“My heart… isn’t like that, Your Grace.”
Ressas parted his trembling lips and whispered softly. He drew in a ragged breath, his chest heaving, and gazed at Seiyad with eyes brimming with sorrow. Seiyad tilted his head slightly, unable to understand what had made Ressas so utterly devastated.
Seeing the question etched across Seiyad’s otherwise expressionless face, Ressas swept his hair back. Though his pale, slender hand—etched with visible blue veins—was elegant in shape, it moved roughly as it raked through his hair. Seiyad’s gaze was unexpectedly drawn to that hand. It struck him that whenever Ressas was visibly shaken, his hands always seemed to stand out.
Ressas seemed to be searching for the right words for a long while. Only after the restless wren sang in his stead, weary of waiting, did he finally speak.
“Ever since the day you restored my name—one no one had called in so long—I wanted to make you happy. Even with my paltry abilities, I wanted to protect you somehow. My feelings, my heart, are not the kind of desire you think, Your Grace…”
The unease Seiyad harbored toward Ressas due to the incident with Shildras faltered for a moment. Each word that left Ressas’s mouth seemed to torment him unbearably. To be in such pain over mere words—it was painfully noble, fitting of a prince raised within palace walls. Yet, at the same time, Seiyad didn’t want to see him react like this.
His heart was tangled into too many knots for him to understand what he truly felt. He detested Ressas’s innocence, how he always tried to represent Zion’s perspective while claiming he’d do anything for Seiyad. And yet, seeing Ressas suffer like this… he couldn’t bear it either.
Perhaps it was because their relationship had been slowly mending—unlike the past.
Things had indeed been getting better before the painful truth had surfaced. If the truth that threatened to tear them apart hadn’t come to light at the very moment Seiyad had begun to think he might be able to lean on Ressas, perhaps they could have been having a better conversation now.
And Seiyad reminded himself: he was trying to change.
The old him would never have even reached this moment. And if he had, he surely would’ve cast Ressas aside the same way he had with Cecilia.
He would never trust Ressas completely the way he had foolishly trusted Aster. But even if it had to be forced, he couldn’t afford to destroy what they had. For reasons even Seiyad didn’t fully understand, that resolve burned stronger than expected.
“Then how should I go about pleasing Your Highness?”
He bit back the urge to point out that Ressas lacked the power to protect him or that their relationship could never bring him happiness.
Instead, he asked again what Ressas truly wanted. Ressas parted his lips as if to answer but, upon seeing Seiyad’s cold expression, tightly shut his eyes. He seemed to come to a decision during that brief silence, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm—unlike before.
“You said you’d offer your body, so fine. Do it. Stay by my side and follow my orders.”
It felt absurd that after all his hesitation, this was the answer he arrived at—that all he wanted was this pathetic body of his.
“Understood. However, I can’t be seen publicly with you as I once was. At least in name, I must still remain the Crown Prince’s Tither.”
And… in order to deceive Aster, he’d have to undergo Purification again. Without it, Aster would never truly believe Seiyad was his.
The problem was whether Ressas could calm the warped resonance that might erupt if the Purification went wrong. Ever since his return, the past kept unfolding either prematurely or in fragmented ways. He’d even heard hallucinations last time. The Rampage was supposed to happen four years from now, in spring—but now, he couldn’t be certain the sequence would follow as expected.
“Once you’ve received Purification from my brother, you must come find me, Your Grace.”
As if sensing his thoughts, Ressas spoke first. That alone was unexpected. Ressas had always resented the idea of Seiyad undergoing Purification by Aster—ever since last winter. It had seemed like petty competitiveness at the time, something that quietly irritated him, but now Ressas’s expression was surprisingly composed.
“However, your body belongs to me from this moment onward. Do not offer yourself to anyone beyond what I’ve permitted.”
…So this is what the conversation was becoming?
Seiyad furrowed his brow, ready to object, but Ressas didn’t leave him the chance.
“When you first came to me and suggested the initial Purification, Your Grace, you were worried about the Rampage. And then after that… I remember that unexplained Rampage that struck the previous Duke of Vetria. Watching that unfold through the winter gave me time to reflect. I began to wonder—what if there’s a flaw in my brother’s power?”
Seiyad blinked, startled. He hadn’t expected Ressas to form such a theory.
“Of course, this is nothing more than speculation. I have no evidence to prove this to anyone else. But when you said you had your reasons… this is what came to my mind.”
“…Your Highness, have you ever heard of corrupted Purification?”
Since it was still all conjecture, Seiyad avoided making any definitive statement and asked indirectly instead.
“The power of Solias descends from the sun. If it’s inherited properly, then it should contain nothing that could possibly harm a Tither.”
Ressas gave the textbook response.
“Isn’t that something every Tither and Guide knows?”
He looked calmly at Seiyad and added,
“If the power wasn’t inherited properly, then even if it borrowed the form of the sun, it could potentially harm a Tither in some way. But that’s just a hypothesis.”
