Seiyad let out a short cough. The sweet taste of apple that had lingered in his mouth was forgotten entirely—what he’d just heard was utterly absurd. In all of his thirty years of life, never once had he been called “cute.” Even as a child, Seiyad had been a composed boy destined to become the next Grand Duke. If anyone in the family had acted adorably, it was his younger sister, Cecilia.
When Seiyad, taken aback by such an outrageous remark, stopped eating the apple fritter he had just bitten into, Ressas offered him a glass of water, looking puzzled.
“Is something wrong? Was it not to your taste? You seemed to be enjoying it just a moment ago.”
“I don’t particularly appreciate feeling like I’m on display.”
Seiyad couldn’t even bring himself to ask why he’d said something like that. Whether it had been a slip or intentional, he didn’t want to know the reason.
“Ah, I’m sorry. I’ve always thought it was cute how the Grand Duke likes sweet things. It’s been a while since I saw you like that—it was lovely, I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Seiyad set down his fork.
“…I don’t particularly like them.”
He’d made a mistake by letting his hands move without thought, guided by an absent appetite. Ever since the time when he could no longer afford to be underestimated, Seiyad had eliminated every aspect of himself that others might look down on. His fondness for sweets had likely been one of the first things to go. People tend to judge others based on appearances, and any behavior that deviated from expectations only led to needless speculation.
Ressas blinked at Seiyad, who had put down his fork. A troubled look crossed his beautiful face. He then reached for another dish and placed it in front of Seiyad. It was clearly something sweet—plum pickles.
“Then how about something spicy?”
When Seiyad frowned, Ressas took a bite of the pickles himself. Half the tart fruit disappeared beneath his pink lips. Then, as if they were unbearably spicy—though they couldn’t possibly be—Ressas began to pant, pretending to be overwhelmed. The childish prank, something that might work on a ten-year-old, left Seiyad momentarily dumbfounded. As he let out a hollow laugh, Ressas froze mid-performance.
“Do you take me for a ten-year-old child, Your Highness?”
Playing with food like that was absurdly impudent. Seiyad couldn’t help but let out a dry sneer, and Ressas simply stared at him blankly. Just as the derision faded from Seiyad’s lips, Ressas asked in a strangely earnest tone:
“…Did I look ridiculous just now?”
He studied him, wondering why he was asking such a thing. He hadn’t meant to mock him this time—what he’d felt had been sheer disbelief.
“I wasn’t laughing at you. I was just… at a loss for words.”
“If I acted like that again, would you laugh for me like you just did?”
What a strange question.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I want to see you smile.”
Ressas reached out with the hand that had been resting on the table, fingers brushing lightly against the back of Seiyad’s hand. His fingertips gently traced an old scar, sending a ticklish sensation across the skin.
“What should I do… to make you smile like you used to?”
The words felt like they had been buried in his heart for a long time. Ressas’s voice, heavy with sincerity and anguish, left Seiyad speechless. The idea that Ressas was searching for a part of him that even he himself had long forgotten struck something deep within.
What could it possibly matter?
“Even if you saw it, it would serve no purpose.”
“But Eid’s smile… is truly beautiful.”
Ressas’s fingers, which had been idly grazing the back of Seiyad’s hand, entwined with his. He stroked between the spaces of his fingers as if holding hands was the most natural thing. Throwing around words like “cute” and “beautiful” without hesitation, he seemed to have learned well how to seduce others—despite being so young.
But he had chosen the wrong person.
“If you must say such things, say them to Zion Shildras, not to me.”
“…Zion?”
A flicker of tension crossed Ressas’s pale brow.
“Why should I say them to Zion?”
Well…
Seiyad recalled the image of them holding hands so naturally, as if they had always done so. Their familiarity had made it obvious there was something between them, and in the near future, the two were bound to form a deeper relationship. Although the past had shifted in many ways, the dynamic between Ressas and Zion didn’t seem to have changed.
It seemed the timing was still off. The two had always been close, so no one could pinpoint exactly when the rumors of their romantic involvement began.
Then again, Ressas was only twenty-one now. Perhaps more time was still needed before they would grow that close again.
As Seiyad mused on this, Ressas asked, puzzled:
“You clearly don’t want to see Zion, yet why do you keep bringing him up when we’re together? Right now, it’s just you and me—only our time.”
Caught off guard, Seiyad parted his lips to reply. He’d thought that if he saw Zion by Ressas’s side, he wouldn’t be able to endure it. Yet, time and again, his mind had conjured images of the two together. He’d seen it so often that it had come to feel natural.
If he were honest with himself, he didn’t want to see Zion Shildras beside Ressas.
And yet he felt confused. So many threads of the past had already been unraveled—did he really need to undo Ressas and Zion’s bond as well? After all, he’d already achieved what he set out to do.
