persuade him when Seiyad had started distancing himself from Ressas and trying to align himself with Aster.
“I don’t know by what logic or reason your awakening was delayed, but the time is near.”
Ressas listened to him in complete silence. Deep in thought, he stayed quiet for a long moment before finally asking:
“Is that why you’re acting like this now? Because the time is approaching?”
“You could see it that way.”
“But you have my brother. I don’t understand why a Tither who’s already paired with a compatible Guide would need another.”
Too soft, yes—but not gullible enough to be deceived easily.
Seiyad mulled over how to smooth out the weak point Ressas had just identified. No one would believe Aster would abandon him without cause or warning.
Since he’d already brought up Cecilia, he decided to mention one more thing he had no desire to revisit—another part of his conversation with her.
“There’s one more thing Cecilia saw.”
Cecilia, who had pleaded with him not to make Ressas his enemy, had given him another vision of the future when he’d refused her request.
“I’m going to lose control before long.”
