* * *
Mujin had thought the same thing before, but hearing it from Vivisian himself made her feel different.
He was the kind of man who had a way of making others speechless.
Mujin let out a quiet laugh, and as if taking that as his cue, Vivisian spoke offhandedly.
“Well, if you’re planning to head toward the Merien Principality Principality, then I suppose you won’t have much reason to get tangled with the Empire again.”
“…How did you know?”
“I can tell from your accent. I may be in prison now, but once upon a time, I was the heir of a duke. I was taught a lot of things. I still have traces of my noble accent, don’t I? It’s the same for you.”
Vivisian spoke lightly, almost jokingly, before leaning his head against the cold stone wall.
He glanced at Mujin, who was rubbing her arms against the chill, and let out a deep breath.
“To be honest, I don’t really care what happens to me… but if I stay here, Sia wouldn’t like it.”
It didn’t sound like empty words—he truly seemed indifferent to his own fate.
The man, uninterested in his own well-being, ran his fingers along the rough stone wall and smiled.
“If you take me out of this prison, I’d be grateful.”
On her way here, Mujin had assumed that getting Vivisian out of prison wouldn’t be easy.
Not because of his crimes, nor because of the prison itself, but because he simply didn’t seem to have the will to live.
Yet now, he had readily agreed to leave.
Mujin briefly wondered who could have influenced him enough to change his mind.
“Sia has no choice but to be soft toward you, because you’re the only one who’s ever been kind to him. But why is it that you’re so kind to Sia?”
“Because he’s a child.”
All children deserve to be loved.
Vivisian answered casually, then let out a chuckle at Mujin’s hesitant expression.
After laughing for a while, he coughed, then spoke again in a softer voice.
“I’m the same as Sia. As you know, I’ve been imprisoned for years. During that time, there weren’t many people who came looking for me. And the few who did… all wanted to see me in despair. Sia was the first person who was different. Even before I was imprisoned, everyone in this territory despised me.”
He added, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, that he couldn’t help but be kind to someone so innocent and pure.
It was a simple reason, yet a weighty one.
One lonely soul had recognized another.
Just like wounded beasts licking each other’s wounds, they had instinctively understood each other’s solitude.
“Did you pity Sia?”
“I’m in no position to pity anyone. And I’ve never pitied him. He’s just… lovable. I care about him because he’s fun to talk to. He speaks well, expresses himself clearly.”
Vivisian, in a relaxed tone, said that he hadn’t laughed as much in years as he had with Sia.
After that, he fell silent.
His gaze drifted toward the narrow prison window, but nothing could be read from his expression.
“I’d like to wait until you’ve recovered, but we don’t have that luxury. I’m sorry, but we’ll have to move tomorrow. I’ll send a doctor, so you can rest once we get there.”
Though no one guarded this prison, staying any longer increased the risk of being discovered.
Mujin’s offhand remark as she left made Vivisian chuckle faintly.
“How considerate.”
His short reply lingered in Mujin’s ears as she walked away.
Navigating the complicated, winding prison corridors, she relied solely on the flickering candlelight.
The rhythmic sound of her footsteps mixed with the occasional drip of water.
As she thought of a suitable place to send Vivisian, Mujin rolled her eyes in thought.
“Somewhere far from the ducal house and the principality…”
A village with few residents, no tourist attractions, and not many travelers.
There were a lot of conditions to consider, but that actually made it easier to decide.
With an appropriate location in mind, Mujin finally exited the prison.
The sky, once dark, had brightened considerably.
She thought to herself that she should sleep in a little later today and quietly returned to the castle.
At that moment, in the solitary cell, Vivisian absentmindedly touched his chest, recalling the visitor who had come to see him.
He never believed he was fated to live a long life.
Even if he left prison safely, if Letiyan decided to play cruel games, he could die that very day.
Even if they left him alone, he doubted he’d live past his forties.
“Mid-thirties at best?”
It was a grim realization, as if he were predicting someone else’s lifespan.
He parted his lips as if to complain about the injustice of it all but soon fell silent.
Instead, with a somber expression, he began to hum—a lullaby his old nanny used to sing.
She had been the first and last person to ever sing him a lullaby.
That was why the only one he knew was the one from her hometown.
As he hummed the unfamiliar tune, Vivisian slowly closed his weary eyes.
