* * *
“Explain more clearly. You can’t just say you’re going to kill yourself and expect me to know how to react—”
“And the investigator sent by the imperial family will claim Your Grace killed me and declare me a criminal.”
“Wait, hold on. You’re saying I killed you? But you’re saying it’s suicide. So, if you don’t die by suicide… then the investigator will kill you instead.”
Hesia, flustered and demanding an answer, suddenly muttered in realization.
Haen said nothing.
But silence was a kind of affirmation—and Haen had just confirmed his own fate.
Judging from the circumstances, the investigator hadn’t arrived in the territory yet.
That meant Haen could still run if he truly wanted to live.
It would be disgraceful, but not impossible.
Yet, Hesia didn’t ask further.
Haen’s face held no will to live.
“Are you certain?”
“If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have called for you, Your Highness. I’m sure. With my life on the line.”
It was an ironic vow, considering that life would end soon.
Perhaps he thought the same—Haen let out a faint laugh, then leaned his head gently against the wall.
“As I promised before, I haven’t sought you out for a while. Could you talk with me for a little while now?”
“Do you even have time for that?”
“I told Zeu to prepare the horse and baggage ahead of time. I have about thirty minutes to spare.”
“You’re disturbingly thorough.”
Not knowing if it was an insult or a compliment, Haen simply smiled.
His clear eyes glowed, even in the darkness—like he’d returned to his younger days, maybe in his early twenties or before.
Hesia hesitated, caught off guard by that youthful gaze, and Haen asked in a slightly nervous voice:
“How was Vivi in the principality?”
“That’s what you’re curious about?”
“Yes.”
Haen nodded, then gave a bitter smile and slowly rose from the bed.
“But I never got to ask. This cell—Vivi was locked up here for over eight years. Only meals were delivered, and no one came to see him. Letiyan never visited unless it was to torture him. And people… they wanted to forget ‘Vivisian.’ So it was only natural.”
Just walking a few steps would bring one to a wall—it was that cramped.
Haen looked around the room briefly, then tilted his head as he turned back to Hesia.
“Someone like me, who locked Vivi in a place like this, can’t really ask things like that, can I? But just this once—it’s the last time. They ask even the condemned if they have any last words. Would you grant me this one bit of pity?”
“You should’ve said that to Vivi, not me.”
Haen only smiled at the reflexive muttering of resentment that slipped out of Hesia.
A smile that clearly agreed with the bitterness.
Hearing that, Hesia leaned back against the bars and sat down.
The cold seeped up from the stone floor, and the lingering scent of blood stung his nose.
“I don’t know much about how Vivi lived in prison either. When we first met as kids, we were both clueless. And when we reunited after growing up… I was scared. I couldn’t say anything. That I knew you. That I knew everything you turned your back on…”
It was part consideration for someone who had just escaped a nightmare.
And part cowardice—afraid to ask.
Haen surely knew both truths.
But he said nothing.
He just listened.
It was never easy to touch someone else’s old wounds.
Wanting to know everything about someone you love… yet not wanting to reopen their pain—that was love, too.
Haen understood Hesia’s silence, and the love behind it.
“So all I know is the Vivi I met later. When we reunited, he was working as a mercenary. He always wore a half-mask to hide his face. I heard he usually traveled, and when he ran out of money, he worked as a mercenary.”
“He told me once… that he wanted to live a long life because there were so many places he wanted to see. Not as a duke or anything, but as a traveler—going around the world, doing mercenary work when funds ran low.”
Vivi always kept his word.
Hesia parted his lips at the bitterness in his own voice, but realizing there was nothing he could say—nothing he should say—he continued.
“He was really skilled, so he was a gold-rank mercenary. Worked under the name Ian. The only Vivi I remembered was the boy who talked to a slave kid, so I was surprised at first—his tone was lighter than I expected. But looking back, I think that was his real personality. Kind, lighthearted, but still graceful.”
“Yes. Vivi was unexpectedly light and cheerful. Though he changed a bit over time.”
Encouraged by that agreement, Hesia spilled every story he’d kept to himself until now.
The moment he recognized Vivisian.
The many refusals to accompany him that eventually turned into an acceptance.
The day they went to the temple and comforted each other.
Those quiet days in a nearly empty palace, full of silly chatter and laughter… moments so precious, they couldn’t help but be missed.
