They moved forward through the snow-covered forest, silence their only companion. In this moment, under the warm sunlight, it was difficult to imagine this place as the domain of monsters. Only the occasional chirping of birds and the crunch of snow beneath their feet disturbed the serene stillness.
Though silence was a constant in Seiyad’s life, being alone with Ressas brought an odd tension. It was uncomfortable and awkward. Despite the chasm that lay between them, they had shared a moment in which he had entrusted his soul entirely—leaving him uncertain how to treat Ressas now.
“Seems Nir’a doesn’t harm animals.”
Seiyad, who had been navigating by the trees and the sun, turned his head. Ressas was looking up at the treetops. Following his gaze, Seiyad spotted robins perched on the branches. Their tiny heads stretched out as they observed the two, a scene commonly seen in the North.
“It feeds on human emotions, so it has no need to. But it still pollutes the minds of the creatures here, so eventually, everything has to be killed.”
After returning that cold response, Seiyad resumed scanning his surroundings. As he focused his vision and looked carefully, he spotted a branch marked with a red string in the distance.
Good. That was the marker he had left four days ago upon entering the forest.
“Don’t you want to stop?”
Ressas asked an inexplicable question. When Seiyad looked again, he was still gazing at the tree where the birds perched.
“The endless fighting.”
Ressas turned his eyes from the birds and fixed them on Seiyad. His expression remained calm and unreadable, but there was a gentle light to his face. It seemed like kindness was simply part of who he was.
“I’ve never thought about it.”
There was no one else to do it if not him. He had never considered another path.
“If it all came to an end someday… is there something you’d want to do?”
In all his life, Seiyad had never been asked such a question. Nir’a was an unending hell, and Tither would never escape from it. The very act of imagining such a scenario had always seemed meaningless—not just to him, but to anyone around him. No one had ever wondered something like that.
“No. Because it will never happen.”
“Even just imagining it can be meaningful.”
As Ressas said that, for a moment, his expression seemed unusually composed—not like that of a young man.
“Dreaming of impossible things only makes life more painful.”
“A life with no hope at all is already unbearable.”
Ressas had a strange knack for forcing others to confront what they’d tried to ignore. Seiyad found himself responding again and again to what he had initially dismissed as the most meaningless conversation of his life.
“Then what do you wish for, Your Highness?”
Ressas, who had been answering steadily, fell silent at that question. Seiyad didn’t particularly expect a reply, so he continued walking. As they neared the tree marked with the red string, Ressas suddenly paused. Then he bent down and began lightly digging through the snow.
There were no immediate signs of Nir’a or other beasts, but to protect the guide, Seiyad moved to stand by his side. Drawing his sword, he stood beside him as Ressas pulled a small bundle of feathers from the snow. It was a robin—dead, or so it seemed.
“It’s dead.”
“I think it’s still alive.”
When Ressas cupped it in his hands, the bird’s wing fluttered slightly. But it looked too weak to fly. On closer inspection, its leg was broken—it was just a fledgling.
“It’s a straggler. It’ll die soon.”
“We should treat it and send it back.”
“I told you—the beasts in this forest attack people.”
“But the birds have done nothing but sing this whole way. They haven’t harmed us at all.”
Seiyad looked at the robin nestled in Ressas’s pale hands. Its feeble twitching, clinging to life, was hard to look away from. It was strangely… both discomforting and familiar.
“You can’t save everything in this world.”
That was what Seiyad said to the naïve prince. But Ressas, gazing kindly at the bird, replied,
“Still, we should try as much as we can.”
He spoke that way, and yet, in the end, he would abandon even himself. Seiyad found himself wondering—when Ressas eventually killed him in the future, how horrific did that moment feel for him? The depth of it was immeasurable, but he was probably the most loathed being in Ressas’s life.
Just as filth looks especially vile beside something pure, Seiyad suddenly saw the abhorrent nature of himself reflected in sharp contrast. Being beside Ressas made it hard to breathe.
“We should get going.”
At Seiyad’s words, Ressas carefully tucked the bird inside his coat. His hands, gathering his outer garment around it, were red with cold. Though Seiyad knew there was no reason for him to care about unnecessary actions, the instinct to protect the guide continued to nag at him.
