* * *
Those who remain in the past can never truly walk alongside those who live in the present.
But Hesia couldn’t be certain that this truth applied to him as well.
Six years had passed since then, and yet, he was still trapped in the past.
Time dulls all things—memories, affections.
Hesia had believed this, and the world had proven him right.
Except when it came to Vivisian.
Ever since the day he saw the portrait Mujin had drawn, Vivisian had remained vividly real in his dreams.
And in those dreams, he aged alongside Hesia.
He had lost count of the times he dreamt of that beautiful man with long, jet-black hair calling his name.
And the dreams where Vivisian smiled at him?
He had at least a hundred of those.
Forgetting takes time, after all.
And Vivisian would never allow Hesia to forget him.
‘Vivi, will we ever meet again?’
Not once, not even in dreams, had Vivisian answered that question.
Hesia didn’t know why he still clung to someone who had never even bid him farewell.
He let out a self-deprecating laugh, but even as he did, his heart pounded at the thought that perhaps—just perhaps—he might meet Vivisian again.
He had never been ashamed of his past as a slave.
But he had never spoken of it either.
Yet if he met Vivisian, he would ask with all his heart—do you remember that slave boy?
Would you still recognize me?
✽ ✽ ✽
It took several days of nonstop travel before he finally arrived at the Patos Desert.
And on the way there, he overheard some troubling news in a village.
“Hey, traveler. You’re alone, right? Be careful. Lately, a slave caravan has been preying on travelers. Since wanderers never stay in one place, no one makes a fuss when they go missing. Several people have already disappeared.”
The villagers here made their living off travelers heading to the Patos Desert.
They had reported the disappearances, afraid that losing travelers would harm their business, but being so far from the capital, the response had been slow.
The merchant, who had warned him, noticed the high quality of the horse he was using as collateral to rent a camel and added in a hushed tone:
“It’d be best if you didn’t go. But then again, if you were the cautious type, you wouldn’t have come to a desert where bad luck could mean death. If you’re dead set on going, hire a mercenary. Just one good mercenary should be enough.”
“A mercenary?”
“Yeah. One with a gold badge should do. It’ll cost you, but you look like you’ve got money. Think of it as paying for your life. No point in hoarding wealth if you end up sold off to a slave caravan. Can’t take money to the afterlife, can you?”
Hesia, agreeing with the merchant’s thickly accented words, left his camel in his care and went to the mercenary guild.
The situation with the slave caravan seemed to be an open secret.
As soon as the guild employee saw Hesia’s attire, she pulled out a stack of documents listing available mercenaries for the desert.
Scanning through them, Hesia pointed to one.
Compared to other gold-badged mercenaries, his record wasn’t long, but each mission was significant.
He had never failed a job, and most importantly, unlike typical mercenaries, he wasn’t foul-mouthed.
That alone earned him extra points.
The employee glanced at the chosen name and nodded.
“Yan? Understood. You’ll be in the desert for a few days, correct?”
“A week.”
“Alright. Ian just finished a mission two days ago, so you can meet him today. Are you planning to leave immediately?”
Hesia gave a brief nod. After receiving the payment, the employee gestured to a chair and asked him to wait.
About twenty minutes later, a man wearing a mask that covered half his face stepped into the guild.
Dressed in practical clothes for movement, he strolled in leisurely.
Despite his somewhat suspicious appearance, the guild staff showed no wariness.
Hesia instinctively recognized him as his hired mercenary and observed him closely.
The mercenary scanned the room before locking eyes with him.
Just as Hesia had identified him, the mercenary also seemed to realize Hesia was his employer.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips beneath the mask.
Approaching, he gave a slight nod.
“You’re Yan?”
The man was wrapped up from head to toe, his build solid.
Hesia, glancing at his sturdy frame, asked in a slightly drowsy voice.
The mercenary gave a simple nod in response.
“You can talk, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Then unless you’re planning to say something weird, talk. I don’t like feeling like I’m speaking to myself.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Yan, replying with easy compliance, glanced at Hesia before speaking again.
“Not to be overly cautious, but you look a bit tired. If it’s not urgent, why not leave tomorrow?”
“…Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine.”
Hearing the slightly softened tone, Ian let out a quiet chuckle and picked up Hesia’s belongings.
Without any more words, the two departed for the desert.
Per Hesia’s request, Ian kept up casual conversation, so there was no awkward silence between them.
But that didn’t mean they had grown close.
Ian was only speaking because Hesia had asked him to, and Hesia simply disliked silence.
They walked through the desert for quite some time.
When Ian learned it was Hesia’s first time in the desert, he set up a temporary shelter before exhaustion could hit him.
After a simple meal prepared by Ian, Hesia wandered around to take in the desert sights before heading to bed.
But it hadn’t been long before he woke from a dream.
In his dream, someone had been calling his name.
He woke up in a half-panicked state, heart pounding.
The unfamiliar surroundings made him tense, but as he took in the sight of the desert and the tent, he gradually calmed down.
“Hesia.”
A voice—somewhere, from nowhere.
Any lingering drowsiness vanished.
Hesia sat up, staring blankly into the darkness.
Traveling through the desert was no easy task.
He knew he should sleep while he had the chance, but sleep simply wouldn’t come.
Lifting a hand to cover his burning eyes, he slowly exhaled.
His face, twisted as if on the verge of tears, remained hidden beneath his cold palm.
He lay still for a long time before finally sitting up.
Stepping outside for fresh air, he spotted Ian sitting a short distance away.
The mercenary still wore his mask, showing no discomfort with it.
Does he have a massive scar or something?
Hesia rubbed his tired eyes, yawning, before muttering,
“What, do you not sleep at all?”
“Not really. I got paid to protect my employer. If something happened while I was sleeping, I’d never work in this industry again.”
Ian smiled wryly.
Hesia stood at the tent’s entrance, quietly listening. His posture was slightly awkward as he occasionally yawned.
Ian, watching him, tilted his head slightly.
“What, can’t sleep?”
“What, are you offering to sing me a lullaby?”
Hesia scoffed. Ian merely shrugged, rubbing his chin absentmindedly.
“I’m not particularly good at it, but… want me to?”
There was a teasing but not flippant tone to his words.
Hesia hesitated for a moment before letting out a quiet laugh.
“You really do anything your employer asks, huh?”
“My motto is: Treat your employer like a god.”
Though his face was hidden behind a mask, Hesia could tell Ian was smiling.
The corners of his lips, visible beneath the mask, were faintly curved.
It had been two days since they started traveling together.
In that time, Ian hadn’t asked any unnecessary questions, nor had he made any thoughtless comments.
It had only been a short while, but Hesia found him to be quite agreeable.
A skilled yet decent mercenary was hard to come by.
Ian spoke as if he would do anything for money, but he clearly wasn’t that kind of person.
He simply didn’t bother explaining himself when there was no need.
Mulling over this, Hesia absentmindedly fidgeted with his fingers inside his robe before suddenly asking,
“…Can I sit next to you?”
“You’re not going back to sleep?”
“How am I supposed to sleep when I can’t?”
His voice carried an unintended hint of petulance.
Ian chuckled under his breath and patted the spot beside him.
Not waiting for him to change his mind, Hesia quickly moved to sit down.
Plopping onto the sand, he pulled his knees up and rested his chin on them.
Wrapping his arms loosely around his legs, he openly observed Yan.
Even under the scrutiny, the mercenary simply leaned back and gazed at the night sky.
A faint scar ran along his exposed neck.
His pale skin made the mark stand out even more. It didn’t look like a cut.
What happened to him?
Hesia, blinking slowly, stared at the scar, wondering about its origin.
* * *
