* * *

When he woke up, he was always alone.

Every night, he dreamed the same nightmare and saw the same person in it.

Kaindel muttered these words as he ran a hand through his hair, the motion brisk and neat.

“Now that I think about it, lately, I see him even when I’m awake. It’s nice—I don’t need to drink to see him anymore.”

I immediately grasped what he meant.

Before, he only saw me when he was drunk. But now, even when sober, he saw me.

So what I saw in Aiden Village was real. Kaindel was truly plagued by hallucinations and voices.

The cause remained unknown.

I recalled the Kaindel who used to rely on the pain of his injuries to ground himself in reality.

Had he thought I was a hallucination that day, too?

The fact that he couldn’t distinguish between reality and illusion suggested that calling him mad wasn’t simply an insult but an accurate observation.

I snapped out of my thoughts and blinked.

The oppressive weight on my legs eased with the sudden shift in mood.

My breathing steadied.

The shadow play of Kaindel against the partition came to an end.

Freed from the specters of the past, I returned to the present.

The ringing in my ears ceased abruptly.

I resolved that losing my composure over Kaindel was a bad habit I needed to break from now on.

“This is it. Not as interesting a story as you’d expect, is it?”

His tone carried a faint smile, though it was as steady as when he started, devoid of emotion.

I looked at Kaindel, who shrugged nonchalantly, and released my lower lip, which I hadn’t realized I’d been biting.

Absentmindedly, I fiddled with the tip of the pen that had gone cold in my grip.

Kaindel had finished his long confession disguised as a story.

I had no idea what kind of reaction he wanted from me.

As a priest, how was I supposed to respond?

Should I offer comfort? Suggest a way to escape his nightmares?

I wasn’t sure.

So, I decided to do nothing.

Instead, I resolved to indulge my curiosity, a continuation of an earlier question.

[Did you love him?]

Looking back, this was a question I had often asked Kaindel in every moment we shared.

His answers had always been different, but I couldn’t stop myself from asking.

For no specific reason—perhaps I’d sensed the cracks in our relationship without realizing it.

---

“Why do you want to leave with me?”

“Does the reason matter?”

“Yes, it matters to me.”

“That’s difficult.”

And so, in the autumn five years ago.

“Kaindel, do you like me?”

“I’m not sure.”

And in the winter of that same year.

“Do you love me?”

“Of course I do. I love you.”

“But.”

“Love and power are separate things.”

And then, three years later, in the spring.

I had asked him again about his love, and Kaindel had answered.

Now, he seemed to mull over my question for a moment before rubbing his face with both hands.

“…Yes.”

A rough, hoarse voice broke the silence, uttering a word of affirmation laden with indescribable weight.

It was a stark contrast to how easily he had nodded to the same question in the past.

This time, his response came after a long hesitation, a novel experience in itself.

“I love you.”

The words he added weren’t in the past tense—they were in the present.

Strangely enough, he didn’t even append “that person” to his statement.

It was a pure, unequivocal present tense.

That single omission sent a wave of heat surging into my previously calm earlobes.

A sudden headache struck, and my face contorted.

My fingers, gripping the pen, turned white from the pressure.

“I love you.”

I unconsciously rolled the unfamiliar answer on my tongue and bit the inside of my cheek out of habit.

Then, abruptly, I stood up.

Even though Kaindel hadn’t yet ended his confession with a prayer, I moved.

I desperately wanted to leave the confessional, where it was just the two of us.

Thankfully, I had a reasonable excuse—the allotted confession time was over.

[The Lord has heard your words.]

I hastily scrawled the ending line, ensuring I didn’t forget the final farewell.

It was partly because I didn’t want Kaindel to find my abrupt exit suspicious.

My plan was to flee and cool my head in the garden.

Just as I glanced at Kaindel, who remained seated behind the partition, and opened the door, his voice stopped me.

“Wait…”

Kaindel suddenly called out to me, following closely. The proximity startled me so much that my heart nearly leapt out of my mouth. I thought he had agreed to end the confession without protest while I fumbled in panic. I hadn’t anticipated him holding me back like this.

In my haste to turn around, I swallowed incorrectly, causing a coughing fit.

I pounded my chest with my fist to stop the coughing and raised my chin.

Through blurred vision, I saw Kaindel standing under the light, breathing heavily.

Under the light, he looked… uneasy.

His eyes shimmered like rippling water, brimming with tension.

It was an expression wholly different from the one I had imagined during the confession.

Was he looking at me like this earlier? H

is voice had been so calm.

Suppressing the questions bubbling up inside me, I pressed my still-burning earlobes with my palm and waited for the words Kaindel seemed to be hesitating over.

At that moment, the sound of footsteps approached us.

“Ah?”

The source of the sound turned out to be Owen, standing with his arms crossed.

He glanced at me with a welcoming look before his expression soured upon noticing Kaindel.

It was as if he had seen someone he wasn’t supposed to.

“What’s this about?”

“It’s been a while, Owen.”

Kaindel immediately composed himself when Owen finally spoke after a tense silence.

His lips curled into a smile, his eyes folding elegantly—like a painter’s delicate strokes.

The anxiety he had shown me moments earlier was completely gone.

Owen raised a brow and gestured toward me with his head.

“It’s good to see you too, but I’m currently with him.”

He didn’t use my name, probably sensing the delicate air surrounding us.

“…We had plans.”

It was a lie.

Owen and I hadn’t made any arrangements.

It had been days since we last saw each other.

But understanding his intent in lying to Kaindel, I silently walked over to stand by his side, supporting his claim.

“If Kaindel’s business is done, may I take him now?”

“Wait.”

Kaindel fixed his gaze on me with a tightly controlled smile, looking down as if to plead.

It was a demeanor I, as Ein, had never seen before.

“Priest…”

“…Yes?”

“Can you spare me more of your time?”

I opened my mouth but no sound came out, stunned by the unexpected request.

I had already spent an hour listening to his confession, not to mention our prior meetings.

What else could he possibly want?

“Oh, no, no, he’s busy,” Owen interjected with a grin, his arm slung casually over my shoulder.

“Why don’t we save catching up for another time?”

Without waiting for a response, Owen turned me around and began leading me away, leaving Kaindel behind.

The boldness in his demeanor seemed to infect me, and I let my body relax as I matched his stride.

The lingering floral scent in the air faded with each step.

Once we were far enough, Owen leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“What’s he doing here?”

“Well…”

I glanced back at Kaindel, who stood frozen, watching us from the distance.

Lowering my voice to a whisper, I recounted everything that had happened—the conversation I overheard between Viscount Chernian and his group, Kaindel receiving my letter and coming to the temple, and his sudden interest in me.

Originally, I had planned to handle this alone, but with Owen involved, it seemed he had to know the details.

After listening quietly to my lengthy explanation, Owen let out a dry laugh.

“You’re too naive for your own good, Isaac. Why stir up trouble like this?”

“And you’d ignore it if you heard something like that?”

“Well… I suppose I’d have sent the letter too.”

When I pouted, Owen nodded in reluctant agreement, scratching his chin.

“So, what’s the plan now?”

He ruffled his hair in frustration, steering the conversation back to the issue at hand.

* * *