Prologue
Nigel had loved Inas for a very long time. So long, in fact, that he couldn’t even remember when it had first started—an obsessive, all-consuming love that stretched back further than memory.
Inas Idenbach had been hailed as a swordsmanship prodigy since Nigel was still a child—so gifted that even rumors of him had reached the royal capital. He had once won a sword tournament in the eastern provinces with nothing more than a chipped blade, and he had gone on to defeat every challenger that followed with ease.
Unfortunately, the life of this genius boy did not unfold smoothly. Inas’s father was a noble in name only—a baron from a completely ruined family. The man was trash who wasted his days drinking and gambling, and instead of sending young Inas off to a better household, he figured it would be more profitable to raise him and sell him off. Always lurking around high-ranking nobles, he leached money from them under the guise of “sponsorship,” most of which he blew in gambling dens.
Inas’s mother, heartbroken by her husband’s behavior, fell ill and eventually passed away. Even after her death, the man showed no sign of remorse. He caused a drunken scene at her funeral, slipped on a bridge, and died an utterly pathetic death.
By the time both of his parents were dead and he was saddled with their debt, Inas was only sixteen.
A normal sixteen-year-old boy would likely have spiraled into ruin—but Inas had a gift for the sword. Adults who had kept a close eye on him from an early age offered him a way out the moment the opportunity arose. Inas sold himself to the highest bidder.
That bidder turned out to be none other than Nigel’s father, the Duke of Magnus and the sovereign of the kingdom’s northern region: Ruder Montstein. The contract Inas signed in exchange for the duke paying off his massive debts was, for all intents and purposes, a slave contract. It bound his entire life to the ducal family.
Ruder hadn’t bought Inas out of whim or charity. He’d done it for one reason—his son, Nigel. The dukes of Magnus had long maintained their own knight order and led monster suppression campaigns in the north. However, Nigel—the only heir—was too frail to even ride a horse, let alone hold a sword. Weak or not, duty couldn’t be escaped. And so, the duke needed a loyal dog who would fight and bleed in his son’s place.
That was the true purpose behind Inas’s contract. Ruder had no intention of raising a son capable of fighting. He’d bought someone to bleed for him.
Nigel was horrified by his father’s decision. To buy a person—a boy who would be with him for the rest of his life—as though they were property? It was grotesque. There was no way this could work, and frankly, he didn’t want it to.
He understood why his father had brought Inas in, but he had no intention of getting close to the boy. He protested, cried, begged, but his father wouldn’t budge. That didn’t mean Nigel was ready to give up. He was determined to annul the contract and send the boy back.
At least, that had been the plan—until he met Inas for the first time.
A swordsmanship prodigy. An orphan. A boy who’d traded his debt for lifelong servitude. With all that in mind, Nigel had expected someone gruff and brooding—perhaps even crude. But Inas Idenbach was nothing like what he had imagined. He was tall—taller than Nigel by a good bit—and had a sharp, aloof look that somehow only emphasized how handsome he was. Sixteen, still technically a boy, though his presence already leaned toward that of a young man. As their eyes met, Inas offered a slightly awkward but warm smile.
“Hello, young master.”
“……”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Inas Idenbach.”
His voice was nothing like Nigel had expected. A little rough—likely thanks to puberty—but it scraped across Nigel’s ears and wrapped around him like static heat. The moment he heard it, something inside him snapped.
When Nigel didn’t respond, Inas shifted uncomfortably. With a sharp glance from Ruder, Inas dropped to one knee before him. He’d been good-looking from a distance, but up close, he was devastating. Nigel stared, spellbound.
“Lord Nigel.”
“……”
“Even if you don’t take a liking to me, I promise you this—I will dedicate my life, my loyalty, and my sword to you. I’ll do everything in my power to become a knight worthy of your approval.”
As if I could ever dislike you. If anything, I like you too much. That’s the real problem. I like you. I really, really like you. So much it makes my chest ache.
Nigel couldn’t say any of that out loud. Instead, he turned around and bolted.
