* * *

Kaindel lightly touched his lips before setting the necklace down.

For once, his thoughts weren’t consumed by his heroic duties or the looming threat of calamity.

Instead, his mind was filled with thoughts of that man.

Was it his striking, mysterious appearance?

Or the way the necklace the man had given him seemed to linger in his thoughts?

The more he dwelled on the man’s actions and words, the more captivated he became.

The silver-haired man was undoubtedly insane.

Acting as if he knew the future, appearing out of nowhere in the palace garden, and, as Kaindel later confirmed by studying noble family records, being a mere commoner.

He wasn’t even associated with the magic tower, as Kaindel would have felt the distinct discomfort that came with encountering their members.

Kaindel had always lived by a rule: forget those who bring you no benefit.

He had met countless people, but only maintained ties with those who could offer him something of value.

By that standard, the silver-haired man should have been easy to dismiss.

Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t.

“Happy birthday, Kaindel. I wanted to give this to you on your actual birthday, but… I didn’t think I’d get the chance. Since you’re still Kaindel—the Kaindel I love—I’d really like it if you accepted it.”

Love.

That word lingered in his mind. It wasn’t the first time Kaindel had heard someone say it, but this man’s “love” felt different.

So different that it kept replaying in his head—echoing in his ears, flashing before his eyes, cycling endlessly through his thoughts.

Kaindel trusted his memory.

Yet, because of that silver-haired man, he found himself questioning it for the first time.

Had they met before?

Was the encounter at the pond not their first?

But no matter how many times he revisited the question, the answer remained the same.

The longer his thoughts lingered on the man, the more irritated he became.

Finally, Kaindel furrowed his brow and shoved the necklace into a bedside drawer.

Though his movements were rough, he closed the drawer with surprising care.

“It better still be there.”

The muttered words that followed were soft and subdued.

When next month’s patronage party was held, he planned to visit the pond.

Whether the opportunity presented itself or not didn’t matter.

His mind was already set: he’d meet the man who stirred his insides and return the necklace.

Of course, there was no guarantee the man would appear by the pond again.

If he didn’t, the necklace would be discarded into the waters.

Meeting someone as unhelpful as that man again was an undeniable waste of time.

It was better to spend that time on something productive.

Even so, Kaindel promised himself another encounter with the man, rationalizing it as a mere necessity to return the useless and poorly made necklace.

But deep inside, a budding curiosity had begun to bloom.

By the time he identified the name of the emotion he harbored, it had already grown out of control.

Perhaps it was because he’d knowingly ignored the vague inklings of that emotion, dismissing them as trivial.

In the blink of an eye, the feeling had swelled like a snowball, crashing into him like a natural disaster, embedding itself into his everyday life.

The first realization struck during their second meeting.

On the day he impulsively wore the necklace the man had given him as a birthday present.

When the man saw the necklace hanging around Kaindel’s neck, his eyes crinkled with delight, and his lips curved into a smile so helplessly fond that Kaindel forgot how to breathe.

Thud-thud. His heart, loud and unruly, pounded as if desperate to remind him of its presence.

A rising sensation from deep within.

Instinctively, Kaindel knew.

“Kaindel!”

“…This is bad.”

A peculiar change had begun to take root within him.

Damn it all, he’d fallen in love at first sight.

It marked the beginning of a long, feverish ordeal.

---

Kaindel hated being foolish.

Thus, he was quick to admit the truth.

First, the man had a lover.

The fact that his lover shared the same name as Kaindel was an amusing detail, but ultimately irrelevant.

If anything, Kaindel felt grateful to that fool of a lover, as it was because of them that he’d crossed paths with the man in the first place.

Second, the man was a commoner.

Judging by his frequent presence at the royal palace, he might have been a servant there.

The status of a commoner was hardly fitting for someone to associate with a warrior, let alone a member of a noble household.

But that was fine.

If anything, the fact that he wasn’t part of the decaying nobility made him all the more appealing.

Finally, the man was cursed—his body turned transparent wherever it came into contact with others.

This was, by far, the biggest problem.

Whenever Kaindel’s hand accidentally brushed against the man’s, it was as though he were touching thin air.

The man didn’t seem particularly surprised, likely expecting it, but Kaindel had to suppress the urge to grimace.

To have someone you liked right in front of you and not be able to touch them—what a cruel torment.

Even so, Kaindel believed it would be okay someday.

When he became an adult, and the man inevitably broke up with his lover, everything would fall into place.

When that time came, he wanted to ignore the duties assigned to him and live in a secluded forest with the man.

Let the kingdom face its catastrophes without him.

The man could guard the cottage while he fetched water and firewood.

They wouldn’t have children, but a dog or a cat would suffice.

He wanted to live with the man, just the two of them.

Of course, it was all a one-sided fantasy, entirely disregarding the man’s opinion.

As their meetings continued, Kaindel whimsically gave the man a nickname: “Fairy.”

It was inspired by the man’s striking appearance, reminiscent of the fairies described in cliché novels.

Though the name was childish, no other seemed more fitting for him.

“Fairy? Hahaha.”

At first, the man seemed startled by the nickname.

His plump lips opened and closed soundlessly before tears welled in his eyes.

He muttered nonsensical words like, “It was me all along,” and then thanked Kaindel profusely, saying it made him genuinely happy.

All for a simple nickname.

As Kaindel spent more time with the man, he began to change.

Always reserved and proper with others, Kaindel allowed himself to act spoiled around the man for the first time.

Of course, it was all calculated.

Playing the part of someone pitiful earned the man’s sympathy and affection.

Still, it was refreshing to be honest with someone, to express genuine emotions.

It cleared away the negative feelings, leaving him more at ease than ever before.

This newfound ease extended to how he dealt with others.

When something unpleasant happened, he knew he could go to the man.

Having someone to turn to in moments of distress was a great blessing.

And so, six months passed with the man.

Half a year.

“Fairy, you know…”

Kaindel glanced at the man, who was admiring the pond as he reminisced about their time together.

Just looking at him brought a smile to Kaindel’s lips.

How could this not be love?

“Could you give me a birthday present this year?”

“This year?”

The gift he’d received six months ago hadn’t been meant for him.

Technically, it was supposed to have gone to the man’s original lover.

This time, Kaindel wanted something prepared entirely for him.

The man tilted his head at the unexpected question, then lowered his gaze.

He stared into the pond, pausing before his silver eyes, filled with a mix of joy, guilt, and perplexity, met Kaindel’s.

“I’m sorry, Kaindel.”

The man’s sincerity hit Kaindel like a blow, leaving his throat dry and aching.

Joy.

Whatever the man had found in the pond filled him with joy.

If that joy was for the pond, then the guilt belonged to Kaindel.

Suddenly, something damp coiled around his ankle.

“It seems it’s time for me to go.”

A sense of foreboding swept over him.

* * *