* * *
“……”
After reading the letter, Kaindel sat motionless, as if he had forgotten how to breathe.
His mind felt numb, as though someone had struck the back of his head.
A cold shiver ran down his spine, as if he had been drenched in icy water.
The only reason he had been able to maintain even a semblance of composure until now was the faint hope that Isa would come back.
Even if he was gone for now, Kaindel had believed he would return once he sorted out his feelings.
He thought finding Isa was only a matter of time, not that he had lost him forever.
But.
“It’s all in the past now.”
Kaindel read and reread that sentence in the letter.
‘It’s all in the past.’
Isa had labeled their relationship as something of the past.
He was saying they no longer had a future together.
The raw emotions Isa had poured into the letter were glaringly clear, as if he was baring everything he had suppressed until now.
“From Isaac Winter, who once loved you.”
Kaindel repeated the last line of the letter to himself.
But no matter how many times he read it, the content didn’t change.
‘Who once loved.’
Isa’s feelings remained firmly in the past.
“Ah…”
A faint groan escaped Kaindel’s lips.
His hands clenched the letter tightly, the veins on the back of his hand standing out.
The crumpled letter trembled pathetically in his grip before slipping from his hand and falling to the ground.
As Kaindel watched the letter drop, he slowly brought his hands to his face.
His distorted expression disappeared behind his trembling fingers.
Emotions surged uncontrollably.
He had thought Isa would never leave him.
No, he had thought it impossible to be abandoned.
Even if they ever let go, Kaindel believed it would be his choice to let go first.
Because Isa loved him.
Because being loved by Isa had always seemed so natural to Kaindel.
“Why…”
But it was a delusion.
That Isa would wait for him.
That Isa, who had left, would someday return.
That Isa wouldn’t abandon him.
All of it was a delusion.
“Why didn’t I realize it?”
Now, Kaindel was the one left behind, like an antique no one wanted.
The one who clung to the past and made promises for the future without seeing the present—that was him.
And it was only now, after being left alone, that he understood this.
His hand brushed over his swollen eyes, then moved to his lips.
He raked his disheveled hair back and scratched his neck hard.
Even as his skin turned red, he didn’t stop.
He wanted to scrape it all off—the invisible weight suffocating him.
“Kaindel.”
Suddenly, Isa’s voice resurfaced in his mind.
His smiling face filled Kaindel’s vision, the silvery eyes resembling clear glass, filled with countless stars that shimmered painfully vividly.
Isa’s innocent laughter echoed in his ears, whispering softly, “I love you.”
When had Isa’s laughter begun to fade?
No matter how much he thought about it, Kaindel couldn’t remember.
Digging through his memories didn’t help either.
As he retraced the past, tears began to stream down Kaindel’s face.
Like melting ice dripping off budding leaves in early spring, the tears left indelible marks on Isa’s letter.
“Your Grace, Sir Jerome is here. He says he has news regarding Isaac.”
“…Isaac.”
The butler’s voice echoed faintly in Kaindel’s ears.
He glared at the tear-stained letter with bloodshot eyes before growling toward the door.
“Is he here to report failure again?”
“…My apologies.”
“Failure. Again, and again, and again. I never realized I was surrounded by such incompetence.”
“I have no excuse. I’m truly sorry.”
Jerome’s subdued apology confirmed that they hadn’t found Isa.
Kaindel let out a bitter laugh, then clenched his fists tightly.
“Where is Isa?”
“……”
“Find him.”
Until now, Kaindel had believed Isa would come back on his own.
He hadn’t felt the need to search for him.
But after reading Isa’s final letter, Kaindel finally understood.
Isa wasn’t coming back.
Even if there was nowhere else for him to go.
“Right now.”
Kaindel finally crumbled.
Arrogance shattered, leaving behind only deep regret.
It was utter despair.
The nightmares, which Kaindel thought would end after just a few days, only grew worse as time went on.
Months passed with him repeatedly waking up in a cold sweat after wandering aimlessly in the darkness of his dreams.
