The sun hung low above the snow-drenched branches. The snow, heaped atop crumbling leaves, reached easily past his calves, making winter hunting more grueling than any other season. And it wasn’t just the hunting that proved difficult.
Winter in the North had always been harsh in more ways than one. Fending off the relentless Nir’a and solving the food shortages plaguing his people had long weighed heavily on the shoulders of the Brosius family’s patriarch. Every Duke inherited these worries along with their title.
But this winter was different.
Seiyad slowly bent down. Drawing his hunting knife, he gently scraped beneath the pristine snow. Wolf droppings came into view. They hadn’t frozen yet—meaning the pack was nearby. He continued digging through the snow with an indifferent gaze until he caught the direction of the tracks.
“You were right, Your Highness. This is the place.”
While Seiyad examined the snow, Ressas—keeping watch nearby—turned his head. His already pale face appeared even whiter against the softly drifting flurries. As Seiyad studied that noble, pristine figure, he couldn’t help but think how ill-suited Ressas was for something like hunting.
“That’s a relief. I was worried Eid might’ve come all this way for nothing if we’d been wrong.”
As always, Ressas was calm and kind. The way his violet eyes curved with that serene smile looked almost unreal, leaving Seiyad momentarily speechless. He’d seen that face every day for over a month, and yet it never became familiar—it was a beauty that resisted becoming ordinary.
Even in the past, when Seiyad had been consumed by anger and despair, he’d thought Ressas was beautiful. And now that his mind was clear, that beauty was even harder to look away from. If he kept staring, he might lose control, pull him close, and kiss him. Slowly, he turned his gaze away.
“You’ve done well. Ever since the forest changed, their territory shifted and everyone’s been getting lost. But you figured it out right away, Your Highness.”
“I got lucky. Shall we follow the tracks?”
Ressas responded gently, taking the bow slung over his shoulder. Dressed in the thickest fur cloak from the castle, with fur-lined leather boots and gloves, he looked bulkier than usual. When Seiyad glanced at his back, he was surprised by how broad it really was—far more than he’d realized—and it stirred something strange inside him.
He often forgot that Ressas was taller than him. Like this morning—if Ressas hadn’t taken his hand and commented on how small and cute it was, Seiyad probably would’ve forgotten again. But that single touch had stirred up more than just memories. He’d recalled the quiet dawns where they lay pressed together, sharing warmth.
Nights in the forest when they clumsily rubbed against each other, unable to touch properly; the ravenous kisses in the cabin that followed. And with those came the memory of that large body holding him down. Remembering the weight that had crushed into him, Seiyad felt a thirst he could no longer ignore. It was a blistering, overwhelming desire that burned through him like fire.
…How much longer do I have to hold back?
Swallowing the hunger gnawing at him, Seiyad lifted his own bow. His lover—who had quite literally returned from death—had spent nearly every day since his awakening sleeping for half the day. Even when he tried to stay awake, he’d pass out as though he’d fainted, and Seiyad could only barely manage to feed him. Lately, things had improved a little, but he still often overslept.
Back when they traveled together, Ressas rarely slept more than five hours. But recently, he’d been sleeping twice that.
Still, Seiyad didn’t mind. Watching him sleep—so sweet and lovely—had become something he cherished. Placing a flower by his sleeping lover’s pillow became a quiet joy in his daily routine. Staring at him as he lay there motionless, eyes closed in serene beauty, then sneaking in a kiss on his lips—those moments made Seiyad feel genuinely happy.
And when Ressas would finally wake in the late morning and run to find him without even thinking to change out of his sleepwear—it filled Seiyad’s chest with a tight, aching joy. Knowing that he was the first thing Ressas thought of the moment he woke felt like an overwhelming blessing. These days, Seiyad usually timed it so he was already there when Ressas awoke, so it didn’t happen as often—but every time, it still hit him just as hard.
Little by little, Seiyad was beginning to understand what people meant when they talked about “happiness.” And he was learning it through Ressas. It felt nothing like the faint, fleeting joy of his childhood. This happiness wasn’t giddy or light—it was something steady and grounding, like a weight that gave him balance. It had become the very reason he lived.
