* * *

Even as a prisoner, noble blood remained noble.

The dungeon provided the bare minimum necessities—but that was all.

Vivisian was thin, emaciated even, yet he still looked flawless.

Haen gazed at that cold, unfeeling face under the small flickering flame before turning away.

Shortly after Haen left the prison, Vivisian was released as well.

Surprisingly, he didn’t seem particularly moved by seeing the outside world again after so many years.

Under the moonlight, he stood tall—his body frail, but his posture unwavering.

His disheveled black hair fluttered in the warm summer breeze.

Annoyed by the strands obscuring his vision, Vivisian raised a hand and pushed them back, revealing his bloodless, pale face.

Haen had deliberately come at dawn, when no one would be around, assuming the man’s appearance would be unsightly after years in prison.

But seeing him now, he regretted it.

Had he known, he would have released him in broad daylight for all to see.

The man before him wasn’t filthy or pitiful—he was dignified, almost tragic.

“…Ridiculous.”

Haen knew exactly what kind of monster Vivisian was.

He killed animals, hurt people, destroyed rare medicinal herbs during a plague, stole valuables, desecrated ancestral graves.

The list of his vile acts was endless.

He had thought he would spit in his face. That he would curse him without hesitation.

Time may dull most emotions, but his hatred for Vivisian had been preserved, like something sealed in formaldehyde—unchanging, eternal.

Yet his heart pounded out of rhythm.

Haen didn’t know what this feeling was.

But he knew one thing for certain—

He couldn’t let Vivisian go.

For the future of this territory.

And, and… the other reason—I have no idea.

Ignoring the unpleasant feeling that clung to him, Haen spoke.

“Tomorrow, I’m going to make you a duke.”

“Alright.”

“But in exchange, from now on, you have to follow everything I say.”

“As long as it’s nothing weird.”

“You can’t leave the ducal estate.”

“I don’t mind.”

Even when Haen deliberately tried to provoke him, Vivisian simply shrugged.

No matter what he heard, he always kept a calm face.

The only time his emotions were truly visible was when he looked up at the night sky.

Joy, despair, rage.

It was more than just the relief of being out of prison—there was something else, something strange about those emotions.

Watching the bitterness settle over Vivisian’s pale face, Haen reached out and extinguished the candle’s flame.

During his time in prison, Vivisian had never harmed himself or attempted suicide.

More than anyone else, he wanted to live.

If handled well, he could be used as a spare.

‘If he follows my words properly, I’ll send him somewhere peaceful and secluded once I find a suitable branch family.’

That was what Haen thought.

Completely unaware that Vivisian’s only wish was death, he indulged in his own arrogant thoughts.

Truly… such arrogant thoughts.

✽ ✽ ✽

Haen led me to a guest room.

As soon as I stepped inside, he shut the door like he had been waiting for it.

Striding across the room, he walked straight to the window, pulling back the curtains and swinging open the tightly shut panes.

I could feel the stagnant air shift.

In prison, the only scents that came through the bars were dampness and rot.

But here, when the window opened, the fragrance of flowers filled the air.

The scent from the garden rode the wind and brushed against my cheek.

These were things I could never enjoy in prison.

With my eyes half-lowered, I took in the scent of flowers.

Then, Haen called my name, making me lift my gaze.

The moment our eyes met, he began speaking as if he had been waiting for this.

“Your original room hasn’t been cleaned, so just sleep here for tonight.”

“Alright.”

“I had the bathwater drawn for you. If it’s too cold, call someone to change it with warm water.”

“Alright.”

My responses were obedient, yet devoid of any emotion.

Haen frowned slightly. But since I neither refused nor avoided looking at him, he didn’t press further.

I knew he was looking at me with dissatisfaction, yet I only smiled.

As if glaring at me would change anything.

What was he going to do—kill me?

That would be preferable, honestly.

I pushed aside the unspoken thought and shifted my gaze past Haen’s shoulder.

Beyond him stretched the night sky.

Back in prison, the only thing I could see was the sky, so I looked at it whenever I could.

Yet somehow, it looked different now.

As I stood still, staring up, a calm voice reached me.

“Tomorrow, I’ll have someone bring a wheelchair. Use it to come to the meeting room.”

“A wheelchair? I’m a saint. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Precisely because you’re a saint—that’s why you can’t. Saints are prone to bouts of insanity. And there are plenty of people who believe you went mad and committed terrible acts. To them, you’re not a saint who emerged from prison unscathed. You’re a prince whose body has suffered from years of confinement.”

