The very blood and flesh that once made up Queen Leana had created Ressas—so it felt all the more unbearable. The same queen who, with unflinching composure, had testified her own mother was “mad,” and the king who had eagerly seized that moment to approve her execution—Ressas was their child, standing now before him.
Everything Seiyad had believed was gradually improving crumbled in an instant. The resentment he had only just managed to let go of in death rekindled like embers, swelling into flames once more.
Truthfully, Seiyad had already begun to let go of his faith in his mother the moment he first witnessed his own Rampage. After all, he was her child, and he had inflicted such a cruel death—maybe that sin had come from her.
Shamefully, even he, the one who should have believed in her above all, had nearly abandoned her.
She had been a strict, yet always kind woman. Though she detested the fact that she had been born as a Tither, she fulfilled her duties more sincerely than anyone else. Concerned that Seiyad’s lack of frequent Purification might become dangerous, she had thrown herself into every summons with greater dedication than anyone. Even when the hellish consequences ravaged her body, she bore them silently, showing no one her pain. She had lived her life with effort.
At the very least, she had lived so earnestly that she didn’t deserve to die tormented, doubting her own sanity. She hadn’t lived so wretchedly that she should be treated with utter disdain by those who believed a fabricated truth.
The hatred that had once faded now returned with overwhelming intensity, taking root in Seiyad’s heart. He had lived numbly to endure the weight of that hate, but this naive prince had to come along and claw at his dulled flesh, stirring pain. Whispering that he “liked” him, approaching with such sincerity—he had been unnecessarily shaken.
Saying he liked him.
Him.
Could he really sit beside the son of the man who had so casually killed his mother and so many others? In his past life, he had touched him, embraced him, protected him, and believed in that radiant being with all his heart.
That once-beautiful face, which had once claimed that nothing mattered more than Seiyad, had so easily kept those who had destroyed his life by his side, and hated Seiyad instead.
The Ressas of that day—the one who had split open his chest and pierced his heart—overlapped with the one standing before him now. Those frighteningly emotionless, cold eyes came back to him. Those eyes. That hand, veined in white, that stabbed him. All of it had come together to kill Seiyad.
The deep unrest he had felt the moment he faced the grown Ressas had now curdled into blame. Even though he had never imagined such feelings could exist within him, this painful emotion—this misfortune—was very much alive inside Seiyad.
“Why did you call me here? If you have business, say it here.”
Yet reason, habit, and the lifelong patience that had forged Seiyad’s strength wrapped around his turmoil. Resisting the urge to grab Ressas by the collar and demand answers, Seiyad asked coldly.
Ressas simply looked at him with eyes like sunken violet, brows drooping in quiet grief. For once, his once-fair face was as pale as Seiyad’s. Seiyad pressed his lips shut and glared at him. Ressas reached out, but when Seiyad’s gaze sharpened with disdain, his hand slowly fell. Blue veins swelled faintly against his white skin.
“…I probably can’t even begin to imagine what you feel. I’m truly sorry, Duke. If there’s anything I can do… anything at all… I will.”
Ressas whispered, voice low and heavy. Seiyad let out a bitter laugh. His mind was seething, yet laughter spilled out. His lips twisted, exposing sharp white canines.
“You chased after me to comfort me? Is that it?”
At that moment, Ressas’s eyes widened as he looked at the laughing Seiyad. Those wide, violet eyes dazedly held his smile, and for a moment, he recalled that luncheon when Ressas had asked, “What should I do for you to smile like you used to?”
Disgust welled up.
The time when he could smile had long vanished with the morning dew of the execution grounds. He no longer wanted to feel anything—and the emotions he could feel were far too few.
“You said you wanted to see me smile, didn’t you? Well, now that I think of it, there is one way. Yes, that’ll do. Could you give me the head of Zion Shildras? Ah, since executing a Tither is a royal prerogative, Your Highness could personally sever his head—that would be acceptable.”
Seiyad laughed aloud. The word “devil” that Zion had so often used to describe him echoed in his mind. Perhaps he really was a devil. Spouting such vile things—yes, he must be no different from a demon.
Logically, he knew. Zion probably hadn’t been involved in all this. Ressas was likely just another uninvolved party. They were merely the children of his enemies; they themselves hadn’t wronged him.
But Seiyad simply couldn’t stand the fact that they could smile. That despite being the offspring of those who trampled on lives, stole others’ existences—they now ruled the kingdom as righteous, fair protectors.
“What I really want is the body of the previous Duke of Shildras, but since that one’s already returned to the soil, it seems that’s no longer an option. Then… would Your Highness allow me to burn down the South?”
