* * *
While Vivisian was holding his hand over Hesia’s chattering mouth, Haen was looking at the information gathered after a persistent search.
It would have been much easier if Herel had cooperated, but he was currently confined to the underground prison.
Of course, even if he hadn’t been imprisoned, Herel would never have helped Haen.
The desk was a mess of all sorts of documents, a sight hard to believe from someone who normally prided himself on being neat.
The white papers scattered all over the desk were densely packed with information.
There were documents summarizing the speculation about Vivisian’s resurrection, the reasons supporting it, the testimonies of those who claimed to have seen Vivisian, and his subsequent movements.
Naturally, Haen didn’t believe everything written in the documents.
Believing that Vivisian might have resurrected was different from believing unverified stories.
Haen let down his neatly tied golden hair.
His head hurt a bit from absorbing too much information at once.
Haen, who had been resting his hand on the desk, raised it to rub his feverish forehead, then bowed his head and let out a heavy sigh.
“The quality of the information is not very good.”
For a moment, Herel’s face came to mind, but Haen scoffed and dismissed him.
If Herel offered to help him, it wouldn’t be a genuine offer of assistance.
It would be something else entirely, perhaps trying to make him drift further away from Vivisian.
Herel’s feelings for him went beyond mere hatred. In any case, there was no reason for such a Herel to step forward and help him.
Haen felt around on the desk and picked up a bottle of strong whiskey.
The act of drinking straight from the bottle, without pouring it into a glass, betrayed his frustration.
Acknowledging the truth and being annoyed by it were two separate things.
Haen opened his mouth and exhaled sharply.
The pungent smell of alcohol spread through the air.
Haen lowered the hand that was rubbing his forehead to cover his eyes, paused to compose himself, and then looked at the documents again.
How many of these were actually true?
If he was unlucky, they might all be wrong.
Thinking reasonably that such a possibility existed, Haen narrowed his eyes.
The headache that had relentlessly pursued him since that day, eight years ago, was acting up again.
He had consulted several physicians hailed as masters of medicine.
None of them could resolve Haen’s headache or the unyielding phantom of Vivisian that mocked him.
He had even held a knife to a physician’s throat, but all he heard was the trembling voice saying that the problem was Haen himself.
“Even a dog walking by could figure that much out.”
Haen chuckled and shook his head at the diagnosis, which seemed ridiculous even now.
If he turned his head slightly now, Vivisian was right there.
Instead of looking at the phantom of Vivisian, Haen focused his gaze on one document.
“…Anyway, Vivi, you are now the Royal Consort of the Prince of the Merien Duchy…”
This was not information Haen had purchased, but information sent by one of the people he had dispatched everywhere.
The borders were so strictly guarded that the person had not been able to enter the Duchy to confirm it directly, and it was a very preposterous claim from the Merien Duchy.
However, he couldn’t simply ignore it.
He had to be open to all possibilities to find Vivisian.
And currently, the Prince of the Merien Duchy could only be that young boy, Hesia.
Considering that, the information wasn’t entirely strange.
Of course, that didn’t mean he wanted to believe it.
The information that his close friend had become the Royal Consort of a Prince wasn’t something he particularly wanted to believe.
“Vivi? The Consort of that little kid, Hesia Merien?”
Unlike the other pieces of information that didn’t particularly catch his attention, this one was exceptionally prominent.
Swallowing an emotion that could be annoyance or confusion, Haen tightly crumpled the document.
Haen, who casually watched his handprints appear on the pristine white paper, turned his body.
Vivisian, dressed neatly, was standing there.
Even though he knew that ‘Vivisian’ would not answer his question, Haen asked reflexively.
“Vivi, is what’s written here true?”
Vivisian tilted his head at the question, asked in a deeply subdued voice.
He slowly blinked in that state, then, with a smiling face, gestured as if asking him to come closer.
Captivated like a person under a spell, Haen approached Vivisian.
And the moment Haen stood before him, Vivisian smiled innocently, as if he had been waiting, and plucked out his heart.
The frantically beating heart fell to the floor, and even though Haen knew this was his fantasy, he reached out his hand.
The moment his fingers were about to touch it, Vivisian dispersed.
Nothing grazed his fingertips.