Even though his voice carried a faint trace of amusement, Haen was firm.

“If you want to become a duke, gaining sympathy is the fastest way.”

“Oh? So you’re telling me to beg for pity now?”

It was a novel idea.

I let out a dry chuckle and rolled my eyes toward where Haen stood.

He was staring straight at me, not once looking away.

If someone saw us, they might think he was gazing at me with deep affection.

How passionate.

Though not with love—only with hatred.

I let out a quiet laugh before wiping the expression off my face, leaving behind only a faint, lingering trace.

“Haen, what are you so afraid of that you can’t take your eyes off me? You look at me like I’m some reckless puppy that’ll cause a disaster the moment you glance away.”

I shook my head, my tone lighthearted.

My words were playful, drawn out casually.

Yet my expression remained calm, unfitting of the teasing remark.

Haen examined me carefully, as if picking apart every little detail, before responding just as lightly.

“I’m worried that one day, you’ll take revenge and kill us all.”

His voice was casual, but his words were not.

They were far too heavy, and they made me pause.

“Revenge?”

It wasn’t because his words hit too close to home.

It was because they were so far from anything I had ever considered that I stopped in sheer disbelief.

“Revenge, huh….”

I rolled the word around on my tongue.

Bitter, astringent—an unappealing taste.

I rubbed my chin, sinking into thought.

If I had spent only half the time in prison that I actually had, maybe I would have dreamt of revenge.

But when all you have for over five years is darkness, stench, a sliver of light, and despair, you stop thinking altogether.

If I had clung to revenge, perhaps I would still be burning with that desire now.

Just like how, even after leaving that place, I still find myself longing for death.

But for better or worse, I have no interest in revenge.

‘A little unfortunate for me, perhaps.’

With that thought, I murmured to myself.

“I’m not interested in revenge.”

I suffered through all that hell for crimes I didn’t commit.

If I went on some rampage of vengeance, it would only fuel my already notorious reputation.

And frankly, I was sick of my infamous name.

“Then what are you interested in?”

“Hmm. One thing’s for sure—it’s nothing that would be bad for you.”

“…Are you planning to leave?”

“It’s something like that.”

I muttered calmly, my gaze fixed on some distant point in the air.

Before I met Haen in that prison, whenever I died, I always woke up at the same moment.

Over and over again.

That meant if I killed myself, I would likely just wake up at that exact same point again.

I had no desire to repeat everything from the beginning.

So for now, I would simply go along with things, do some work, and wait for Haen to kill me.

Haen studied me in silence for a moment before turning to leave.

Not long after he exited, I peeled off my tattered, prison-stained clothes and stepped into the bathtub.

The water had cooled, but it wasn’t too cold to bear.

I sat there for a long time.

Yet even then, the damp, musty prison scent clinging to my skin wouldn’t wash away.

Even though I had left that place, it still felt like I was trapped there.

Instead of lying in bed, I moved a chair to the window, where the garden’s scent was stronger.

I curled up in it, half-slumped, and drifted off to sleep.

But even as I dozed, the sound of rats and insects scurrying around filled my ears.

And when I woke, the hallucinations remained.

I wasted my morning listening to that sickening, winding sound, like an old music box running out of steam.

Knock, knock—.

I was still curled in my chair, staring blankly out the window, when a crisp knock sounded at the door.

Glancing at the door briefly, I kept my eyes on the window and said, “Come in.”

The moment my permission was given, the door opened.

A man I had never seen before stepped inside.

He had dark brown hair and hazel eyes.

And in his hands, he held a wheelchair.

“Who are you?”

“Yes, my lord. My name is Asis, and from now on, I will be serving as your attendant. Please feel free to give me any command.”

I stared at the neatly composed face before lowering my gaze.

So, in the end, I really have to use a wheelchair.

Even when I shattered my ankle as a child, I never once used a wheelchair.

But after being locked up in prison for years… maybe this much is warranted?

As I hesitated and simply stared at the wheelchair, Asis seemed to assume that I was reluctant to use it.

“The Count mentioned that your health isn’t in good condition, so I brought this along just in case… Do you not wish to use it?”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll use it. I was just lost in thought.”

I walked over slowly and plopped into the wheelchair.

Asis carefully draped a blanket over my lap before gently pushing the chair forward.

Resting my elbow on my thigh and propping my chin on my hand, I sank into contemplation.

Because of that, I only realized we had arrived at the conference room a beat too late.

Ah, right.

As I lifted my head, I caught sight of the expressions of those who had come out of the room to greet me.

They all looked… peculiar.

* * *