Moreover, Seiyad’s current priority was ensuring that even one more Tither could survive intact. Even with the goal of eradicating the forest, Ressas severing his connection with Zion would offer no strategic advantage. After all, Ressas’s power wasn’t meant for Seiyad alone—it was a tool meant to be shared with all the Tithers.
“Regardless, Your Highness’s Tither is Zion, so even when offering praise, it’s only proper to direct it toward him.”
Instead of entertaining the unbelievable notion that the two would become lovers, Seiyad gave a rational explanation. Yet Ressas’s expression only stiffened further. A fine crack ran across his pale features. His graceful brows knit as if in pain, and he lowered his gaze to ask:
“…Does it not bother you that I purify other Tithers?”
Ressas’s hands, still clasped over his own, briefly tensed. Seiyad answered firmly, as though the question were absurd.
“Is there any reason it should?”
Ressas lifted his gaze. That pained expression he’d been wearing deepened further.
“On the contrary, there are two Tithers who would be in trouble without Your Highness’s power. If we are to destroy the forest as you wish, ensuring the Tithers are in good condition is a non-negotiable advantage. In truth, rather than wasting your time on me alone, it would be wiser to also attend to Vetria and Shildras.”
“Is that truly what you want?”
“Yes.”
Seiyad nodded. He had been clear about this from the beginning. He had never wanted Ressas to become his exclusive guide. The only things he asked of him were to replace Aster in the purification process and to prevent his rampage.
“Even though I told you that I like you?”
Ressas’s emotions were impossible to predict. Seiyad furrowed his brow, unsure why he was asking such a question. Come to think of it, Ressas had indeed said just yesterday that he liked him.
“I’m grateful that despite my disrespectful behavior, Your Highness has continued to hold onto our past friendship. However, I fail to see the relevance.”
“Because… I like you, Grand Duke. That’s why I’m saying I don’t want to be anyone else’s guide.”
There was something strange in his tone. Seiyad was reminded, not of his father, but of his mother, who once said she didn’t wish to be touched by anyone else.
Surely not…
“The way Your Highness says ‘like’… does it mean…?”
It had been ages since they’d last met. Back then, Seiyad had treated him like a cherished younger brother, and Ressas had followed him as a substitute for Aster. They had come to know each other that way, only to be separated for a long time. The emotion Ressas was now speaking of couldn’t possibly be that kind of feeling.
And yet, unable to shake the uneasy feeling, Seiyad asked:
“Do you mean the kind of ‘like’ one would confess to a lover?”
It was absurd. And yet Ressas kept defying expectations.
“Yes, I do.”
Ressas withdrew his entwined fingers only to grasp Seiyad’s hand more tightly. The palm pressed against the back of his hand was burning hot.
“Even now, I’m holding back the urge to kiss you. Can’t you see the man in front of you, desperate just to see you smile, Grand Duke? I said it clearly just yesterday—how hard it is, as a man, to bear hearing you talk about someone else, didn’t I?”
Seiyad swallowed hard, his throat tightening. He had momentarily forgotten that it was he who had taken Ressas’s first kiss. The first time they touched tongues, engaging in an act far too intense for a first, he must have mistaken the desire born from that moment for love. Purification could do that—when power met power, lust ignited, blinding reason and confusing the heart.
“You’re mistaken. That was your first purification. It’s understandable. Physical contact can stir desire. But it seems Your Highness failed to distinguish between the various urges that followed.”
He cut him down with a single, definitive statement, dismissing the matter as not even worth reconsidering. Ressas pressed his lips tightly together. A hint of melancholy crept into his handsome face. His violet eyes trembled faintly, anguished, before they slowly steadied.
“I know my own heart better than anyone, Grand Duke.”
Ressas pulled the hand he was holding close and pressed his lips gently to Seiyad’s knuckles before Seiyad could react. The soft sensation, like feathers brushing his skin, tickled the back of his hand.
“I simply kept it hidden. For a very long time. A truly long time.”
For a brief moment, Ressas’s voice sounded so exhausted—so uncharacteristically weary for someone so young—that Seiyad couldn’t bring himself to outright deny him. Ressas lowered his long lashes with a deep sigh, then slowly released Seiyad’s hand. And just like a storm that had never come, he returned to his usual, impassive expression.
Seiyad felt a churn in his gut. Whether what Ressas said was true or not, it was clear he needed to step out of the current for a while. Ressas had never known moderation—he always gave his heart completely. The reins needed pulling. Especially by someone like Seiyad Brosius, who had no time to waste on emotional entanglements like this.
“I’ll take my leave for today.”
They had seen too much of each other in too short a span. He had let himself be swept away—that was his fault too. It was too difficult to maintain the right balance. As Seiyad withdrew decisively, severing the moment like a blade, Ressas didn’t try to stop him. He simply smiled faintly, as if he had expected this outcome.
“I’ll let you run away for today. See you tomorrow.”
His voice was calm and resolute.
Its heart wrenching even through seiyad’s pov.
Have some mercy on him seiyad