It felt as if something was within reach but still shrouded in mist. The idea of improperly inherited power didn’t suit Aster. He was the firstborn son of the former Queen—eldest daughter of the ancient House of Merope, which had existed since the founding of Solias—and the former King.
Aster was born of the most venerable lineage. That’s why, when it was revealed that he could Purify more than one Tither, everyone had taken it as a matter of course.
“Then why has Your Highness come to think this way?”
Seiyad looked at Ressas with skeptical eyes. He himself was the one most certain that there was something wrong with Aster’s power—but what came to mind just now was the conviction in Cecilia’s voice.
That in the end, only Ressas survived while all other Tithers, including the Crown Prince, died… Looking back now, it did seem strange. Ressas was a strong swordsman and a capable Guide, yes, but he didn’t possess the kind of power needed to annihilate Nir’a and come out alive on his own.
…Something didn’t add up.
This conversation in particular felt unusually unsettling. Yet, contrary to Cecilia’s suspicion, Seiyad didn’t get the sense that Ressas held any malicious intent. In the dream he remembered—at its end—Ressas had stood against a giant Nir’a in the shape of a snake, trying to devour him. In the ruined palace, Ressas faced that Nir’a sword in hand. The snake’s gaping jaws, lunging toward him, had not conveyed anything close to affection.
Now that he thought about it—snake…
The Nir’a that Kurthu had mentioned, the one that had appeared in the plaza, also took the form of a snake. Seiyad had faced many Nir’a before, but never one that looked like a snake. That made sense—snakes weren’t large or threatening enough to be typical forms of Nir’a. They usually mimicked far more intimidating creatures.
That idle train of thought was broken off by Ressas’s response.
“I’ve been thinking about these things since I was very young. Don’t you remember? There was a time when I questioned whether I myself might come from a flawed bloodline… when I searched and agonized over it.”
That must’ve been not so long ago.
Seiyad had spent a long time seeing Ressas as someone beloved. But the current Ressas—he had only truly awakened this past winter. The years he’d lived as a disregarded, inconspicuous prince, ignored by all, still vastly outnumbered those where he was recognized.
The only thing left lingering in Seiyad’s chest was an itch of irritation, and so he didn’t press further. Then, the white hand that had just brushed aside silky black hair reached out toward him.
“Starting tomorrow, you’ll need to receive Purification from my brother. So tonight, let me purify you in advance.”
Now that he thought about it, it had been quite a while since his last Purification. There hadn’t been many fights demanding his full power, and ever since the last series of Purifications from Ressas, he hadn’t experienced as many headaches as expected. The fact that he could externalize energy and still be purified suggested that the ability was remarkably effective.
Still, his last physical encounter with Ressas hadn’t been exactly pleasant, so he hesitated—until Ressas gently took his wrist.
Though Seiyad had large bones, he didn’t carry much flesh, and his wrist was slender compared to the rest of his body. Ressas’s large hand wrapped around it completely, with room to spare. The size difference gave him pause—when had he grown this much? Just as he glanced down in surprise, he noticed the faint tremor in Ressas’s hand. He always trembled slightly when touching Seiyad.
“I understand you still don’t want to see me. So please, just bear with it a little longer.”
As he spoke, Ressas softly rubbed Seiyad’s wrist. His thumb gently caressed the small, firm joints before moving to the tender flesh on the inside of his wrist, tracing slow, delicate circles. The sensation of his warm, smooth skin brushing over that sensitive area tickled.
As a comforting energy flowed in through the contact point, the sensation became stranger and more intense. He had never been touched like this before—every time Ressas’s fingers moved along his wrist, a chill shot through him. Whether it was the power itself or the way he was being touched, Seiyad couldn’t tell which was causing this overwhelming response.
Eventually, the ticklish feeling became too much to endure, and a breathy sigh escaped from beneath his lips.
…Ha, ah.
The long, damp exhale made Ressas flinch and stop moving. Their eyes met in that instant. His purple gaze momentarily froze, and then the hand grasping Seiyad’s wrist suddenly tightened. The feather-like touch instantly shifted into something unmistakably masculine. Strong. Powerful—far stronger than his beautiful appearance suggested.
“Don’t let my brother touch your wrist.”
Ressas whispered, his voice as deep as the night sky. Seiyad, relieved that the unbearable ticklishness had stopped, nodded.
“Understood.”
“And don’t let him touch your lips, either.”
“That’s…”
He hesitated. Purification with Aster often ended that way. Upon seeing his pause, Ressas’s pale face turned terrifying. Gone was the sorrowful, desolate man from earlier.
“You said you were giving yourself to me, Eid.”
It was clear he wouldn’t let Seiyad go without a promise. So, in the end, Seiyad gave a small nod.
At that, Ressas smiled—the same radiant smile he’d worn when he’d first spotted him by the window. Like a violet ice blossom blooming as it melts under sunlight.
