The loose white shirt fluttered in the breeze, its fabric shifting gently to reveal the soft outline of the boy beneath. His face looked three or four years younger than Aster’s, but his lean frame was already sculpted with delicate, well-formed muscles. The arm gripping the tree branch was long and graceful, and his slender legs swayed idly in the air.
The scene felt surreal—so much so that Aster forgot about the nightmare entirely. He simply stared, lips parted in awe, captivated by a beauty he’d never encountered before. The boy tilted his head slightly, and as if he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, he leapt down from the tree. It was a considerable height, and Aster instinctively moved to catch him.
The next thing he knew, he and the boy were tumbling across the grass together. The fall had been cushioned by the soft earth, so neither of them was hurt, but Aster had never fallen in such a graceless, ridiculous way before. A dull ache settled into his limbs, mingling with the scent of fresh grass. When he looked down, he found a pale face beneath him.
“Are you okay now?”
Up close, the boy’s hair wasn’t silver but a soft, smoky gray. Despite his whimsical, almost otherworldly entrance, his face was youthful and extraordinarily handsome—every feature perfectly formed. It was easy to imagine that he’d grow into a breathtaking man. His skin was ghostly pale, the kind that made him seem distant and untouchable. Aster stared at his face in a daze before finally realizing something—the boy didn’t know who he was. Judging from his clothing and manner of speech, he was definitely a noble. And for someone to wander so freely around the Shildras ducal estate? That only confirmed it.
“You… don’t know who I am?”
“Nope. No idea.”
The boy smirked at the question, amused. Aster was both stunned by the impertinence and, strangely, comforted by it.
“Should I know?”
“No.”
The answer slipped out before Aster could stop himself. The boy smiled wider as he watched Aster shake his head with such finality. Lying back with his head nestled in the grass, the boy stared up at him, then asked again.
“You okay now?”
“Okay from what?”
“You looked scared earlier. Like you’d just had a nightmare or something.”
“What nonsense…”
Aster instinctively denied it, his expression hardening the way it always did to mask any vulnerability. But the boy suddenly reached up, and his hand—larger than expected—gently brushed aside the damp strands of hair clinging to Aster’s forehead.
“It’s not a big deal. I had a nightmare just the other night too. My mother doesn’t like it when I act weak, so I didn’t show it, but it’s not exactly rare, is it?”
What do you know? The thought rose unbidden in Aster’s chest, a prick of resentment flaring. The boy, seemingly aware of the frustration in Aster’s blue eyes, spoke again in a calm voice.
“Stay with me until it passes.”
“What? Why would I?”
“No reason. It just sucks to be alone.”
And just like that, the boy unraveled Aster’s tension with nothing more than a few words. Before he even realized it, his breathing had returned to normal.
“I’ll stay by your side as long as you want. No one really comes looking for me anyway, so it’s fine. Oh—except I have to be back before Cecil wakes up. She cries if I’m not there.”
“Cecil?”
“Cecilia. My little sister.”
Something stirred inside Aster—an emotion he hadn’t felt before. Curiosity. For the first time, he found himself wanting to know more about someone. He wanted to know this boy’s name, and the urgency of that desire made him restless. Not even during his first formal introduction to the nobility had he felt this nervous, and yet now, his throat trembled just trying to ask for a name.
“…Tell me your name. So I can remember it.”
His voice, now calm and elegant, carried the natural refinement he was known for. The boy tilted his head again, amused by the sudden change, and answered easily, without hesitation.
“Seiyad.”
“That’s a beautiful name.”
“What about yours?”
The innocent question made Aster smile. The darkness that had engulfed his heart just moments ago had lifted entirely.
“Not so fast. Use formal speech first.”
“What? Why should I?”
Seiyad mimicked Aster’s earlier tone perfectly, making the imitation all the more endearing. Just moments ago, he had seemed so composed—almost adult. But now, he was just a child again.
“I’m fifteen. And you definitely look younger than me.”
“…Yeah. I am.”
It must have hit home, because Seiyad answered meekly.
“Then you should be speaking formally.”
“…Yes, sir.”
“Good boy.”
For a fleeting moment, Aster thought that if he had a younger brother like this, maybe he wouldn’t have minded. But then, he remembered the half-brother who couldn’t even meet his gaze—a little boy with black hair who flinched at the mere sight of him. Aster chewed on the thought bitterly. No, he didn’t want to make this boy his brother. He wanted him by his side in a different way.
“Now that I’m speaking politely, it’s time to tell me your name.”
Seiyad’s voice had a hint of annoyance as he asked, but Aster just smiled silently. He was about to give his name… but changed his mind.
“It’s a secret.”
“So you’re the mischievous type, huh?”
