The fleeting sense of vague longing that had stirred within the embrace quickly gave way to a sharp surge of revulsion.
The only reason his family’s name had been preserved—even in name alone—was thanks to the Crown Prince.
Ever since his return, he had stopped attributing any meaning to that fact, too preoccupied with staying wary of the Crown Prince. But even so, it was the one thing Seiyad could believe in with certainty.
“Father, Eid is my Tither. Regardless of the former Grand Duke’s crimes, I need a Tither to guard the North. It is not right to pass that guilt onto him as well.”
That day at the palace, when a council was held to decide the fate of House Brosius, the only one who had spoken in Seiyad’s defense was the Crown Prince. While the other Tithers and ministers watched in silence, he had stood smiling, shielding Seiyad from their cold stares. That image remained vivid—Aster, the only sun in the most wretched moment of his life, when no one else dared come near him.
Even if he had only been used by him, that day could never be erased.
“You’re lying.”
Seiyad grabbed Ressas’s arms harshly as the other embraced him. Aware that Ressas was a prince, he didn’t dare shove him outright, but had it been anyone else, he would’ve grabbed him by the collar first.
“How could the son of some teenaged duke possibly have the power to save those entangled in treason?”
He tried to push the arms away and escape, but Ressas was unexpectedly difficult to break free from. His arms tensed and hardened, tightening around Seiyad. They had never been entangled like this before, so he hadn’t anticipated it. Despite his lean appearance, Ressas had a solid build—he was stronger than he looked.
“Please, listen to me, Eid.”
Sensing he was about to leave, Ressas pleaded earnestly.
“I know my words always anger you… but this time, I’m only telling the truth. Everyone knew the former Duke adored his son, Zion.”
Just as Ressas said, the previous Duke of Shildras had doted obsessively on his sons. He granted anything to the youngest one, who had been born later than most. Bridehit had raised Nova similarly, but Zion had been spoiled even more.
“That doesn’t make sense either.”
The former Duke’s actions were riddled with inconsistencies that couldn’t be explained.
“To lay such a precise trap and then bother to spare the Northern bloodline would be a waste. If he truly wanted the North to fall, the logical course would’ve been to eliminate even his own son.”
Moreover, it was bizarre that a man who loved his son so dearly would wish for the death of all things in the world. The idea that the former Duke would ruin the vision he had crafted for the sake of his son was unconvincing.
“…That was originally the Duke’s intent. But Zion argued that if the Northern Tither disappeared, the burden on the other Tithers would become overwhelming. He persuaded his father. I saw it myself—it isn’t a lie, Grand Duke.”
What Zion had supposedly said mirrored what the Crown Prince had once said for Seiyad’s sake. He let out a hollow laugh. The idea that Zion Shildras had saved him was so absurd that he didn’t even want to engage with Ressas.
“You’re saying Zion Shildras, of all people, swayed by a single word from Your Highness, stepped forward for my sake?”
He threw the words out harshly. Ressas looked at him with unease, seeing Seiyad struggle to suppress his emotions. He had thought the man was grown, but in moments like this, Seiyad still looked every bit the lost boy.
“At that time, Zion didn’t hate you. He couldn’t stand injustice, and that’s why he paid attention to me in the first place. He’s always been that kind of person—so it’s possible he said such things. Zion is naïve, yes, and he sees the world through far too rosy a lens. But he has no involvement in what the previous Grand Duke did—”
“Your Highness.”
Seiyad finally let go of the control he had been clinging to, pulling away the arms that clung tightly around him. Though the embrace remained out of instinct—perhaps due to the guiding bond—it disgusted him. Smothering that involuntary impulse, Seiyad coldly widened the distance between them.
“You speak so passionately in defense of your friend, yet you had no trouble offering me his head. Such a trustworthy declaration.”
He had no desire to hear about Zion’s innocence or that he wasn’t a bad person. But he also couldn’t say what he did want to hear. A heavy, murky fatigue pressed down on him, and soon even anger felt like too much effort.
“I apologize for making Your Highness witness such an indecent scene. I’ll see you at the Forest Purification Ritual.”
Resignation rose like a sickness. He didn’t want to be chased down again, so he did the unthinkable—he dismissed royalty.
“Go on ahead. I’ll follow shortly.”
Ressas furrowed his brow but said nothing. His violet eyes lingered on Seiyad, then slowly dropped, gaze dulled.
“I’m always disappointing you, aren’t I? I…”
Ressas seemed overwhelmed, mouth opening and closing repeatedly. Eventually, he looked up and pasted on the same smile he always wore. His cheeks, still stained with tear tracks, trembled faintly.
“Still, every word I said earlier was true. Not a single lie. I don’t want you to keep pushing people away and isolating yourself, Grand Duke. Like you said, killing Zion might not be something I can do easily. But I can use my power to ensure the fall of his House.”
“You think you’re capable of that, Your Highness?”
Seiyad spoke with that same twisted tone as before. The brief moment where their relationship seemed to be shifting forward, changing hue, crumbled back into what it had always been—cold, estranged, honest in its futility.