When he lowered his head, both the heart and the bloodstain that had been soaking the rug had vanished.
Even though he knew he had fallen for a hallucination again, Haen’s expression remained calm.
The only indication that he was disturbed was the fact that the document, which had already been crumpled, was now nearly a rag.
“…I guess I have no choice but to ask Herel.”
He hesitated because given Herel’s personality, he probably wouldn’t willingly tell the truth.
As for torturing him to find the truth…
Doing that would make Vivisian dislike him even more than he already did, and Haen didn’t want that.
“He probably hates me enough as it is… Even more? That seems a bit much, doesn’t it?”
Haen muttered calmly and looked down at the tattered document with an indifferent face.
His pale fingers began to smooth out the paper rag.
Of course, nothing changed.
Paper that has been crumpled once can never be perfectly flattened.
Haen looked blankly at the marks that would never disappear, no matter what he did, and smiled faintly.
“Vivi, did you know I would be like this?”
Did Vivisian know that Haen would be left alone to endure a suffering that was incomprehensible despair?
In the past, he would have likely been certain that Vivisian had known, just to survive, and would have insulted Vivisian with such irrational fighting spirit, thinking that no one wished for his downfall more than Vivisian.
But now, Haen didn’t do that.
The miserable man, who looked like the portrait of someone who had given up everything, turned his gaze out the window.
“Ah, I’m particularly exhausted today. Maybe it’s because I saw such ridiculous claims.”
It was strange.
He felt like he was continuing a tedious fight with no end and no victory, simply by being alive.
Perhaps Vivisian had been feeling all the emotions Haen was suffering from all along.
Otherwise, he wouldn’t have died so easily eight years ago.
Haen, who had been dazedly tracing the crumpled part of the document, frowned.
If he followed his heart, he would rush to the Merien Duchy right now and confirm the situation with his own eyes.
But since there was no concrete proof, even he couldn’t act recklessly.
“Alright. First, I’ll gather a few more pieces of information. It won’t be too late to go then…”
At least, in Haen’s opinion, it wouldn’t be too late to gather more information confirming Vivisian’s presence in the Merien Duchy before making a move.
Naturally, that was the arrogance born of ignorance.
The arrogance of one who didn’t know that Vivisian would turn his back on the world without an ounce of regret after spending the promised ‘one year,’ and that he wouldn’t even be able to harbor lingering attachment, let alone hatred.
But the God who supposedly watched over humanity, as always, did not intervene to correct this common human mistake.
He merely remained enshrined as a statue in a corner of the room of a terrible unbeliever, looking down upon Haen.
Haen was oblivious that the sight of God, who had no place beyond His reach, was now focused on him, and continued to drink alcohol.
Meanwhile, the empty bottle slipped from Haen’s grip.
The thick rug absorbed all the noise the bottle should have made upon falling.
Haen repeatedly opened and closed his empty hand after dropping the bottle.
“My friend. I feel like we’ll have a lot to talk about when we meet again. What do you think?”
‘We haven’t seen each other in such a long, long time.’
Haen mumbled, staring at some point in the air, as if Vivisian were right in front of him.
That monologue did not end until the sun rose and the morning light broke.
There was no one in this castle who didn’t know that Haen had been suffering from madness since Vivisian’s death.
Therefore, the knights guarding the office door silently carried out their duties, even when the monologue, which sounded like a conversation with someone inside, continued for a very long time.
It was a form of surveillance—not to protect a man named Haen from threats, but to protect people from the threat that Haen posed.
The knights who had been guarding the door all night tapped the shoulders of the colleagues who had come to relieve them.
Some shook their heads slightly, indicating that Haen’s condition was very poor.
The newly arrived knights frowned at the reaction.
“How did things get this bad?”
The knights who had finished their shift headed back to their rooms, leaving behind the voice of someone sighing in lament.
And one of them, after locking the door so no one could enter, wrote a report to the master who had sent him there.
It looked like a simple letter of greeting, but it was a report written in a code only they knew.
[Haen De Winter’s madness has worsened.
Confirmed to still be seeing Vivisian’s phantom.
Confirmation is necessary, but it appears he knows of Vivisian’s survival.
Please confirm this matter.]
* * *