Unfortunately, Ressas didn’t have the power for any of that. He was merely a prince who had only just reclaimed his place. He couldn’t give Seiyad anything he truly wanted.
“If not, then I beg you—do not offer me any form of consolation. That is the only thing Your Highness can do.”
As he finished that sincere venom, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. He felt a deep disgust for himself. There had been no need to say such things to Ressas. It would’ve been easier to continue ignoring him like before. He had flared up for no reason.
Wiping the laughter from his face, Seiyad stifled a long sigh. He felt as though thorned vines were twisting through every corner of his body. Hiding his weary complexion beneath his hand, brushing his face, he turned away—he didn’t even want to exchange another word.
He was about to leave Ressas behind.
“…If that’s what you truly want… If Zion’s death would bring you peace… if that’s really what you desire… then yes, I will do it.”
The unexpected words rang out behind him. Seiyad froze in place, wondering if this was some kind of joke.
“If the annihilation of the Shildras can offer your soul the slightest solace, then I will find a way—any way—to make that happen.”
Ressas’s voice, which had wavered like a candle in the wind, gradually turned resolute. Seiyad had no choice but to turn around. He had to see with his own eyes that it was Ressas Solias who had just said such words.
There, as Seiyad turned, stood Ressas—tears slipping down his pale cheeks. He stared at Seiyad just as before, with that same unbearably sorrowful expression. The only thing that had changed was the silent stream of tears, yet Seiyad flinched instinctively.
“So please… don’t isolate yourself like before. If you truly find me that repulsive, then forget my consolation. Go to someone precious to you instead. Get angry, argue with them, convince them. Or at the very least—just say what you want, like you did now.”
He didn’t understand. Seiyad furrowed his brows in a strange expression, clenching his teeth as he glared at Ressas. Every word the man spoke grated on his nerves.
“If this is a joke, then you’ve gone too far, Your Highness.”
Seiyad ground out the words, teeth clenched. Twenty-one-year-old Ressas, who had likely never killed anyone with his own hands, uttering something so absurd—it was laughable. Ressas had always been the one to fight desperately to save lives, yet now he was offering to kill his closest friend for Seiyad’s sake? It made no sense. It contradicted everything that defined Ressas—his beliefs, his honor, his very nature.
“Every word I say to you comes from my soul, Duke.”
“And based on what? Some unverifiable fact read by someone of unknown origin using a mysterious ability? You’d move this easily over that? Isn’t this the sort of thing you’ve never cared about? Or have you forgotten? Back when you first heard about what happened to my mother, you acted as though none of it mattered at all…”
As Seiyad spoke, he abruptly fell silent. His words had reached too far into the past, letting something slip that should have stayed unsaid. He hoped it would be dismissed as nonsense, but Ressas, perceptive as ever, caught on immediately.
“…You were there that day, weren’t you?”
A flicker of color returned to the once pitch-black purple of his eyes. Disbelief shadowed his face as he took a step closer. Seiyad, startled by how near he was, gave a low warning.
“Don’t come any closer.”
“Did you hear what I said to Zion? Is that why… why you’ve hated me all this time?”
Ressas ignored the warning and stepped forward. He had reached the truth in a single breath, leaving Seiyad momentarily speechless. Ressas clenched his eyes shut in agony, brows knit as though he couldn’t bear the pain. The tears trailing down his chin fell like beads.
“Fool that I am… I made my only moon suffer. You must have already found it unbearable to even look at me… and I gave you yet another reason.”
“It’s in the past. What I’m trying to say is, everything Your Highness says is complete nonsense—”
But Seiyad couldn’t finish. Just as he was clenching his teeth, struggling to hold back his roiling emotions, Ressas pulled him into an embrace.
He was enveloped in an instant.
Seiyad froze as the crisp scent flooding his senses collided with the sudden warmth pressing in close. He could feel the rapid heartbeat pounding from Ressas’s arms, from the crook of his neck where their skin met.
“…I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry, Eid.”
It had been so long since anyone had held him like this that Seiyad forgot to push him away. In that brief, unguarded moment, he remembered—whenever his emotions threatened to explode, his mother had always embraced him this way. That warmth would slowly soothe the flames, and all the false feelings that had confused and overwhelmed him would melt away, leaving only one true thing behind. Whenever sadness rose, the warmth of a body would ease it.
And now, for the first time in so long, he felt that warmth again—not from Purification, but from another human being. It made him pause.
The dark, tangled firestorm within him began to shrink.
And then—
“I said those things to Zion to persuade him. There was no other way to save you, Duke. I owed him that day. I begged him to convince his father—to spare, at the very least, the two children of Duke Axid…”
Ressas’s confession—his lie—snapped Seiyad back to reality.