Despite the insult, Ressas only smiled. Still watching Seiyad, he slowly stepped backward. He turned slightly as if to leave, but his eyes kept drifting back, unable to tear away like someone too reluctant to part. When it was clear that Seiyad wouldn’t budge, he smiled once more.
“For your sake, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”
Seiyad fell silent. Whether it was out of respect or because he no longer wished to engage, Ressas finally turned his back on him. As that figure slowly receded, Seiyad turned away as well, unwilling to even hold the image in his gaze.
They should have remained nothing more than purifier and purified, just as they were originally meant to be. Instead, he had wasted precious time, letting himself be swayed by nonsense.
Seiyad chastised himself. Letting his guard down for even a moment under Ressas’s persistence had already become a regret. Their relationship had ended long ago—it should have stayed that way.
Emotions made reason so easily unravel. The fact that he had once again felt hostility toward Shildras and let himself be swept away by it made him feel utterly pathetic. He had already become a criminal consumed by hatred, had even gone on a Rampage, and paid with a death more brutal than any punishment. And yet, he was still like this.
He suddenly recalled Aster’s purification. Every time he received it, it calmed his heart with not a single ripple. He would often seek Aster out whenever needless emotions surfaced, especially in times like this, when his mind roiled with chaos.
Was that why Aster had been chosen as his Guide?
He knew he shouldn’t keep him close, but the thought slipped through nonetheless.
***
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.
The next day, Seiyad received an unexpected guest. Ever since he had returned to the palace, Aster hadn’t so much as set foot in his quarters. But now, here he was.
It was right after Seiyad had finished his morning training and had just heard news about his younger sister, Cecilia, from Quilly. Cecilia, who was supposed to be staying at their uncle’s estate, had reportedly left there last week. Their uncle had informed Seiyad’s closest aide that he had no intention of disclosing her whereabouts. Considering Cecilia herself had sent Seiyad a letter after arriving at the estate, telling him not to come, it was perhaps the expected outcome.
He hadn’t assumed he could reclaim Cecilia into his life so easily, so he wasn’t exactly disappointed. Just… tired.
After yesterday’s chaos, Seiyad knew he wouldn’t be able to think clearly on any matter involving Shildras. So he had decided to focus his attention elsewhere for a while. He was just about to continue investigating the side effects of purification when, quite conveniently, Aster showed up.
“Hello.”
Upon hearing Aster had arrived, Seiyad opened the door to find him casually lounging like he owned the place. Sitting cross-legged, reclining in Seiyad’s usual chair, Aster lifted a hand and gave a small wave.
“You’ve gotten even more handsome, Eid. Among all the stars of the kingdom, there’s none with a face quite like yours.”
Seiyad stared at him without expression, taking in the sight of that relaxed posture. There were no visible traces of Desertus or any of Aster’s investigations in the room, but the thought that he might have snooped around while Seiyad was away left him unsettled.
“…To what do I owe the visit?”
“I realized I hadn’t seen your face properly since returning to the capital.”
With a light smile, Aster rose in one fluid motion and walked toward the bed. There, he picked up a beautifully arranged bouquet of flowers. Black roses.
Though roses bloomed in late spring, the palace greenhouse was famed for producing them year-round. Occasionally, the space was opened to nobles, but it was typically reserved for royalty. And black roses were particularly rare mutations—very few ever bloomed. That bouquet likely represented the entire year’s yield.
“It’s only been about ten days.”
They had come to the capital together for the spring, so they’d crossed paths, willingly or not. Yet Aster now wore an exaggeratedly wistful expression as he approached Seiyad, their gazes locking for a moment as he offered up the flowers.
“Seeing a flower that reminded me of you made it impossible to endure the longing.”
“I’d prefer if you simply stated your business.”
“So cold.”
Aster chuckled, unfazed by the thorny response. In the past, he had punished Seiyad by withholding purification when he acted out, but after Seiyad’s return from his disappearance, Aster had stopped interfering regardless of how Seiyad behaved.
“I didn’t come right away because I could sense something was off with your attitude. But seeing you leave the ballroom after spotting Charlotte the other night made me realize how thoughtless I’ve been.”
“It’s nothing worth your concern.”
“No—”
Aster reached out and held Seiyad’s chin. The fingers that gently cupped his cheek radiated a soft energy. The turmoil in Seiyad’s mind, once boiling over, slowly cooled; the emotions simmering like residual heat settled into calm.
Seiyad had been doing his best to avoid Aster’s purification, but in moments like this—face-to-face—he had no justifiable reason to refuse it. He couldn’t risk revealing his suspicions about the ability’s side effects, nor did he have any defensible grounds to decline. He’d been planning to concoct such a reason soon and use it to keep Aster at a distance, but yesterday’s events had thrown him off track.
“That doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”
Aster always knew just what to say. Closing the distance as he had back then, he smiled like sunlight itself.
“So, I brought you a gift I thought might comfort you.”
“If it’s the flowers, I’d rather you took them back.”
Seiyad frowned, trying to return the bouquet. The act of giving such an ill-fitting flower as a gift felt almost mocking. But before he could hand them back, Aster looked behind him and said,
“Cecilia, you may come in now.”
From those rose-red lips came a name both familiar and strange.