And so, naturally, his heart began to crave more. Seiyad wanted to be even more deeply connected to Ressas. Being together like this already brought him joy—but he knew there was something even greater waiting for them. The breathless sensations Ressas stirred in him, the spine-tingling pleasure of their tongues entwined, the heat of shared body warmth—
When would that be allowed again?
Lately, Seiyad found himself trapped in these thoughts more and more. Part of the problem was his own desire—but part of it was definitely Ressas. After all, when someone showed up every morning looking that indecent, how could he be expected to think about anything else?
Even after waking from sleep, Ressas never looked the slightest bit unkempt. If anything, the slightly tousled hair, the drowsy eyes, and the pale, slender nape exposed beneath his nightclothes gave him a sort of decadent allure. He looked so sinfully enticing that even the castle staff, who’d grown used to seeing him, couldn’t help whispering among themselves—and Seiyad, to his dismay, overheard it all.
“Am I awful? I ran into His Highness the Crown Prince this morning and froze up. I was shaking, my mouth went dry—I couldn’t even move. How can someone be that beautiful?”
“They say he’s breathtaking when he first wakes up. Lucy kept going on and on about it.”
The sheer absurdity of it left Seiyad dumbfounded. From what he gathered, there were likely dozens of people quietly enamored with Ressas. He ended up memorizing the names of servants and attendants he hadn’t even known before—and from that day forward, he made a point of greeting Ressas directly outside his chambers.
And that wasn’t even the worst of it. Take today’s meal, for example—who knew someone could look that provocative just from eating spicy food? Those flushed lips and the way his tongue moved were enough to send anyone watching spiraling into impure thoughts.
Still, based on their conversation that morning, it seemed Ressas wasn’t ready yet. Back in the spring, when he’d suddenly reappeared in Seiyad’s life, he had touched him freely—held his hand, kissed him without hesitation. But now that they were lovers, the same actions were suddenly too embarrassing? Seiyad couldn’t wrap his head around it.
The more he turned it over, the less sense it made, and a subtle frustration settled in his chest. Was he the only one burning up like this? Was he the only one this restless, this desperate? And even more baffling was Ressas’s reasoning. Claiming to be shy now that they were lovers completely contradicted how he’d acted after they first confessed. Back then, he had clung to Seiyad like a man possessed, practically swallowing his breath, saying not to regret it later—as if he’d devour him whole.
Seiyad tried to puzzle it out, but eventually gave up. All these thoughts and frustrations lost their meaning when he remembered the desolate ruin Ressas had seen in death. Ressas had lived buried in guilt and sorrow for so long—perhaps what he saw on the other side had changed him in ways Seiyad couldn’t fully grasp.
And in the end, it was thanks to Ressas that Seiyad could even afford to think idle thoughts like this. So he decided to let him be. If Ressas needed time, Seiyad would give it. Waiting wasn’t hard. He wasn’t exactly the patient type, but he’d spent a lifetime enduring. Swallowing his feelings came naturally by now.
…Still, that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to tempt him a little.
Just as he reached that conclusion, Ressas, who’d been walking a few paces ahead, came to an abrupt stop. The peaceful calm that had surrounded him shifted in an instant, his expression sharpening as he erased all presence. He glanced back at Seiyad and whispered quietly.
“They’re nearby. We should find a good position.”
His movements as he scanned for cover were fluid, natural—like second nature. In hunting, it was crucial to blend into the surroundings. Picking the right spot was everything. After that, it was a test of endurance. Not that Seiyad needed to worry—he could kill a beast without a bow or blade, simply using his own power.
But since Ressas wanted this to be a true hunt, Seiyad had every reason to play along. He gave a slight nod and settled silently beside him. Crouching his broad frame behind snow-covered thickets and dense trees, he disappeared into the forest. In a landscape blanketed in white, their fur-lined clothes made them blend in remarkably well.
“I didn’t know you could hunt.”
The two crouched side by side, barely an arm’s reach apart, gazing at each other. Seiyad finally voiced the question that had lingered in his mind since earlier. Ressas smiled faintly.
“Everything I know, I learned from Eid. Compared to you, I’m still leagues behind.”
Even saying that, his face lit up with unmistakable warmth. Seiyad narrowed his eyes. He had no memory of ever teaching him. So Ressas must have been referring to his so-called ‘first life.’
A strange, unwelcome feeling coiled beneath Seiyad’s ribs like a snake.