“I even worked hard to fill the garden with blue hydrangeas for him.”
The soft violet-tinged voice mixed with affection and longing.
“At first, the palace servants were baffled, like, ‘Why the hell are we doing this?’ But once it was done—and Vivi was so happy and grateful—they all felt proud.”
Haen, listening with an unreadable expression, slowly opened the eyes he had closed.
“Why do you love Vivi?”
“Because he was the first person to be kind to me. He made me step out into the world. I was someone hurt by people—and he made me want to be around people again. He always made me want to become a better person.”
It was a statement that pierced straight to the heart of love’s essence.
Some say that falling in love makes you a better person.
But in truth, it’s simply the effort of trying to become a better person for the one you love.
Haen quietly watched the young man who was trying to become that better person for someone else.
Then, he undid the bracelet wrapped around his wrist.
In the stillness of the prison, the soft jangling sound rang out—so out of place.
When Hesia, who had been slightly lowering his head, lifted it at the sudden noise, he saw Haen reaching out through the bars.
“What’s this?”
“A bracelet.”
Haen answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, making Hesia frown as he took the bracelet.
It was still warm with Haen’s body heat.
Hesia stood up, spinning it around his fingers.
Haen, who had knelt to hand it over, now stood as well—their eyes locking.
“No, I can see that. What I mean is—why are you giving it to me?”
“It’s one of the sacred relics passed down through the generations of the Duke’s lineage.”
It was shocking enough that it was a bracelet—but a sacred relic passed down in the ducal family?
Hesia’s face twisted with disbelief, and Haen let out a quiet chuckle.
“Do you know the legend of House Teian?”
“You mean… that whole thing about being loved by the gods?”
Hesia replied with mild disinterest, absentmindedly tracing the engraved script inside the bracelet with his fingertip.
The markings seemed oddly familiar.
As he leaned in to take a closer look, Haen’s voice fell like a guillotine—sharp and precise—from above.
“To those who earnestly desire… the voice of God shall be heard.”
It wasn’t the kind of thing you’d expect from someone who didn’t seem particularly devout.
Hesia looked up, and Haen, who had been quietly watching him, gave a faint smile.
“Wish with all your heart. You’re a descendant of the one the god loved—Vivi—and you resemble him a great deal… The god might just listen.”
“…Wish for what?”
“Whatever it is. I wished with all my heart, but maybe because I’m a sinner… the god never spoke to me.”
“Was it really true, that the first Duke was loved by the god?”
Though he believed in the divine, Hesia also carried deep distrust—almost resentment—toward them.
His face stiffened slightly as he asked.
“‘My finite love.’ That’s the phrase inscribed on the bracelet, in the divine language.”
The god loved the first Duke of Teian.
Haen’s voice was firm, almost reverent, as he watched Hesia’s face twist in confusion.
“Go to the temple the first Duke supposedly built for the god. It’s forgotten now, so it won’t be easy to find… but you must. There’s a very high chance the god is sleeping there. Wake him, and speak your wish. If it’s for Vivi, only you can make that wish. A god can bring someone back. And now, there’s no one left who hates Vivi.”
“You want Vivi to come back too, don’t you?”
“That’s the price of my sin.”
Something in his voice was quietly desperate.
Hesia said nothing in response.
After a moment of silence, he simply turned around.
They had spoken, but it wasn’t the kind of parting that warranted goodbyes.
Without so much as a farewell, Hesia walked out of the prison.
Haen remained standing in silence, watching his back. In the space where only Hesia’s fading footsteps echoed, something eventually collapsed to the ground with a dull thud.
Hesia didn’t turn back.
He only thought:
If I had asked why he didn’t try to run—what would Haen have said?
There was no longer anyone left to answer.
With that unspoken question still lingering, Hesia stepped outside the prison.
Waiting anxiously at the entrance was Zeu, who looked dazed the moment he saw Hesia—as if something had just dawned on him.
Quickly coming back to his senses, he threw a cloak over Hesia and began leading him away.
“…Did the Count tell you in advance that I’d be leaving the duchy?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I’ll guide you to the path. The investigators will be arriving soon, so we need to move quickly.”
Nodding without protest, Hesia followed Zeu, their steps hurried.
A long, metallic scent trailed behind the figure cloaked head to toe in black.
* * *
