“It is stronger than anything else.”
“I see. Then that means you are far more attached to Nathan than to me.”

Ail’s sharp retort made Lyman realize the true intent of his question, but it was already too late. The words had been spoken, and there was no taking them back. He had no choice but to deflect as best he could.

“Prince Nathan is my dear nephew and the second imperial prince. While I hold personal affection for him, the one to whom my loyalty is pledged is Your Highness.”
“That’s not something anyone can guarantee. Who knows? I might succumb to illness or an accident tomorrow. In that case, wouldn’t your dear nephew become the first prince? That would be convenient—your personal affection and loyalty would be aligned with the same person, leaving no room for confusion.”
“Before that happens, I will protect Your Highness.”

As if waiting for such a response, Ail smiled, his lips curving in a languid, satisfied manner akin to a predator after a feast.
“How loyal.”
“It is only natural.”
“Your loyalty never ceases to amaze me.”

With that loaded remark, Ail ended the conversation. Lyman handed over the prepared gift to Ail’s attendants and exited the audience chamber. It marked the conclusion of all formalities for the coming-of-age ceremony. For the next week, Ail would dine with the royal relatives every evening. Afterward, there would be a grand banquet for the high-ranking nobles, concluding nine days of ceremonial traditions. Tedious and extravagant, it was the way of the imperial family. Unlike the single-day ceremonies of ordinary princes and princesses, the crown prince’s coming-of-age was an elaborate affair.

Exhausted from the day’s events, Ail sighed lightly and rose from his seat. His attendants and guards promptly followed, trailing after him as he moved. A servant, who had been watching for the right moment, cautiously approached him.
“Your Highness.”
“What is it?”
“A message has just arrived from the Northern Palace.”

At the mention of the Northern Palace, Ail stopped and turned. The servant hesitated, his expression troubled, before continuing.
“Lord Ruth has skipped another meal.”
“Again?”

This was the third report of Ruth refusing food. Since moving to the Northern Palace a week ago, Ruth had been barely eating one meal a day. Whether it was a deliberate act or simply a lack of appetite, it wasn’t a good sign either way.
“Foolish boy,” Ail muttered under his breath. No matter what he did, Ail had no intention of letting him leave. Did Ruth truly think that starving himself would force Ail to send him away? If so, it was a foolish miscalculation. Even if Ruth wasted away to nothing but bones, his grave would remain within the palace walls.

Ail felt a mixture of irritation at Ruth’s obstinacy and a tinge of sorrow at his steadfast refusal. Nothing ever went according to plan with him. He was difficult, troublesome, and infuriating. What annoyed Ail even more was his inability to simply ignore the troublesome man. If Ruth were merely beside him, Ail could let him be, but he couldn’t stop himself from paying attention, and every report about Ruth left a bitter taste.

It reminded Ail of the moment when he had almost killed him.

He cannot die. Not yet.

Ail was about to order a visit to the Northern Palace when a servant of Emperor Pedro appeared, walking briskly down the corridor. The sight reminded him of his duty to report to his father, as was custom after the coming-of-age ceremony. The Emperor was bedridden and unable to rise, so Ail had greeted him earlier in the morning before the ceremony. Now, it was time to report the day’s conclusion.

He let out a small sigh. Over the past week, he hadn’t seen Ruth much. The busy schedule of preparations had left him only fleeting moments of free time, and even then, he had avoided facing Ruth directly, unsure of what he would say.

Ail didn’t know why he held onto Ruth, nor did he understand the dull ache he felt when he thought of him. It was a question no one could answer, not even himself. After endless reflection, he had given up trying to find the reason. It was a waste of time to cling to questions without answers. There were more urgent matters to prepare for, and Ail had no time to dwell on fleeting emotional shifts.

Perhaps he had restrained Ruth because he didn’t want to confront the answer. Instead of agonizing over it, it was easier to keep Ruth nearby for the sake of peace of mind. If he tried to escape, Ail would simply drag him back by force, even if it meant breaking him to ensure he couldn’t run again. Ail had long since abandoned the hope of keeping Ruth willingly by his side.

As long as he remained nearby, that was enough. His thoughts, his will—they didn’t matter. Ail was, after all, the kind of man who ruled with power rather than winning hearts. He rewarded cooperation, punished defiance, and killed betrayal.

That was his way.

Ruth was nothing special—just another ordinary human. But he was also the only one who had endured four years by Ail’s side, the only one who could meet his gaze without flinching, and the only one who could stir his emotions.

Perhaps this fixation was temporary. With time, Ail’s attachment might fade, and one day he would be able to let go without hesitation. Until then, Ruth simply needed to survive. No matter how broken, shattered, or filled with hatred he became, it didn’t matter.

When that moment came, Ail would deal with him cleanly.

It was only around sunset that Kasha finally woke up. The tension in the atmosphere of the Le Bleume Pavilion was palpable that day, thanks to the master’s sour mood over the past two days. Normally optimistic and cheerful, Kasha’s rare dip in spirits had left everyone on edge, their work suffering under the weight of his bad temper. To make matters worse, today he had taken things a step further by inviting Chelin back into the pavilion—the same person he had coldly dismissed and thrown out. Kasha was always unpredictable, but his sudden actions left everyone startled.

Kasha sat in his room within the Le Bleume Pavilion, re-reading two letters that had arrived two days ago. One was from Karileum and the other from Clozium. His expression turned icy as he read the letter from Clozium after finishing the report delivered through his informants in Karileum.

