The castle hummed with rare festivity.
In the North, celebrations were always tied to Nir’a. There had never been a winter untouched by fear of him, which meant lighthearted, impromptu banquets like today’s simply didn’t exist—not even in Ressas’ memory. In fact, it was likely that nothing like this had ever happened in all of Northern history. Life here had always been closely intertwined with Nir’a, far more so than in any other region. And because of that, the head of House Brosius carried a heavier burden than the other dukes.
The main dish that evening was wolf meat. They’d taken down a large one, yielding plenty of meat for rations, and the finest rib cuts had been used for the banquet’s centerpiece. Nobles might not think much of it, but for the knights of Ressas—most of them born commoners—meat like this was a rare treat. Everyone was visibly excited.
The banquet had been arranged for the knights, so in addition to Ressas’ own order, the hall was filled with members of House Brosius’ unit as well—Kirill and his men. Kirill’s family, one of the North’s old noble lines, belonged to the lower aristocracy. People like Vine seemed a bit uneasy around them. More than discomfort, it looked like they simply didn’t know how to mix.
That made Ressas hesitate. He wasn’t sure his knights would adapt well under Kirill’s command. They were well-trained and exceptionally talented, but they’d never served under someone like him. Whether they could follow his orders properly was a real concern. Quick thinkers like Rigda or Mona would likely adjust fine, but there were plenty of others more like Vine.
Unlike the royal knight orders, Ressas’ group had no rigid structure. He had served as their de facto commander, so everyone held more or less the same standing. Most were commoners, so rank and status hadn’t really mattered. Only Sir Anka was a noble-born veteran of the royal knights. When Ressas wasn’t around, it was Anka who looked after the others. But ever since his injury last winter, his strength had waned, and retirement was near.
Since the order had no official vice-captain or designated commander, integrating into Kirill’s unit shouldn’t have been too difficult. But something about Kirill’s demeanor gave Ressas pause. Kirill was loyal and a good knight—but Ressas remembered the life that had been reversed.
In that other life, Kirill hadn’t outright betrayed or slandered Seiyad. But he hadn’t stopped his own knights from calling Seiyad a devil or avoiding him either. The warning Ressas had given him last time—not to turn a blind eye to injustice—had been referring to exactly that.
He hadn’t been able to stay in the North long enough to watch him closely, but every time their paths had crossed, Ressas had seen it—that same look, that same behavior. He understood how even small choices could change the course of a life, how no one could live the same life forever. But even knowing that, those memories made it hard to trust Kirill now.
He stared at him, food untouched, eyes dry. Then their gazes met. Kirill, who had looked uncomfortable amidst the festive atmosphere, flinched a little in surprise and quickly bowed his head. Watching that stiff, formal gesture, Ressas was reminded that Kirill hadn’t actually done anything wrong in this life.
Old memories and present reality clashed in his mind. He swallowed the dissonance and turned away with a faint, humorless smile. Each of his three lives had been so distinct, so intense, that whenever he remembered them, his emotions tangled. If he let moments like this continue—when his mind turned to mush and reality began to blur—he knew he’d lose himself completely.
Then again, maybe he already had.
Maybe all of this—everything he was seeing—was nothing more than a dream conjured by a madman, a delusion unfolding in the afterlife.
That bitter thought surfaced with a trace of self-mockery. Whenever happiness felt too overwhelming, too undeserved—like last night and this morning—these doubts always crept in. Even though he had felt Eid alive within him, completely, down to the very last breath.
“Your Highness, is the food not to your liking? Or… do you just not eat wolf meat?”
The voice that pulled him back to reality was Cecilia’s. She was watching him with clear worry, noticing how he’d barely touched his food.
“No, it’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.”
“But you’ve only taken a single bite. Oppa’s going to worry. He told me specifically to make sure you finished your meal before he left.”
Seiyad had stepped away for a moment, saying he had something to take care of. When Ressas had tried to follow, he’d asked him to stay behind. So now, he had no idea where Seiyad had gone or what he was doing. But hearing that Seiyad had left those instructions with Cecilia brought back a sliver of appetite.
Ressas had always been someone who ate just enough to stay alive—never more. He rarely felt hunger.
“Wolf meat from the North is famous. I’m sure Your Highness will like it! It tastes kind of like pork—it’s really good. Oh, did you know? If it’s a younger wolf, the meat tastes like chicken!”
Cecilia seemed to think he was avoiding the food because he was uncomfortable with wolf meat and launched into an eager explanation. Seeing someone so cold and poised on the outside like her enthusiastically recommend wolf meat reminded him of Seiyad, and it made him chuckle.
That little laugh prompted a boy who had been sitting quietly beside Cecilia to speak up, hesitantly.
“Are you… feeling sick?”
Violet eyes, uncertain yet concerned, turned to him. With delicate golden hair, pale skin, and the same violet eyes inherited from their mother—this was Lyley, his younger brother. They’d come down from the capital together and had been staying in the same place since, but outside of shared meals, Ressas barely saw him. He could count on one hand the number of conversations they’d had.
“No, I’m alright.”
Ressas answered, a bit awkwardly.
Though he was the one who had brought Lyley here, he never quite knew how to interact with the boy. They were blood relatives, but the age gap was wide—and unlike Ressas, Lyley had likely loved their mother and father.