Ruder shouted after him, furious, asking what sort of disgraceful nonsense this was. Nigel ignored him, ran to his room, and buried himself under the covers. His body, normally cold as ice, was burning hot. His cheeks refused to cool no matter how tightly he clenched the blanket.
That night, Nigel dreamed of Inas.
Inas knelt before him with a gentle smile, submissive and docile as though he’d accept anything Nigel asked. Nigel kissed him, trembling with excitement. When he woke, his underwear was soaked through—his first wet dream.
He was mortified.
Nigel had fallen for Inas the moment they met. It was absurd. Unacceptable. He was expected to marry and produce heirs—how could he possibly fall in love with a man, especially one his father had essentially bought? There was no way this could end well—for either of them.
He reaffirmed his resolve. He would send Inas back. He would never see him again.
But that same afternoon, his father said, “If he truly doesn’t please you, I’ll send him to the frontlines in Intusnica.”
The Magnus duchy was a land crawling with monsters, where battle never ceased. Every few years, a great war would break out, and even seasoned knights would fall in the blink of an eye. No matter how talented Inas was, he was still just a boy—not even knighted yet. Survival was far from guaranteed.
“I… I don’t dislike him. Just let it go. I’ll deal with it.”
“Nigel. If you want to be the Duke of Magnus, you must learn to stand beside those you dislike.”
His father, completely unaware of what Nigel was truly feeling, lectured him. Unable to speak the truth, Nigel simply nodded.
And so, Inas became Nigel’s knight. Clueless about what his young master was thinking, he loyally followed him everywhere. At first, he was only polite out of obligation, but over time, as he got to know Nigel better, his heart softened. To kneel before a boy four years younger because of a contract and a debt… even so, trust gradually appeared in Inas’s eyes.
Before they knew it, Nigel had become a duke, and Inas—his knight—stood by his side as someone truly irreplaceable. Not just publicly, but personally.
“Lord Nigel, you saved my life.”
Every time Inas spoke with the obedience of a well-trained hound, Nigel had to fight to keep his feelings hidden. He didn’t want Inas to know how much he loved him. Because their relationship, as it was now, was perfect. And Inas… Inas was the perfect knight.
Completely unaware of Nigel’s true feelings, Inas remained faithfully at his side.
Even now. Even at this very moment—until he drove his sword through Nigel’s heart.
“I… Inas?”
The sword Nigel had once gifted to Inas had pierced his own chest, leaving a gaping hole. Blood gushed out in torrents, but strangely, there was no pain. Perhaps his nerves were in shock. Everything felt distant—unreal, like a bad dream.
Maybe it’s not real. Maybe it’s just a nightmare.
Desperately clinging to that sliver of denial, Nigel glanced down at the blade buried in his chest, then back up at Inas’s face.
The boy who’d always followed and protected him now wore an expression so calm, so indifferent, it was hard to believe he’d just stabbed his master through the heart.
“Nigel.”
It was the first time Inas had ever said his name without an honorific. He always used Lord Nigel—but now it rolled off his tongue so naturally, as if he’d said it a thousand times before.
Nigel tried to move his lips. There was no pain, but something was clearly wrong. His voice wouldn’t come out.
“It’s alright, Nigel. We’ll meet again.”
With those cryptic words, Inas ripped the sword free.
Nigel’s body, now off balance, collapsed like a doll—its cotton guts ripped out and only cloth left behind.
Just before he hit the ground completely, Inas caught him around the waist.
With the last strength he could muster, Nigel looked up at him. In Inas’s pitch-black eyes was a depth of emotion Nigel had never seen before—profound, overwhelming affection. Even as he was dying, he couldn’t help but wonder.
“Why…?”
Why are you looking at me like that while you kill me?
In place of an answer, Inas kissed him.
He ground his lips against Nigel’s blood-soaked mouth. It was one-sided, short—but deeply shocking.
Nigel tried to push him away, but he couldn’t. He was trapped in Inas’s arms.
And just like that, Nigel’s world went dark.