“That’s right. So… you’re not going to stay by my side anymore?”
Not that it mattered. They were bound to meet again.
The moment Aster heard the name Seiyad, he knew. This boy—this strange, beautiful boy—was the heir of House Brosius. Of course he knew. Aster had memorized every living noble’s name.
That meant the boy might be his Tither. They wouldn’t know for sure until their compatibility was confirmed after awakening—but somehow, Aster already felt it in his bones.
Until now, he’d never had any particular feelings about being a Guide. It had always seemed like a useless shackle. But now, that power—once meaningless—held purpose. He wanted to return the comfort the boy had given him. He wanted to become his Guide, to protect him, and to know everything about him.
“No… I want to stay with you.”
Seiyad didn’t get angry at Aster for withholding his name. Instead, he simply reached out his hand, asking to be helped up. The moment their hands touched, something bloomed in Aster’s heart. That warmth—the one that had comforted him through a nightmare he’d always endured alone—left its mark on his soul. It was a warmth cool to the touch, yet gentle, illuminating his world more brightly than the sun he was born beneath.
As promised, Seiyad stayed by his side. He didn’t mind the grass tangled in his hair. Leaning casually against the tree trunk, he spent a silent night beside Aster. No empty words, no pretense.
And so, Aster made a vow: when the time came, he would give Seiyad everything. If Seiyad became his Tither, he would offer him the entire world, make sure he lacked nothing, ensure his happiness in every possible way. He believed he could heal his pain, quiet his loneliness.
He meant it—deeply, sincerely.
***
Winters in the Axid territory could freeze the soul and flay the skin. Especially on nights when the blizzards swept through—merciless and wild—everything that touched the ground turned to ice.
And yet, Aster had always loved this place. How could he not love a winter that resembled the man who ruled this land so utterly?
Snowstorm winds howled, fierce enough to wipe everything from the earth. Aster stood in the forest, his face impassive, watching the darkness settle between the trees. Flames from nearby torches flickered around him.
“Your Highness, it’s time to return. Head to the capital now, and finally claim the world you’ve always dreamed of.”
Aster smiled faintly. Adena hadn’t needed much prompting—he welcomed the plan even more than Charlotte did. He was twisted by nature, that one. And that was exactly why he had followed Aster more faithfully than anyone else.
“Is that so?”
“Yes. You’ve fought all this time for this very day—against the wretched spawn of Queen Leana.”
Ah… he was right. Aster had endured that long, tiresome war with Ressas for this one day. Now, it was time to enjoy the spoils. Seiyad’s soul was bound to Nox’s darkness, and once Nox blanketed the world in shadow again, they could find happiness in that hell—together.
A sharp gust blew through the trees. There was blood in the wind, its iron tang biting through the cold. So many had died that the scent lingered thick in the air. Aster swept his gaze through the forest—bodies lay piled high like hills.
All of it… the handiwork of his beloved Tither.
Aster Solias had personally led Seiyad down into corruption—and now, Seiyad had delivered. There were only three Tithers left in Solias. No matter how strong they were, without Seiyad, they couldn’t stop Nox. It was done. There was nothing left but to bask in victory.
“Go ahead and prepare for our return. I have one last thing to confirm.”
“Your Highness…”
“I want to make sure he’s truly stopped breathing.”
Adena didn’t like it, but he didn’t object. With a stiff salute, he turned his horse and led the men toward camp.
Aster was finally alone.
It was what he had wanted… yet the emptiness inside him felt vast and gnawing. He swallowed it down, pretending not to notice as it grew larger with every step he took toward the forest where Seiyad waited.
The man was always in the forest. Aster had always admired his back as he walked into the trees—tall, broad-shouldered, silently fading into the dark. He had always thought it looked… magnificent. And unbearably lonely.
But the more isolated and sorrowful Seiyad became, the more tightly Aster could bind him. That’s why he had let the darkness on Seiyad’s shoulders grow—until it engulfed him completely.
Without a torch, Aster stepped into the pitch-black forest. The full moon that had lit the battlefield all night was starting to fade. It trembled like a candle about to go out. Soon, Nox would swallow it whole. Darkness would fall across the world, and the dead summoned by Nox would walk the earth once more.
He trudged forward until, at last, he found his Tither.
Time had passed. Snow had half-buried him. But Aster still found him. He walked slowly to his side and lowered his head.
Without a word, he stared at the snow-covered body. Then, with deliberate movements, he removed his gloves. One by one. With bare hands, he gently began brushing the snow from Seiyad’s body.
His touch was tender, unhurried. With quiet devotion, he swept the snow away until Seiyad’s face emerged—eyes closed, peaceful at last.