“Your Highness.”
Ressas looked at him with puzzlement. Instead of explaining, Seiyad simply took off the fur cloak he was wearing.
“It seems you need this more than I do right now.”
“No, Duke, you—”
“If the noble Light of Solias falls ill after returning, I’ll be the one in trouble.”
Upon returning, Ressas would live a life completely different from before. His well-being was tied to the kingdom’s stability. What Seiyad said wasn’t wrong.
“Then give me the Duke’s gloves.”
Seiyad’s brows knitted slightly. His leather gloves were worn and torn from battle. Though the lining was fur, they provided far less warmth than a cloak.
“That’ll be enough for me.”
Ressas insisted as if he were reclaiming something he had once entrusted. It was an irrational choice, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. After a moment’s hesitation, Seiyad slowly took off the gloves he was wearing. As Ressas reached out to receive them, Seiyad took hold of his reddened hand. Taken off guard, Ressas’s hand trembled and froze midair.
“Throw them away once we reach the capital.”
With frozen hands, putting on gloves would be difficult—this way was faster. As Seiyad’s fingers brushed neatly against his, a wave of warmth seeped in. The sensation was so lightening it felt dangerously easy to become addicted.
Ressas stood still, frozen with his hand in Seiyad’s grasp. As Seiyad moved to fit the other glove, Ressas spoke quietly.
“…Did you always do this for my hyung too?”
It was impossible to know why he would be curious about such a thing now. Seiyad answered plainly.
“Yes.”
Ressas fell silent, pulling back the hand that hadn’t been gloved. The shift in his expression looked suddenly displeased, though it was hard to tell what exactly he felt.
“Even what happened between us last night?”
A question that hardly needed asking. Seiyad tilted his head slightly, meeting his gaze. He and Aster had fought together for a long time. That level of Purification was only natural.
“Yes.”
But even with Aster, it had never gone beyond that. There were guides and Tithers who engaged in more intimate acts, of course, but Seiyad had always drawn the line there. Even knowing he would never fall in love, his mother’s words from long ago still clung to him like a ghost.
“Beware the ecstasy they offer. Never forget who it is you love, no matter how tempting.”
Though no one remained at his side now, oddly enough, Seiyad found it difficult to disregard his mother’s warning.
“Then this, too, must mean little to you.”
Ressas murmured to himself as he looked down at the gloves. His words carried a fleeting trace of emotion, but before Seiyad could make sense of it, Ressas spoke again.
“In that case, there’s nothing stopping me.”
The moment the words left his lips, Ressas reached out with his bare hand and took hold of Seiyad’s. This time, it was Seiyad who was caught off guard. Their fingers interlocked, and a pleasing warmth pulsed through the contact.
“Last night, you seemed to be in great need of Purification.”
With those words, Ressas left Seiyad no room for refusal. Purification was always beneficial—never too much. But it was the first time someone had taken his hand like this outside of necessity. Seiyad’s hand, now caught, remained motionless.
“This also makes it easier for me to follow. I’m not great at walking through snow.”
That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard in my life.
Ressas had followed him just fine the entire way. With those long legs, he’d plowed through thick snow with no trouble—and now he claimed he wasn’t good at walking through it?
Back when they were younger, Ressas hadn’t done such inscrutable things. But now that he was grown, Seiyad had no idea what went on in his head. The corner of his brow twitched, mirroring his discomfort.
It was inconvenient for battle readiness, and he couldn’t exactly charge forward while holding the hand of royalty. But Seiyad reminded himself that he needed Ressas. Even if he had his own reasons to change, Ressas was someone whose entire position could shift based on his attitude.
Whatever Ressas was thinking, Seiyad would have to play along.
Maybe this was better anyway—at least it would stop him from wandering off to rescue every injured bird in the forest.
With no other option, Seiyad let Ressas take one of his hands and began to lead the way. Clinging to the warmth wrapped tightly around his hand like a token, Seiyad deliberately walked without looking back. Somehow, turning around felt far too difficult.