The day after hearing from Elsen about Ruth, Kasha received a letter from Kamiel Larsen, the consort of the Karileum imperial family. While organizing Ruth’s office, Kamiel had discovered the letters Kasha had sent and decided to inform him of Ruth’s current state. The contents of Kamiel’s letter differed greatly from what Elsen had told him. However, Kasha, familiar with Ruth’s character, could tell that Kamiel’s account was the truth.

Afterward, Kasha used his connections with a Karileum noble, one of Le Bleume’s regular patrons, to gather information and had already bribed two knights guarding the Northern Palace. The outer guards of the knight order, often disgruntled with their positions, were typically less loyal to the imperial family. It was easy to bribe those of lower status with promises of money and a future in a foreign land. The letter from Karileum that arrived two days ago was from these bribed knights, detailing Ruth’s current condition.

The second letter from Clozium was simpler. It contained only a brief note accompanied by a small vial.

Leaning back in his chair, Kasha alternated between the two letters once more. The time to make a decision seemed to have come. He had managed to evade the inevitable for this long, but there was no escaping it now. This was no longer something either of them could endure. If their relationship was one that could only end with death, then it was time to settle things.

Two letters, arriving on the same day—what they signified was clear. Of course, letters were just letters. Kasha had no intention of attributing grand meanings to the coincidence of their simultaneous arrival. He simply felt that the time had come. Two people, two letters connected to them both. What those letters pointed to was too unmistakable to ignore or flee from any longer.

They had reached a place they never should have touched. Both Ruth and Kasha had been swept into a whirlpool they hadn’t desired. Kasha, at least, had brought it upon himself, but Ruth had been dragged into it against his will. Even if Kasha were to die tomorrow, he would have no regrets; he was prepared to pay the price for his sins. But Ruth was different. Ruth wasn’t someone who should be broken and left to wither like this.

So Kasha had to decide. There was no time left for hesitation. If death was inevitable, it would be better to die meaningfully.

Dying at the hands of one’s lover was a better fate than dying by one’s own hand.

And if it was him, Kasha was certain Ruth would be protected.

He was a good man. He would do it.

While Kasha sat in his chair with his eyes closed, a loud bang broke the silence. So, the time has come, he thought as he opened his eyes to see Rodin and Elsen standing at the door, fuming. Erita was with them as well.

“Close the door.”

As Kasha spoke leisurely and rose from his seat, Erita, who had been standing at the back, quietly closed the door. The sound of the door shutting was followed by Rodin’s furious yelling.

“Why did you call Chelin? Are you insane? Do you have a death wish?”

Predicting Rodin’s reaction, Kasha stepped around his desk and gestured for them to sit down.

“Of course not. Sit. I was planning to call you all anyway.”

“Kick that bastard out right now!”

“Sit.”

Kasha’s icy tone made Rodin flinch slightly. For someone as dense as Rodin, it took him this long to realize that Kasha’s demeanor was far from usual. The sharp tension in Kasha’s manner made Rodin hesitate. Seeing this, Kasha softened his tone just a little.

“Sit down.”

Although his expression remained stern, the edge in his voice had lessened slightly, allowing Rodin to let out a small sigh of relief. He pursed his lips and reluctantly took a seat in the chair in front of Kasha’s desk. The oppressive atmosphere Kasha exuded made Elsen and Erita quietly follow suit, watching him carefully as they took their seats.

Kasha glanced at the three of them seated before him and finally spoke in a heavy voice.

“I called Chelin because I need to enter Karileum. I have to get into the imperial palace.”

Elsen and Erita exchanged confused looks at Kasha’s grave tone, unable to understand the significance of his words. But Rodin, who knew why Kasha should never leave Vera, immediately frowned.

“Why the palace?”

“I’m going to bring Ruth back. If he wants to leave, I’ll take him out of there. Chelin is coming with me as a precaution. No matter how high the imperial prince of Karileum stands, he can’t easily harm a high-ranking noble from Clozium.”

Rodin sighed, incredulous.

“Why are you trying to bring someone who’s perfectly fine in the palace back here? And you’ll die the moment you leave Vera. Especially if Chelin goes with you—he’ll make sure you don’t come back alive. He’ll chase you down to the imperial palace if he has to.”

“That’s exactly what I’m counting on. If we’re not pursued, great. But if we are, I’ll head for Clozium instead of Vera. That’s why I need you to manage Le Bleume Pavilion in my place. If I don’t make it back, you’ll have to take care of this place. My mother and Elsen will help you.”

Kasha turned to Elsen as he spoke. While Elsen and Erita looked puzzled by his words, Rodin, who grasped the situation, erupted in anger.

“You’re insane!”

“No.”

“Then why are you doing this? He will kill you! You should be in hiding, not walking to your death!”

“This is something that has to be settled eventually. I can’t spend my whole life running away. I need to cut ties where necessary. But I’ll make sure Vera doesn’t suffer any consequences. For that, I’ll use whatever I can.”

Kasha had already made up his mind. It was a conclusion reached after two days of relentless deliberation. To say he hadn’t hesitated would be a lie. He valued his life as much as anyone. But the reason his life was precious was because he wanted to spend even a moment longer living under the same sky as him. Even if they couldn’t meet, the desire to see him, even just once, had been his reason to survive.

But if the person he was destined to meet again was waiting at the end of his life, then it didn’t matter whether that moment came tomorrow or ten years from now. In fact, this might even be for the best. Spending ten or twenty years slowly being consumed by longing would be worse than letting it all end before that longing turned into poison. It was better to die by his hand than to succumb to the ache of unfulfilled desire.