Lyley lowered his head and mumbled softly, unable to respond to Ressas’ kind yet awkward words.
Ressas knew how to act composed and gracious around adults—how to wear warmth like a second skin. But when it came to caring for a child, he had no idea what to do. The moment he realized he might have hurt his little brother’s feelings, the same discomfort he often felt when managing his knights resurfaced.
Just then, Cecilia stepped in.
“Prince Lyley, didn’t you want to ask His Highness how the wolf hunt went? You even said you wanted to grow up to be just as cool as your big brother, remember?”
Taking his small hand in hers, Cecilia teased him gently. At her words, Lyley’s head shot up, startled like a secret had been exposed. His violet eyes went wide as he glanced nervously at Ressas, then ducked behind Cecilia’s arm to hide his face.
Watching the scene unfold, Ressas was struck by something painfully familiar.
There he was—that small, timid version of himself, watching for signs of rejection, desperate not to be hated. A young Ressas Solias, hovering anxiously, terrified of how his words would land, yet aching for love all the same.
He had believed that, unlike him, Lyley had never known that kind of pain. Their mother had loved him, after all. But seeing this now stirred something deep in his chest.
He didn’t know what had shaped Lyley’s behavior, but whatever it was, Ressas hoped with all his heart that his brother had never truly felt that kind of loneliness.
“Want me to tell you about the time we went into the forest, Lyley?”
Ressas took the gentle opportunity Cecilia had given him.
If she hadn’t said anything, he might’ve missed this moment entirely. But now that he’d noticed it, he could see Lyley more clearly. The boy brightened the instant Ressas spoke to him. Blushing, shy, but smiling, Lyley gave a small nod. His chubby cheeks were tinged with pink.
“I want to hear it too, Your Highness.”
Cecilia laughed softly as she scooted her chair closer. Lyley hesitated but rose from his seat and stepped between them. He stood there uncertainly, not knowing quite what to do, until Cecilia gently nudged him toward Ressas.
“Looks like Prince Lyley wants to sit closer.”
His face flushed even deeper, but he didn’t run.
As that soft, childlike scent drifted over him, Ressas instinctively lifted the boy into his lap. Lyley’s small frame settled easily in his arms, and though he trembled slightly, he leaned back into Ressas’ chest.
A strange sense of fullness bloomed inside him. His chest felt tight, his emotions hard to name. But it wasn’t unpleasant.
Taking the silence as his cue, Ressas began to speak.
He’d never shared something so mundane before. He simply repeated the things Seiyad had once told him as a child—how to hunt, how to move. He softened the rough parts for the child’s ears, glossing over the death and danger.
And as he spoke, Lyley’s face lit up. The boy listened with wide, sparkling eyes, glancing up at Ressas with unguarded admiration. Those bright violet eyes studying him made Ressas smile before he even realized it.
“Oh? Seems like I missed a fun story.”
As Ressas finally relaxed enough to enjoy the moment, Seiyad returned—perfectly timed, as always. He appeared silently behind Cecilia, who had been listening with her chin resting in her hand.
“Eid!”
Cecilia called his name brightly, tilting her head to look up at him.
“You’re back, Oppa? You took longer than I expected.”
But just as she spoke, her gaze caught on Seiyad’s neck.
The easy smile vanished from her face, replaced by something more complicated.
Noticing the shift, Ressas instinctively followed her gaze.
All across Seiyad’s neck bloomed red marks—some darkening into deep bruises. Every single one was exactly where Ressas had bitten and sucked at him the night before.
The realization hit him like a blow. His breath caught. His entire body stiffened.
And then Cecilia, true to form, asked the question aloud.
“I’ve been wondering… what happened to your neck? It’s winter—there aren’t even any bugs around to bite you. Are you okay?”
Her question was full of innocent concern.
And to make things worse, Lyley, still nestled on Ressas’ lap, tilted his head and added his own worry.
“Are you hurt, Duke?”
Ressas felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He had no idea how to explain.
Completely speechless, his face drained of color, lips parting uselessly—
And then Seiyad spoke, calm as ever.
“Oh, those? His Highness left those behind. They’re not injuries—don’t worry. Prince Lyley, you don’t need to be concerned either. It’s just something that happens when you’re an adult.”
He said it like it was nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
His casual tone made Ressas’ neck flush crimson, burning with heat.
He didn’t know whether he wanted to die from joy or crawl under the table and disappear.
“…Marks?”
Cecilia, finally catching on, looked between the two of them with an unreadable expression. Then she stood, cupped Lyley’s ears, and asked, her voice tight,
“Wait… don’t tell me you were late last night because you were doing Purification?”
Ressas didn’t want her to know. He really didn’t. But she had figured it out anyway.
And without a shred of shame, Seiyad answered.
“Cecilia, it wasn’t Purification. We simply spent the night together. When two lovers desire each other and share their bodies, that’s entirely different from Purification.”
Cecilia stared at her brother like he’d grown horns. She looked at him with the kind of horror reserved for complete degenerates.
Whatever misunderstanding she’d formed, Ressas didn’t want it to stick.
He jumped in, flustered.
“Cecilia, Eid didn’t do anything wrong.”
“But, Your Highness… if you left that many bite marks, weren’t you in a lot of pain?”
She turned toward him with real concern, her voice rising slightly.
Ressas blinked, completely thrown off by the question.
