* * *
Kaindel followed Alexander’s words and visited the temple for the first time in a while, but he gained little from it.
Unfortunately, his visit coincided with the training period for novice priests, leaving the temple too busy to accommodate him properly.
In the end, the information he obtained wasn’t particularly useful, but his dealings with Alexander continued.
Each time Alexander brought him information, Kaindel would offer something he knew in return, keeping the exchange going.
Officially, it was a trade, but the truth was that Alexander was simply fascinated by the stories Kaindel knew—stories unknown to the public.
They met regularly at John Snow.
If either of them was too busy, their meetings were postponed, but they tried to stick to a set schedule as much as possible.
Through Alexander, Kaindel could stay informed about the king’s movements and the state of high society without having to meet Kerelona directly.
“How about we release this story?”
“Release it?”
“The power of public opinion is greater than you think. Isn’t that precisely why the princess is trying to involve the Hero in her plans?”
“So, what you’re suggesting is… that we expose everything before she has the chance to act?”
“Yes, exactly.”
A few days ago, Alexander had proposed something that stuck in Kaindel’s mind.
He wanted to reveal the existence of the patronage party and expose the fact that a hidden figure was among the Hero’s companions.
He was convinced that doing so would turn public sentiment against both the king and the princess.
It wasn’t a bad idea, so Kaindel had decided to observe the situation a bit longer before making a move.
But while his dealings with Alexander were steadily taking shape, his search for Isa had made no progress at all.
It was as if Isa had vanished into thin air, leaving no trace behind.
Even after deploying people at the port, they had come up empty-handed.
Not even in Aiden Village, where he had hoped to find someone resembling Isa, had yielded any useful leads.
…Or perhaps, there was one.
Kaindel, lost in thought, suddenly paused.
Now that he thought about it, there was a boy he had met in Aiden who had said something odd—something about a teacher who had taught him to read.
The boy had mentioned that his teacher’s hair wasn’t white or black, but somewhere in between.
And that the teacher was male.
A man with gray hair.
It should have been suspicious to anyone listening, but at the time, Kaindel had dismissed it as nothing more than a child’s ramblings.
He had been too distracted to pay it any mind.
“But that teacher left Aiden…”
Could he have left and gone somewhere else?
Kaindel, who had been lounging on a sofa tucked away in a corner of John Snow, stopped idly tapping his foot and straightened up.
The lingering haze of intoxication vanished in an instant.
If the teacher the boy spoke of was the very person Kaindel had been searching for—if he had already left Aiden before Kaindel got there—then everything made sense.
But if he had left, where had he gone?
There were no traces of Isa moving anywhere, and no carriages had been found transporting a man with gray hair.
Faced with yet another dead end, Kaindel brought his drink to his lips.
The more his senses dulled, the less he felt the headache. Better an upset stomach than being tormented by hallucinations and phantom voices.
He hadn’t touched gambling yet, but the reason he kept coming back to John Snow was simple—he had started to enjoy the noisy atmosphere.
He liked that no one here paid him any special attention, that he could blend in as just another face in the crowd. Here, it didn’t matter how he looked to others.
“…I’m exhausted.”
“Then why don’t we step outside for a bit?”
Maybe he had been thinking too much while drunk.
Just as a faint ringing began to buzz in his ears, someone approached him.
He looked up at the voice, only to see a man with nearly white hair smiling at him.
“So, what do you say? Want to go outside?”
Kaindel couldn’t understand why this man was suddenly suggesting they step out.
More than that, he disliked how he was speaking in such an irritatingly close proximity.
His nausea only worsened, as if the alcohol was rising to his throat.
He pressed a hand against his stomach and finally responded.
“Who are you?”
“We’ve already met four times, but I suppose you don’t remember.”
“I asked who you are.”
“Isa.”
“….”
Isa?
The familiar name made Kaindel’s green eyes flicker for a moment.
But as soon as he took a proper look at the man’s face, the glimmer faded.
That was a name that didn’t belong to him.
Seeing Kaindel’s unimpressed reaction, the man tilted his head, pretending to be harmless.
“Or was it Ashi?”
“You don’t even know your own name?”
“It’s not my name.”
What was that supposed to mean?
He had just thrown out a name that didn’t suit him in the slightest, only to turn around and claim it wasn’t his.
Kaindel frowned, unable to grasp the man’s intentions.
Noticing his confusion, the man chuckled under his breath before bursting into laughter.
His voice was loud enough that even the gamblers at nearby tables began to glance over.
Wiping the tears from his eyes, the man spoke in an oddly even tone, as if pointing out something obvious.
“It’s your lover’s name.”
“…How do you know that?”
“You tend to repeat yourself when you’re drunk. How could I not know?”
“Repeat myself?”
“‘I’m sorry, Isa.’”
I’m sorry, Isa.
At those words, Kaindel felt his heart drop.
Even if it had been drunken rambling, it was a sincere apology—one of the many things he had wanted to say the moment he found Isa.
The fact that someone else had heard it before Isa himself left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Had he really let that slip in his drunken state?
For the first time, Kaindel found himself resenting the fact that a complete stranger not only knew who Isa was, but also knew about their relationship.
He had assumed that no one at John Snow, a place centered around gambling, would pay him any mind. He had let his guard down.
Seeing Kaindel clench his jaw in displeasure, the man shrugged, as if to say he meant no harm.
“You were apologizing so earnestly, it was impossible not to notice.”
“…”
“Your lover must not be treating you very well.”
However, in the moment Kaindel blinked, the man quickly composed his expression and took a step closer to him.
Then, as if he were about to press his body against Kaindel’s, he leaned forward.
Now that their eyes were level, Kaindel could see the man’s features more clearly.
He felt guilty for even mistaking him for Isa, even for a fleeting second—they looked completely different.
Kaindel glanced up at the man, who had the audacity to even utter Isa’s name, and swallowed a sigh.
If he stayed still like this, he knew exactly what would happen next.
He wasn’t naive enough to pretend otherwise.
His alcohol-clouded mind whispered that even a momentary pleasure wouldn’t be so bad.
Besides, the person in front of him was a man—just like Isa.
Perhaps he would be a suitable outlet for all the emotions building up inside him.
But then, his lips stiffened.
The more he allowed the man to come closer, the worse the pounding in his head became.
He didn’t want this.
Not unless the person in front of him was Isa.
It wasn’t about gender—it was about Isa himself.
He must be out of his mind, entertaining such useless thoughts. He really needed to stop drinking.
In an attempt to clear his fading consciousness, Kaindel let the glass in his hand slip, shattering it against the ground.
The sharp sound of breaking glass snapped him back to reality, and he let out a scoff.
“Why is it,” he muttered, “that worthless people keep bringing up Isa’s name?”
“…Huh?”
The man—who had just been labeled as “worthless”—let out a breathless laugh, as if stunned.
Kaindel, watching the way he hesitated as if about to argue back, lost interest and looked away.
“Do you think I acted like your lover because I wanted to?” the man grumbled.
“You were the one who kept drawing attention to me… And my real name isn’t Isa, it’s Ian. Not that different, really…”
As if wounded by Kaindel’s indifference, Ian’s voice gradually lost its strength.
His attempts at defiance wavered until they finally came to a stop.
At that moment, something Kaindel had heard at the temple resurfaced in his mind, for no reason at all—suddenly, out of nowhere.
“Oh, right. There was a priest with unusual eye color. What was his name again? Ein? Ian? Something like that.”
* * *