Eventually, he began drinking on sleepless nights. He drank everything, from wine aged a single year to vintages that had been stored for decades, without discrimination.
Alcohol, which he had once only sipped at banquets, had turned into his only means of falling asleep.
The reason for the nightmares was obvious.
It was because of Isa.
More precisely, it was because he had found Isa’s letter, which hinted at the end of their relationship.
Or maybe it was because of the meaning behind the bouquet of mistflowers Isa had left behind.
Regardless of the exact reason, it was undeniable that Isa was the root cause.
As Kaindel grew accustomed to living off alcohol, hallucinations began to plague him.
Whenever he became drunk enough, he would hear Isa’s laughter.
Sometimes, he thought he heard Isa’s voice calling him from afar or caught the faint scent of Isa lingering in the air.
Following that familiar voice, he’d often find himself in the middle of the garden before coming to his senses.
By the time winter gave way to spring, the hallucinations evolved into full-blown visions.
Walking along the paths, he sometimes saw flashes of silver glinting among the flowers.
This was despite the fact that the monsters capable of inducing hallucinations had long since been killed.
Only then did Kaindel realize he was losing his grip on reality.
He knew he had to find Isa soon if he had any hope of recovering.
On the worst days, Kaindel’s behavior grew violent without him even realizing it.
He became hypersensitive to the presence of others and loathed the very idea of sharing the same air with anyone else.
Yet, even in those moments, whenever he heard the sound of footsteps nearby, he would hope, just for a second, that it might be Isa—only to be disappointed again.
When irritation consumed him, Kaindel would retreat to the basement.
Filling that empty space with items that had once belonged to Isa helped soothe him.
But the one thing he could never bring himself to place there was the letter Isa had left behind.
If he put that final goodbye in the room, it felt as though everything between them would truly come to an end.
Time continued to pass.
Winter turned to spring, and spring gave way to summer.
It was the season when the summer roses were in full bloom.
Thanks to whatever schemes Sehir had orchestrated, Kaindel had managed to avoid Kerelona’s attention during that time.
It seemed she had been delaying both their marriage and her planned undertaking.
But her patience wouldn’t last forever, and when it ran out, the current lull would end.
While the king seemed irritated at the lack of progress, he hadn’t shown it openly in her presence.
Whatever rumors were swirling around the capital, Kaindel wasn’t privy to them.
For now, though, Kaindel used the borrowed time to search for Isa, this time taking matters into his own hands.
Whenever he heard reports of a man with silver hair, he would rush to the scene.
If there was anything unusual noted in the ledgers, he would investigate it personally.
Today was no different.
“I couldn’t find him. My apologies,” Jerome said.
“Ha…”
Kaindel pressed a hand against his aching eyelids, which felt unbearably heavy.
His entire body was weighed down with fatigue.
If he closed his eyes, it felt as though he might fall asleep instantly.
Of course, his relentless insomnia would never actually allow it—but the sensation was there.
“So, you’re saying it was another dead end.”
“Yes. My deepest apologies.”
Jerome knelt on one knee, bowing his head as though to convey that he had nothing more to say.
Kaindel stifled the irritation welling up inside him with a sigh.
How many villages had this been now?
Twenty?
No, it must have been the twenty-sixth.
He had chased after leads about a man who resembled Isa twenty-six times like a madman.
And now, yet again, nothing.
Kaindel twisted his lips into a bitter smile.
He couldn’t help but laugh at himself, a fool running in circles, or at his subordinates, who brought him nothing but false information.
“What’s the name of this place again?”
“Ruicen.”
“Ruicen, Ruicen…”
Kaindel murmured the name of the village Jerome mentioned, running a hand down his face.
Ruicen was a remote settlement on the outskirts of the kingdom.
To think they had come this far—there wasn’t much further they could go.
“And the man wasn’t Isa?”
“No, he didn’t have silver hair, and his build was completely different.”
“Damn it.”
* * *