‘Vivi.’
At that moment, the child who had called him by that name flashed through his mind.
If he had known the child would eventually learn everything, he would have told him himself.
He let out a rough, self-deprecating laugh at the thought.
“…I suppose I won’t see him again.”
His drowsy voice, heavy with exhaustion, faded into the silence of the prison.
And a few days later, upon hearing that Vivisian had been safely relocated, Sia kept his promise.
That very day, he told Mujin he was going to the principality.
✽ ✽ ✽
A few days had passed since then, and today, Sia was on his way to the principality with Mujin.
Before boarding the carriage, Letiyan took the child’s hand and told him to take care.
While others were moved by the duke’s kindness and warmth, Sia, who had felt nothing but discomfort from the encounter, scrubbed his hands vigorously with the handkerchief Mujin had given him as soon as he got into the carriage.
“What a dog till the very end.”
Muttering under his breath, Sia added that it would be best to throw the handkerchief away.
Mujin let out a quiet chuckle but nodded in agreement.
Instead of tucking it back into his pocket, he carelessly stuffed it into his bag.
“Sia, is it okay if we follow the schedule I mentioned earlier? It’ll be a bit tiring if we do, though. If it gets too difficult, you can tell me anytime. Just be honest about it, alright?”
“It’s fine. Honestly, I’d rather just get to the principality as soon as possible.”
Sia, distracted by something else, answered with a composure that seemed almost unbelievable for someone as naturally sensitive as he was.
Mujin wondered what he was thinking, but Sia was simply staring blankly out the window, lost in the sight of the scenery flashing past as the carriage moved.
Mujin, following his gaze, observed him carefully.
“Is there something outside?”
“No, it’s just… I guess I’ll never come back here again, will I?”
“It’ll be difficult. There was already a problem once, so you probably won’t be able to leave the principality while you’re still a minor. And once you become an adult, you’ll be too busy preparing to take the throne as the next prince.”
Mujin had learned over the past few days that it was better to tell Sia the truth, even if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, rather than comfort him with a lie.
And Sia, who had already suspected as much, accepted it with a calm demeanor.
“I figured as much.”
His response was one of acceptance, yet there was a faint trace of regret in his voice.
Mujin, ever attuned to the child’s every reaction, couldn’t miss it.
He watched Sia for a moment before speaking in a lighthearted tone to make it easier for him to answer.
“Do you think you’ll miss this place?”
“Miss it?”
As if the word itself was unfamiliar, Sia rolled it around on his tongue before breaking into a small, amused smile.
“Of course not. I won’t miss this place at all. But… I think I’ll miss Vivi.”
Sia’s eyes, filled with certainty, left no room for doubt.
He cast a fleeting glance at the lively city outside, then pulled the curtain shut without hesitation.
The carriage interior darkened instantly.
Slowly, Sia closed his eyes.
His shaded face was serene, and Mujin couldn’t bring himself to disturb that peace.
“Then… do you think you’ll miss Vivi Shian?”
“A lot.”
“Because he was kind to you? But I’m kind to you too.”
“You and Vivi are different. Completely different.”
Sia’s voice, though drowsy like a child drifting into a dream, was firm, as if he knew the path he was walking.
“What should I do if I miss Vivi?”
For the first time in front of Mujin, Sia murmured something that a child his age might say, before finally succumbing to sleep.
What kind of sorrow must it be to already yearn for someone he may never see again unless the gods intervened?
Mujin, unable to fully grasp the depths of the child’s despair, closed his eyes as well.
Beyond the curtain, the sounds of people’s laughter and conversation could be heard.
But inside the carriage, an overwhelming silence filled the space, making the outside world feel distant.
The two of them, different in every way, each walked their own separate path of farewell.
One undeniable truth remained: the two people they longed for were those they could never see again—unless the gods willed it.
People called it love when, even after a long life, someone was remembered until the day they died, and they wished for that person’s happiness above all else.
And by that definition, Mujin loved Encia, and Sia loved Vivi Shian.
Different in kind, born from different circumstances, but love all the same.
At this moment, Mujin and Sia understood each other’s despair.
Mujin knew that Sia would carry the weight of his longing for Vivi Shian for the rest of his life, yet he said nothing.
There were some things in this world that, even if known, could never be spoken aloud.
* * *
